Title: Out of the Depths I Cry to Thee
Series: N/A
Fandom: Labyrinth
Author: Oragneblossom (formerly Lagamorph)
Email: rice_al@yahoo.com
Rating: R
Summary: 12 years later, Sarah returns to the Labyrinth. She's never been the same since she left; neither has the Labyrinth, or its King.
Archiving: Ask first, please.
Chapters: 12
Status: Complete
Year Completed: December 2001
Disclaimer: Its all Henson's, unless its Mine...
Notes, Dedications & Thanks: All love stories are inspired by Mike. Particularly ones starring the Goblin King.
Sarah: Light in the Darkness
Sarah wandered her apartment aimlessly. It was her twenty-sixth birthday, and she was alone. She flopped onto her secondhand couch, idly flicking channels with her remote, her green eyes not even seeing the screen. She did not feel like celebrating.
The apartment was small and cluttered, but homey. The walls were adorned with several photos of her brother Toby at various ages, interspersed with a few framed fantasy-themed posters. In the place of honor, central to the tiny living room, was a large drawing. Several strange creatures stood in a group, a dog at one side, and to the back, a man almost hidden in shadows. It was done in colored pencil and was a little crude, but it remained Sarah's favorite--she had drawn it herself. To the casual observer it was just another fantasy picture, but to Sarah it said home like nothing else could. They were her friends.
It had been almost twelve years since her adventure in the Labyrinth but the memories were still vivid, and even after a decade she missed her friends. It hadn't been an easy time. After her return, Sarah had difficulty adjusting to day-to-day life. It was hard to make new friends, and though her friends from the Labyrinth visited her whenever she called for them, it had been almost two years since she'd done so. They just couldn't quite satisfy her need for human affection. And affection, it seemed, was at a premium.
Her father had died of a sudden heart attack before she'd finished high school. Their family had been small to begin with; there were no cousins, only a single aunt living somewhere in California. Her mother had cut ties with her own family when she'd decided to act and had not mended the rift before her death. All that was left of a family for Sarah was her stepmother and Toby, and now she couldn't even count him.
Since Sarah was eighteen and almost out of school when her father died, Karen had asked her to find an apartment, claiming she couldn't afford to take care of two children. Sarah had agreed readily--she was young and headstrong, eager to be on her own, and had never really gotten along with her stepmother. She continued to babysit for Toby whenever possible, and often visited. Karen, however, had slowly limited their contact, and then had abruptly moved to Pittsburgh with the boy.
Their frequent visits thus ended, Sarah lost the bond she'd had with Toby. She wrote to him and called often, but he was too young to be much of a correspondent--and he'd heard many tales from his own mother casting Sarah as a crazy, irresponsible person whom he was better off avoiding. By the time he was nine, he didn't really want her in his life at all.
Now, Sarah thought, he'd ceased even the bit of contact they'd maintained; he'd failed to acknowledge her birthday. Last year's hastily signed card was the last she'd heard from him, her many letters unreturned. She'd prayed that he would at least keep this meager contact, but it was painfully obvious that he'd given her up entirely.
After Karen and Toby moved, Sarah plunged into marriage with the man she'd been seeing at the time. Ryan was an unpleasant sort, given to violent outbursts of temper. After their divorce, a mere year and a half after they'd wed, Sarah couldn't really explain what she'd seen in him. Except that he'd been blonde and handsome with unusual eyes, one blue and one brown, a peculiarity that Sarah found intensely attractive. And she had been lonely. She had only seen him once since their marriage ended; he had already taken a second wife. As terrible as he'd been to her, Sarah couldn't help but envy his new wife; at least she didn't spend her days and nights in an echoing apartment-like a disobedient child, she almost felt that the violence and anger was better than no attention at all.
It seemed lately that her dreams had withered as well. She'd given up acting once she realized that the stories in her own mind were far more interesting. Writing gave her a badly needed outlet, and so far she had been moderately successful. A few of her stories and poems had been published, and a year ago she'd sold a play, though it had not yet opened. But her masterpiece, her life's work, remained a dusty pile of papers. She'd worked on her first novel for years, painstakingly recreating her own adventure through the Labyrinth. She'd strove to capture every moment, to make it real, not just something light and easily dismissed; she wanted her story to stay with others the way it had stayed with her. But she had never been able to publish it. Today she'd tried once more to convince her editor, a great square of a man with a keen eye for business and absolutely no imagination, to take the manuscript. His dismissive words still rang in her ears.
