Memory lives longer then what it remembers -Lloyd Alexander
The accident did many things. It took an arm from an infant. It crushed the lungs of a man inward, and he died. It so badly hurt the head of a young girl that her memories were a flood of colors and sounds she couldn't recognize.
She remembered her family to be sure, from little Toby, the infant who lost his arm, her father Robert, who thankfully was not the man who had died, and her step-mother Karen. But many things were lost, important things that had changed her life. When Sarah Williams came home from the hospital she did not hesitate at the mirror of her vanity, she did not smile at the little round crystal on her desk. She did not remember the person who had given her that crystal a month ago on her sixteenth birthday.
When she collapsed in her bed, curled up and fell asleep she did not wake when a soft voice in the darkness whispered her name. She didn't feel the soft leather run across her cheekbone, nor soft hair tickle her cheek when the man leaned down the kiss her forehead.
"Your Majesty?" A soft, though gruff whisper drew Jareth from his kiss to look to the vanity mirror. The King sighed, his mask of cool almost smirking serenity in place. But Hoggle could tell that though the man's expression was cold and distant, beneath the gaze lay a warmth, a sorrow, prepared to pool over the brim out into the world. Prepared, maybe, but Jareth would never allow such a treacherous expression of weakness break thirteen thousand years of a frightening reputation. Oh, no, he was too good for that.
"What is it Higgle?" He asked, uncaring as to how rough his voice sounded. He really didn't care much about anything at that moment.
Hoggle, still privy to his king's inner turmoil decided it was better not to anger him more then what was healthy. The dwarf was, against his good friend's compliments and praise, after all still a coward. "Sir, I was only wonderin', what is it we gonna do?"
"I haven't the slightest inclination of what you mean." Was the response.
But Hoggle refused to give up and he endangered himself of being bogged by his next unruly comment. "Don't be actin' likes a spoiled child Jareth. We need to help the little lady."
"We?" Jareth stood at his full height and Hoggle recoiled. "What ever gave you the impression that we needed to do anything? Can you not see Hedgewort? She no longer remembers us."
"I don't see how that makes any of this good." Hoggle answered. "She should need us and not know it."
"You cannot need something you know nothing of." Jareth snapped.
"Really?" Hoggle had learned from Sarah the magnificent use of sarcasm. But then his tone grew serious. "Why then did you stand outside Sarah's nursery when she was a little tot? Why did you follow her and ease her when she did not know yous were there? You needed her as much as she needed you. You would be abandoning her if you didn't try to help her now."
Jareth was silent for a long moment, and Hoggle was almost humored to see a strange blush spread across the Goblin King's skin, though it was quickly gone and Jareth cleared his throat.
"My, my Hoggle, has Sarah been helping you improve your articulation skills?"
Hoggle frowned, this time he was angry, not only because of the insult, but because of the pure perturbation Jareth was putting him through. "You'll see how much she needs you." He said.
"Hmnn." Jareth grunted and put a hand on his hip, indignantly waiting for Hoggle to give him a reason to.
But the dwarf only shook his head sadly, turned away and vanished into the glass of the mirror. Jareth watched the little man go, his air holding with great intensity as he struggled against the violent emotions. He didn't want those feelings, those urges and needs, the hungry thoughts to tumble through his walls of stone that protected him from falling to sexy goblin king pieces.
Well Jareth at least we know your ego needs no soothing. He turned from where his eyes had been previously engaged to the bed, where curled up in a long blue nightshirt rested a sleeping Sarah. He couldn't help the small smile that broke the strict smirk of his face when she smiled in her sleep, rolled from her back to her side of clung to her pillow. Oh, how he would have loved to be that pillow, if even for a moment.
He let his gloved fingers stroke her hair, which normally hung long and dark, like the rippling waves of a lake at night time, but was now splayed every which direction. He was tempted to remove his gloves and feel her hair with his own skin, but too much of something so forbiddingly sweet may have convinced him to steal her away to the Labyrinth again, memory or not. So he resisted and kept those damn leather gloves on, but let himself kiss her once again. It was gentle, like the first one, though it was not on the forehead. When she had run the Labyrinth two years ago she had done an awful lot of complaining, talking, screaming for help, commanding her companions this way and that and of course said those abominable words. But now, she was silent, her lips, though slightly parted did not move. Her lips had tempted him beyond measure, but to steal her kiss was worse then anything he could ever imagine. So instead of succumbing to the pleasure of such an act of love, his merely kissed her jaw, delighted by the faint taste that was only Sarah.
