Aftertaste of the Poisoned Peach

Extended summary: Sarah is dealing with her devastating feelings about the past, but Jareth hates that she has so effectively blocked memories of him out. He visits her in disguise to change her mind, but will it be worth the risk of breaking her mind to hear her admit the memories are real? Which is more important to him, her beautiful mind or her acknowledgment of his existence?

Ch 1

Empty when Repressed

The woman stood surrounded by the soft radiance of her work lamps; their glow set the perfect mood for her rhythmic, mind consuming work. She pressed the sharp jack plane smoothly across the wood, pulling from it the arching shape she desired. Her grip secure but not tight on the tool as wood shavings tickled across her hands as they tumbled down.

She sighed, stepping back as she pressed the handkerchief at her neck to her mouth to clear the sweat that had accumulated as she gazed at the perfect curve she'd created. It rose from its yet un-carved base, rising to its peak at the back and its sides sloping forward and down to end in inward sweeping swirls with just enough space between them for a body to fit comfortably through. She'd sand it down until it was smooth as glass in the morning, but for now she could rest easy in the knowledge of this small accomplishment. Returning her tools to their homes and meticulously sweeping the mess from the floor, she replaced the handkerchief with a scarf as she switched off the lights of the work room and made her way through the showroom, basking in the heavy, earthy smell of wood and stain. She tucked herself into a jacket and stepped out into the brisk autumn night, shocking her after the cocoon of warmth the shop provided. The street was deserted in these few hours before midnight in this cozy part of town where the shops had stood un-budging against modern sprawl since the town's inception. She would have it no other way.

Buttoning her coat as she walked home, she gazed back as the yearning to return crept upon her with each step further away. She'd be the first to admit she was addicted to her work, she just wished it was purely for the passion of creation. But it was not, she had more desperate reasons why she worked so diligently.

.

The next morning found her back in the small workshop. Freshly arrived with cheeks still stained from the cool autumn air, she wrapped the handkerchief around her head to restrain her long, raven tresses as she basked once again in the sight of her previous night's work. That's what she loved so much about woodwork. It would always be exactly as she had left it, there was no trickery, no magic or mystery to what she made. There was only solid, safe wood that was never a disguise for something else. She could trust her creations not to torment her mind or break her heart. They would simply exist in their beauty, and not ask anything of her in return. Only what she demanded of them mattered.

Adjusting the lights to strike the piece more directly, she moved to the back of the room to collect the organic debris she'd created the night before, hesitating when a sparkle caught her eye. Looking back, she saw the wood was glistening. Frowning, she stepped closer to inspect. Crouching down she saw the light was bouncing off glass shards that sprinkled the surface. She glanced up, but no, of course there was no shattered light bulb to explain their appearance, she used only the standing lamps. With no plausible explanation at hand, she carefully swept the shards into a dustpan and set them to the side since she was unable to throw them into the trash. She was certain the landscaper the wood shavings were donated to would not appreciate them.

She spent the rest of the morning sanding the piece until its touch could have been mistaken for marble, but better. Warmth and comfort radiated from the touch of wood, it wasn't cold and unforgiving. She'd spared a glance or two at the glass sitting innocuously in the dustpan. She still hadn't figure out its origin by the time she had finished and the wondering of it had plagued her, disturbing the usual thoughtless zen that engulfed her when she worked. She now felt restless and uneasy, once foreign concepts in this haven of a shop she'd created for herself.

Frustrated, she snatched up the glass and quickly brought it out to the front of the store where she dumped it into the regular trash can where it would be separate from organic trash and far from her workroom.

A knock at the store's entrance had her snatching her head up and out of her thoughts. A handsome young man smiled and waved from outside, motioning towards a sign that hung from the door. She stared at him and then the sign, befuddled. She could see clear as day that the sign read 'Open', what was he up to standing there waving around like that with a goofy grin? With a jolt she jogged to the door as she realized the 'Open' side of the sign was facing her, she'd forgotten to turn it over. With an apologetic grin she flipped the sign and swung the door open, letting in the man and a bitingly cold breeze.

"I'm sorry," she apologized as she took his jacket to hang on the hand carved coat stand beside the door, "sometimes I'm in such a hurry to get to my next project I forget to officially open shop."

He smiled warmly at her as he moved past to walk amidst the finished furnishings on display, fingers running appreciatively along the silky surface of a child's rocking horse. "I understand. Brilliance cannot be delayed. I saw the lights on and was just worried you would never pop out and I'd only be able to admire your work from afar." His eyes twinkled with charm as he momentarily glanced back at her.

She smiled hesitantly, she'd never really gotten used to the praise heaped upon her when she started her business. It was entirely secondary to her true purpose of creating and she had never grown comfortable hearing a compliment.

"I'm glad you like what I have. Handcrafted furniture has become rare and it's such a shame."

