Archive of Our Own

Jason scowled. Out of all of them, it had to be the Replacement. Timothy Jackson Drake. It had to be him; the one who existed for nothing but to be a bother and a pain and a constant reminder of things he’d rather not think about. And it wasn’t even that big of a mission. Seriously, who had thought the kid would need backup?

Bruce. That’s who.

And now, of course, it had all gone horribly, spectacularly wrong.

He had been at home, reading a nice book, when he had gotten the call. And now, here he was, out in the middle of the frigid Gotham fog, playing babysitter. He had barely had time to get suited up; shoving his book into his jacket pocket with a faint prayer that this would all be over soon. And with how Dick had chimed in, whining and complaining about the kid getting hurt, it was a wonder he hadn’t been called to patrol earlier. Yeah, it really looked like Robin was struggling in life.

“I’m not the one who decided to come in swinging and ruin everything!” The kid scowled fiercely at him, arms folded tightly across his chest. “Haven't you ever heard of ‘the element of surprise’?”

“Oh, I don't know.” Jason threw his hands up, almost at a loss for words with him at this point. “Haven't you ever heard of ‘coming in guns blazing’? Sometimes that's just how you have to do things!”

Bickering. It was always bickering with him. It never came to anything else, because no one ever let it become anything else. No one ever let him hang around long enough for it to progress. Which was probably a good thing, seeing as his bickering usually turned to arguments, which turned to blows.

No, it was probably a good thing that he was never left alone with the Replacement. Especially since that incident. Thus, it was an especially problematic thing that there was no one to pull him off the kid this time. Even after the fight had ended, Robin was still raring to go with excess energy, and, luckily for Jason, it was all being directed at him.

“You know what, Robin?” Jason sneered, stepping over an unconscious goon body to get right in the kid’s face. “Sometimes I wish that you’d just disappear! I wish you– You’d be spirited away by goblins or something! Right now!”

The Replacement made a face, opening his mouth to say something in response, but it was cut off by a whirl of… something. Jason stepped back, pulling away before the kid was entirely obscured by it, catching a whiff of the swirling stuff. Magic. Fantastic.

By the time he recovered, even though it was only a couple of seconds, Robin was gone. Utterly and completely disappeared. Jason swore under his breath, quickly moving forward to examine the whorl left behind on the cement. It stank of magic, but was like nothing he’d ever seen before. Maybe he could call Zatana?

Reaching for the comms button on his helmet, Jason spoke. “Oracle, are you there? What’s going on?”

Static.

“Now, now, Jason. I thought you wanted him gone?”

Spinning around, Jason blinked. There was a… guy, with an overly-dramatic stance and a ridiculous cape, —And wow, that hairdo— suddenly standing behind him. Once again, Jason had seen magic. Lived it, breathed it, smelled it. And typical Gotham magic had nothing on… whatever this was.

“Uhm. And who exactly are you supposed to be?” He said, eloquently, hoping that he had misheard and this man hadn’t just used his real name. “What was that?”

The man tutted. “You said the magic words. You wished your brother away.”

Jason blanched. “Robin? The kid? That guy is not my brother.”

Humming to himself, the man tipped his head side to side. “Yes. And no. The magic regards him as a sibling, whether you deny it or not. And,” he continued, ignoring Jason’s irate spluttering, “if you want him back, you’ll have to play for him as such.”

“What? I never said anything about wanting him back.” Jason held up his hands, as if to put a pause on what the man was saying. “If you’ve actually taken him back to whatever fairy-glitter world you come from, be my guest. Keep him. He’s been nothing but an annoyance and a nuisance since I met him.”

The man’s smug smile dropped unexpectedly. Moving closer with a swish of his cloak, he stepped dramatically up to Jason in a way that was definitely beginning to invade his personal space. “Ah, but if you don’t get him back, he’ll become a goblin. One of my own. And you wouldn’t want that.”

Jason considered this. On the one hand, he really didn’t want to have to deal with one Timothy Drake anymore, on the other, Bruce would probably be at least a little upset if he lost the kid. Sighing and rolling his shoulders back, he faced the man head-on. “Alright.” He groaned. “Tell me whatever little quest or other fairytale garbage I have to do in order to get my ‘brother’ back.”

Grinning, the man twisted his wrist, summoning a glass orb. Spinning it around with his fingers, he leaned in. “You have thirteen hours to find your brother, lest he be lost to you forever.”

Jason looked up from where he had been mesmerized by the crystal ball, only to find that the scenery had changed around him. No longer was he on a dreary Gotham rooftop, surrounded by the mist and smog of early morning. Instead, he found himself in an unknown land. The sky was a hazy orange, and he was standing next to a withered old tree. A city glinted in the distance, and absolutely everything was covered in some kind of… sparkly stuff.

Opening his mouth to protest the sudden transportation, he saw the man pointing to a large and rambling maze. A labyrinth, one might even call it. But, when Jason turned back to the man, he was gone; dissolved into a shimmer of air. Jason sighed. This was going to be a just fine adventure. Just fine.

Almost an hour later, Jason had made it most of the way down to the entrance to the maze. Stepping off the last little hill of sand, he saw a massive door. That, and a very ugly dwarf. He was wearing a red leather cap, and he looked to be playing with an old-school bug sprayer. Nimbly skipping around, he was shooting puffs of what he could only assume was poison at the little glowing lights that seemed to twinkle with the same glitter dust everything else around here did.

“Hey!” Jason shouted, using the most authoritative voice he could muster. Nevermind that it sounded like Batman’s low, guttural growl coming from his smoke-damaged lungs.

The dwarf jumped, spinning around to face him. “Oh! Hello, there.” He dipped his head, bowing slightly. “And what are you doing here?” He peered curiously at Jason, looking him up and down.

Jason suddenly felt almost self-conscious. It wasn't like his mask and combat boots were out of place on a Gotham rooftop, but here? In a land of magic? He probably stuck out like a sore thumb. Regardless, he had things to do and Robins to save. Rolling his shoulders back, he straightened his spine. Stalking toward the dwarf, he —Very intentionally— loomed over him.

“I need to get into the maze–”

“Labyrinth.” The dwarf corrected him.

Jason blinked. “Labyrinth, then. Whatever you want to call it, I need an entrance. How do I get in?”

“Get in where?” The dwarf blinked up at him innocently.

“The ma– The labyrinth.” Jason clenched his teeth.

“What about it?”

“Oh for f– It’s hopeless asking you anything!” Jason turned away, intent on trying to find another way in.

“Not if you ask the right questions.” The dwarf grinned at him, mischievously.

Letting out a sigh as if all the cares of the world rested on his shoulders, Jason slowly turned back around. “You. Guy.”

“My name’s Hoggle, and I am pleased to meet you.” The little man performed a full bow, and just about everything in it seemed mocking.

Jason rolled his eyes. “Hoggle, then. How do I get into the labyrinth, pretty please with sprinkles on top?” He said, sarcasm dripping from every syllable.

The dwarf sniffed, crossing his arms. “You’ll have to say it properly if you want to know how to get in.”

Throwing his hands in the air, Jason groaned in disgust. “Say what right? ‘Pretty please’?”

“No,” he scowled, “‘Labyrinth’.”

“Labyrinth.” Jason repeated.

“Doesn’t count.” The dwarf had gone back to shooting the little sparkly lights flitting around them.

“Hoggle.” Jason said, dangerously low and slow. “How do I get into the Labyrinth?”

The small man glanced at him over his shoulder, smiling. “There,” he turned fully, “was that so hard?”

Jason was ready to pull his hair out. But, true to his word, the dwarf walked over to a large gate that had been previously hidden by vines —How had he missed that?— and tapped it once. The doors opened, letting out a billowing cloud of smoke and yet more glitter.

“You, uh, you really going in there?” Hoggle asked, curiously.

“Well, I’ve got to, haven’t I?” Jason grumbled. Walking forward, he saw apparently endless walls of somehow identical and yet wonky and asymmetrical stonework. It was near silent inside, except for his own breathing.

“Now.” Hoggle leaned out from behind Jason, and he jumped minutely. He’d let himself get caught up in everything that had been going on, caught up in his head with annoyance and frustration, and the dwarf had almost startled him a bit. Not that he was going to ever let him know that a random fairytale creature had come so close to catching him off guard. He’d just have to be more alert from now on.

“Would you go left or right?” Hoggle continued.

Jason glanced back and forth for a moment. “They both look the same.”

Hoggle snorted. “Well, you’re not going to get very far.”

