Disclaimer: As this is a fan fiction, I do not own the Labyrinth (or any other publicly recognizable content) as much as I would LOVE that… Like, trade my first-born child for it type of love… Wait, no. He already imitates Jareth… too cutely brainwashed to give away. Sorry, second-born, you're it. [Credit goes to the proper owners; I am just utilizing them to tell a tale.]

Hope you like it! Reviews are love! And addictive. And motivational. At least follow, if not favorite. And as for reviews: I gladly anticipate constructive criticism along with praise, questions, and encouragement, and humor—LOTS of humor.

Please visit my blog (the link is on my profile) to read my original work!

Oh, and warning: I set this in the modern world, even though it is only 3 ½ years later. I am rather bad at setting things in the past, even by a few years, for some reason, so I set it in a non-specific modern-ish world.

Without further ado, for the nine thousandth time, I bring you Laby Fic:

Chapter One

Normality verses Alternate Reality

"Sarah!"

I look up, startled, though I do not know why—I should be used to this by now. A blonde and rather peppy orthodontic assistant is standing at the top of the stairs, bouncing on her toes like an overexcited teenager. I breathe out a laugh through my nose to disguise my mirth and try to prevent the smile I feel twitching at the corners up my lips.

Doing my best to look annoyed, I roll my eyes. "What is it Dee? Shouldn't you be working?" I feel my façade crack. Her happiness is rather contagious, even if I do not yet know what inspires it.

"When is your birthday!?"

My smile dims a little and I attempt to glare at her. This is not quite as funny. Who found out about my birthday? I have great coworkers, but they are a little overenthusiastic sometimes. Although I feel a great connection with them, my relationships with them do not extend far outside of work. I have not had too much backlash from that decision, since most of the staff are old enough to be my mother, or nearly so, and the orthodontist is off limits as my boss, even if he is single, handsome, and rather young. Dee is another matter entirely, though. She is in her mid- or late-twenties (I know better than to ask) and has one of those sisterly personalities; she tries to drown me in her affection. We are not close in age by the standards of children and young adults, but she feels more connection to me, it seems, than our other coworkers. And she thinks she can talk about how hot she thinks our boss is in front of me. Awkward, but funny.

"Next week," I begrudge her.

"The day! The day!" she coaxes.

I sigh. "Monday, but it doesn't matter. Doctor Wheeley is forcing me to take two weeks off in celebration of graduation and my birthday. I could barely convince him to let me finish the week."

"Graduation? When did you graduate?"

I look at her, surprised. I thought everyone knew. "I finished my courses Tuesday—that is why I have been working full days—and all the paperwork is completed and submitted, so I am just awaiting my physical proof. The ceremony is Saturday, but I am not attending." I said more than I intended, but Dee has that effect on me, what with her being the elder sister type and all.

"Oh," she replies simply. "Why not?"

"I don't want to," I reply, equally as simply.

"Well, tomorrow is your last day before vacation then, right? How about we throw you a little party at lunch?"

I stare at her. Well, if I thought I could get out of the traditional birthday party, I was wrong. I laugh inwardly, picturing the bunch of motherly coworkers fussy over my nonexistent love life, Dee bouncing around with a cake and (most likely odd) presents, and subjecting the doctor to, and making him pay for, all that. 'All is well on the northern front. Same ol', same ol',' I muse.

"We have long lunches Fridays anyway, so we'll just have it then!"

Dee does not wait for a reply. She turns in place and rushes down the stairs. I shake my head for no one's benefit but my own and look at the clock. I have only a few more minutes before my lunch ends and theirs begins. I do not always prefer to eat lunch alone, but the staff's lunch is a great time to catch up with my duties as sterilization technician, when there are no patients to add to the mess I must clean.

Fridays are my favorite, because the long lunch hour gives me time to do my more time-consuming weekly duties without having to juggle the incoming mess as patients leave. I will have to see if I can complete them this afternoon and tomorrow morning, because I doubt anyone can or will talk Dee out of her plans. In fact, they will, as tradition dictates, add to them. Birthdays are of great import among the staff. I think we just like an excuse to party, even if it is without alcohol and among a bunch of middle-aged women in the corner booth of a nondescript restaurant (though the food, I assure you, is delicious).

