Disclaimer: I own nothing except my plot, original characters and pet sea-monkeys (although they have been showing signs of plotting revolution lately so we'll have to see about that last item).

My first Labyrinth fanfic, I hope you enjoy it.

It was a ballroom this time and the party was in full swing. The room was decked out magnificently and packed with people; men and women in rich silks and velvets; some whirling together on the floor while others lounged indolently against the pillars. It seemed to her that everyone; lords, ladies, maids and footmen were watching her closely; their eyes glittering beneath their masks.

She was dressed like a lady, her gown full-skirted and plunged low between her breasts; and this somehow made her uncomfortable; unused as she was to clothing like this. That was the first concrete fact that she could remember grasping here, that the smooth silk, the long gloves and the heavy jewellery felt strange against her skin. Everyone else in the room was masked, some in discreet eye masks but others with horns and snouts protruding, but her face was bare; it made her feel almost naked. She wasn't even sure how long she'd been here; it could have been minutes or hours, but she knew that she didn't belong here and these people would not let her forget it, even though it was alright because he had invited her. She couldn't yet remember who 'he' was but she knew that everything would be alright once he arrived, and until he did so there was nothing for it but to wait.

She stood stiffly against a pillar with a glass of something that an attendant had pressed into her hand, but somehow she knew that it wasn't safe to drink it. A dark-haired man in a silk shirt open to his waist and tight velvet breeches asked her to dance while openly assessing her figure - she brushed him off, her eyes flicking nervously back towards the double doors. Finally, when she could bear it no longer she told a voluptuous woman who had appeared at her side and was snickering at her from behind her fan that she was going to go and look for him, and she replied in a voice that was calm and melodious but hid something uneasy to go but to hurry back.

When she had passed through the double doors; her heart pounding with a fear that she could not understand she risked a glance behind her and saw the woman watching her closely. Outside the ballroom it was no better; here too she was not alone. Though in the half–light of the torches she caught glimpses of several couples twined sensually together against the walls. Embarrassed, she averted her eyes and looked frantically up and down the corridor for him – the fact that she could not remember what he looked like never entered her head – she was sure she would know him when she saw him. He was not in the corridor now. She took a deep breath and headed along it; trying to appear as though she knew where she was going, but behind her the couples had stilled and were whispering behind their hands. She didn't have to turn to know that they were all staring at her, and there was evil in their stares.

"You still coming for that drink later Cait?"

The dream shattered and Caitlin found herself back at her desk with her head on her arms, her back and neck aching from the cramped position. Her heart was pounding in her chest and her breathing was harsh and ragged.

"Cait?" The voice queried, concern in its tone, and Caitlin forced herself to relax and sit up.

"Sorry Jess," she said, massaging her aching temples, "I just dozed off."

"You'll have to be careful with that at the moment Cait," she said, stepping into the office cubicle, "Colin's been checking up on us again -," she paused as she took a closer look at her friend and sighed. "You've been having that dream again haven't you?" Caitlin nodded wearily. "And you still can't remember what it's about?"

"Still nothing Jess," Caitlin muttered, somewhat ashamed at lying to her friend. Jess gave her a long look before sighing, dropping her pile of magazines onto the desk and perching on the edge of it.

"I only have a minute…but seriously Cait you've had a few of these now – they keep you up all night and then you doze off at work–"

"I know Jess but what am I supposed to do?" The question came out louder and harsher than Caitlin had intended; she regretted her outburst when she saw Jess wince at her tone.

"Sorry hon but it's not as though I enjoy having them," she whispered, "and anyway I haven't had all that many – they'll probably just stop on their own."

"Well you'll need to do something soon anyway." Jess said firmly.

"I'll think about it," Caitlin mumbled, turning away from her friend as she knew full well that she had no intention of doing so. Jess was watching her intently, and Caitlin stood up and grabbed her mug full of lukewarm coffee, "Like a drink?" she asked, "I was about to get one". Usually her friend would have seen right through the ploy to distract her, but she had just glanced at her watch and seeing the time jumped down from the desk.

"No thanks Cait," she said, "I need to report back to Colin – he sent me down to the archive room to find him some issue from ten years ago – took me bloody ages but I've got it now." She tapped the offending magazine with one bitten fingernail. "So, we still on for that drink – it might make you feel better."

Caitlin shook her head apologetically, "Sorry Jess but I really can't – Stacey called in sick this morning and Colin's given me a ton of her stuff to do – I probably won't be leaving here till six." She would be here alone for at least an hour after everyone left, Caitlin realised for the first time. Her hand reached instinctively up to her neck to grasp the chain whose pendant lay hidden under her blouse – a stone, worn smooth with a hole in the centre.

Jess rolled her eyes, distracted by the mention of Stacey she hadn't noticed Caitlin's movement. "That's the second time this month she's done this to us – no wonder Colin was in such a strop this morning. Can you come out tomorrow?"

"Maybe, depends how much of this," – she gestured to her overflowing in-tray –"that I can get done tonight."

"Looks like fun," Jess said with a grimace. Her eyes came to rest on a poster tacked to Caitlin's cubicle wall, which, like most of the others in their office, was festooned with pin-ups and posters. This one was positioned just above Caitlin's desk; a fantasy battle scene in watercolours.

"New poster?"

"Yep, got it yesterday from that new fantasy shop in Camden."

"Nice," she said, "Another Arthur Rackham one?" Caitlin grinned and shook her head.

"Alan Lee – it's supposed to be the Daioine Sidhe in battle."

Jess grinned. "Whatever you say Caitlin, but I think I'll stick with Johnny Depp pinups above my desk."