“Which way would you go, then, smart aleck?”

“Me?” Hoggle pressed a hand to his chest, looking up at Jason with wide eyes. “I wouldn’t go either way. There’s nothing in there worth it. And, even if you get to the centre, there’s no guarantee that you’ll get out again.”

It was Jason’s turn to snort derisively. “That’s your opinion.”

Huffing, Hoggle marched back to the gate. “It’s a lot better than yours! And don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Tim looked around hesitantly. Wherever this was, it certainly wasn't Gotham, which he had been sure of even before opening his eyes. The echoing sounds and various smells were entirely distinct from a rooftop in his home town. He could feel the definitely warmer air running over his skin, though it was in a way that he usually only felt when he was in the process of suiting up. That meant someone had taken at least some of his gear off him while he was unconscious. Sitting up slowly, he felt his hands automatically flying to his tool belt. Not there. Bo staff? Not anywhere near him, or in sight. Domino mask? Not on his face. How had he gotten here again?

Inwardly, he groaned. He had been on a rooftop, post-fight, with Jason Todd of all people. And then… he was here. Mentally running through all possible culprits, he stood up from the pile of furs he had apparently been tossed into. There was no obvious signature to the scheme, or the secondary location he had been brought to, but he was slowly becoming certain that this wasn't an up-and-coming rogue trying to claim their place as a threat to the Bats.

He quickly glanced around, taking stock of the odd relics and unusual architecture. There were several musical instruments —Crudely made and evidently not well taken care of, and also weirdly small—, some tarnished drinking goblets —The scent of wine still evident in damper spots—, and was that a chicken? Where on Earth was he? Some kind of strange farm compound with smaller-than-average alcoholics or possibly children?

Trying to get his bearings, he found a wall and stationed himself leaning up against it, trying to be as small as possible. Listening attently, he strained his ears for any hint of noise that could be used to identify or otherwise give him a clue whose lair he was currently in.

Just as the silence was becoming really unnerving, he heard the soft click of boot-heels. “Timothy…” A voice sing-songed.

Tim shuddered in revulsion. It had been eons since anyone had called him that, especially with that tone. That was the tone his mother used when she wanted him to cave and go to a gala with her (which he always did, and would have anyways), and how his father talked to him when he needed something. Some kind of extra hand or help moving boxes and crates full of antiques. No, it had certainly been a long time since he had heard his full name in that sort of voice.

“Ah, there you are.”

Tim jumped, slinking away from the wall he had been pressed up to and moving toward the voice. There was a man, in ridiculously overdone makeup and with hair like an electrocuted dandelion, standing there. Watching him.

Instinctively, Tim reached for his bo staff, only to remember that it wasn't there. He had nothing. No weapons, no gear, just the suit on his back. Trying to play it off as an awkward stretch and not an aborted defensive movement, he made eye contact with the man. “And who are you supposed to be?”

The man smiled widely, reaching forward to pat Tim on the head. “Oh, you are a spunky one. I can see why your brother was so eager to be rid of you.”

Taking a step back, Tim said, “My– My ‘brother’? What do you mean ‘brother’? I don't have a brother.” He cursed himself for not coming up with a quick enough lie. It would probably have been better to say something else and distance himself from the Timothy Drake persona, but now he was stuck. Oh well, at least there were a high percentage of Gothamites who were only children. Small comfort, but if this guy didn’t actually know who he was talking to, it might benefit him slightly.

Quietly, he tried to keep his mind off the part where the man had said that his supposed brother had “wanted” to get rid of him. Some part of him wondered if he could have meant Dick? He was soon distracted as

Still smiling away, the man ignored his question, instead gesturing grandly out a nearby window. “This is my kingdom, Timothy. I hope you like it. Of course, soon you will come to love it.” Spinning on his heel, he winked at Tim.

Okay, then. This dude was a certifiable nutjob. Quietly flipping through his mental rolodex of any relevantly magic-related villains, Tim came up blank. He couldn't think of a single one who fit this bill of zany and over-the-top and possessing apparently real magic. Alright, then, it was time to start probing for more information; he had assessed the situation and tried to come up with a plan, but having a severe deficit of knowledge was really hindering him.

Opening his mouth, Tim found a finger being laid to his lips. The man in front of him shushed Tim, pulling his hand back with a spidery motion.

“But what a terrible host I am! I haven't even introduced myself, when I know all about you.” So saying, he threw his cape out with a flourish. “I am Jareth, King of Goblins and Ruler of the Labyrinth, and you, Timothy, are soon to be my most loyal subject.”

Tim gaped at the man, utterly flabbergasted. Then he shut his mouth, cleared his throat, and tried to move forward. “And what do you mean by that, your highness?” Nervously, his eyes darted around, cataloging any hypnotism tools or mind control broadcasters in easy reach. Of course, this villain would likely be much more careful than that, especially since he was able to kidnap him so easily.

Jareth’s smile had grown predatory, widening as he watched Tim try to mask his anxiety. “Oh, only that you'll soon be mine.” With that, he turned, rolled out his neck, and promptly jumped out the window.

Smothering a gasp, Tim ran to the ledge, unsure if his escape plans had just been made much easier or much harder. After all, if he had been locked in this room and Jareth was holding the only key, then his situation had just grown a good deal more complicated.

But, there was no splattered Goblin King on the far-below pavement of the courtyard. Instead, he saw a sheer, handholdless drop, and a bird —A barn owl— fluttering away into the smokey orange sky.

Tim groaned. Magic users.

As Jason stubbornly tromped through the endless passages of the Labyrinth, he was beginning to grow incensed. What kind of architect built this place? He had all the respect for Daedalus, but this was a whole other can of worms. Only a true madman would build something like this. There were no turns or corners or anything! And he was only killing time here, playing this stupid game when he was running out of time to find Robin and get him back where he belonged before Bruce found out. It could only have been an hour, but, still. That was too much time just thrown away wandering up and down remarkably similar pathways.

Just as he paused to clench his teeth and brood about the stupidity of it all, a sudden noise stopped him. No, not a noise; a voice.

“‘Allo!”

Spinning around, Jason looked for the owner. “Who's there?” He growled.

“It’s just me!”

Slowly, Jason turned back around. Still nothing. “Where are you? Show yourself!”

“I'm right here!”

The voice spoke again, and this time Jason followed his ear to a little gap in the wall; a hole where an old brick had evidently crumbled to dust a bit prematurely, abandoning its brethren to hold things up on their own. Indeed, right there, was a small, vibrantly blue, worm. With a red scarf.

“What.” Jason said, blankly.

“‘Allo!” The worm grinned at him. “How are you doing?”

“I’m… good?” Jason responded uncertainly. “How… How are you?” Better to mind your manners with these creatures, he remembered, especially when he had yet to ascertain if this counted as a fae realm or not.

The worm shrugged, if what it was doing could be called “shrugging, without any shoulders”. “I’m doin’ alright! Say, may I ask what you’re doing ‘ere?”

Jason sighed long-sufferingly, leaning against the wall next to the worm and sliding down it until he was seated on the ground. “I don’t even know at this point.” He groaned, putting his face in his hands. “Wait.” He looked back at the worm. “You wouldn’t happen to know how to solve this Labyrinth, would you?”

“Who, me?” Said the worm. “Nah, I’m just a worm!”

Rolling his eyes, Jason began scanning the ground for any irregularities or cracks that seemed to have been placed with purpose. As he expected, there were none. Everything here just seemed to be haphazard and slapped together with some glitter glue put on top. Everpresent in the back of his mind, the thirteen hours countdown ticked. How long had he wasted with Hoggle at the gate? Five minutes? Ten? This was time he couldn’t afford to waste, not if he wanted to get himself and the kid out of here in one piece.

“Come inside and meet the missus.” The worm suggested, still smiling gently. He angled his head in the direction of the tiny crack in the wall he came out of.

“No, thanks.” Jason said absentmindedly, still searching for something beyond this overglorified hallway. And the worm didn’t seem to know anything either! Figuring he might as well share his sorrows with this strange new individual —Even if he wasn’t likely to get any information in return— he spoke. “I have to solve this stupid Labyrinth, but there aren’t any doors or pathways or openings or anything!”

“Oh, sure there are.” The worm chuckled. “There’s plenty of openings! You just ain’t looking right.”

“What do you mean?”

“Come inside and have a nice cup of tea,” the worm insisted, “it’ll do you a world of good!”

Jason looked around, bemused. “But, there isn’t an opening.”