"Its fanciful rot, Williams! NO ONE wants to read silly fluff about monsters and dwarves. The only people that would ever want this are little girls, and this story is far above their comprehension. I tell you, its unsellable!"
Totally alone, bereft, she found herself in tears on her worn couch. Dark thoughts filled her mind; not for the first time she considered giving up. This time, her despair was such that she walked into the bathroom and drew a razor blade from the drawer. She held it to her wrist, pressing it just hard enough to draw a few drops of blood. The bite of the blade was sharp, pungent, but didn't break her dark reverie. She studied the blood, feeling detached. "Just a little more," she said to herself. The tiny cut had already begun to knit, the drops of blood darkening as they dried.
She pressed the blade deeper into her flesh, watching with dull fascination. Red welled around the silver blade again, enough this time to stain the tips of her fingers. It moved in a slow crimson streak across her skin, finally falling with a surprisingly loud, wet sound on the worn floor. She gazed past her arm to the ugly tiles, the drops standing out, almost glowing against the faded gray.
Suddenly, horror at what she was doing overcame her--she flung the blade across the room, not caring where it landed, and ran into the living room, fingers pressed to the stinging wound on her wrist. She stared at the blood, feeling rather nauseous, before catching a tissue in her hand and wiping it away. Her wrist and fingers were stained, but she was somewhat relieved to see that the cut was small, and had again stopped bleeding. She scanned the room desperately, wondering if she had a bandage somewhere, terrified by her own actions.
Her eyes lit on the picture she'd drawn. Impulse took over; she could not bear the loneliness, the darkness of her mind for another moment. She threw back her head and called for her friends. Immediately, Ludo appeared before her, looking as much like an overgrown teddy bear as ever. He growled in greeting, and Sarah buried herself in his comforting embrace, weeping against his ginger fur. He patted his head with his huge, clumsy paw.
"Sawah sad!"
She smiled through her tears. "Yes, Ludo, I'm sad. Sadder than I've ever been in my life."
"Ludo sad," he said, his huge face falling into a frown. She scratched his shaggy head until he smiled again, and suddenly felt something tug at the hem of her shirt.
"Hoggle!" she cried, catching the little man in her arms and spinning him in a circle.
"Well, then, little lady, why's you cryin'?" His wrinkled face contorted in concern.
"Oh, Hoggle, more than I could ever tell you. I'm so lonely!"
"Well, you needn't be any longer, my lady," a chipper voice intoned. Sarah turned to see Sir Didymis, lounging against his faithful steed Ambrosious.
Sarah patted Didymis affectionately, then turned to Ambrosious. He reminded her so much of her childhood dog Merlin that the tears welled. She sat down and resumed crying.
Anger and mirth were easy for Hoggle to understand, but tears were alien. "Now there...now, little lady." he murmured uneasily.
Ludo sat with a heavy thud, cradling his shaggy head in his hands. "Sawah sad!" he repeated, his huge face forlorn.
"Whosoever hath made thee weep shall feel the bite of my blade!" Didymis leapt to his feet, brandishing his lance fiercely. "I shall fight them all to the death!"
Hoggle kicked the knight. "Y'ain't helpin' the little lady none," he began, but stopped when he saw Sarah laughing through her tears.
She looked at Didymis fondly. "No, Didymis, there's no one to fight." Her face began to crumble again, "That's the problem! There's no one! I have no one left who cares if I live or die!"
"Sawah SA-AD!" Ludo wailed again.
Hoggle patted her shoulder awkwardly. "We care," he said simply.
"But you can't always be here," she replied glumly.
"Then why don't you come with us?" he replied, brightening. This was something that he'd never been able to ask before, though he'd wanted to.
"I...come with you?" she repeated blankly.
"Yes. Come back to the Labyrinth. Stay with us," agreed Didymis, his ears pricked with excitement.
Sarah thought. Why not? There certainly wasn't anything left to keep her here. No family, no husband, no friends to speak of. She didn't even know where her next rent payment was coming from. And if she went back to the Underground, she'd be with people who cared about her.
And maybe.
She shook her head.
Hoggle's withered face fell. "Why not?"
"Oh! No, I mean, yes! I want to go back," she smiled, the tears finally beginning to dry.
Ludo looked from Hoggle to Sarah and back again. Thought. Burst into a huge smile, "Sawah fwiend!"
Sarah closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. She knew what must be done, the words that must be said; she'd imagined saying them for so long. "I wish the goblins would come and take me away. Right now."
