Title: Fleeting Victory
Written by Shattered Moon
Warning: This is unedited beyond my editing.
Rating: T
Length: 1/1
Disclaimer: I own the plot and the characterization and appearance of humanoid Labyrinth. That is all.
Sarah looked at the sky. It was gray—a roiling mass of gray that seemed to consume and taint everything it touched. It had touched her. She didn't have to look down to see it, she knew. She felt the chill of the poison creep through her veins. It was morning and the day already promised to be harsh. The sky, the verge of rain, and the wind that whipped through the trees; a day that promised pain. Sarah was used to such days—school days. She had noticed a trend, school days happened to be the most dreary days she had to live through—oft she professed to dying of boredom.
She wished, no she mumbled to herself, not wished that would was taboo for her to know. Words, she thought with a whimsical smile, have power. She knew what words could do; at least, she did now whereas before, she had thought nothing of them blithely throwing them about. 'Twas not the case know, she was careful with her words now and the way she worded them.
Sarah glanced at her watch, it was new or rather it was handy-me-down new; Karen had given it to her. Sarah had thanked her even though she detested the gaudy thing, and worn the watch today as a sort of truce to Karen—an attempt at civility. She hoped the action would start a new era in the household that the two strong women had to share.
It hadn't worked. Karen seemed to take Sarah's accepting of the watch as a subservient act. That Sarah was bending to her will, and Sarah laughed in her head. Even though she hated the watch, it was a needed accessory and that fact that she now had it was a godsend. At least now, she would be on time for babysitting Toby and for school.
"Girl," an impatient voice growled at her. "Are you gonna get on this bus or not?" Sarah snapped out of her musings with a jerk. There in front of her was the bus, the yellow doom she had been waiting for. She nodded quickly as she jumped onto the bus, and maneuvered down the aisle. She tried to sit next to a slightly older boy she knew from elementary school, but with a glassy-eyed expression he shook he head 'no.' Sarah nodded, but her anxiety increased when all of her past acquaintances reacted the same.
With a disgruntled off she fell onto one of the far back seats—in shadow. Sarah didn't have time to mull the reactions of her peers; in fact, she didn't have much time at all. There was something in the air, something that forced her to blink rapidly to dispel the sudden tiredness she felt. A something that forced her to forget the reactions, and the fear in which the males of the bus looked at her, and the uneasiness that the females looked upon her with.
She felt like she had eaten one of his peaches.
School had passed by in a rather uneventful blur, classes interlaced with her dreams, a few notes scribbled in her notebook. But in retrospect, she remembered nothing of the classes, and what little she had written in her notebook confused her. The notes were disjointed, and vague, and others were frightening. Something, a base instinct, she reasoned told her that those were not notes she had learned in class.
"Sarah," Karen called down from upstairs to her stepdaughter. "One of your teachers called." The voice dwindled and for a moment Sarah thought that she was save. But that moment was shattered, crushed into splinters like crystals. Karen walked down the stairs. Her tense figure portrayed the anger and the confusion the woman felt about the sophomore standing in the doorway. "He said that you weren't paying attention. That you were muttering to yourself and you wouldn't stop, kept on disrupting his class is what he said." She looked expectantly at Sarah, a question in her eyes, the benefit of the doubt. "Well? Is it?"
"I," Sarah whispered trying to recall the day. She looked at Karen, "Which teacher?"
"A Mister Dixie, I believe," Karen replied, looking at her stepdaughter with vague worry.
"Karen, "Sarah spoke, a hint of fear in her voice. Her green eyes were wide with the worry, the feeling that she was being watched, controlled—the feeling that had struggled to be known throughout the day. "I—I don't remember what today. I don't know what happened in school. All I have…" She trailed off, instinct hissed at her that the notes should remain secret—they were forbidden.
" 'All you have' are what?" Karen queried, her worry no longer masked or faked as it had been on occasion. She was starting to like the stubborn young woman that she had been persuaded to accept when she married Robert.
"Nothing," Sarah hurriedly snapped, before brushing past the woman in front of her. "I'm going to see Toby."
"Toby?" Karen looked at Sarah in amusement perhaps her worry was misplaced. Sarah was being absentminded because of a boy. "So, you found a boy. Is he special?" Her question had frozen Sarah in her tracks. Karen shook her head, shaking off both the antics of Sarah and the feeling that the boy--that this 'Toby' was someone close to her.