“Of course there is!” The worm laughed again. “You try walking through it, you’ll see what I mean.” Then, in a conspiratory whisper, “things aren’t always what they seem in this place, you’ll have to get used to that.”

Getting up, if only determined to prove the worm wrong, Jason stepped forward, seemingly into the wall, hands outstretched to keep himself from bumping his face into it. Only, there wasn’t a wall right there. It was an opening, just as the worm had said.

Walking back and forth through it a few times, Jason grinned to himself. This was one point for him, gleaning what little information he could from the nonsense inhabitants of this place. Nodding decisively, he turned left, going toward the direction of the castle he had seen earlier from up on the hill.

“Wait a minute!” The worm exclaimed. “Don’t go that way.”

“This way?” Jason asked, stepping to the left.

“Never go that way!” The worm cautioned.

“Alright.” Jason turned himself around and headed to the right. “Thanks.” He called over his shoulder. Best not to take any chances. He could hear the worm murmuring something behind him, but that had really been enough time spent with the oddly cordial creature, and he still had a long way to walk by his estimation.

Snooping had gotten Tim nowhere so far, as there were an absurd amount of twists and turns in this castle. At least, he assumed it was a castle. It was large and winding enough to be, with various nonsensical tapestries and violently golden accents to the stonework.

He stopped, suddenly, hearing a rush of noise coming down one of the staircases. After a moment’s hesitation, he followed the sounds of what seemed to be some sort of raucous party, carefully stepping as lightly as possible. It didn’t take long for him to find the source.

In a large and grandiose throne room, if the chair at the head of the room could be called a throne, the owl he had previously seen flying away from the castle was doing loops in the air, flying nimbly around a decadent, but also messy and spiderweb-covered chandelier above an audience of goblins. It was impressive that the owl could do so many flips without getting dizzy, though if Tim had to bet, he’d say there was some kind of magical stamina enhancements at work.

Eventually, the so-called “Goblin King” seemed to grow tired of the adulation of his subjects, turning back into his humanoid form as he descended through the air to the throne. Lounging upon it in a decidedly unregal manner, Jareth glanced up, making direct eye contact with Tim. Tim stiffened, but the king only smiled, beckoning him forward with one finger.

Reluctantly, Tim did as he was bade; not wanting to pull the whole room’s attention to him through his disobedience. The goblins did not seem to notice him, even though he was easily twice, and often three, times their height. As he reached the throne, Jareth smiled at him, eyes glinting with something undeterminable.

“Hello, Timothy.” He said.

Tim nodded at him slowly, unsure of how best to address his kidnapper and self-professed ruler. He folded his hands behind his back politely, using the motion to hide the makeshift cutting implement he’d made by smashing a mirror in one of the many abandoned rooms he’d investigated. If only this guy were alone, then he’d probably have a fighting chance. But with all these gremlin-things around, he was sorely outnumbered.

“How are you enjoying my kingdom?” His smile grew languid.

“I haven’t seen much of it, yet.” Tim answered shortly. He had long ago discovered that being careful with his words afforded him much more of an advantage than the nervous rambling he was prone to. Though, he reasoned, as he watched Jareth’s expression for any minute hint of emotion, this may not be a case where being curt would gain him any affection.

“Still so smart-mouthed.” Jareth preened, as if this was a particular compliment. “Well, how about a song?” This last was directed at the goblins still puttering around the room, who all stopped whatever they were doing and cheered.

Tim immediately held his free hand up, backpedaling. Then, he considered his options. If he could get this guy to sing, then maybe it’d be easier to sneak around. After all, a performance like singing takes up a significant portion of the brain, especially when it’s in front of a live audience.

“Alright, let’s hear it.” Tim said, smiling with more confidence than he felt.

Jareth grinned at him, all teeth, and stood up, gesturing to the surrounding goblins. Kneeling down to face one head-on, he began singing.

“You remind me of the babe…”

Tim nodded awkwardly, half on beat and half just so he'd have something to do, slowly taking step after step backwards, until he was mostly obscured from view by the throne.

As the singing continued, and Jareth seemed more and more interested in his dramatic hand movements than in keeping an eye on Tim, the boy started to creep back toward the stairs. Eventually, he made it halfway up them, and, once he had deemed he was shrouded in enough shadows, he bolted.

Shuddering, Tim rubbed his arms. That had to be one of the most uncomfortable situations he’d ever been in, not least because of the singing. Something about it was just… unnerving.

Something about all those little creatures with their unblinking eyes staring in rapt attention at Jareth rubbed him the wrong way.

Fleetingly, he found himself wishing that someone had been sent with him to this topsy-turvy wonderland, even if it was only so he could complain. He hoped that he'd be able to find his way back to Gotham soon. And that the irritating song would worm its way out of his head soon, too.

Jason was running out of time. He knew he was, and, on top of that, the crude marks he had been making in the paving stones with one of his more durable knives were being changed every time he wasn’t looking. He only wished he knew how time worked in this strange place, as one could never be too careful in other possible dimensions, but by his counting he had approximately nine hours to find the kid, and, at the rate things were going, that was not near enough time.

Finding himself at yet another dead end, Jason swore mightily. There had to be a faster way to do this. Turning around, he found that the three branches of the path he was currently on had magically disappeared, replaced with the dead end that he had been certain was behind him.

Scowling, he turned around again, hearing a muttering in the distance. Jogging toward it, he soon came upon a set of doors, each with its own guard in front. Well, he supposed they could be called “guards”, at least, based on their attire. As he slowed to a stop, he saw feet sticking up on either side of the upright ones’ faces. Each creature standing before their respective door appeared to have another, upside-down creature clinging onto their shield.

“Hello?” He called out, cautiously, unsure of who he was supposed to be addressing. At the sound of his voice, the furious muttering going on behind the shields stopped, and four heads peered out at him.

“Hello.” The upright, red creature on the left said, staring intently.

“Greetings.” Said the upright blue creature on the right, gazing at him with matched intensity.

“So, uh, do… any of you know the way to that castle?” Jason asked, pointing to the smudge on the horizon that he desperately hoped had been growing larger as the day wore on. Being straightforward had worked with the worm, after all, why not these guys?

“Oh, yes. But the only way to find it is to try one of these doors.” The bottom red head said.

The bottom blue head nodded. “One of them leads to the castle at the centre of the Labyrinth. And the other leads to–” He paused as his counterpart up top made dramatic sound effects, “–Certain death!”

All four heads “ooh”ed in various mystical tones of voice.

“Alright,” Jason put his hands on his hips. “So which is which?”

“Er, we can’t tell you.” Replied the left upside-down head.

“Who can, then?” He uttered through gritted teeth.

“They can.” Piped up the right upside-down head.

Raising his glare to the top heads, Jason waited.

“You can only ask one of us.” The top left creature asserted.

Nodding affirmatively, the top right creature continued. “It’s in the rules. And I should warn you that one of us always tells the truth, and one of us always lies. That’s a rule, too. He always lies.” And here he gestured to the left guard with a crook of his neck.

“I do not! I tell the truth.” He straightened his crooked spine as much as the odd tangle of limbs would allow.

“Oh, what a lie!” The right guards howled, and soon giggling and bickering broke out behind both the shields again.

“Okay.” Jason huffed. “A classic Knights and Knaves puzzle. Tell me,” he said to the red guards, “would he tell me that this door leads to the castle?”

The top guards blinked at each other a moment, before the ones on the left bent their heads to confer behind their shield.

“Uh, yes?” The upright red head finally agreed.

Letting out a breath, Jason smiled slightly. “Great, so that door leads to the castle.”

“But how do you know?” The guard he had been speaking with asked hastily. “He could be telling the truth.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Jason said, already pushing the door open.

“But I could be telling the truth!” The guard called after him.

“Don’t care!” Jason yelled over his shoulder. “And don’t have time to explain. Maybe next time, fellas– Whoa!”

The exclamation at the end of his sentence was because Jason had suddenly found himself falling. Not for long, though, as a myriad of tealy-blue hands caught him, slowing his descent and tugging at his jacket and pants legs.

“Stop it!” He yelled, trying and failing to get a grip on something, anything.

Five of the nearby hands came together to form some semblance of a face, and when the “mouth” moved, it was accompanied by words.

“‘Stop it’?” It said. “Why do you want us to stop? We’re helping! We’re Helping Hands.”

Grunting with effort, Jason tore his arm out of the hands’ grasp. “No, you’re not helping.” He bit out. “In fact, you're being a great hindrance.”