Series: N/A
Fandom: Labyrinth
Author: Oragneblossom (formerly Lagamorph)
Email: rice_al@yahoo.com
Rating: R
Summary: 12 years later, Sarah returns to the Labyrinth. She's never been the same since she left; neither has the Labyrinth, or its King.
Archiving: Ask first, please.
Chapters: 12
Status: Complete
Year Completed: December 2001
Disclaimer: Its all Henson's, unless its Mine...
Notes, Dedications & Thanks: All love stories are inspired by Mike. Particularly ones starring the Goblin King.
Sarah: Light in the Darkness
Sarah wandered her apartment aimlessly. It was her twenty-sixth birthday, and she was alone. She flopped onto her secondhand couch, idly flicking channels with her remote, her green eyes not even seeing the screen. She did not feel like celebrating.
The apartment was small and cluttered, but homey. The walls were adorned with several photos of her brother Toby at various ages, interspersed with a few framed fantasy-themed posters. In the place of honor, central to the tiny living room, was a large drawing. Several strange creatures stood in a group, a dog at one side, and to the back, a man almost hidden in shadows. It was done in colored pencil and was a little crude, but it remained Sarah's favorite--she had drawn it herself. To the casual observer it was just another fantasy picture, but to Sarah it said home like nothing else could. They were her friends.
It had been almost twelve years since her adventure in the Labyrinth but the memories were still vivid, and even after a decade she missed her friends. It hadn't been an easy time. After her return, Sarah had difficulty adjusting to day-to-day life. It was hard to make new friends, and though her friends from the Labyrinth visited her whenever she called for them, it had been almost two years since she'd done so. They just couldn't quite satisfy her need for human affection. And affection, it seemed, was at a premium.
Her father had died of a sudden heart attack before she'd finished high school. Their family had been small to begin with; there were no cousins, only a single aunt living somewhere in California. Her mother had cut ties with her own family when she'd decided to act and had not mended the rift before her death. All that was left of a family for Sarah was her stepmother and Toby, and now she couldn't even count him.
Since Sarah was eighteen and almost out of school when her father died, Karen had asked her to find an apartment, claiming she couldn't afford to take care of two children. Sarah had agreed readily--she was young and headstrong, eager to be on her own, and had never really gotten along with her stepmother. She continued to babysit for Toby whenever possible, and often visited. Karen, however, had slowly limited their contact, and then had abruptly moved to Pittsburgh with the boy.
Their frequent visits thus ended, Sarah lost the bond she'd had with Toby. She wrote to him and called often, but he was too young to be much of a correspondent--and he'd heard many tales from his own mother casting Sarah as a crazy, irresponsible person whom he was better off avoiding. By the time he was nine, he didn't really want her in his life at all.
Now, Sarah thought, he'd ceased even the bit of contact they'd maintained; he'd failed to acknowledge her birthday. Last year's hastily signed card was the last she'd heard from him, her many letters unreturned. She'd prayed that he would at least keep this meager contact, but it was painfully obvious that he'd given her up entirely.
After Karen and Toby moved, Sarah plunged into marriage with the man she'd been seeing at the time. Ryan was an unpleasant sort, given to violent outbursts of temper. After their divorce, a mere year and a half after they'd wed, Sarah couldn't really explain what she'd seen in him. Except that he'd been blonde and handsome with unusual eyes, one blue and one brown, a peculiarity that Sarah found intensely attractive. And she had been lonely. She had only seen him once since their marriage ended; he had already taken a second wife. As terrible as he'd been to her, Sarah couldn't help but envy his new wife; at least she didn't spend her days and nights in an echoing apartment-like a disobedient child, she almost felt that the violence and anger was better than no attention at all.
It seemed lately that her dreams had withered as well. She'd given up acting once she realized that the stories in her own mind were far more interesting. Writing gave her a badly needed outlet, and so far she had been moderately successful. A few of her stories and poems had been published, and a year ago she'd sold a play, though it had not yet opened. But her masterpiece, her life's work, remained a dusty pile of papers. She'd worked on her first novel for years, painstakingly recreating her own adventure through the Labyrinth. She'd strove to capture every moment, to make it real, not just something light and easily dismissed; she wanted her story to stay with others the way it had stayed with her. But she had never been able to publish it. Today she'd tried once more to convince her editor, a great square of a man with a keen eye for business and absolutely no imagination, to take the manuscript. His dismissive words still rang in her ears.