"Fair enough," Cailtin laughed, "Alright then, I'll see you later."

When Jess had vanished around the cubicle wall she got up herself, stretched and headed for the coffee machine in the corner, chuckling to herself. Jess, like all her friends found her preoccupation with fairies and fantasy creatures somewhat strange – but most of the time they just shrugged their shoulders and ignored it. Caitlin however knew that their idea of fairies was limited to their twee depictions in Disney films. In her teens when she had devoured books on Irish mythology Caitlin had learned how far that idea had been diluted from the handsome, skilled and powerful Sidhe that she had discovered. Back then she had briefly entertained hopes of becoming a fantasy artist, but though her sketches were passable they were nothing compared to the various works she had dotted about her cubicle, and no matter how hard she tried they could never be anything close to the scenes she could dream up in her head. Eventually she had decided that if she could not draw these scenes, she would instead write them, and though her first stories, scribbled in an old school exercise book had been cringe-worthy, hard work and practice had eventually paid off and a few of her latest had been published in fantasy anthologies. She was beginning to make a name for herself as a writer, and dreamed that perhaps, in a few years she could pack in her job as a journalist and live off her stories alone. Her fairly junior position at a North London magazine meant that her colleagues were always offloading extra work onto her. Glancing at the clock she picked up her drink and headed back to her cubicle to make a start on today's lot.

A flicker of movement on her desk caught Caitlin's eye as she entered, and she whirled towards it, but apart from her computer and overflowing in-tray the desk was empty. Not enough sleep. The thought slipped smoothly into her head as it always did in moments like this, though she knew that the statement was true this rational explanation no longer provided the comfort it had a month ago. A nervous knot tightened in her stomach as she remembered that she would have to work here alone tonight. Briefly, she considered going to Colin and making some excuse; she was sick herself, there was some family emergency and she would have to leave immediately, but, tempting though the thought was she forced herself to abandon it and sat down resolutely in front of her computer. She worked sporadically for a few minutes; her mind continually slipping back to her dream. In the last month she had experienced several like it that always followed the same pattern - at every one she had been alone at a gathering; waiting for someone to come in a crowd where she knew no-one and where she knew she didn't belong – a crowd that seemed suspicious of her and somehow hostile. Unlike most dreams which faded almost immediately the details of these stayed firmly engrained in her mind. However, though the dreams, the little flashes of movement and frequent sensations of being watched could be explained by an over-active imagination, the fact that the stone around her neck sometimes grew hot against her skin could not.

There was only one person she knew of who might provide an explanation, and since that latest development had occurred in the night right after a particularly vivid and unsettling dream she had considered calling him but had always stopped herself before she had actually done so – she didn't think she could cope with the disappointment if he wouldn't come. So today, like many other days for weeks she forced the dream to the back of her mind and tried to concentrate. She had some success, at least in the next few minutes she grew so absorbed that she failed to notice the indignant voices of her colleagues about the inexplicable drop in temperature that did not seem to affect anywhere else in the building, nor the slight movement as a bow of red ribbon that hung on her cubicle wall was tweaked from its pin as though by an invisible hand and fluttered uselessly to the floor. Perhaps if she had, when the pendant and silver chain she wore grew warm enough to burn the skin of her neck she would not have torn it off with a little cry, nor left it lying on her desk hours later when finally, she grabbed her coat and bag and made a speedy exit from the freezing, empty office.

.:I:.

Rain had been threatening when Caitlin had left her office and walked down to the Underground station so she could get the train home, and by the time she emerged from her stop it was falling heavily. The atmosphere in the office had been oppressive ever since Jess had said goodnight and the heavy door had banged shut behind her; the sound echoing in the now-empty room. To her surprise however things had not been as she had expected; yes the room had been uncharacteristically chilly and several times she had thought she heard pattering footsteps, but in the two hours while she cleared out her in-tray there had been nothing more than that.

The oppressive feeling had vanished entirely when she left her office, and her mood had lifted so much by the time she had reached her tube stop that, though other commuters made a mad dash for shelter from the rain Caitlin had laughed and run the rest of the way home, though she regretted it when she reached her street and several teenage boys at a bus-stop had laughed and made obscene gestures at the way her sodden blouse clung tightly to her curves. Caitlin scowled at them but blushed a little as she realised the state her little run had left her in; her clothes sodden and her long red hair drenched and hanging in rat-tails around her face. Charlotte Porter, her neighbour upstairs shook her head at her she passed her in the hallway on her way out.

The flat Caitlin entered was tiny; just one bedroom, a bathroom and a combined kitchen-living-room, but until her stories started selling better it was all she could afford. At least it was decorated to her tastes; framed fantasy art posters adorned the walls in her bedroom, while the ones in her living room contained as much shelving as she could possibly fit there, all of which was stuffed full of books.

By the time she had dried off and eaten some dinner it was almost nine o' clock, and exhausted though she was from the long day's work Caitlin settled herself down before another computer. She had learned very early on in her writing career that unless she was strict with herself and wrote each night her stories would never get themselves done, so now, no matter how tired she was she always forced herself to put in at least an hour each night. Sometimes she would see little flickers of movement in shadows in her room as she wrote; they followed her to her flat too, but tonight she saw nothing.

At half past ten Caitlin closed down her computer to go to bed. Thunder rumbled faintly in the distance – the sound calling uneasy memories to Caitlin's mind. When she had finally lain down for bed her fingers crept to her neck uneasily to grasp her pendant. Her heart sank into her feet when they encountered nothing; she had left it lying, forgotten on her desk. Tonight then would be a particularly bad one.

Well that was Chapter One, what do we think? I would appreciate any and all constructive criticism so please leave a review.