“Oh, so you want us to let go?” Another set of hands formed into a face next to his left shoulder.

All at once, he felt the hands begin to slacken, and his body begin to slide downwards once again. “What? No!” Jason yelped, but it was too late for that. Soon he found himself entering a narrow hole covered in dusty spiderwebs, and dropping straight into what sounded like a small, dark room, by the echoes of it. At least the hands had stopped him from gaining any terminal velocity.

After a few seconds of regaining his balance and trying to ascertain where in the Labyrinth he could be, Jason reached into his pocket and pulled out a chem light, quickly cracking it and using the meager chemiluminescence to look around.

“Where am I?” He muttered to himself. “Is this a frickin’ oubliette or something?”

“Good guess.” A voice huffed.

Spinning around Jason saw the dwarf from the entrance.

“Hedgewig?” He said confusedly, casting about in his mind for whatever silly nonsense name he had introduced himself by.

The dwarf snarled at him, lighting a candle that somehow burned much, much brighter than his glow stick. “It’s ‘Hoggle’.” He said, grumpily. “And I knew you were going to be trouble the minute I saw you, so I’ve decided to come and lend you a hand.”

“Right.” Jason rolled his eyes. “Because you are the most helpful person in this entire place, and, just out of the goodness of your heart, you decided to offer your assistance.”

“That’s right.” Hoggle sniffed. “I mean, look at where you’ve got yourself so far: nowhere. You’re stuck in an oubliette, with no way out, and you’re no closer to rescuing your brother than you were an hour ago.”

“He’s not my brother.” Jason spat automatically. Then, he stopped to consider. “So you’re saying you have a way out of here?”

Hoggle puffed out his chest. “Of course I do. I know this Labyrinth inside and out. Maybe the only one who knows it better is Jareth himself.”

“And what would I need to do in order to procure this help?” Jason asked suspiciously. He surmised that “Jareth” must be the Goblin King; there was no one else such a hideously fantastical name could belong to, and no one else who would know the Labyrinth so well.

“Oh, nothing. Nothing at all.” The dwarf said airily, fiddling around in what appeared to be a pile of garbage. “Tell you what. I’ll take you back outside the Labyrinth, and you go on your way and I’ll go on mine. How about that?”

“What?” Spluttering, an incensed Jason followed the little man around the room, throwing his hands up. “How is that supposed to help me? I need to get to the centre, dimwit!”

“Insulting your guide, not a smart move.” Hoggle tutted, continuing to search for something amid all the glittery cobwebs.

“How about this?” Jason grit out. “You take me to the castle right now, and I don’t do something unspeakably horrible to you and your friends and family.”

“Don’t have any friends or family.” Hoggle said gruffly. “And I’m not scared of you. What, you’ve got that little glowing stick? What’s it supposed to do to me?”

Jason was taken aback a bit, by the dwarf’s admission of loneliness and his lack of fear both. Was he really not that scary at all to someone who didn’t already know his Red Hood persona? “Is there no one else in this place? Just you and the goblins and Jareth? No other Hoggle-people?”

“What does it matter to you?” Hoggle turned to look over his shoulder suspiciously.

“Just curious…” Jason trailed off, distracted by whatever the dwarf seemed to have found. “What’s that?”

“This,” Hoggle said, straining a little to pick up the large object, “is a door. What, you’ve never seen one before?”

Once waiting seemed to be getting neither of them anywhere, Jason stomped over to help him lift it, leaning the frameless piece of wood against a wall. Wordlessly, Hoggle produced a doorknob from his pocket, placing it on the right side of the door and somehow opening it to reveal an assortment of pots and pans that came clattering down onto the ground.

“Oh, wrong way, wrong way.” He grumbled, shutting the door again, only to move the doorknob to the left and open it the other way. This time, on the other side of the door there was a larger cavern, this one with some natural light filtering through what he only supposed could be an opening ahead. Following Hoggle, Jason found himself in yet another twisting set of halls.

Suddenly, a deep voice roared, “Don’t go on!” and he jumped. Hoggle, however, just kept moving, ignoring the voice wholeheartedly.

Looking around, Jason saw that the seemingly inconspicuously craggy walls around them had large and eerie faces carved into them. “Go back while you still can!” Another one sounded, and the rest quickly followed in suit.

“This is not the way!”

“Take heed and go no further!”

“Beware. Beware.” One chanted, and another, “Soon it will be too late.”

“Oh, pay no attention to them.” Hoggle muttered. “They’re just False Alarms. You get a lot of them in the Labyrinth, especially when you’re on the right track.”

“Oh, no, you’re not.” A particularly loud one said, and Hoggle just grunted.

“Oh, shut up.” He replied, and the Alarm responded with a, “Sorry, just doing my job.”

“Well, you don’t have to do it to us.” Hoggle snapped, just as the next Alarm began.

“Beware for the–”

“Just forget it!”

“Aw, please, I haven’t said it for such a long time.” The stone face sounded truly saddened, and Hoggle sighed as he relented.

“Oh, alright, but don’t expect a big reaction.” He muttered.

“No, no, no.” The Alarm assured them, before clearing its throat. “–for the path you will take will lead to certain destruction!"

Jason stifled a snort at the sheer amount of melodramatics, but, before he could make a remark, a small glass orb rolled noisily past his feet. Following it with his eyes, Jason was somehow not surprised when the ball popped up into the air and landed in the cup of what appeared to be a beggar.

Not that he was about to trust that, but, by outward signs, this seemed to be a random panhandler with a large hat in the middle of the Labyrinth. Based on his gut, though, this guy was bad news. Jason reached quietly for a gun.

Hoggle groaned. “Oh, no.”

“What have we here?” Asked the beggar in a creaky voice.

“Uh, nothing, nothing.” Said Hoggle quickly, stepping to stand in front of Jason as if he could hide him. The effect was somewhat comical.

“‘Nothing’?” The beggar repeated. “Nothing, nothing, tra la la?” As he spoke, his voice grew louder, stronger, and he began to rise from the floor. Sweeping off the disguise with one hand, the Goblin King stood before them, wearing yet another ridiculous outfit.

“Oh, your majesty, what a nice surprise.” Hoggle said placatingly, kneeling into a bow.

“Hello, Hedgwart.” He said, almost fondly.

“Hogwart.” Jason corrected him.

“Hoggle!” The dwarf himself spoke irately, before remembering who was in front of him.

“Hoggle,” The king sounded distinctly less fond now, “can it be that you are helping this boy?”

Hoggle had started shaking a bit. “H- helping? In what sense?”

“In the sense that you are leading him closer to the castle!” It was the other man’s turn to sound annoyed, now.

“No, no!” Hoggle exclaimed. “I was leading him back to the beginning.”

“What?” Jason growled, although he supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised. Some creatures can’t be honest a day in their lives, even if it’s to save their own skin.

“See, I told him that I was bringing him to the castle,” Hoggle continued, “a little trickery on my part. But, actually–”

“Higgle.” The Goblin King sighed tiredly, “if I in any way suspected you were betraying me, I would be forced to suspend you head-first in the Bog of Eternal Stench.”

Hoggle didn’t even bother correcting him this time. Instead, he fell to the ground, gripping the edges of Jareth’s robe. “No, your majesty, please! Not the Eternal Stench!”

“Oh, yes, Hoggle!” He kicked the dwarf off of him, rounding on Jason. “And as for you, Jason, how are you enjoying my Labyrinth?”

Considering his options, Jason took a long, slow breath. “I’m finding it quite entertaining.” He tried to keep his voice even and school his expression into something neutral.

“Hm.” Jareth seemed particularly annoyed with this. “Well, how about raising the stakes a bit?” He gestured behind him and an ornate golden clock appeared, thirteen hours on the face, whose hands began spinning clockwise as he twirled a finger.

“What?” Jason cried, outraged. “That’s not fair! You said I had thirteen hours, you can’t just take half of them away!” He pulled out his gun.

“Oh, I think you’ll find that I quite can.” Jareth grinned, somehow now looming over him. “Let’s see if you’ll be able to find your precious brother now.” So saying, he summoned another glass ball with a flick of his wrist and tossed it behind him into the darkness. The little speck of reflected light began growing, and with it came a loud rasping noise.

“Oh, no!” Hoggle moaned, already turning to run on his short legs. “It’s the Cleaners!”

