Sarah tries to remember exactly how that dream went… the book only confuses her more… Jareth appears to clarify things.
Disclaimer: The only thing I claim to own is the insane idea that formed this story. Everything else is borrowed – in part - from both the transcript and the movie.
A/N: This is a oneshot. It's short, but sweet. You have been forewarned.
Talking Through A Mirror
Sarah turned off her light and climbed into bed, settling herself under her blankets. She let her mind rewind, as she did every night before going to sleep, and recapped that amazing dream she had had three years before about the labyrinth.
It wasn't her half-brother that she wanted to dream about again, nor was it running for what seemed like forever through corridors of stone. No, she wanted to dream of the goblin king again, and really experience what dreams could be made of.
She had re-read that book, again and again, in an attempt to get her imagination to take over. For his character to sink into her subconscious, so she could dream it the right way now that she understood better what she could have done differently, instead of how it had turned out.
She watched the shadow of the tree branch sway upon her bedroom wall, letting her eyes grow heavy and trance like, and replayed the script for the hundredth time in her mind.
She vividly recreated the storm, the wind blowing and the window bursting open to let him gain entrance to her parent's room. No, wait. That was her dream, not the script. In her book he got in through a smaller square window that magically opened up for him.
Lightening flashed from outside, silhouetting his form before the girl. "You're the goblin King," she said, her voice full of trepidation as he stepped closer to loom over her. "Yes, I am," he answered in a kind voice, bowing his head.
'No,' Sarah thought. 'That's not right, either.' She opened her eyes and raised herself up on her elbow, staring towards her floor unseeingly. Thinking really hard about how it happened in her dream, instead of how the book read.
He was silhouetted against the stormy sky. He wore a cloak, which swirled in the wind. She could see that his hair was shoulder-length and blonde. His eyes were mystical and hypnotic, and something glinted about his neck.
"Who are you?" Sarah had asked.
"Don't you know?" he answered, his voice was calm, almost kindly.
"You're ... him, aren't you? You're the King of the Goblins."
He bowed. "Jareth."
"Jareth," Sarah whispered in her dark room, with sudden realization. "He told me his name."
She scrambled from her bed. "Jareth." She flicked on her light. "Jareth." And rummaged through the bottom drawer of her vanity. "Jareth."
"He told me his name!" she repeated just above a whisper. "How could I have forgotten that?"
She dug around in the drawer, pulling out old pictures, and letters from her mother. "Jareth. His name is Jareth."
Finally, her hand fell on the familiar leather bound book. She pulled it out and flipped through the pages with urgency, scanning quickly for the scene she wanted to read.
"Jareth... Jareth… Jareth." She repeated in a cadence as she looked for the similarity in print, flipping over page after page.
"It's not in here," she whispered, trying to think of anyone with that name that she could have used it in her dream for fancy sake.
"Jareth," she repeated once more, raising her eyes towards her mirror unseeingly in her confusion. "Why did he tell me his name?"
"Are you asking me?" a male voice inquired pleasantly from inside her mirror.
Sarah focused her eyes on the image in the mirror, and gasped wide eyed and startled. She whipped her head around to look behind her, only to find her empty room.
"Or are you asking yourself, as you are so fond of doing?"
Slowly she turned her head back to her mirror, leaning heavily on her vanity to keep herself standing on shaky legs. "You were a dream," she whispered very low. "A character in a book."
"Perhaps I was," he replied agreeably. "Perhaps I still am," he smiled agreeably. " Or perhaps you are the one who is the dream."
"That doesn't make any sense," she countered, starting to feel more at ease with the familiarity of him. "I'm not the one who looks ghostly in a mirror," she remarked smartly.
He was still handsome. No, he was hot! Plain and simple. Three years had definitely changed her perspective on things.
"Interesting, I thought the same of you," he replied pleasantly, returning her open appraisal. "I wonder, if I wave my hand, would you fade away like smoke in the breeze?"
He lifted a hand before him, as though reaching out to touch the glass. Sarah did the same from her side, holding back with uncertainty. She shook her head, and lifted her chin.
"No," she stated more for her own benefit than his. "I'm real. I'm flesh and blood. You're the one from a dream."
She decisively placed her hand on the mirror, touching her fingertips to his, then pulled back with a startled yelp at the feel of human skin, warm and alive.
"Well, at least we have that much answered," he commented simply. "We are both real."
"Why aren't you surprised?" she asked, rubbing her tingling fingertips that had touched him.
"I'm not the one who had doubt," he stated indignantly.
She looked through the mirror at him, noticing how he simply stood there as though waiting for something, seemingly more solid than a few moments before as well.
"Why did you tell me your name?"
"Why not?" he countered, raising his elegant brows curiously. "You were no ordinary girl, Sarah. You had dreams of being the princess, and I desired a queen. I was willing to mold you to become something we both wanted."
"I was fifteen," she remarked with mild disgust. "I had no idea what you wanted from me back then."
"Yes, well," he smiled knowingly. "Time moves differently here than it does in your world." He lowered his head as he paced on his side of the glass, only to meet her gaze once more when he spoke again. "It was no different not too long ago in your world. When a maiden was old enough to bear children, she was old enough to assume the duties of a wife and mother."
"That was hundreds of years ago, and it's called child molesting now."
"Such a pity," he tsked sympathetically.
"How so?" she questioned curiously.
"I could have shown you all your dreams, if only you hadn't grown up quite so much as to stop believing."
"I must still believe a little bit," she proposed. "Or I wouldn't be talking to you in my mirror right now."
He swayed back on his heels and looked at her intently, then leaned forward, stretching out his hand towards her. "Come with me, then. Before it's too late."
This is what she wanted. To relive the dream, to do things differently. Without Toby, without trap doors and stone walls. She tentatively raised her hand from her side. He remained poised, patiently waiting for her to make her decision, just as he had done three years ago.
"What about dangers untold and hardships unnumbered?" she asked, staying her hand mere inches from the glass. "Will you make me go through all that again?"
"You've already conquered those, Sarah. Now it's time for you to master the ultimate challenge."
"What's that?" she whispered with sudden trepidation, her hand faltering slightly.
"To conquer me," he replied in a deep tone heavy with suggestion.
Her eyes grew dark at his challenge, with the desire to be with him, and find out the difference three years could make.
He grinned knowingly as he watched her chest heave with the thrill of wanting to accept his offer. He stepped closer to his full length mirror, as she reach out her hand to him. He clasped her fingers in his and magically pulled her through the portal of time and space.
"Now," he announced regally, once she was in his arms. "We shall dance forever."