"Karen," Sarah asked slowly, her mind feeling the spider's silk of fear beginning to wrap around her being and infect her. "What you do you mean if Toby is special? That I've found a boy? Toby is my baby-brother--your son."
Karen shook her head, the nagging sensation had returned. "No." She looked at Sarah, watched her breathing hitch and increase ten-fold. Somehow, she felt wrong saying this, but it was true. "Sarah, you father and I haven't…been able to—I've never had a son."
As Sarah lie in bed that night, her mind replayed the conversation over and over. The simple phrase, 'I never had a son,' screamed through her head. It wasn't true. She knew that, she had run the Labyrinth to save him, to save Toby. He was real. She knew it.
She looked to ceiling and watched the shadows twist upon it. The danced together elegantly, turning at perfect moments so as to never touch, the most beautiful of waltzes. Waltzes, she started, and whispered to the air, "No. Not waltzes--ballet--it's a ballet." But the shadows did not cease. Their movements increased, spinning wildly and whirling soundly around the room. Each shadow screamed at her to pay attention, to look at it, to love it.
Her hand shot out from beneath her comforter and flipped on the light. The shadows flickered for a moment, debating on whether to leave or not. They shimmered and grew in size, smiling crookedly at her—fangs. They had fangs, she noted vaguely; the shock of the shadows not disappearing when she summoned up light was too much for her over-sensitized mind. They had fangs like him.
She passed out and the shadows hastened to leave. No one was to know that they were there.
From Sarah's hand a note fluttered to the ground. It rested on the floor, waiting for morning to come, so it could be read. Light steps were heard entering the room, silent steps they were but not to the note, it felt the vibrations of the steps. A leather-booted foot struck out at the note, dusting up a small breeze that carried the note below the bed—gone.
Waking, rejoining the world was one of the hardest things known to her. Sleep offered her a place where everything was as she wanted it, where everything was her. Thus when she felt the gentle tugs of conscience, of the real world she resisted with all of her will. It was a battle she was doomed to lose, but it was a battle all of the same. She was too stubborn to give up.
She blinked blearily. The baby was crying in the distance; Toby was crying in the distance. All at once her body snapped to attention, he was here. She shouted in joy, his name was her saving grace. "Toby!" She bit out in a faked anger, "I'm coming." With that she flew out of her room, her feet barely touched the floor the whole way to the master bedroom.
The door banged harshly against the wall, and the color drained from Sarah's face. There wasn't a baby crying, Toby wasn't there. The crib wasn't there. The toys that Karen had bought to Toby weren't there. Everything was wrong but right at the same moment. The room was in order, nothing thrown about to indicate that this was a lie, a farce created to destroy her—perfect. It was in perfect order, just as she was in perfect disorder.
"Sarah," Karen looked at her stepdaughter with concern, her voice was soft and low, the kind of voice one used to soothe a terrified animal. "Sarah, what's wrong? Are you okay? And why did you cry at to Toby—he doesn't exist. You know this! Sarah why are you doing this?"
"He is real!" Sarah shouted back to the blond woman standing before her. Both women held the other's eyes. A challenge; the first to look away was to admit defeat, to admit the other was telling the truth. Sarah dropped her eyes. Her voice was barely a whisper, "I know he is real. I'll find him."
"Sarah," Karen started. She sounded tired and old. Suddenly the woman before her wasn't hard and wicked, but old, tired and kind. It scared Sarah, this wasn't the woman she thought she hated, this was someone else. "Sarah, you should get ready. Remember, you wanted to go that store…that…what was its name again?" Karen looked skyward, her face pursed into a frown. A smile broke out, "That's it! 'The Underground!'"
Sarah had dressed in a daze, her mind numb from the events of that morning. She had donned a pair of jean, and a dark blouse. She didn't put on make-up; she owned much but only truly wore it when she was acting. She ran down to Karen when she had finished, and they had both left in the second car that the William's owned.
Which was where she was now, in the car listening to Karen and the radio. Karen was talking over trivial matters, constantly trying to pull Sarah into the conversation as if this were normal. As if they had done this weekly or even daily, as if they were actually mother and daughter. "Karen…how long have we been planning this again?"