Jason barely spared a glance in Jareth’s direction, who, of course, had disappeared by now. Grabbing Hoggle, he hoisted the dwarf in his arms and took off down the tunnel. It was hard work running with a creature half the size of him, but he managed, ignoring Hoggle’s indignant cries which soon turned to whimpers of fear as the huge, conical machine full of arms bore down on them. Eventually, they reached a dead end; a grate that not even Hoggle would be able to squeeze through.

“The Cleaners, the Bog of Eternal Stench! You sure got his attention!” Hoggle wailed.

Stopping, Jason set him down and began to look around himself. There seemed to be nothing but stone walls as far as he could see; that and the Cleaners. Deciding it was high time that he got to be in charge of the Labyrinth’s nonsense openings and passages, Jason promptly ran into the nearest flimsy-looking wall. Hoggle gaped at him. But he persisted. After a few seconds, the old brickwork crumbled, and Jason leapt headlong into the open space, pulling the dwarf with him.

As the dust and glitter settled, Jason turned back to see the Cleaner machine being operated by several goblins on handcar-like pumps and pulleys. “Huh. Not so scary now that we’re on the other side of it.”

Hoggle stood up cautiously, brushing himself off and seeming to check himself over. Then he glanced up. “Ah, this is what we need. A ladder! Follow me.” He began moving toward a rickety old ladder in the corner of the walled-off space Jason had broken into.

“Wait.” Jason put his hands on his hips, voice deepening almost without him noticing. “How can I trust you? You just said you were taking me back to the beginning.”

“I was lying.” Hoggle said, already climbing. “I just told him that to get him off our trail. You’ve got to look at it this way: What other choice have you got?.”

Jason sighed to himself, silently weighing his options. In the end, he decided that having at least some kind of guide was better than no information about this place at all. At least, for the time being. Following Hoggle up the creaking ladder, he began worrying again. He had barely made it through any of the Labyrinth so far, and the Goblin King had just cut his time in half. He hoped the kid appreciated all the effort he was putting into saving his sorry butt, especially now that this had become some kind of nightmarish speedrun.

“Consider this from my position,” Hoggle said, above him, “I’m a coward, and Jareth scares me.”

“What kind of position is that?”

“No position. That’s my point. And you wouldn’t be so brave if you’d ever smelled the Bog of Eternal Stench. It’s– It’s–”

Jason crinkled his nose. “Is that all it does; smell?”

Hoggle reached up to a trap door. “Oh, believe me, that’s enough. But the worst thing is, if you so much as put a foot in the Bog of Eternal Stench, you’ll smell bad for the rest of your life.” Shoving the door up, he climbed out of a circular opening. Jason followed after.

They appeared to be in an entirely different part of the Labyrinth now, though that was only as far as appearances went. This portion looked more like a hedge maze, with statues and topiaries all around, as well as a giant but-still-impossible-to-have-been-in stone vase that they had apparently climbed out of.

Clapping his hands together as if to dust them off, Hoggle nodded once to himself, decisively. “Here we are, then. You’re on your own now.” He began to walk off.

Jason appreciated his height and breadth as he lightly jogged over and placed himself in front of the dwarf. “Nu-uh. You’re helping me get to that castle.”

“Says who?” Hoggle glared, crossing his arms.

“Says me.” Jason said, sweetly, unholstering his gun and pointing it at him.

“Oh, fine.” He grumbled, crossing his arms even tighter and looking away from Jason with a sour expression. His eyes widened as he heard a loud roar coming from somewhere over the hedges behind them. “Nope!” Hoggle cried, and, on a dime, he turned and ran.

“Hoggle, come back here!” Jason called after him. “Coward!” But the dwarf was gone, nothing to be seen anymore but the dust kicked up from his heels.

Sighing in a beleaguered manner, Jason put his gun back in its holster. Then he turned and walked toward the roaring. In a place like this, demonic howling could just as soon mean cute little kitty cats. And, if not, with the way this day had been going, he was more than ready to fight something.

Turning a corner, he found an odd sight. A large, rusty-haired beast was strung upside-down from a tree, and several smaller goblin-like things in helmets were running in circles around it, using some kind of severely carnivorous naked mole rats on sticks to bite the poor creature. The large… thing —It looked like some kind of cross between a bear and a yak?— had been what Jason had heard bellowing. It had horns and long ears, but it towered over him even all tied up. This was a beast of another land if ever he’d seen one.

Reaching for a weapon, Jason felt a soft pressure against his foot. Looking down, he found an assortment of small, palm-sized rocks piled up next to him. Shrugging it off as another strange Labyrinth phenomenon, Jason picked one up. It was heftier than he’d expected, almost the perfect throwing weight.

Chucking it at the nearest helmeted goblin, Jason cheered to himself when he hit it dead-on. A few more carefully thrown stones, and the goblins were distracted, screaming at each other and hitting one another with their weird hairless biter things. Once the group had exited the area, lost to the densely packed vegetative walls, he took a step forward.

The rust-red creature hanging from the tree roared at him, and Jason paused. “Do you want help getting down or not? I take it those goblins were a bunch of jerks, but if you’re just going to treat me like that, then I might as well leave you.”

“Ludo down.” It rumbled.

As he carefully let the large and heavy creature down, Jason was surprised to be met with fairly intelligent eyes. “‘Ludo’? Is that your name?”

“Ludo.” He repeated back, and smiled at Jason. Bewildered, Jason began to smile back.

Helping the ginormous creature to his feet —Although he doubted he was much help at all; more an accessory to the task—, Jason pointed down the opposite way he had come. “It sounds like we probably shouldn’t be following those goblins with the sticks, so I’m going that way. I’m headed to the centre, what about you?”

Ludo just nodded, and they began walking together. Soon, however, there were not paving stones underneath their feet but dirt. Looking up, Jason found that the sky had become obscured by overhanging tree branches drenched in moss, and that the way forward was a miasma of hazy mist and glitter. “Well, this is certainly looking fun, isn’t it Ludo?” He said sarcastically. No response.

Turning around, Jason found himself alone again.

Tim desperately needed to get somewhere in his investigations. So far he had been up and down every flight of stairs he could find, only to end up back at that first room again. A palace this size had to have a kitchen somewhere, but he had yet to find it. And no bedrooms either. Did the inhabitants of this place never sleep?

Happening upon another grandiose doorway, Tim hung back by the curtains framing it. He had heard voices; real, human-sounding voices, not the guttural mumbling of goblins. There was the sound of far-off gunshots, and he startled. A few seconds later, the sound of running feet. Short steps. Maybe a child? Then, the sound of a second person breathing. Where had they come from? They certainly hadn’t been there a moment before.

Tim’s head ached with trying to understand the logic in this whacked up place, and he still couldn’t get that stupid song out of his head. There was more movement, and, pressing himself as flat as possible, Tim listened in.

“Well, if it isn’t you.”

Jareth sounded annoyed, but it was hard to tell from just his cool tone of voice.

“Oh, uh, yes.”

Another voice, and not one Tim recognised. Perhaps a new player in this game of four-dimensional lunatic chess? Maybe someone who could help him escape?

“The boy gave me the slip, but I was about to go and lead him back to the beginning, like you told me.”

“I see.” Jareth said, serenely. “For a moment there I thought you were running to help him.” A pause. “Which would be incredibly stupid, especially after all my warnings.”

“Oh, you bet it would!” The new voice could only belong to the person with the small steps, Tim surmised, as the one who just “appeared” had to be Jareth. But he didn’t sound like a child. Far from it, actually. Tim screwed up his face in concentration, wishing that awful song would just go away and leave him in peace.

“Ah, there you are.”

Tim jumped. He had been so caught up in the song from earlier that he had missed the end of the conversation. Jareth was now right in front of him, parting the curtains with a hand.

“Hello.” Tim said, awkwardly, trying to act as if he hadn’t just been eavesdropping on his kidnapper, and all the while that completely ridiculous song just played louder in his head. Gripping the mirror shard in his hand so tight he nearly cut himself, Tim took a deep breath. It was now or never.

Lunging at the man, he moved to slash him across the chest. Jareth caught him easily, almost lazily, gripping him painfully tight by the forearm and conjuring a crystal ball with the other hand.

“Now, now, Timothy,” he sounded almost disappointed, “if you’re really going to be this much trouble, I think we’re going to have to speed a few things up.”

“Ludo?” Jason hollered, looking around the various sparkly trees as though a creature of that size could be hiding behind one. “Ludo, where’d you go?”