The rest of the day is a blur of activity, but I walk out of work satisfied. Everything is clean, and I even got some of my every-week tasks done along with my daily ones. Dee's excitement was infectious as predicted, so the almost spur-of-the-moment birthday party tomorrow is now official Our afternoon schedule is somehow devoid of patients, though, so I will have some time after to finish my duties before I leave for the imposed two-week vacation.

I walk out to my car. The week in which I am in the midst has been and will be quite busy, but I do not mind that. Rather, I am dreading what comes after it: nothing. I finished my finals, made sure that I had made all the proper arrangements for the processing of my bachelor's degree, and managed to talk my way out of attending the graduation ceremony. I worked a few full days; I usually work only afternoons. Tomorrow will be a busy morning and lunchtime will be overwhelming, though I am not sure whether or not in a good way. I will get to use the afternoon to complete my duties to satisfaction and maybe leave earlier than usual. I am babysitting for my father and stepmother tomorrow night (Yes, I still babysit at eighteen. But can you blame me? Toby is too cute to resist.), and spending the night so we can celebrate my birthday (early) all day Saturday. Monday, my actual birthday, my old school friend Alice will kidnapped me and pull me around town doing unnecessarily girly things all day before taking me back to her house, primping me, and taking me out for a girls' night. I will eventually escape her and watch the clock as it turns over to my birth minute—11:43 pm.

What I dread is the thirteen days thereafter. Doctor Wheeley is giving me paid vacation time as a graduation and birthday gift. I am not sure whether or not it is a gift I want, though. I have spent three years working constantly toward my degree and filling in my spare hours with part-time jobs. I have no idea what to do with free time. Well, that is not true. I know what to do with free time, I just wonder what will happen if I have that much free time and therefore spend that much time in my usual activities.

Everyone looks at my life and thinks it is perfect. I found a program that allowed me to attend university in high school and use the credit dually for high school and university. I graduated high school a year ago, and by taking summer courses and an extra heavy course load during the school years, I have graduated with a four-year degree in three years. Of course, that (and other things I will not at this time mention) did not leave me much time for a social life, but I did not mind.

%%%

The next day is as busy as expected. The morning hours are overwhelmed with cleaning up, such that I cannot perform any of my weekly tasks. Everyone from work goes to our local favorite restaurant and Doctor Wheeley pays for everyone's meals. (Poor doctor… mwahaha.) They have a cake waiting for us when we return from lunch and Dee bought me a present on behalf of the staff. (A flowing, pink scarf that I will not admit to liking. Wait, does saying that count as admitting I like it? Gr!) Doctor Wheeley gives me a card. ("Something simple from me, Miss Williams," he says, and leans down to add confidentially in my ear "along with the vacation I had to nearly force you on.")

When the festivities are over, I retreat to the back room to finish processing the instruments used this morning and peak into each room to make sure nothing was missed. I hate leaving with things undone—and it was dirty—but we rushed out of the office after the last patient.

The others have left, except for Doctor Wheeley and Jill, a female staff member we dubbed "Jill of All Trades," so I use the quiet time and lack of patients to complete my weekly checklist. I feel sorry for the two of them because I am sure they are only remaining behind because I am.

I finish early. After exchanging my nitrile gloves for my infinitely more comfortable leather ones and pulling on my sleeveless hooded jacket, I say goodbye to Doctor Wheeley, and go back to the main floor to fetch Jill. As I wait for Jill to gather her things, I stretch my hands and fidget with my long sleeves. Jill looks at me curiously.

"It looks childish to wear long sleeves under your uniform, Sarah. I don't know why you insist, or why Doctor Wheeley lets you."

"We wear long pants, close-toed shoes, exam gloves, safety glasses, and masks," I say, exasperated. "Despite all that, we wear short-sleeved shirts. That is odd, not the other way around."

Jill eyes me, her eyes briefly hesitating on the hood pulled over my scarf-covered head, and then my gloves. She clearly wonders if I am overly modest. We exit the building together, locking the door behind us, before venturing to our separate vehicles.

