As Darkness Falls
AN: This is my first Labyrinth fanfic, and my first fanfic at all in a long time. I really enjoyed writing this, and would like to thank Jera for her help editing. If you like it, please leave a comment in the drop box!
The gentle warmth of the morning sun pulled Sarah out of sleep. She squinted into the light and breathed in a kind of backwards yawn as she always did upon waking. Exhaling, she looked at the clock next to her bed. 7:47 am. She sighed, the familiar wave of demotivation washing over her. Today's agenda: morning classes, friends for lunch, afternoon rehearsal. It wasn't much – but it was still hard to find the strength to get up. Sarah groaned and rubbed her face with her hands. Lately, the colours of her world were becoming substituted more and more by varying shades of grey. Music didn't fulfill her anymore, her acting seemed out of place, and her emotions were slowly but surely being replaced by a seeping, hollow feeling. She was quick to tire and lose interest in what she was doing. She rarely contacted home anymore, unable to find the strength to deal with family drama. Sarah found herself missing childhood more and more – she had never been able to box her favourite toys away in the basement. They were always on the shelf in her bedroom, always present, always watching, always protecting. Though sometimes the darkness felt so thick and penetrating that not even the memories of the Labyrinth could give her solace. Rather, they just deepened the cut inside, but she could never understand why. She shook her head and sat up, ruffling the synthetic fur of a 12" Ludo. "Come on, feet," she told herself and got out of bed.
During rehearsal, Sarah kept looking at the clock on the wall, but its fingers seemed glued to the spot. She forgot more lines than ever before and had never felt more out of tune with her character, a rebellious queen who led an army to depose the king. The director – Jonathan Waters, a sandy-haired Englishman working with the university – constantly badgered Sarah into repeating her lines again and again in different shades of certain emotions.
"You can do better than that, Sarah," he said from the first row of viewer's seats. "I want more... more oomph!"
For a director you're awfully bad at words, Sarah thought as she bit off a reply. She added her frustration to her monologue. "For you have given me nothing but strife; how often lay I stricken with grief! You demanded a child of me – but never lay with me. You promised me freedom – yet confined me to these walls. You promised me love! O, sweet love, where hast thou gone?" She paced dramatically across the stage to where the king was standing. She turned to face the audience – a few crew members and the director – and hesitated. Where hast thou gone... where hast thou gone...damn it.
Jonathan sighed. "That what once could have been love," he prompted, not even attempting to mask his exasperation.
Sarah fought down the disappointment. She continued. "That what once could have been love has long since turned into bitter gall. And so I bring you this – a ravaged land and a broken heart. My dear King... it could have been so sweet." With these words she pulled a dagger out of the sleeve of her dress and "stabbed" the other actor, who "died" rather convincingly.
"That's what I'm talking about Sarah. Well played, Adam," Jonathan looked at his watch. "Right, it's late... let's call it a night," Sarah had the impression that he was just as dissatisfied with her performance as she was. She sighed and pulled the loose dress over her head. It reminded her of the times when she would wear old dresses her mother had left her and practise acting in the park with Merlin. Merlin... He was long gone already. She missed the way he looked at her through his grey and white bangs with those large, watery eyes of his, always comforting her. He was the best audience she ever had.
She waved a quick goodbye over her shoulder as she headed to the parking lot. Her heart missed a beat when she heard her name being called in a smooth British accent. Her breath catching in her throat, she spun around in anticipation. She fought down the wave of disappointment that followed as she saw Jonathan, donning his leather jacket, sauntering towards her. She forced a relaxed posture and a calm voice. "What's up?"
"Call me impertinent, but I was wondering if I could invite you to a drink?" Jonathan asked.
Sarah just stared at him for a moment, waiting for the punchline. When it didn't come, she figured it was time to say something. She opened her mouth, but closed it again as nothing came out. Her mind was rapidly reviewing her options. Go home, read a book in half darkness and feel lonely until she finally sank into sleep? Or go out for an hour or two and have someone to take her mind off things for a while? "Yeah, sure," she finally said. "Sounds like fun."
"You seem so lonely," he said suddenly in the softest tone she'd ever heard him use – quite a contrast to his usual barking orders from in front of the stage. The statement thundered across the table.
"Do I?" she raised her gaze from the glass. For the first time she realized that his eyes were a clear grey.
"Don't play games with me, Sarah," he said, reaching for a cigarette. Sarah's eyes widened in surprise. She had heard that voice before, so long ago... no. It was just her imagination. He offered her a cigarette, and she declined with a shake of her head. "It's clear as day that you're fighting a battle within yourself."