A sudden jabbering caught him off guard. It didn’t sound like anyone he knew, but who was to say in this crazy place? At the rate things were going, that might even be Tim. Deciding to head toward the sound, he soon came across a large clearing. Rhythmic tapping and clicking, almost like drums, began as soon as he stepped into the space.

Screams and hoots sounded, too, as bright red and orange creatures with long limbs and feathery tails jumped down from the trees. The first one took in a great breath, almost in a preparing-to-sing kind of way.

Jason pulled out his gun. There was no time for this. “That's enough of that.” Firing once into the air and then leveling it at the nearest creature, he put his finger on the trigger. “Next one who opens their mouth gets it.”

There were various whoops, screeches, and chuckles, but the creatures didn't seem to care about what he was saying.

“Alright, then.” Firing at the closest one, he hit it dead between the eyes. Its eyes popped out of their sockets.

Jason cursed, reloading.

The cawing and crowing continued, even as he shot another in the shoulder. Its arm fell off.

“How–?” Jason shook his head. “Doesn't matter.” He fired off a few more rounds, then turned and ran.

The shouts continued, and some even sounded like they were pursuing him, but soon he came up to a wall. Running his hands over it, looking for a way up or out, Jason felt his heart beating faster. Those creatures behind him seemed to be getting closer, from the cacophony, and he was trying to be calm but the feeling of being hunted was closing in on him.

“Here!” A rope fell into view, and Jason grabbed it. Looking up, he saw– “Hoggle?”

“I told you you were going to get into trouble.” The dwarf grunted as he attempted to pull Jason up. With speed and ease befitting a former Robin, Jason reached the top in a matter of seconds. He could hear the red flame creatures from the forest reaching the wall, so he fired a couple more shots down in their direction for good measure, before looking back at Hoggle.

“You came back for me?” He knew his voice was suspicious, and let that be abundantly clear.

“Er, well.” Hoggle scuffed a shoe on the stones. “Like I said, I knew you were going to be a problem. I couldn’t just let you go on your own, now, could I?”

Jason snorted. “Yeah, that sounds believable.” But he patted the dwarf on the head all the same. “I guess it’s back to us two, huh, old friend?” He said sarcastically.

Immediately, Hoggle pulled away, looking horrified. “No! No, no, no!” Then the floor opened up under them, and both men fell through.

It was almost like a twisting and turning slide at an amusement park, except for it ended all too abruptly with a culvert outlet. Jason’s lightning reflexes were the only reason that he didn’t fall off into empty space, and they were the only thing that saved Hoggle, too.

Gripping the dwarf by the arm, Jason heaved him up to the meager ledge he was crouched on.

“Oh, why’d you have to go and do a thing like that?” Hoggle spat at him, steadying himself against the wall before making his way along the ledge.

“A thing like what?” Jason asked, affronted, even as he did likewise. “Saving your life?”

“No,” he scowled, “like calling me a friend.”

“Well, I’m so sorry.” Jason put on a very pretentious voice. “I did not know that we were in the habit of dumping people into trash chutes for using the word ‘friend’ around here!” He had given up on the posh accent and devolved back into pure anger.

Hoggle only huffed.

“Oh, and what is that smell?” Jason asked, covering his nose with a free hand as the odor hit him.

“That,” Hoggle said dryly, “is the Bog of Eternal Stench.”

“It’s horrible.” Jason tried to think of a word to describe it. “It’s– It’s like–”

“Oh, it doesn’t matter what it’s like,” Hoggle groused, “it’s a Bog of Eternal Stench.”

Both were silent for a moment as they tried their best to move swiftly but cautiously across the ledge. Hoggle stopped, fumbling something in his hand, and Jason looked up from the outcropping of old masonry.

“What’s that?” He asked, and Hoggle stiffened.

“Oh, it’s, uh–”

At that moment, the old mortar decided that their combined weight was too much for it, and it crumbled into nothingness. Hoggle yelped, reaching up for a handhold, and Jason caught him. Together, they began to drop. Only for a large, rusty-red lump to appear underneath them and break their fall.

“Ludo?” Jason cried, incredulous.

“Smell bad!” Ludo replied, patting Jason on the shoulder with one hand while covering his nose with the other.

Jason gestured to the big, furry creature. “Hoggle, this is Ludo. He’s… He’s a friend, too.” He smiled, a tad smugly, when no great hole opened up in the earth to swallow them this time.

“Pleasure to meet you.” Hoggle grumbled, but he shook Ludo’s paw anyway.

“Ludo, have you seen a way out of here?” Jason asked, curiously looking around. Ludo nodded, pointing toward a copse of sickly trees. If he squinted, Jason could just see what appeared to be a bridge beyond them. Heading in that direction soon brought them to an old stone ramp with unstable looking wooden slats hanging beyond it to form what could supposedly be called a bridge.

Right as they reached it, a small, foxy-looking thing leapt out at them, a battle cry on its tongue. “Stop! Stop, I say!” The creature swung a staff in front of the trio. “No one may pass without my permission!”

Jason groaned, hanging his head for a moment as he collected himself. “Come on, we just want to cross.” He said, already reaching for his gun.

“Smell bad!” Ludo complained.

“What?” Said the fox creature. “Of what speakest thou? The air is sweet and fragrant,” he flung out his staff to keep Hoggle from trying to run across, “and none may pass without my permission!”

“Well, then.” Jason growled, voice deepening automatically. “Do we have it?”

“Er, have what?”

“Your permission.” Jason was completely exasperated by now, but this seemed to make the fox-thing stop and think.

“Hm. Well, I don’t see why not!” He bowed to them. “I, Sir Didymus, welcome thee to this bridge, and allow you all to pass.”

“Thanks.” Jason replied sarcastically, but as soon as he set foot on the creaking wooden boards, they fell through. Grabbing a low-hanging branch saved him from falling into the Bog, but now he was just dangling above it. “Hey, guys? A little help?” He called.

Hoggle and Sir Didymus seemed at a loss, but Ludo quickly began bellowing. Jason would have clapped his hands over his ears if he was able to let go of the branch. A few seconds later, though, large rocks began to rise from the bubbling liquid.

One came to rest directly under his feet, and Jason hesitantly released his death grip on the branch to stand on it. “Ludo,” he said, breathlessly, “did you do that? You can summon rocks?” He might as well believe it. Life in this Labyrinth was already so flipping weird.

Ludo smiled proudly as he walked over on the new stepping stones he had called up, Hoggle following close behind. “Sure, rocks friends”

Sir Didymus whistled once, calling a fluffy grey dog to his side, before mounting the saddle attached to its back. “Steady on, Ambrosius." And the dog ran determinedly across the stones, too.

“Alright,” Jason put his hands on his hips, surveying the motley crew. “We’ve got very little time to get to the Goblin City, so we better start moving.”

“What are you going to do once we’ve arrived?” Sir Didymus asked.

“Well,” Jason pushed a large branch out of the way, “I’ve got to get this kid back. Tim. He’s sort of my dad’s son, but also sort of not, but he’d go ballistic if I lost him.”

“Ah.” Didymus paused to consider. “As he is your father’s son, does that not make you two brothers?”

Jason snorted. “I guess, but only in a very loose sense. I do not know or like anything about this kid.”

“Any yet, here you are: questing to save him.”

“And yet here I am.” Jason muttered darkly.

Didymus mulled over this. “Mayhaps you should consider a fight to the death? Or, at least, to the submission? Then you might be able to truly understand one another.”

“‘Understand’? Yeah, I don’t think I’ll ever understand the likes of Tim Drake.” Looking for a change in subject to get away from the uncomfortable thoughts battling for his attention, Jason stretched his arms above his head. “Man, I’m really hungry. Is there anything to eat around here?”

Quietly, almost unnoticed, Hoggle sidled up to him. “Here, Jason.” He offered a peach.

“Thanks, Hoggle.” Jason was so determined not to make eye contact with Sir Didymus that he immediately accepted the fruit, biting into it hungrily. It had, after all, been many hours since he’d last eaten.

Lost in thought, Jason fell behind the group. Things became wavery at the edges. Falling more than sitting down, Jason blinked hard.

It was a beautiful, sunny day out; the late autumn rays fading into dusky evening. Jason whistled as he headed back to Wayne Mannor, enjoying the breeze on his face. It had been a good day, and he had a shining A+ English paper in his backpack to show off when he got inside.