"Oh, about a week or so." Karen turned to her, a smile with no mockery, and a jovial light in her eyes. "You didn't forget now did you?" Sarah's only respond was a weak smile.
The car plunged into darkness as it went into a tunnel.
And Sarah screamed; it was dark and darker than an oubliette.
Karen didn't hear her; she looked over and saw that Sarah had fallen asleep.
'The Underground' was a bookstore and costume store; it specialized in the fantasy genre. Sarah looked around in awe, and Karen smiled. This was the Sarah she knew. "Well," Karen said expectantly, looking at her in annoyance. "Why aren't you moving? You have a Debit card. I don't want to see you until it is maxed-out."
Sarah blinked in surprise. "Wah?"
Karen raised a finely shaped eyebrow, "You go shop. You have Debit Card with eight-hundred dollars on it. Go now." Sarah smiled, this somehow felt right, and this was how things were supposed to be. She nodded and ran off, leaving her mother standing in the entrance.
The whole world shimmered and the scent of peaches lingered in the air. The world had blinked, disappeared and reappeared quickly, a rare occurrence. It only happened when the veil wavered, it only happened when he played with his toys.
Sarah was exhausted, she had never had thought that shopping was this tiring. She glanced in the rear-view mirror, her eyes sweeping over the multitude of bags from 'The Underground.' She was pleasantly surprised at the low prices, and astounded at the quality of each purchase. All the dresses she had bought were handcrafted, and embroidered with care. "I'm tired," she yawned out.
Karen nodded her head though otherwise she didn't respond. She was contemplating something, a tiny frown on her face. "Sarah," she spoke softly, her voice even. "Your father wants to take me out tonight…you would be left alone…is that alright?"
Sarah cocked her head to the right. "What do you mean will it be alright?"
Karen paused, licked her lips and whispered, "It would be the first you were left alone since…the—the problem with the stalker."
Sarah froze, "What problem? I don't—I don't remember this."
Karen didn't speak, the car was still going forward, but time was frozen for Sarah. All she saw was a pair of mismatched watching her from the backseat. A languid, and long body lying in-between the bags and boxes, it seemed that he belonged there amongst her purchases. He smirked at her, "Sarah, all alone tonight?" He began to fade from existence, first his body, and lastly his eyes. His intoxicating eyes were the last to fade out ever so slowly; eyes that spoke volumes to her and told her of horrors and hardships unnumbered.
"Maybe we won't," Karen said looking quickly over to her companion. "You're white as a sheet Sarah, I shouldn't have said anything." Karen went on babbling loosely as she tried to regain her composure.
"No," Sarah muttered as she kept her eyes locked on the backseat. He wasn't supposed to be able to appear like that, at least, that is what she had derived from the book. He needed to be summoned, and she certainly hadn't summoned him. She gave Karen a weak smile, "Go, I'll be fine. You and Dad need a night to yourselves." And silently she ended the sentence with a promise to herself; she would find out what was going on.
"Are you sure?" Karen queried her voice slightly hopeful.
"Ya," Sarah answered, her mind already fading. A single question was forming in her head, her ears were assaulted with a baby crying. She winced returning her eyes to the window, watching without care as the scenery passed by. She really wished Toby would stop crying.
Sarah bit back a gasp, who was Toby?
Sarah sat, her body relaxed against the soft cushions of the chair. She wasn't exactly sitting per-se she was more sprawled across the seat. Her head lolled against the armrest, one of her arms dangling over the side, fingers gently ghosting the floor. She stared towards the clock, her eyes tracking the hands movement across its face. The time was coming closer.
"Hello Sarah," he drawled from somewhere behind her. She listened for his steps, the quiet steps that echoed through her mind. "How are you enjoying life? Anything missing."
"Who's Toby?" She queried lightly, drawing her body up and out of its lax—vulnerable—position. Guild assaulted her mind when she asked this question, tugging without rest at her mind, screaming at her she had done something horribly wrong. "Where is he?"