He stood then and changed from his Fae form to his owl form, the body that he could remain in Aboveground with for as long as he wanted. The mortal word was dangerous to his Fae body, but being a barn owl was easy and his magical disabilities were not so profoundly disabling. Thus changed he perched himself on the space on her shelf of stuffed animals, in place of where the bear with the red ribbon Lancelot once sat and he soon drifted into a gentle slumber, unaware and uncaring that the species of bird he had chosen many years ago as a secondary form was in fact nocturnal.
Sarah's eyes opened sleepily, around her lay the hazy comfort of he room. Not much had changed throughout her life, her posters from musicals, art prints and such things still hung about the walls in miss-matched disarray. Her toys and costumes were still scattered here and there, though they had not bee as frequently used as they once had been. Her books had become a creature on their on, having flooded from her bookcase, drowning the majority of the carpet of her room. She smiled at the organized chaos, pleased in knowing that the room itself was an expression of her and also devilishly happy in knowing it enraged Karen beyond measure.
As if the thought of Karen magically conjured her up in all her blonde, frumpy glory a knock on Sarah's door woke her from her hazy dream-like state of appreciation for her room.
"Sarah?" Karen asked from behind the door.
"Yes?" Sarah said and sat up, smoothing her oversized shirt out and making a brief attempt to calm her hair.
Karen came inside, for once holding her gentle smile rather then curling her nose at the sight of Sarah's room. "How are you feeling sweetheart?"
Out of a new habit Sarah rubbed the small ringed scar on her skull. "Just fine, is Toby awake yet?"
"Not yet," Karen leaned against the door frame, watching her step-daughter. "But you can go get him if you want to, it's breakfast time."
"Cool," Sarah said and stood to hunt for a pair of sweats. Before she could find any Karen handed her a clean pair she'd been holding under her arm. "Thanks." The sixteen year old smiled and even dared to lean up slightly and kiss her step-mother's cheek.
Karen watched the girl go, hopping as she tugged the pants on and stumbled toward Toby's room. "She really has changed." The woman said and smiled. She gave the messy room one last glance before turning to leave; only she paused in slight surprise when she noticed a new edition to Sarah's stuffed animals. A strange little owl. She couldn't remember getting that owl for her, and Robert had been to the store since the accident. Though she could have been wrong, maybe a nurse had given it to her at the hospital as a parting gift and she had not noticed.
She left, not giving another thought to it. Downstairs the Williams family sat assembled around the kitchen island. Robert had made pancakes, and cut up six peaches to set in the center of the table for all to share. In his high chair Toby was making a right lovely mess of his sloppy over-syrupy pancakes and had transformed a fistful of peaches into peach juice within a matter of record seconds.
Sarah was quiet, mulling over her pancakes, picking them to pieces with her fork more then eating them. Karen noticed she was rubbing the scar on her head with a roughness she had not expressed in the hospital.
"Sarah, are you alright?" She asked.
Immediately, the girl's disposition changed. She straightened up, a smile covered her face and her hand dropped from her head instantly. "Yes, I'm sorry, just trying to remember something."
"You…" Robert didn't hide the concern in his voice. "You forgot something?"
The doctors had warned that her memory should be facing some traumas, she should've forgotten important things, considering where the scar was, where she had hit her head. But she had showed no signs of forgetting anything important, so the doctors merely warned her concentration may have been a bit muddled.
"Just where I left my library book." Sarah said that same sweet smile plastered on her face.
At that moment Toby let out a loud screech. "Peeeach!"
Sarah laughed and nodded to Toby. "You bet, squirt, we have peaches today."
"You haven't had any Sarah." Karen noted. She pushed the plate toward her.
Sarah looked from Karen's face to the bowl, her smile dropping away to a parted lip semi-frown. She stared at the bowl, the pink-orange fruit squares sending a strange sweet-spicy aroma her way. It smelled like…music and dancing. It smelled like fear and bliss all at once, and danger above everything. She sucked in a struggling breath, the smell was too…strong and it fogged her mind. Or rather was it clearing her mind? She swayed slightly in her seat.
Then, she lost control, and leapt from her seat and clenched the lip of the bowl and flipped it over.
"No!" She screamed and spun around and began to run. She tripped before she had even made it out of the kitchen and hit the ground with a loud thump. She lay there silently as Karen and Robert fell to her side. She only watched the ceiling, tears streaming down her cheeks, unable to explain why she had done what she had done.
Robert carried her up to her room, laid her down on her bed, grabbed the first stuffed animal he saw and laid it down beside her. Like she was his little girl again. He'd done the same thing when her mother had left, the same when she tripped in the park one day and managed to break her arm when she tumbled down a hill. Now though, the habit was really just a comfort to him, and he hoped against real logic that she would be fine, curled up in her bed.
He left her that way.
Sarah didn't move for a long time, the stuffed owl against her chest almost felt warm. It was summer though and her room was always very humid. She didn't realize for a long time that she was shaking, her body shuddering violently against the little stuffed animal. She wound her arms around it tightly for comfort but released it suddenly when a small low squeak came from it.
