I'm taking a break from GSUV to bring you this songfic, requested by UltimatePhangirlZoe. The song it's based on is Airplanes by B.O.B. feat Hayley Williams. The lyrics I took most inspiration from are:
Can we pretend that airplanes
In the night sky are like shooting stars?
I could really use a wish right now
Yeah, I could use a dream or a genie or a wish
To go back to a place much simpler than this
'Cause after all the partyin' and smashin' and crashin'
And all the glitz and the glam and the fashion
And all the pandemonium and all the madness
There comes a time where you fade to the blackness
And when you starin' at that phone in your lap
And you're hopin' but them people never call you back
But that's just how the story unfolds
You get another hand soon after you fold
And when your plans unravel in the sand
What would you wish for if you had one chance?
The fic turned out kind of differently to how I planned it. It can be read in two ways: as a happy ending, or as a darker plot. Let me know what you think.
It was the most sumptuous party of the year.
Everyone who was anyone was present. Film stars, celebrities, and millionaires drank glasses of champagne that cost more than a small car; women dripped sparkling jewellery, men reeked of expensive aftershave, and everyone was thoroughly enjoying themselves.
At least, it would have appeared so. Sarah Williams, the famous actress, seemed the happiest of all; she flashed her trademark red-lipped smile to all and sundry and lowered long black lashes over bewitching green eyes, capturing several unsuspecting hearts. Undoubtedly the most beautiful woman in the room, people cast her envious or admiring glances, depending on gender and position. She was wearing a daring backless dress in that shade of deep crimson that only certain women can pull off: and Sarah was one of those women; her very bearing triumphantly proclaimed it. Her creamy skin stood out against the softly clinging fabric that outlined every one of her renowned curves to its best possible advantage, her dark hair – carefully arranged in immaculate curls – cascading down her back in sharp contrast.
She drank champagne and flirted and giggled and gossiped, and was paraded around the room on a succession of arms. Everybody knew that she was single and professed to be entirely content that way, and nearly every male in the room was determined to change her mind. Used to such advances, she dexterously waved them aside or pretended to welcome them, dismissing her conversation partners with such skill that it was some time before they realised they had been rejected.
But her string of bemused and desperate suitors only added to her charm and mystery. Everybody wanted a piece of Sarah Williams. As the evening wore on, she was increasingly surrounded by intrigued guests who had caught a whiff of her glamour and wanted to know more, or already knew every detail of her life from the news and were desperate for a way in, to share her fame or simply bathe in the aura of her reported millions. And still Sarah smiled and posed and dazzled, and nobody knew that she would have given anything to be a thousand miles away.
"…and if you would take me up on my offer of cocktails some time I'm sure you'd find out more," whispered Jack Farrington as he leaned in towards her in what was probably meant to be a seductive way. Sarah gritted her teeth and looked down, hoping that he'd take the irritated flush on her cheek for maidenly shyness. Her head ached and she was beginning to feel dizzy from the champagne.
"Well, we shall just have to see," she murmured enchantingly, and let a dimple show in her right cheek. Men had been made slaves to her will by a mere glimpse of that dimple, and it would never do to offend Jack, not when his father was so influential. All the same, she did not want to go for cocktails with the man. He'd already tried to grope her backside twice.
He leaned closer still, and she suppressed the desperate urge to step backwards. His aftershave was mostly overpowered by sweat and the smell of alcohol. "You are too evasive, Miss Williams. May I take that as a yes?"
She opened her mouth to say something, and at that moment the tall, vintage-style grandfather clock in the corner of the room began to chime midnight. Sarah's eyes darted towards it, and a wave of dizziness and nausea worse than any she'd felt so far swept over her. Her vision swirled and suddenly nothing seemed quite as it had before. People seemed to flicker among the laughing, chattering guests, people who she was sure hadn't been there before, people who cast her knowing, amused looks and then melted into the crowd as if they had never been there in the first place. There was a shimmering on the edge of everything, and her heart pounded in her ears. Was it her imagination or had the clock just struck thirteen times? Her breath caught in her throat.
"I'm sorry," she said abruptly to her companion, forsaking charm. "I am not feeling well. I must excuse myself."
She threw herself into the crowd before he could object, fighting her way through passive bodies and choked, stale air. All of the colours seemed too bright, the forced laughter too loud, the gossip too malicious. She had to get out, now, this instant, before she screamed or fainted. Frantically, she struggled past an enormous man in a suit who was chatting up a very drunk lady and almost fell against the door that led out to the balcony. Fumbling for the handle, she staggered out onto the balcony and into absolute peace and quiet at last. Thank God.