Dinner was a normal affair, with jokes and friendly barbs thrown across the table, as well as a few bread rolls. After that, it was time to get dressed for the gala. It was one of many galas Jason had attended while living with Bruce, and he barely remembered what this one was for. What did it matter, though? Any excuse to spend more time with his family, even if he had to wear a stuffy old suit. Besides, after the gala, there'd be patrol, and that was when the fun would really start.

As the evening wore on, Jason found himself growing restless. He kept spotting a masked man out of the corner of his eye —Which, weird? It wasn’t a masquerade ball—, and it was beginning to unnerve him. Most recently, he had actually locked eyes with the suspicious character; watching him from across the sea of people, peering out through the mask.

“This isn’t right.” He muttered, still staring at the strange man on the other side of the room.

“What isn’t right, chum?” Bruce asked, concerned, but Jason just shook his head.

“I– I need some air.” He headed away from the party, away from Bruce’s fatherly stare, and tried to find somewhere quiet. But at every turn he was headed off by more and more partygoers. Eventually, he marched straight to the big French doors that lead onto the balcony. But they were locked.

Looking outside, Jason could see nothing but hazy spirals of gold and black, almost opalescent in nature. “This isn’t right.” He said again, looking over his shoulder to find the man in the mask right behind him. He jumped.

“This– I need to be somewhere.” Jason said, desperately looking around for some hint of where he could go. Then, he saw it. A thirteen-houred clock face, sitting atop the old grandfather clock that Bruce insisted on keeping in the ballroom. Time was almost up.

Tim.

Turning on the masked man, Jason found that he was no longer there. “Oh, this is utter BS.” He mumbled, fumbling for a gun, a knife, even a batarang; something. Finding nothing, he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Then he raised a fist and threw it at the fancy glass door.

A hand caught his wrist. It was the masked man, maskless now as he held Jason back. “Think, Jason.” the man hissed. “Think about all you’re giving away, all you’re leaving behind. You could have this, all of this, if you just stay.”

Paling, Jason thought about it. Having Bruce and Alfie and Dick back, having his old room, no blood on his hands, no decapitated heads weighing on his shoulders. No explosions and no crowbars. Just this.

But he shook his head.

“No can do, buddy.” He said through gritted teeth. “I’ve got a Robin to save.” And, so saying, he wrenched his arm out of Jareth’s grasp and sent his whole body weight at the door.

There was a terrible crashing, and then everything was up in the air. People and memories and fleeting fantasies all muddled together into one, and Jason found himself laying at the edge of the forest, almost before the gates to the Goblin City.

“Jason?” Ludo’s deep voice could be heard, as well as Sir Didymus’ higher one. “Young sir, where are you?”

Sitting up, Jason rubbed sleep out of his eyes. “I’m over here!” He called, and soon they had found him.

“Look, young sir, the gates are right there! We’ve almost made it.”

“I see that, Didymus.” Jason smiled, almost letting himself feel relief at their physical closeness, but still hearing the harsh beating of his heart underneath. He’d lost who knows how much time in whatever that dream sequence hallucination was, and he could tell that they were cutting it close.

Walking slowly in the gates, Jason looked up at a much, much larger metal door in front of them. It was humongous, and had the outline of some kind of giant battle mech suit in it. “Oh, bugger.”

The mech suit clanged to life, as suddenly sparks began shooting from the top of it and a great axe came swinging down toward them. The first few dodges were easy, but after that the thing seemed to pick up the pace.

“We can’t keep doing this forever!” Jason shouted. “There’s got to be some way to take it down from the inside!”

In the next few seconds, a pattering of feet making short little steps and a loud yelp could be heard above them, as Hoggle appeared, leaping down into the cockpit of the mech. He tossed the small goblin inside out, and grabbed the controls, yanking and straining to keep the axe in the air. When that seemed to no avail, he began pushing buttons at random.

“Hoggle!” Jason called. “Get out of there! It’s going to blow!”

The dwarf jumped out of the seat just in the nick of time, as the mech suit cockpit exploded in flames and dark, greasy smoke a few moments later. Tucking and rolling to the ground, Hoggle ended up at Jason’s feet.

“Look, I’m not asking to be forgiven.” He mumbled, refusing to meet Jason’s eyes. “And I ain’t ashamed of what I did. Jareth made me give you that peach. I told you I was a coward.”

Jason reached down to help the dwarf stand. “Everyone makes mistakes.” He shrugged.

“As for me, I commend you!” Sir Didymus raised his staff. “Rarley have I seen such courage. You are a brave and valiant man, Sir Hoggle.”

Ludo nodded. “Hoggle and Ludo friends.” He said in his gruff voice.

“Really?” Hoggle looked up at Jason in surprise. When he nodded as well, smothering a reluctant sigh, Hoggle clapped his hands together excitedly. “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s get that rat that calls himself Jareth!”

Muttering to himself, Jason followed behind the newly reenergised group. “Stupid magic users and their inability to be stable for even one fudging second. We better actually be close to the end of all this.”

Ludo pushed the heavy metal door open, and they headed warily in. Once inside, it appeared to be a ghost town; no occupants or charging army, nothing at all, save for a few cats and a couple of chickens. “Looks can be deceiving,” Jason said under his breath.

“What was that?” Sir Didymus’ voice echoed in and among the empty houses.

Just as Jason drew in air to answer, a sudden bell clanging could be heard. Looking around, the group saw guards piling out from every entrance to the castle.

“We need a distraction!” Jason yelled over the din. Ludo seemed happy to provide, calling out in his loud voice and summoning up rocks from the very dirt under their feet. Soon, the goblin army was being knocked about like bowling pins; pushed from side to side and completely surrounded by boulders.

The quartet advanced slowly but surely, until they were inside the castle proper. Heading more swiftly to the throne room, Jason was basically running at this point. However, his haste proved useless, as the throne room was entirely empty. Glancing about almost frantically, Jason spied a staircase.

“He must have gone this way!” Jason called back, one foot already on the first step, before he turned. “I’m sorry, guys, but I think I have to face this alone. Face him alone, if I have any chance of getting the kid back.”

“But, why?” Asked Sir Didymus, confusedly.

“It’s just the way things are done.” Jason said tiredly. “And with the way this guy works, he’d probably call it forfeit if I have any help. Besides, I need someone to watch my back while I’m up there.”

“Well, alright." Didymus still looked uncertain, but he signalled Ambrosius to back up.

“But,” Hoggle caught Jason’s sleeve, “should you need us…”

“I’ll call.” Jason promised, hurrying up the stairs.

“Robin!” Jason only barely remembered to keep the kid’s civilian name out of his mouth, and he knew he must sound exhausted, but, well, it had been a rather exhausting day.

Tim’s form stilled, but he didn’t turn. Jason cocked his head to the side, studying the scene set before him: an absurdly rich and ostentatious, yet utterly chaotic room; furs thrown over everything; snickers and whispers slipping between the cracks in the walls; chickens, for some reason; way too much dingy gold glinting from underneath; and, in the middle of it all, by a window, was the kid.

Robin, who he had been searching for all day. Robin, who was wearing only the most basic of gear under a wrap of fur. Robin, who, upon further examination, was tense and hunched. Robin, who still wouldn’t look at him.

“Kid?” Jason took a slow step closer, trying to figure out what could make the kid so stiff, so scared. After the kind of day he’d had, next to nothing would surprise him. “Come on, Replacement, we haven't got all day. The others are holding them off, but probably not for long.” Moving even closer, he saw that he was actually shuddering. “Robin?” He called, softly, laying a cautious hand on the kid's shoulder.

Instantly, the kid whipped around, hissing like a half-feral cat. Crouching low to the ground, he grabbed the edge of the fur and pulled it closer around himself, but nothing could disguise those glowing eyes, or those pointed ears.

Jason groaned. Right. In the heat of the fight he had forgotten the threat (Warning?) that had been repeated to him at the beginning of all this. Glancing around swiftly, he located a gaudy clock with knives for hands, the minute one a scant precious few ticks from thirteen.

“You have thirteen hours to find your brother, lest he be lost to you forever.”

“Ah, but if you don’t get him back, he’ll become a goblin. One of my own. And you wouldn’t want that.”

“Oh boy.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he tried to grapple with the situation. “Okay, Robin, I need you to come out of whatever wacky fantasy land you've been playing in. It's time to go home now.”

No response.

“Robin.” He tried again, subconsciously reaching for that almost-Bruce-impression that he'd been using all day. “Time to leave. Get yourself together.”

Still, nothing.