The stuffed animal…was not a stuffed animal. Sarah's first reaction was to push it out of her bed. The thing landed on the floor with a thump that made her suddenly regret what she'd done. She rolled to the edge of her bed and peered down cautiously.
The little bird was already sitting up, fluffing his feathers and ruffling his wings. She watched his brief grooming job, curious as to how this little guy had gotten into her room. Once glance at her open window convinced her his appearance was an undetermined accident. But how he had managed to remain still without fluttering in frenzy as most animals she knew did was beyond her knowledge. He noticed her watching him and stiffened, his eyes squinted like he wasn't going to believe what ever she had to say.
She reached a tentative hand down to pat his smooth feathered head. He didn't twitch or move at all, only remained, sitting like a good little dog.
"Well, I'm sorry I pushed you." Sarah said. "But by all rights this is my room and you were intruding."
The owl cocked his head like he had all rights to be there.
It's face made her laugh. "Do you have a home little prince?" She asked and rubbed his chest gently with her fingers.
She should've screamed, run away screaming; the owl shook his head as if to say no.
But instead she only blinked, stiffened slightly and retracted her hand from its downy feathers. "You…can you understand me?" She asked softly.
Nodded; yes.
"I…I…" Sarah shook her head, it was starting to hurt. She rubbed her scar violently.
The bird's expression looked almost concerned; it hopped easily up on her bed next to her and reached a wing forward to brush across her cheek. She laid back against the pillows, watching the bird make a nest of her sheets and settle down beside her.
"Well," She said after a moment, exasperation condemning her to talk to a bird like he understood her. "Do you have a name?" Ignore how insane you feel, she thought, he's only a bird.
The owl cocked his head again then shook it, no, again.
"Do you want one?" She asked.
He nodded.
"Alright," Sarah felt oddly happy to be granting this little friend of hers a name. "You are a boy aren't you?"
Another nod this time with an angry eye.
She laughed the sound like gentle bells. As if the sound soothed him the little owl crooned gently and moved on graceful, but stubby legs to Sarah, where he curled up against her chest.
"You have a kingly manner, little sir." She said. "Should I call you King?"
A happy hoot against her breast proved he liked the name. And she liked him; she didn't care if he wandered into her room from outside. She loved this new little friend.
"Shall I tell you a story?" She said, and stroked the feathers on his back.
A nod was her answer.
"Alright," She cleared her throat. "Once upon a time, there was a beautiful young King who ruled over the land of the goblins." Sarah didn't know where she had heard this story but it was coming to her from a sub conscious place and she couldn't deny it. "And he was a lonely man, though he tried to conceal it and act like a villain. His reputation was widely known for this sinisterly face, though it was not truly who he was. He was a magician, an artist, musician, and a generous caring ruler. One day while passing through the mortal world, he saw a young girl playing outside. She couldn't have been seven years old. Yet she was reciting the most beautiful Shakespeare he had ever heard and he thought she was the most beautiful mortal child he ad ever seen. For her birthday that year he sent her an unmarked package with a special story book from a psychic fairy woman, who told him it was to be her future. Sure enough when she was fourteen years old the story from the little book happened. But it was not to the lonely king's content; he wanted her to stay with him in his kingdom."
The little bird cocked his head in question.
"Why he wanted to her to stay?" Sarah laughed and whispered in the most secretive voice she could. "Because he had fallen in love with the girl."
The bird hooted enthusiastically. It made Sarah laugh. "Well, the girl lived her life, but grew tired of the mundane nature of the mortal world. And she missed the presence of the strange king. So one day she made a wish, a wish that she could go to the king's land. And she did, once there she became invested in all the magic and beauty of the world. Most infatuated with the lonely King. But she would never tell him that, and he would never admit how much he loved her."
The owl made a sound that resembled a low sigh. Sarah thought it a mutual agreement that both characters from the story were very stupid.
Though it was still mid-morning Sarah found it was easy to doze off, with the little bird curled up beside her. Once asleep she began to dream and it was a strange dream…
She wore a white dress, the bodice was generous in it's exposure of her breasts, the skirt was long and silky but parted twice a little below each hip to reveal her long legs. It was pure white and gossamer butterflies were embroidered in silver thread all over the gown. A silver cord was tied around her hips, to hold the dress to her curves. The sleeves were merely long strips of slightly curled lacey material, and she could move her arms about freely and the sleeves hung loose.
She felt oddly magical in the dress, estranged and powerful. Her dark hair hung wild around her, like rippling waves the color of an ember. She sighed and spun around, smiling. But it soon occurred to her that she was not alone, until ten she hadn't even paid a mind to where exactly she was.