Jareth strode forward, his long legs quickly destroying the gap between him and the back of the chair. He rested his hands lightly on the back of the chair; his hands lie next to Sarah's head. Sarah felt the cushions give slightly, silently under the weight of his hands but made no motion that she cared when in fact she did. Her body, her instinct screamed at her to run, to hide while reason defended itself by encouraging her to stay, to show she wasn't afraid of him.
"It's of no concern to you," he whispered. His eyes staring at the clock—time was frozen. He had done it again. He had played with time.
"It is," she replied, her tone reprimanding as if he were allowed to tell her what was and wasn't her concern. "I know it is." She turned to him, green eyes afraid and calculating. Her was drawn into a tight line, frown lines marred her forehead, she was, he noted, quite serious at this moment. "Tell me, Goblin King," his title was thrown in his face, andhe took it genially. "Who is Toby and where is he?"
"Sarah," he whispered drawing out her name until his whisper was akin to a moan. "Sarah, Sarah, Sarah." He repeated her name as if it were a half-remembered person, tasting the name, rolling it on his tongue, seeing if it a memory. "You know not of what you ask."
"I'm asking to know who someone is, where someone is," Sarah spoke, her voice low and hard. Her fists were fisted at her sides, and her eyes locked on his. A dark glare was directed toward the older man—no, she thought dismally, not a man, he was something more and something less—a humanoid goblin. "Tell me."
Jareth shook his head and walked back, his eyes still locked with her. His lips were titled in a half-smile, half-frown. He was indecisive. He didn't know what to say, he couldn't say anything to her. With a wicked twist of his lips, a mocking smirk was in place, "Nothing is what is seems, Sarah—nothing."
He disappeared with little ceremony and an exhausted Sarah flopped back down on the chair. Nothing is what it seems, she mulled over in her mind. Nothing is what it seems. A light dawned in her mind, the notes, perhaps just maybe, those notes held the answer…an answer to—she couldn't remember.
With renewed determination she rose from the chair. Her mind set upon finding the notes that she had placed in a box below her bed. Hidden in a corner with the lid sealed tightly, and wrapped loosely in an old black sheet. Her box of memories, of dreams, of fears, and of mysteries; the box was something she had had for years carefully cultivated, and tactfully lied about. The box was her greatest joy and her darkest demon.
She walked leisurely up the stairs, it was true that she wanted to understand what was going on, to solve the mystery her life had become but there was a nagging fear that she wouldn't be thrilled at what she'd find. That she would be forced back into a life that wasn't as kind and coddling as this one—that she'd be something dark, something wicked. As she further scaled the stairs as wondered if this was the right thing to do, perhaps the Goblin King had been right. Perhaps she didn't know what she asked, what fate she was tempting. She shook her head, these thoughts wouldn't help her in the long run, Sarah needed to be constant.
Finally, she crossed the threshold of her room, past the doorway and into the centre of it all. She stood there taking in with care every detail, every speck of normalcy she could before she retrieved her box. She sank to the floor and crawled to the bed, to the gap that was there. The dark crevice that seemed to leer at her, dared her to come forward to taste the dark, to taste the shadows. Her hand shook as it brushed past her comforter; gingerly she pushed aside the items below her bed.
"Almost there," she whispered weakly as her fingertips brushed the cool clothe covering the box. She grasped a small handful of that clothe and yanked it quickly to her—speed was of the essence. She unfurled the clothe from the box, and with quick precise motions ripped the lid from the box.
Reverently she rested the lid near her side on the carpeted floor. She descended quietly on the box, her fingers probing at the innards. Her fingers brushed by the small stack of photos and the few letters she kept in there, her fingertips hit the crumbled rolls of paper and she gasped at the small spark that lighted through her. "I know this," she spoke softly to the air. "I know—" A cry rang out in the house, a toddler's cry of fear, of want, and of pain.
The notes were yanked from her fingers as she pulled back and the cries stopped. The notes were connected to it all, they were the truth and they were going to destroy her. She knew it and sadly, she still desired to press on.
Instead of just her fingers this time, her whole hand went into the box and grasped the notes. The cries awakened and increased in volume. Sarah whimpered but held on, uncurling each note. Her eyes deftly reading them as the infants wails increased. She spoke the words on the first note aloud, "Help them." And then the second note's words past through her lips, "He needs you…Toby…and him…they need you."