%%%

I sigh as I put the key in the lock with gloved fingers, and with the exhaled air go all my concerns. It has been a figuratively long day and I am anxious to get inside and relax for a moment before I have to get ready to go. I hear a scuttle as the lock clicks and I roll my eyes. No doubt my small apartment is in greater dishevelment than I left it in.

I open the door and the expected mess greets me. My small collection of cook- and kitchen-ware covers the floor, though it mostly remains near the kitchenette. Clothing litters the bottom of my open wardrobe and spills onto the floor, with some pieces hanging precariously halfway off of their hangers and others hanging out of a few open drawers of my dresser. My foldaway bed is in place, but blankets and a sheet are out-of-place in a corner, adding to the mess. Merlin is wearing a sweater around his neck (I wonder how they managed that?). Ki is wearing my one and only baseball cap and his twin Ky is paused in mid-snatch. If the sofa cushions were not sewn on, I am sure they would be across the room.

Like Ki and Ky, the rest of the mischievous goblins are frozen in place; some were rushing to hide, others to tidy. I would usually be upset, or at least frustrated. It is, of course, the nature of goblins to be mischievous. Even so, I managed to secure a certain companionship from them as well as respect that begot obedience. I ignore their unoriginal attempts at mischief most of the time, and sometimes give them playful things to do. I even taught some of the more intelligent ones useful things. I allow only the small goblins to visit the flat, since there is not much room (especially with Merlin here). Between that fact and the one that the more intelligent ones seem more likely to gravitate toward me, they really are not too much trouble.

Sure that they intended to tidy before my return—which was unexpectedly early today—I decide it is not worth the energy to reprimand them and I step around them and the messes on the floor to sit on the equally messy sofa with a relieved sigh.

A few goblins relax in place, but are still afraid to move further. I glance down at them.

"Well?" I ask with raised eyebrows.

I do not need to expound. They immediately return to their hurried tidying, or come out from hiding to help. Ky snatches the hat from his brother's head and places it on his own before joining the work, but Ki is too absorbed in rushed obedience to notice.

I close my eyes and listen to the familiar scurrying and inaudible whispers as I hear drawers and doors open and close, dishes and cookware clink, and clothes and blankets rustle. I smile to myself, knowing that this should not be familiar at all. Beyond my walls, the real world awaits. Yet I cannot deny the alternate reality I am aware of. Though I never can return to the otherworld, whatever it is called, I cannot reject what part of it comes to and envelopes me in this in-between existence. This is my reality, and although my dreams are tempered, I am okay with that. After all, I am an adult now; there is no time for daydreaming. (And my reality is just as—if not more—more fantastical than others' dreams.)

The sounds around me slowly fade and I feel Merlin lay on my feet. I sense another presence near me. A small sound next to me on the couch indicates that one of the goblins has climbed up beside me and is attempting to clear his throat politely. (Trust me, that is something you never want to hear.) I open my eyes and look over. Her throat. It is Gelda, the only female among my goblin visitors.

Actually, I am not entirely sure Gelda is a goblin; one does not go around asking questions like that. She is thin and, like all the goblins in my company, short. Though she only reaches me shoulder in height she is by far the tallest among my company. Her skin is of the same quality as her goblin cohorts, but unusually dark. I cannot decide whether it is black or a deep blue. Her features are more human, and her hair hangs from her head like long, sleek black fur that shimmers blue in the light with her every movement. She is actually rather beautiful.

I have grown so accustomed to Gelda's unusual intelligence, devotedness, and helpfulness that I cannot imagine living without her. Thinking back, I realize she was not present when I first returned. She is the only one I allow freedom of choice concerning her location; I shoo the other goblins out at night and often order them away as my mood dictates. Since when did I turn into such a cruel master? I smile mischievously at the thought.

Uhg! The goblins are influencing me! How do unintelligent, smelly, dirty, ill-behaved, nesting, useless-armor-wearing goblins influence me?

I look at the armorless Gelda expectantly, and she knows she is to continue.

"You are visiting Prince Toby—"she pauses, trying to recall the human words "—this weekend, are you not, your h—Lady Sarah?"