"I agree, my family used to have this wonderful bench made of an old birch tree that would sit on the back porch of my grandparents' cabin. It came from a tree that had fallen and almost crushed my father when he was a child exploring the woods."

A clear, light chuckle escaped her lips at the unexpected turn in the story. "That must have been frightening!" she exclaimed as she joined him among the furniture displays. Together they sat in a living room set up she'd created.

He nodded. "It was, but he and my grandfather decided to make that bench out of it to 'teach it a lesson' and also for my grandfather to teach my father to always face anything that frightened him."

She smiled. "What a great lesson for a child, and of course your family got something practical from the experience as well."

"Yeah, that old thing was my favorite place to escape to when I visited and the whole family was inside being raucous. Unfortunately, it was lost when my grandparents moved. I'd hoped to inherit it or something but now it's just a family myth." He chuckled. "That's why I had to come in when I saw what you're selling in here. Some of your stuff looks like it's still alive. It's how that bench had always looked."

She nodded as she ran a hand over the arm of the chair she was seated in. The bark was still intact but had been dipped in a special liquid that would prevent it from chipping away and made it comfortable to rest on, allowing it to retain its natural look and beauty. "There's a charm to it, isn't there?"

He gazed at her as she lovingly admired the furniture. "Yes, almost entirely too charming," he agreed.

She beamed up at him, her green eyes sparkling, unaware of his comment's multiple connotations. "If you ever miss that old bench, you just come on by and get your fill here."

"Deal. But you should really watch what you say." He stood and shuffled towards the door. "I might just become a nuisance."

Shaking her head she followed him, motioning around the store. "This isn't the mall, I'm not exactly inundated with customers."

He sighed dramatically as he swung his leather jacket on. "People these days, no real taste. Everything is plastic and mass manufactured."

Face scrunched in distaste, she nodded emphatically. "Yeah, so replaceable and forgettable. How many charming, old plastic chairs have you ever wanted passed down to you?"

Uproarious laughter exploded from him. "You know, not a single one now that I think about it. I miss that old bench even more than I realized. I think I'll have to take one of these pieces off your hands one day."

Her eyebrows rose in surprise and a thought struck her. "I've got something occupying my workshop right now, but if you have a picture, I could always try to recreate it," she suggested.

He shook his head after a moment of consideration. "Naw, wouldn't be the same. Anyways, I'd like something purely from your own mind." His eyes swept over the room. "I'm impressed with what it has come up with so far."

Her face scrunched as she tried to avoid the massive, pleased grin that tried to overtake her expression.

Laughing at her attempt at humility, he strode to the door. "There's somewhere I need to be right now, I hadn't expected to see this place and be sucked into memory lane. Though I'm glad I did, having met you as part of the deal. I think I'll swing by tomorrow when I'm not busy. Think you'll remember to open up shop and let me in?"

She sighed embarrassed at the reminder of their clumsy first interaction. "Of course."

.

She hurried to the shop the next day, expectant for the young man's promised appearance. It was as if she suddenly remembered and appreciated that there were attractive men in the world, in this world.

She halted on the store's steps when she almost stepped on an almost invisible, glass sphere sitting innocently on the top step as if awaiting her arrival. Picking it up she was surprised by the frail looking object's substantial heaviness. It felt solid and weighty in her grip, cool and smooth. Once inside she set it on the counter as she removed her coat and flipped the sign to 'Open'. Settling on a stool and resting her chin on the counter she gazed directly into the ball. Her heartbeat sped as her gaze seemed to be dragged into its depths and memories stirred in the furthest reaches of her mind. What was going on? This thing was bringing an uneasy sense of urgency and need into her heart where she'd worked so hard to bring calmness and peace.

Abruptly she hustled to the door and flipped the sign back to 'Closed'. Snatching her coat from its hook she brought it back into the workroom and switched off the lights so that the shop would appear deserted as she shut out the world and embraced the pull of solitude and the desire to press metal to wood and carve. Knowing this frantic state well, she carefully maneuvered around the piece she'd been working on before and from the side she snatched a fresh log from a pile and secured it vertically in a clamp and began to hack at the bark. She needed something that did not involve delicate, intricate motions. She needed something she could blast away at.

Eventually she heard the knock at the front door, something usually impossible to hear from her back room, but she had been listening for it, anticipating it. Hearing it made her pause and strain to listen. Knuckles on glass once again echoed through the store and she struggled to release herself from the overwhelming, voracious need to continue. She yearned to be in the handsome stranger's friendly company, but at the third knock she resumed her work, resigning to the pressing need. Hearing every continued attempt to rouse her, and the ensuing silence as the man gave up made her hate her inability to control herself. It was once again just her and the unnerving sounds of metal hacking into tree flesh that seemed to inhabit the entire world.

a/n: Even remotely interesting? let me know~