The semi-transparent door swung closed behind her, and she took a deep, cleansing breath of the cool night air. The darkness was a welcome change from the hectic lights and colours of the party. From her vantage point on the balcony she could see the scattered points of brightness that marked the city below. On impulse, she kicked off the high heels that had been causing her excruciating pain all evening, and leaned her elbows on the railing. The cold stone underfoot was a blessed relief; already her headache and vertigo were receding, and the much muted hum of the party allowed her to concentrate on the contrasting peace outside.
For a few moments she drank in the view, and then her shoulders slumped and she leaned her head in one hand. Whether it took a few minutes or an hour, at some point somebody would notice that she was missing, and then she would have to go back in there. She didn't know if she could hold up her head for much longer, or plaster that ridiculous smile across her face. She was so tired. And she'd been playing a part for far too long now.
Tipping her head back, she looked up at the stars as they shone palely in the night sky, seeking comfort from them that they couldn't really give. The stars didn't care whether she was happy or not; they watched tragedies and comedies alike, neither condemning nor consoling. Hm – perhaps she was a little drunk, she mused wryly; she wasn't usually quite so given to existential despair.
A moving light caught her eye, and for one moment she thought it was a shooting star, and almost smiled. Then a faint droning sound and the slowness of its movement enlightened her as to the light's true nature: a plane, nothing more. She laughed out loud.
"Shame," she said to herself and the listening night sarcastically, "I could really use a wish right now."
As soon as the words had left her lips she clapped a hand to her mouth, an old reflex. Stupid! She hadn't used the word wish,even in thought, since… since. She knew, better than anybody, the consequences of ill-considered wishes. But when a few seconds passed and nothing happened, she permitted herself to relax. Anyway, she was being childish to the extreme if she was really afraid of something that had happened so long ago it was probably a dream rather than a memory.
So when a voice spoke behind her she nearly died of fright.
"You know, Sarah, I could always help with that."
He had been watching her all night.
If anyone had looked at him, which was unlikely in the extreme, they would have seen nothing out of the ordinary. A young man in a suit, hair cut very short, nervous brown eyes and a tie that had a stain on it. An aspiring actor, perhaps, or someone looking to make a business deal of some kind – someone not worth a second glance. He wove among the milling people with no disturbance, his whole attention focused on the starlet across the room.
She was incredibly self-possessed for someone so young, he noted, though that was nothing new; he remembered, all too well, her trick of lifting that stubborn chin and holding that shining head so proudly. Back then, though, she had had no idea of her power over others, had been surprised by how easily she'd charmed others into submission. Now, he realised swiftly, she was entirely aware of her bewitching influence. He watched as she flashed starry eyes of that unusual, vivid green, before hiding them delightfully and peering up through lashes that were unfairly long. He watched as she swayed her hips and tossed her dark curls, and coquetted and preened and simpered. His eyes traced the perfect curve of her back as it tapered into her waist, and the beautiful line of her white shoulders.
Whispered gossip reached his ears, and he listened without seeming to. Linda Williams' daughter, don't you know… So beautiful… So young, but then again they say… See her in that Shakespeare play? … I always thought there was something odd about her… Away with the fairies… God, but I'd like to teach her a thing or two… The last from an arrogant, spoilt man barely out of his teens who a few moments later felt unexpectedly sick and was forced to go home with a violent illness that kept him in bed for three days.
He watched as she skilfully turned men aside with a clever phrase or a subtle hint; his predatory smiled widened, even as his anger grew against every blithering idiot who thought he would try his chances with her. One particularly unpleasant specimen was hanging around her, seemingly oblivious to her distaste: the onlooker clenched his jaw and crept nearer, watching for his chance. It came at midnight. The clock struck and Sarah looked up, visibly startled; he followed her gaze and smirked. It was his fault, really; he could assume a faultless glamour, but that didn't prevent certain… shadows from following in his wake. Those who, like Sarah, were a little more sensitive to the other would be aware of them, and he watched the brilliant red in her cheeks fade as his companions beckoned to her. He watched as she fled from their disturbing interference, out onto the balcony, out where she could be alone.
He grinned a sharp-toothed grin, and he followed her.
Unaware of his presence, she sighed and kicked off her shoes, her pretty white feet glimmering through the darkness. The crimson dress she was wearing darkened in the twilight until it was the colour of blood, black hair obscuring the smooth skin of her back as she leaned away from him on the railing. He longed to touch that skin, to trail his fingers across it and watch goosebumps blossom in their wake, to hear her sigh for him and murmur his name. She was his, after all, whether she knew it or not; those poor, puny mortals in there had never really had a chance.