I wince several times during her sentence, but say nothing. I have allowed the goblins to refer to Toby as "prince" if only because Toby seems to like it and I cannot help but spoil the child. I dislike being called "lady" but it is better than many of the other titles the goblins (and Sir Didymus) try to lay on me. Gelda is usually careful about what she calls me, so I am surprised that she almost made a mistake, especially because the title I assume she was about to call me is my least—no, third least—favorite. She has been away recently, so perhaps the overwhelming influence of her goblin cohorts temporarily overpowered my influence.

"Yes."

"Then, milady, may I help you ready yourself?"

I feel my eyebrows rise, though it is not in surprise as it would have been a few years ago. It is in amusement instead. A smile twitches at the crease of my lips.

"Of course."

Gelda happily hops to her feet off the sofa, and makes her way to my wardrobe. almost bouncing as she walks.

Although my rules of privacy have become much less stringent in three and a half years of (originally unwanted) goblin companionship, I still prefer to undress alone. I walk into my small bathroom and to change into the chosen clothes. Gelda has a remarkable talent for choosing unexpectedly good combinations of clothing.

When I exit the bathroom, I find shoes in awaiting me and slip them on before sitting on the sofa. Gelda quickly joins me and sets to works on my hair. I close my eyes as she works her figurative (or perhaps literal) magic on my hair.

I open my eyes as I feel something land in my lap. It is my large, handheld mirror. Gelda has finished her work on my hair and another goblin, apparently the bearer of the mirror, stands before me. I accept the mirror by picking it up and maneuver it to see what I can of my hairstyle.

Satisfied, I rise and glance at the clock. It is much earlier than I original intended to leave, but I decide to go early.

"I am going to Toby's home today," I announce, since I am sure most of the goblins have forgotten.

A few of them perk up as they listen.

"His parents will be leaving."

A few more perk up.

"I will not try to stop you from joining us if you want to, but I must remind you that you are not to show yourself until Dad and Mom are gone!"

Reluctantly, they nod their heads in obedience. My father and stepmother—whom I have more recently begun to call "Mom"—have more than once been the victim of the goblin's mischief, but I do my best to keep that to a minimum.

Grabbing my essentials, I open the door, call Merlin, and we pass the threshold. I glance at the goblins that are thinning in number as they disappear behind pieces of furniture, close and lock the door, and we make our way to my car.

The journey is not long; I live in the same apartment I moved into at the age of sixteen years old, when my parents wanted me nearby. I moved away at sixteen only because it was too difficult to juggle their reality and mine.

When we arrive before the door of my father's house, I do not bother knocking. I test the doorknob and find it unlocked, though I am not yet expected. As I open it, silence (a rare treat) greets me.

I strain my hearing and detect a low noise from the family room. It seems my parents are watching a movie in the dark silence. Toby and Freddy must be having a late naptime, then.

Not wanting to disturb my parents' rare quiet time, I signal for Merlin to accompany me and quietly sneak upstairs to the children's room.

I hear muffled noises and know that Toby, at least, is awake. It is not unexpected. The child has not taken regular naps since he was about one and a half years old. His sister Freddy, as far as I know, is still napping at least once a day though she is approximately the age Toby was when he gave up napping for secretly playing with the goblins. Of course, my father and stepmother know nothing of this and assume they nap like obedient and growing children should.

I open the door without knocking. Freddy is in her crib, asleep, using her favorite goblin—who is unusually small, soft, and friendly—as a pillow. I laugh, wondering when that arrangement started. Toby is awake and playing mischievously with goblins on the floor. I shake my head at them and roll my eyes, but I am not actually disappointed. For a moment I wonder if I have become desensitized.

The goblins and Toby glance up at me as the door clicks closed and pause in the middle of their likely nonsensical dice game. My four-year-old (four and a half if Toby is listening) half-brother jumps up and runs to me, hugging my legs before reaching up in a gesture, obviously asking to be held. I smile and obligingly bend to pick him up. My half-sister Freddy is stirring in her crib, apparently disturbed by the sudden commotion. The goblins have scattered around the room, and some have already disappeared.