She felt colour rise to her cheeks. It amazed her that he had seen right through her, she thought she had been hiding her emotions so well. She looked away at the television in the corner of the pub, where a football match was being broadcasted in bad quality. A player scored a goal and a loud cheer went round the clients sitting at the bar.
"I'm a director, I see these things," he continued, as if he could read her thoughts. Maybe he can, the alcohol suggested. Jonathan took a long drag on his cigarette. Sarah looked back at him. And suddenly, before her eyes, he turned into a figure she had spent years longing to see. She saw him with longer hair, glamorous make-up and a long, leather cape... and felt mismatched eyes gazing into hers. She blinked, and it was once again greying Jonathan sitting in front of her, watching her intently. Through the haze, a deeply hidden desire began to rear its head. She felt her fingertips begin to tingle. "I've been there, you know. I know what it feels like. The misery, the loneliness... when you wish you could scream, but you just can't." He took a sip of whiskey. Sarah didn't dare speak. She felt as if he were reading the emotions straight off of her forehead. "Feeling like you're never at home, and you're scared." Sarah froze. It was like he had pinned her to the spot with his eyes. "You're scared of having to make the decision..." Jonathan looked away and shook his head. He took another drag of his cigarette. "I want to help you," he continued. "I hate seeing such beauty decay under the weight of despair."
Sarah didn't know how to reply. First, what did he know of her private life to make such a statement? And did he really lack all social graces in order to bring this up? She tried to be upset, but her defences had been breached. She swallowed hard. In his voice she heard him, and in his face she saw him... She couldn't keep the memories from flooding her mind. The way she had bested his labyrinth and in a final act he had offered her his love... and she had rejected him. Back then, it was the only choice to make, but as she grew older, her perspectives changed. And at the moment, this individual in front of her who, before, had not solicited any interest on her part, was saying all the right words in all the right ways.
"Jonathan, I," she started, tripping over her words slightly. She wasn't able to meet his gaze. "I really don't know if this is the kind of discussion we should be having..."
"Sarah," he said softly, grinding his cigarette butt into the ashtray. He layed his hand on hers. "I know what you need. And I can give it to you."
She never understood why she had agreed to go home with him. A part of her told her not to, another part begged for attention and craved love from the dark man she saw when she closed her eyes. The alcohol had silenced the rational part of her mind, slowly but steadily eroding away the foundations of the thick wall she had so meticulously constructed and maintained over the past ten years. The wall to keep him from filling her thoughts. And it seemed to her that accepting the offer was the only thing she could do. The only thing she wanted to do. They spent the remainder of the night in his apartment. First, Jonathan had spent exuberant amounts of energy telling Sarah that she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever layed eyes on and that he had been thinking of nothing but her since she had been cast as queen. Then, he made love to her feverously, the bed posts banging against the wall until Sarah was afraid the neighbours would pound back. Finally, he laid down next her with a contented sigh. It didn't take long for him to fall asleep. Sarah could hardly close her eyes. Her naked body felt strangely exposed in the darkness, as if all of her insecurities had grown eyes and were watching her. Her mind was spinning in a whirlwind of emotions. She felt dirty. As if she had sold herself, her virtues. She remembered this feeling from her last one night stand a few months ago, but none of them had been this meaningless. Something needed to change, and soon. It can't go on like this... Her thoughts drifted for a while and, inevitably, led to the Labyrinth. She felt as if she was standing at the beginning of a labyrinth again, just this time she never found the right turn, and if she did, something always led her back to the beginning. And this time, there was no Goblin King watching her moves. With a sense of longing she remembered the first time he had revealed himself to her, in her father's bedroom, in a black cape amidst thunder and lightning.
She left Jonathan in the early morning, just as first light was creeping through the shutters. Jonathan stirred and made to reach for her, but, mumbling some half-hearted excuse, Sarah left him with dirty sheets and, likely, a clean conscience.
Outside it was raining. It was the way she liked it: she preferred the classic, rainy Hollywood walk of shame over walking home in mocking sunlight and birdsong. Always choosing the drama, she thought to herself with a bittersweet smile.
Why did she feel this way? Why was she touched by guilt over last night? It permeated her soul and sapped any joy she could have gained from the night. It wasn't like she had a boyfriend to betray or had to keep her slate clean. Sure, if this was revealed, there might be some nasty rumours at the playhouse for a few weeks, but in the end it still was her own business. This isn't high school anymore. Sarah sighed, letting the images of last night flow into her mind. Guilt was resting in her stomach like a rock. She couldn't even remember the details of Jonathan's face – it was constantly being replaced by Jareth's. Just like it had been every other time she decided to go home with a man.