She tipped her head back to look up at the sky, her hair falling across her shoulders, and he caught a trace of her perfume: not sweet and flowery, like he might have assumed, but musky and heavy. Clever girl. She certainly knew how to entice people. The question was why she was out here alone when she could have had anyone she chose.
Her laugh surprised him. It was not the innocent girlish laughter he'd heard from her red lips all that time ago; it was bitter, disillusioned. What had little Sarah found in this place of glamour and sophistication to make her so disenchanted? Her next words electrified him.
"…I could really use a wish right now."
He permitted himself another smile. Ah, she had played right into his hands.
"You know, Sarah, I could always help with that," he offered.
Her shock was almost comical; she spun round, eyes and mouth wide in astonishment, one hand going to her chest in a frightened gesture. She was graceful even in fear.
"Goblin King?" she whispered. Of course she would see right through his glamour. He had expected no less of her. He inclined his head.
"The very same." Taking a step forwards, he grasped her free hand – it was hot even through his black gloves – and raised it to his lips. She followed it with her eyes, and he heard her sharp intake of breath.
"Then – you're real." Oh, the brave little girl, how she was already pulling herself together.
"I assure you, I am no dream," he said smoothly, trying not to feel disappointment that she'd taken her hand back too quickly. "And I am at your service."
"What do you mean?" Her voice did not even tremble, but his eyesight was better than hers and he could see how her pupils were dilated, her chest rising and falling rapidly with her breathing. She was afraid of him, and drawn to him in equal measures.
"You have a wish to make?"
Her lips parted in surprise, and she turned away from him before he could read anything more in her eyes. "Yeah, perhaps I did," she muttered. "What are you doing here, Goblin King?"
A little piqued at how she'd dismissed his intimidating presence, he exerted himself to try again. He stood beside her, too close for propriety, and spoke to the back of her neck – she shivered. "Won't you call me by my name, little Sarah?"
There was a pause, and then she said: "Jareth."
He had underestimated how strong the effect of his name in her voice would be. "Yes," he breathed.
"You didn't answer my question."
"I am here for you; I would have thought that obvious."
She looked at him then, scornfully, and he thought again how beautiful she was even in her disdain. What a perfect Queen she would make him. The courtiers would adore her.
"You're not alone, then," she said. "Everyone else here seems to think that I am here for their benefit."
"Ah, yes, the famous Sarah Williams," he said mockingly. Her mouth twisted enchantingly, and he had to stop himself from kissing it. "Tell me, princess, what is an adored darling like you doing alone on a night like this?"
She studied him, wondering if he really was asking or if he already knew the answer. He hadn't changed, at least not from her memories; still those sharp cheekbones, that wild hair, those eyes that appeared different shades in the darkness and seemed to pierce through her very soul. His presence was discomforting in a way that was hard to rationalise. There was something alien, something faerie about him here in the human world that was difficult to ignore. He so clearly belonged to another place that she half-expected to look up and find herself in the Labyrinth once more.
He was waiting for an answer. How to explain to him the weariness that had sunk deep into her, that had been dragging her down for years now? She had no desire to seem weak to this man who had once been her most bitter enemy, and yet something in her reached out to him. It might be nice to tell somebody… to, just for once, let the mask drop.
"Hiding," she said in reply to his question. "I'm hiding from them."
"May I ask why?"
She let go of the railings and walked a couple of steps, feeling the rough stone against the soles of her feet and taking comfort from its strength. "Because… I'm tired of this. I've been tired for a very long time."
"Tired of what?" he asked softly. She flung her arms wide.
"Everything! The lies, the gossip, the drama, the money, the glitz, the superficiality... The parties and the fashion and the politics and just the sheer madness of it all. I'm sick of it. I thought… I thought fame would bring me fulfilment. I thought," she looked down so that he couldn't read her eyes, "I thought that it would bring me love and happiness. I was wrong."
She hadn't heard his approach but suddenly he was there, right in front of her, and he'd placed gloved hands on her shoulders. She tried to quell her fear. Surely he wouldn't hurt her? His keen eyes searched her face.
"And if you could make your wish," he whispered, "what would it be?"
The words came out almost against her will. "To go back to a simpler time." Why did he look so triumphant all of a sudden? Dread prickled at the back of her neck. "B-but I won't make it," she stammered. "I know better than that." She would not give in to temptation this time, would not give him the satisfaction of that.
His eyes flashed. "Oh, you do, do you?" he said dryly. "Yes, little Princess Sarah, all alone with no Prince Charming and only a Goblin King for company… but no, she doesn't need rescuing. Very well, then. I can tell when I am not wanted. Enjoy your fame."
He let her go so quickly that she almost stumbled, and stalked away.
"Wait!"