I walk to the now awake, and now unaccompanied, Freddy. She has risen in her crib and is attempting to climb out. Knowing she will be successful in a moment, I pick her up awkwardly with one arm and sit her on my other hip. With one child on each side of me, I walk toward the door and bend forward so Toby can turn the knob for me. I walk in silence, and the children in my arms and Merlin behind us emulate my quietness.

My stepmother pulls me into a hug. "Sarah. You came early."

Her eyes sparkle as she pulls away and looks at me with her hands still on my shoulders.

I give her a half smile. "Yes, I did. I finished early today so I thought 'why not?'."

I know she is excited, because she is always trying to get me to stay longer or come earlier. She convinced me to arrive today, Friday, babysit my half-siblings, stay the night, and spend all day tomorrow with them. Of course I know she intends to convince me to spend another night and join them in their Sunday activities as well, and I will let her.

"Well, we need to ready ourselves for the evening. I see you got the children from their nap."

Looking at the hall clock, I step out of their way and watch them disappear up the stairs. I wait until I hear their door shut and bend down to Toby, still at my feet. "Well, since we have the time, let us have dinner early."

Toby nods enthusiastically and follows me into the kitchen. I heard Freddy and Merlin follow as I began to scour the refrigerator. After rummaging through the kitchen to ascertain all our possible assets, Toby and I (and occasionally the eighteen-month-old Freddy) debate what to make for dinner. We decide on pasta and cheese sauce, which I can prepare rather quickly. I have Toby help with what he can as I absentmindedly hum over my own tasks. I even have Freddy help a few times, but mostly she dances around the kitchen with Merlin.

As the children finish their dinner, I hear footsteps and look up to see our parents, ready for their date.

"I see you already have dinner ready, Sarah," my father comments as he bends down to say goodbye to Toby.

"You know everything you need to, Sarah; no need to give you the typical 'babysitter talk,'" Dad laughs before turning to the children and admonishing them to behave.

I snicker as I pat Freddy's head and pull Toby against me. "Don't worry; we'll throw a huge party while you are away."

Toby agrees with an enthusiastic "Yeah!" as my father chuckles, believing—as he should—that I am jesting.

I listen to them drive away and note that a few goblins have already crossed into the house.

Toby is dragging a few goblins toward his toy chest in the other room and a goblin the same height as Freddy has obtained a pile of her clothes and is proceeding to dress her and himself in mismatched outfits. I laugh at the sight, but Freddy enjoys it. Merlin is sitting quietly and expectantly.

I walk to the hall mirror and touch the surface almost absentmindedly while my tired eyes are momentarily unfocused. Calling my mind to functionality once again, I drop my hand to my side, and summon "Hoggle, Sir Didymus, Ludo—I need you." I see them (Sir Didymus on Ambrosius) appear in the mirror and I smile. Turning around, I find them in my physical presence.

Enthusiastic as a young schoolgirl, I give each of them hugs between greetings. "It has been too long, my lady." "Good to see you, Sarah." "Sarah—hi." "Thank you for coming; I know it has been a couple months since I was last home. It was a difficult last term at university. But now I am done for the summer!"

The familiar chaos envelopes me as the goblins play mindlessly with the children, my three friends begin an impossible game of Scrabble, and Ambrosius and Merlin disappear through the dog door to play in the back yard. It is the first time in a long time that we have had such a large gathering, so I sit back in a deep, comfortable armchair and enjoy the show with a genuine smile on my lips.

Gelda leans on the back of the chair and crosses her arms atop it as I observe the chaos with fondness. I feel inexplicably comfortable enveloped in it. I enjoy the company of my parents, coworkers, and my friends from high school and university, but I still enjoy this best.

The goblins play with Toby and Freddy until the toddlers fall asleep in odd positions on the floor. When the children are no longer responsive, their companions join the rest of their kind in the usual mischief against each other. I take Freddy to her crib first, remembering to change her diaper and call on her Pillow, and then return for Toby. He wakes as I carry him and protests going to bed.

"It's not fair, Sarah. You get to stay up!" he says emphatically through his sleepiness.

"No, it's not fair, but that's just how it is," I smile.

The four-year-old attempts a glare at my oft-repeated reply before settling into my arms, defeated.