She looked up and spread before her was a brightly lit room, a ballroom by the looks of it, only it was full of curtained rooms where she could hear laughter and messy sound of eating. There were tables and chairs scattered everywhere and low hanging chandeliers with little glittering bead strings hanging from them that sparkled almost too intensely for her eyes to bear. She could hear music, but it was soft and strange, mystical and almost familiar. The people around her were obviously enjoying themselves. They were all dressed in lovely exaggerated costumes and masks. Though the masks were something of a feral nature, disturbing and monstrous and devilishly beautiful all at once. She watched them for a moment, her lips parted, and she began to understand how very adult the entire thing was.
Everything about this room was meant to seem enchanting, pleasurable and its source for this definition lay in the things she could not see. The actions of those odd masked dancers behind those silk curtains. She stepped through the dancing crowds with a careful step and as she progressed the music began to grow louder.
Then a creeping feeling fell over her; she was searching…for someone? Or rather something? Whatever it was, she could feel herself occasionally grow close to it only to have it slip away like water out of he hands and she could not detect its trail. For what seemed a long time she searched through the ballroom, tripping over people's shoes, stumbling as they pushed or pulled at her. The one very strong masked man grew a bit too touchy and Sarah cried out angrily as she tried to dislodge herself from the grip.
"Dance with me." A slurred voice came from behind the skull mask. She couldn't see his eyes.
She couldn't deny him either, his meaty arm wound around her waist and brought her struggling to his chest. Soon enough they were dancing across the floor to the music which was changing again from an illusion-like hum and beat, to gentle bells and a faster beat, with the soft strain of violins. Then someone began to sing, a sensual voice Sarah knew she must have heard before that sent chills down her spine and made her forget her crude companion and flow easily into the dance. They circled the center of the room where a pit of pillows lay.
There's such a sad love
Deep in your eyes
A kind of pale jewel
Opened and closed within you eyes
Sarah was then passed from her first skull masked partner to another masked man, this one much older, with a puffy gray beard and a red devil's mask. She was dragged across the dance floor again, spinning far too much for her liking.
I'll place the sky
Within your eyes
She tried very hard to breathe but the movements as she was passed quickly from devil man to another then another again before three spins could be completed was making these attempts slightly impossible.
Dizzy did not begin to explain how she was feeling. Partner after partner, turn after turn, and a few X-rated touches was beginning to irritate her and this strange grotesque, but attractive dream was turning into a nightmare.
As the pain sweeps through
Makes no sense for you
Every thrill has gone
Wasn't too much fun at all
You think? She thought. Do you really think that? Being tossed about a beautiful ballroom by equally beautiful yet frightening creatures was not her idea of fun. The whole thing was however thrilling.
But I'll be there for you
As the world falls down
Sarah felt for a moment the soft breath of someone on her neck. It was not cold like the other dancers were, but warm and spicy almost. She turned around quickly but no one new was there. She turned back to her partner, secretly despairing only to be passed from a cold hand to a warm gloved one. She looked up to find a man, masked again like the others, though it was a mask on a pole, and if he intended to dance with her he would need to remove it. Which to her delight he did.
She knew that face.
Terror began to thrash inside her, fighting for a way out. Anger accompanied it, anger and tears.
"Were did you go?" She whispered. "My friend, where did you go?" She was pleading, but she didn't care. He had vanished suddenly. It had all been fine, they had spoken since the incident with civil intentions and like…Hoggle, yes, Hoggle, they had become good friends. But then, in an instant he'd vanished, along with everyone else. Not from her world, but her mind.
"I never left," he whispered. "I am with you now. I'm always with you, just call my name."
Of course she would. Right now. But…where was his name? Where in her tattered mind was his god damn name!
"I…" She blinked and more tears began to pour from her eyes, angry tears again but a different antagonism. She raised a hand to the scar on her skull and scratched it angrily, shredding away skin with her nails and drawing blood.
"Sarah." His voice was rigid and he grasped her wrist firmly and drew her hand from her skull. He then wrapped his arms around her and held her shaking to his warm body. "Don't cry you know me, precious, I know you do. Think, you can remember. Please by the gods remember me." The last part was like a lonely prayer.
She tried, but all thoughts were a tumbling jumbled mess, all names, words, endearment were gone from her. She struggled in vain, but slowly it was leaving her, around them the ballroom darkened, the music stopped, and they had only each other, floating in a vast blackness.
She could feel his strong arms around her tighten their hold but she knew it would not last. Soon he would be ripped away from her and she would once again be trapped in that darkness, without even a memory to soothe her.
"I know you." She whispered.
"Precious…" But he faded before he could speak another word. After that she drifted, almost as thoughtless as, one may say, a drunken goblin. Almost, but not yet.