In rapid succession her read each note, until the last note in the box rest in her hand, the words frightened her but awoke within her the memories that she had lost, "The shadow is come, the Labyrinth will fall—Toby won't live—Find Toby!" The cries screeched to a halt, Sarah looked up and the world came crashing down.
Wind blew through the room, yanking and tearing the room into chaos. And a single note blew straight into Sarah's chest. She didn't need to read the words, the paper its self spoke, "I wish that the goblins would--" But the paper its weak voice was cut down, as the wind became a deadly force.
The shadows returned laughing at Sarah, and once again, Sarah knew no more.
When Sarah awoke she was in a room of white, no color, just an endless sea of white. She glanced around the area she was in. There was nothing, no end, no beginning and no distortions on the horizon were seen. She was trapped yet free in the emptiness of this place.
"Sarah," Jareth whispered from behind her. His eyes were sad. "Why did you have to continue? What possessed you to bring their attention to you?"
"What? What do you mean?"
"I told you earlier, you know not of what you ask—of what you tempt!" His voice rose in anger at the young woman in front of him. "You lost."
"What?" Sarah asked panicked, her mind in overdrive. Her eyes being burned by the white around her and the utter nothingness she could see. "What are you talking about, I won."
" 'Once you get to the center of the Labyrinth you can never get out again,'" Jareth said while looking away from her. "You were unable to return to the beginning—you lost." His eyes hardened and he turned back to her, "After everything I did for you, you still lost!"
"Everything you did…for me?" Sarah asked in a whispered voice
"No one is allowed to beat the Labyrinth," he said as the scenery changed. "The Labyrinth is quite clear on that fact. It will take its revenge for my treason and…" He dropped off, and started to walk away. "Wake up Sarah, wake up and forget."
"No," Sarah said coldly. "No, I won't. I want Toby back."
"Sarah," He growled. "Don't defy me."
" 'For my kingdom is as great,'" she began to say the lines but was cut off by Jareth's throaty laughter. " 'You have no power over me.'"
"Those lines have no power," he said, shaking lightly with laughter. He froze, a look of pain and fear erupted on his face. He turned to her and shouted, "Run. Get away from here. Leave now, Sarah!"
"Why? What's going on, Goblin King?"
"He knows you are here," he growled as he appeared by her side. He grabbed her arm harshly and yanked her behind him as he ran. "He wants its due—he wants you."
Sarah sat next to Jareth, their bodies separated by a wall of air that seemed as unbreakable as steel. She licked her lips to wet them, and spoke, "Why?"
"Why what Sarah," he asked, finally looking at her. "Why does the world spin? I was under the impression that your tutors explained such elements to you."
"No, why does the Labyrinth want me?"
"Ah," he replied, all the joviality fleeing from him. "Because he wasn't allowed the infant."
"What, no how," Sarah pulled him by the sleeve.
"The infant was sent back to the mortal realm," Jareth said calmly. "You on the other hand, you are stuck here."
"No, I can't be," she said. "I was just home."
"No you weren't," Jareth said while sighing. "You were in a…I suppose you mortals would call them dreams. It really was nothing of the sort."
"So the Labyrinth put me in a 'dream'," she concluded.
Jareth coughed, "No I did that."
"Why?"
"I don't know," he said while standing up. He walked away from Sarah and sat down across the oubliette. "I hope you understand one thing," Jareth began predatorily. "As of now, you have two options." He raised one long gloved finger, "You belong to me and the shadows. Don't protest yet." He cut her argument short before he stuck up a second finger, "Or you belong to the Labyrinth and," he paused dramatically. "Death."
"What options are those?"
"The only ones available," he spoke before beginning to fade. "I will leave you to think this over." His evanescent form bowed before blinking out of existence but his voice echoed behind him, "Till the morrow, m'lady."
The hours passed in silence. Sarah sat despondently to the side of oubliette, pondering her options. Mulling over the events of the last few days; Jareth had sent the shadows but the Labyrinth had controlled her mind. Jareth watched her and the Labyrinth did the same. To her they were both slightly unscrupulous characters or in the Labyrinth case things. Slowly, she came to a decision and only hoped that it would turn out for the best.
"Well Sarah?" Jareth drawled out the question. "Have you decided what you are going to choose?"
"Yes," Sarah said turning to him. "I choose you."