The Goblin King stopped with his back still to Sarah, and smiled one more time. He'd won.
"What is it?" he said lightly without turning round. He knew, without looking, that she'd come closer again.
"What… what will happen if I don't make the wish?"
"Would you like to know?" He danced a crystal on his fingertips. "Not everyone is brave enough to see their future."
She swallowed, and she was close enough now that he could hear the sound. "Yes." It did not sound very convincing, but it was enough. He turned so that she could look into the crystal, and spun it on his palm.
"Then watch."
She obeyed, wide-eyed, as Sarah-in-the-crystal played yet more parts, became even more famous, and gained even more acquaintances. She went to parties, she went on holidays, she visited nearly every country in the world, and yet she never seemed very happy. Her friends were only interested in her money and her family thought her too stuck-up and never asked her to visit. Sarah watched with horror as her future self, disillusioned, turned to a string of lovers who warmed her bed but never made her smile. They were always gone in the morning.
Then there was a man who stayed, a man with a cruel mouth but a handsome face, and they were married; Sarah smiled at last. There was a baby, too, but soon after that the husband became unstable and began to hurt Sarah when he was angry. For a while she tried to forget the bruises and win him back to her, but he struck her and tossed her aside when she pleaded her love for him. There was a messy divorce that everyone in the media followed avidly, and Sarah turned once more to lovers, but her smiles had vanished for good now. Her child grew up bitter and resentful, feeling that the divorce had been her fault –
But Sarah, the real Sarah, had turned aside, with tears in her eyes.
"It isn't true," she choked. "That can't be all life has to offer."
Jareth regarded her sardonically. "It is not. But it is all this life has to offer."
She was shaking her head. "No, no. The crystal could be wrong. I might fall in love with someone good and true. Maybe even at this party."
The crystal disappeared in a shower of glitter. "My crystals do not lie. And I suppose you mean someone like that Farrington creature?" He laughed. She made an expression of disgust, but persevered doggedly.
"Maybe. Or someone like him. I mean, he's not that bad…"
He did not tell her that the boy in question was currently being chased down the street by some of Jareth's 'friends', more commonly known as nightmares. If they caught him, he would have a grim time of it. Let anyone touch his Sarah again…
"Sarah," he said instead, "I have done as you asked. I have shown you how your life will be if you do not choose to change it. Will you make your wish, or no?"
She hesitated, torn. "I…"
"Choose!" he said harshly. "My patience wears thin, and I must return to the Underground before the clock strikes again."
Her mind was racing. Choose – how could she choose, so quickly, just like this? And what sort of choice did she have? A certain future filled with pain, loneliness, emptiness, despair… or a completely unknown risk? She trembled. The last time she had made a wish to the Goblin King, it had been the worst mistake of her life, and the cost had been high. She had won, to be sure, but what if she could not win this time? Jareth was beautiful, and deadly, and terrifying, and she did not trust him an inch. What game was he playing?
And yet how could she refuse, when the alternative was so bleak?
"I wish," the words spilled out, "I wish that I could go back. To a time when things are simpler. I wish to be happy."
There. It was done. Terror seized her heart. What have I wished for?
The Goblin King's mismatched eyes burned victoriously. "So it shall be," he murmured, and he took possession of her and kissed her, his warm lips moving passionately against hers, one hand tangled in her hair. At first she resisted, but then her defences fell and she kissed him back as he pulled her ever tighter against him, the other hand caressing the bare skin at her back… He tasted of magic. And around her, the world was shifting, dissolving…
Sarah slept deeply, innocently, one arm flung out and the other tucked under the luxurious pillow beneath her cheek. Her dark hair curled loosely on the white sheets, the occasional strand caught over her pale shoulders. Jareth leaned over her and nuzzled his face into her neck, breathing in the warm, sleepy smell of her. She stirred and opened her eyes.
"Good morning, beautiful thing." He kissed her, and she pulled back, startled. "What is it, precious?"
"I – " she said, puzzled, "I don't know, I…" Gradually, she relaxed. "Oh. Just a dream, I guess."
"A dream? Was it bad?" He caressed her hair. "Tell me, love."
"I… I can't really remember now. Something about a party. I think you were there." She smiled up at him, and he could see the love in her green eyes. "Never mind, it's not important. Not when you're here now." She pulled him to her, impatient, and kissed him back in the way that only Sarah kissed. He lost himself in her. When she drew back with a smile, he got his arms round her and wedged her tightly up against him, skin against skin, legs tangled and hair mingled on the pillow.
"It was a funny dream though," she murmured, sleepy again. "Something about being an actress, maybe… I don't know." She fell asleep once more, warm and pliant against him.
She did not see the knowing smile on his face.