Ignoring the fear he could see through his running thin —And already practically transparent— patience he stomped forward, heedless of the furious hissing, and grabbed the kid by the scruff of the neck. “Let's. Go.” He growled. Hauling the Replacement all the way back through the Labyrinth wouldn't be pleasant, even though the kid was almost worryingly light, but he had slim pickings for other options at this point.

Scrabbling at the floor for a moment, the kid hissed again, but when that proved fruitless, he turned to Jason's arm. Jason yelped in surprise, jerking his body away from the wild swiping and trying to maintain his tight grip on the back of the suit. Halfway through his mental cataloguing of the kid’s furious swings, Jason’s mind stalled. There wasn’t anything remotely recognisable in his patterns, if there was a pattern at all. That pause cost him.

“Wha– Hey!” Jason dropped the kid, clutching his forearm, which was now decorated with several angry red lacerations, courtesy of the kid’s apparent new claws.

Cursing, Jason nursed his wounded arm. “What kind of kooky maniac would ever– Who– How do I– ?” He covered his face with his good arm and listened to the faint sounds of the younger boy resetting himself on the window ledge. Then a cold thrill of dread pulsed through him.

“Replacement. What's my name?”

A quiet hiss.

Alright, first thing: assess. Then formulate a plan and get both himself and them both the heck out of here.

All the while, the faint thrumming hum of: He's gone. You never even knew the kid and now he's gone… vibrated in the back of his skull.

“Robin, are you in there? Hello, Earth to Robin? Kid, what's going on?” He knew the words were beginning to come out desperate, but he couldn't quite push down the panic rising in his throat.

Not a single intelligible syllable passed his lips, which he now saw were being pushed out by crooked and snaggley teeth.

Jason swore angrily. Great, this was just great. Timothy Jackson Drake, genius rich kid heir, was now a babbling gremlin creature who seemed intent on nothing but watching the random, ridiculous chickens wandering about with wary eyes.

Maybe he could get a response out of him with some other method of communication? Morse code, sign language, and even the few bits of various other languages he could recall the proper grammar for in this moment were useless. Maybe he just had to be patient. Maybe the kid was just stubborn. Well, that at least was in Jason’s wheelhouse. He could out-stubborn anyone. He stared at the boy, counting down the seconds until a full fifteen minutes had passed. Still, nothing.

After yet another fifteen minutes of trying to corral, coax, and otherwise draw the kid into the hallway yielded utterly no results, Jason was ready to scream. Looking around for something to kick, punch, or otherwise obliterate, he growled.

Unfortunately, it was all elaborate tapestries and sweeping purple hangings over stone walls, leaving nothing for him to hit in a satisfying enough manner. Besides, it probably wasn’t worth breaking his hand over. Instead, he kicked an overflowing basket of metal goblets that was just laying around on the floor, enjoying the ringing clangs as they scattered. Briefly, he considered just ripping the lavish cushions to shreds, chucking them out that stupidly designed open window and watching the feathers fall. He fingered a blade he had yet to use during this day from hell.

But that would probably just alert someone to their location, which, come to think of it, made his kicking of the goblets a bit unwise. Dropping down to sitting, he covered his face in his hands, the tips of his fingers pulling at his hair.

What was he going to do? He'd found Robin, but there was no way for him to get him out of the room, let alone all the way back to Gotham. And that's if he even knew how to get back to Gotham in the first place.

“C’mon, Tim.” He whispered, “there's got to be something that'll get through to you…” Jason thought about what his companions had said, and how fairy tales like this ought to work.

True love's kiss was out of the question. He wasn't a fair maiden, or pure hearted in any way, shape, or form that could be legally recognized. And there was no magical sword or curse-breaking amulet handy.

Something nudged his hand, and he glanced down. The kid —Or, well, whatever was left of him— was bumping his fingers with his head, like an alley cat begging to be scratched. Quieting down must have attracted his curiosity. Jason opened his hand, patting Tim's hair. “I guess we'll just wait here, then. See what happens? I mean, I found you, but that's no guarantee when playing with a jerk like this. Maybe he'll at least turn me into some kind of goblin that's higher rank than you…” It was a pale comfort, especially when he had an image of what might very well be in his future painted so clearly in front of him.

Tim pulled away, something must have caught his probably-now-enhanced-hearing, and Jason's hand fell onto his jacket. There was a lump inside; something hard and rectangular in the pocket. Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out the old, worn book he had been reading at the start of this nightmare-fest. He had forgotten that he’d shoved it into his inner pocket before the fight, intending on going straight back home and finishing his reading after a quick look to be sure the kid wasn’t dying or anything.

Absently thumbing through the pages, he found a page near the end that had been dogeared and opened to many times, if the cracked spine and relaxed binding was anything to go by. Humming quietly in an attempt to keep Tim calm —And to steady himself, though he was loath to admit it—, Jason let his eyes flit over the words. It was a story that he had read many times before; a tale of kidnapped babes and dramatic heroines coming to their rescue. There were only so many old stories one could read before they all began to run together.

Jason sighed defeatedly. Well, he might as well finish it now, before he lost his conscious mind to whatever zippity-doo-dah-day magic Jareth was coming to inflict on him. At least it would be a nice distraction from impending doom.

Softly, he inhaled, preparing to read aloud, as he often did to himself. Tim perked up, coming closer and leaning into his side.

“Sorry, buddy,” Jason whispered, “I’ve got a pretty poor voice to read you bedtime stories.” But Goblin-Tim didn’t seem to mind, only settling down further, like a dog circling before a nap.

And so, Jason began at the beginning. It was more of an anthology of goblin stories, which he hadn’t noticed before, but now found very fitting. He was pleasantly surprised to find Rossetti’s Goblin Market in the mix, and it was almost fun to have someone to read it aloud to. At last, he came to the battered section the book had fallen open to originally.

“‘Give me the child,’” Jason read.

“Give me the child. Though dangers untold, and hardships unnumbered, I have fought my way here, to the castle beyond the Goblin City, to take back the child you have stolen. For my will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom as great.”

He paused to take a breath, and heard a rustling. Instantly, he was on his feet, book almost forgotten in his left hand, right already on his gun.

A slow clap emanated from the growing shadows of the setting sun, and the Goblin King himself stalked out from behind a curtain hanging. “Well, well, well.” He chortled. “It seems we’ve finally found ourselves at the end of our story.”

“Turn him back.” Jason growled, nodding his head at the hesitant and uncertain shape of Tim behind him. The younger vigilante didn’t seem to know who to go to in this scenario, gravitating toward Jareth, but also hanging back so that he was still technically behind Jason.

“Oh, you mean Timothy?” He beckoned Tim to him with a genteel hand movement, and, slowly, the kid shifted and began creeping closer. “I feel like he might need a name change, hm? ‘Timothy’ is a bit too… human.”

Jason ground his teeth, keeping one eye on Tim, who was still cautiously moving around the back of the room, and the other on the unbelievably smug and gaudy man in front of him. “Give him back, Jareth.” He bit out. “I played your game, and I won. Now, I get Tim back, and we get to go home.”

The Goblin King opened his mouth to respond —likely with trickery and some kind of mocking play on words that, under any normal circumstances, Jason would have to begrudgingly appreciate— and Jason rolled his eyes. Then, he saw Tim, stiffening in the corner. He glanced over to really look at the kid, and saw his lips moving in a way that almost approximated human speech. Tim pointed with a shaking hand, and Jason turned just in time to see a crystal ball on the tips of Jareth’s fingers.

“Nice try, wise guy.” He fired.

Jareth squawked as the bullet hit his leg. He fell backwards, almost majestically, billowing sleeves catching the air and obscuring him from view. In the time it took Jason to blink, there was a wounded owl flapping heavily in front of him, screeching as it flew lopsidedly away. A quick glance around was all it took to tell him that they were back in Gotham; smog-streaked early morning skies had never looked so beautiful.

Tim.

Whipping around, Jason was relieved to see a body in a pile of equipment. “Hey, hey.” He knelt quickly beside Tim, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as he tried to sit up. “It’s alright, we’re back.” Some part of his brain that remembered how to reassure civilians kicked in, and he brushed a bit of Tim’s hair out of his eyes. “You’re safe, now.”

He could see the remnants of Tim’s goblin-like appearance deteriorating; eyes fading back to white and blue; ears becoming more rounded and human shaped. When he lifted a hand to his head, Jason saw that the claws were missing, too.

“Jason?” Tim croaked, sounding as if he very badly needed some water. “Wha– What happened?”

“I don’t even think you want to know, Timbo. I don’t think you even want to know.”