Silence descended upon the pair. He sighed, "I had hoped you would've the Labyrinth."
"You wanted me to choose the Labyrinth?" Sarah looked at him pained. She was giving up her freedom and he didn't appreciate it.
"I had only meant that it would be easier," Jareth groaned out. In his hand a crystal formed and shadows surrounded it. "I should have told you honestly," his voice changed, turning darker. "I had no intention of letting you remain."
Sarah turned and ran. Ran from the Goblin she had sold herself to, ran from the idea that he was the better choice. She felt the sting of a crystal hitting her back and the slow descent into sleep stilled her moving feet. By the time she fell to the ground she was asleep.
Jareth frowned at her fallen form but shook it off. This was his duty and she chose her fate. With unnecessary care he picked up the slumbering girl and willed himself back into The Castle in the Center of the Labyrinth. He bypassed the throne room, his rooms, and the dungeons. He went into a small corridor that was hidden by years of neglect and loose timber that had been thrown there to stop some siege from once upon a time. The corridor was cramped, more likely made for Common Goblins whether than Noble Goblins, and Jareth had to stay continuously hunched as to not hit his head on the roof.
He followed the winding tunnel down, to the bowels of the Labyrinth, and then he stopped. He stopped in a room that had long forgotten by all except him, it was the room where he had tried his magick as a child. And now, it would be the room where Sarah would sleep for forever. Forever, he mused to himself, forever is not long at all.
He lay the light burden down on the dusty floor and conjured the crystals to his hand. He concentrated on the crystal, and quirked his lips in a minute smile as the shadows wrapped around it. He threw the crystal into the center of the room and watched as the shards twisted and turned to form a small bed. The carved bed formed spires at its post and shot up to the ceiling, where thin gauzy cloth fell around the bedding. It wouldn't hide the person sleeping on the bed, it would just protect them against eager insects.
He looked back to Sarah laying in the dust and grimaced at the grime and dirt that accumulated on during their short trek. In his mind's eye he saw the bed behind, its clean white silken sheets destroyed by the grime on her skin. Her clothes and current appearance wasn't acceptable.
He waved his hand toward her and hundreds of small crystals slithered out and stilled over her prone form. They fell softly, quietly like raindrops on her body, changing her clothes and cleaning her. When the crystal rain stopped, the aboveground clothes that Sarah had been wearing were gone replaced by a loose shift that covered her from neck to toe. The sleeve billowed around her thin arms and hid slightly the delicate myriad of silver and white gold bracelets on her wrists.
Jareth picked her up and carried to the bed. He supported her loosely as her folded the comforters and sheets aside then let her lay there. Her dark hair fanned out across the pillow framing her in a tainted halo. He pulled the blankets up, and tucked them below her throat. He ghosted a kiss across her forehead, placing his lips upon the woven silver band the sliced the length of her forehead. He walked away, the lights that had burned brightly a few moments before dimmed to a low flicker. "Sleep well," he whispered as he shut the door.
The echo resounded through the room and the corridor.
The shadows swooped down around Sarah, predatory grins smeared across their faces and their eyes cast in leers. They looked upon her sleeping visage before slinking onto the bed and lying at its foot. The shadows collected themselves into a single entity—a cat. The cat stretched languidly before it slid up the bed and jumped lightly on Sarah's chest, it curled upon itself and closed its eyes. A moment passed and it opened one, and it spoke, its voice rough and harsh against to the ears in the walls. "Wake soon, our future Queen, wake soon—our King will need you sooner than he believes."
As the shadow slept, a single tear rolled down Sarah's cheek and solidified into a crystal. It slid down the pillow and across the room. A gloved hand stopped it gently and lifted it to his eyes. He had a young face framed by soft silver hair that fell in a loose braid to his hips. But his eyes, his eyes were old, older than the cosmos. He wore a loose robe that parted to show the tunic and leggings beneath. Labyrinth looked over to what was supposed to have been his possession. "Well m'lady," he said quietly as to not awaken the shadow resting with her. "I do hope you are prepared for this quarry for I will not let you go just yet." He began to fade into the walls and sardonic smile graced his lips, he raised the gem into the air, "And m'lady, thank you for your heart; I know it will be useful in the this game."
Fin