"Its fanciful rot, Williams! NO ONE wants to read silly fluff about monsters and dwarves. The only people that would ever want this are little girls, and this story is far above their comprehension. I tell you, its unsellable!"
Totally alone, bereft, she found herself in tears on her worn couch. Dark thoughts filled her mind; not for the first time she considered giving up. This time, her despair was such that she walked into the bathroom and drew a razor blade from the drawer. She held it to her wrist, pressing it just hard enough to draw a few drops of blood. The bite of the blade was sharp, pungent, but didn't break her dark reverie. She studied the blood, feeling detached. "Just a little more," she said to herself. The tiny cut had already begun to knit, the drops of blood darkening as they dried.
She pressed the blade deeper into her flesh, watching with dull fascination. Red welled around the silver blade again, enough this time to stain the tips of her fingers. It moved in a slow crimson streak across her skin, finally falling with a surprisingly loud, wet sound on the worn floor. She gazed past her arm to the ugly tiles, the drops standing out, almost glowing against the faded gray.
Suddenly, horror at what she was doing overcame her--she flung the blade across the room, not caring where it landed, and ran into the living room, fingers pressed to the stinging wound on her wrist. She stared at the blood, feeling rather nauseous, before catching a tissue in her hand and wiping it away. Her wrist and fingers were stained, but she was somewhat relieved to see that the cut was small, and had again stopped bleeding. She scanned the room desperately, wondering if she had a bandage somewhere, terrified by her own actions.
Her eyes lit on the picture she'd drawn. Impulse took over; she could not bear the loneliness, the darkness of her mind for another moment. She threw back her head and called for her friends. Immediately, Ludo appeared before her, looking as much like an overgrown teddy bear as ever. He growled in greeting, and Sarah buried herself in his comforting embrace, weeping against his ginger fur. He patted his head with his huge, clumsy paw.
"Sawah sad!"
She smiled through her tears. "Yes, Ludo, I'm sad. Sadder than I've ever been in my life."
"Ludo sad," he said, his huge face falling into a frown. She scratched his shaggy head until he smiled again, and suddenly felt something tug at the hem of her shirt.
"Hoggle!" she cried, catching the little man in her arms and spinning him in a circle.
"Well, then, little lady, why's you cryin'?" His wrinkled face contorted in concern.
"Oh, Hoggle, more than I could ever tell you. I'm so lonely!"
"Well, you needn't be any longer, my lady," a chipper voice intoned. Sarah turned to see Sir Didymis, lounging against his faithful steed Ambrosious.
Sarah patted Didymis affectionately, then turned to Ambrosious. He reminded her so much of her childhood dog Merlin that the tears welled. She sat down and resumed crying.
Anger and mirth were easy for Hoggle to understand, but tears were alien. "Now there...now, little lady." he murmured uneasily.
Ludo sat with a heavy thud, cradling his shaggy head in his hands. "Sawah sad!" he repeated, his huge face forlorn.
"Whosoever hath made thee weep shall feel the bite of my blade!" Didymis leapt to his feet, brandishing his lance fiercely. "I shall fight them all to the death!"
Hoggle kicked the knight. "Y'ain't helpin' the little lady none," he began, but stopped when he saw Sarah laughing through her tears.
She looked at Didymis fondly. "No, Didymis, there's no one to fight." Her face began to crumble again, "That's the problem! There's no one! I have no one left who cares if I live or die!"
"Sawah SA-AD!" Ludo wailed again.
Hoggle patted her shoulder awkwardly. "We care," he said simply.
"But you can't always be here," she replied glumly.
"Then why don't you come with us?" he replied, brightening. This was something that he'd never been able to ask before, though he'd wanted to.
"I...come with you?" she repeated blankly.
"Yes. Come back to the Labyrinth. Stay with us," agreed Didymis, his ears pricked with excitement.
Sarah thought. Why not? There certainly wasn't anything left to keep her here. No family, no husband, no friends to speak of. She didn't even know where her next rent payment was coming from. And if she went back to the Underground, she'd be with people who cared about her.
And maybe.
She shook her head.
Hoggle's withered face fell. "Why not?"
"Oh! No, I mean, yes! I want to go back," she smiled, the tears finally beginning to dry.
Ludo looked from Hoggle to Sarah and back again. Thought. Burst into a huge smile, "Sawah fwiend!"
Sarah closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. She knew what must be done, the words that must be said; she'd imagined saying them for so long. "I wish the goblins would come and take me away. Right now."