Every time she had agreed to a liason with a man, they tended to be significantly older and had a definite dominant streak to their personalities. And every time it was the same: Jareth's image blocked every other thought in her mind. She couldn't enjoy her partner's company for what it was because of him. She just couldn't forget Jareth. He was always at the back of her mind, be it during the first date or during lovemaking. How you turn my world, you precious thing. Those words echoed in her mind over and over. Sarah swallowed the lump forming in her throat.
Finally, she arrived at home, soaking wet. She took a hot shower, got dressed and slumped on the bed. She stared at the old toys that lined her bookshelf. Hoggle, Ludo and Sir Didymus looked down on her.
Should you need us...
The thought of reaching out to them now filled her with a feeling she couldn't quite place. What would they think of the adult she'd become? She wasn't the rebellious teenager they'd met ten years ago. Instead, now she was... what was she? Tired. Reckless. Weak. A failure. She groaned loudly in frustration, hit her pillow with her fist. Why are you being so childish? She scolded herself. Just grow up and get over it. It's your own fault that you're in this mess. You never should have made that wish... You never should have, you never should have, echoed in her mind until tears of anger started running down her face.
Sarah hadn't meant to fall asleep and was surprised that it was afternoon when she awoke. She opened her eyes, half expecting to find Jonathan lying next to her. She sighed in relief when she found this not to be the case. But the relief soon to be replaced by regret, that hollow feeling which seeped into her chest and darkened her mood. She stared at the ceiling, and soon, images in her mind replaced what her eyes were seeing. She imagined scenes in which her friends shunned her due to her promiscuous behaviour; she imagined her colleagues at the theatre turn their back on her when she asked them for help; she imagined a candle's flame wavering in the darkness and finally going out. She felt pressure rising inside of her, demanding release, like she wanted to scream, to hit something, to burn down her apartment. All of the hurt and resentment which had been gathering over the years were bottled up inside, and they were beginning to revolt. I must be going crazy... This is killing me. She threw on her jacket, left the apartment and began striding the streets of the city in an attempt to outwalk her emotions. She observed people hurrying through the cold wind, watched red and golden leaves being blown off of the trees. She didn't know how long she had walked, only that finally, her feet ached and she had nowhere else to go.
She stopped in the middle of the Lincoln Bridge. The sun was setting, the trees along the bank casting long shadows over the river, softening the edges of the rapidly moving water. The black void inside of Sarah was expanding to suck every bit of her in. The hurt and sadness inside of her were beginning to fade, replaced by nothing, the silence of it so loud it was deafening. She leaned against the railing and held her head in her hands. The wind played with her hair, whipping it across her face and into her eyes. She looked down into the water. It wasn't a very long drop. The water seemed to invite her, to tease her as it swirled under the bridge and away. Sarah wondered if she would regret the jump after she took her first gulp of the dirty water.
Maybe it's time to find out... it would be so simple... the answer is right in front of you. Just one step, one drop, one or two minutes and it would all be over. No more pain. No more suffering. It's so easy... to be welcomed by sweet oblivion after all this time. It's so easy...
Sarah's movements happened of their own accord, as if she was a puppet being steered by a higher force. She put her hands on the railing, raised a leg onto one of the metal bars and started climbing up. As if in slow motion she climbed onto the railing, balancing, barely breathing. Suddenly, when she was perched ontop of the railing, she came out of her trance. Her hands and legs started quaking, vertigo seized her and she fell backwards onto the pavement. Suddenly terrified, Sarah began to cry. She curled her arms around her legs and rocked back and forth, growing colder, letting waves of emotion wash over her. As the sobs began to escape her lips, she cursed herself. You're such a coward, she screamed at herself. Such a coward for wanting to jump and such a coward for not being able to! You're useless, you're a failure! You were never able to stand up for yourself and never could reach anything worth keeping. At this realisation, her sobs grew louder and more desperate. He offered you everything. Why couldn't it have all been different? She slapped the pavement with her hand driving the grit deep into her skin. She looked at the sky and screamed her rage and sorrow with an almost primal voice. As the last reverberations of her cry faded on the evening breeze, everything around her turned cold. The colours around her dimmed and grayed. Everything seemed like she was watching it on a screen rather than living it. She swallowed her sadness, forcing it down. A frightening calmness claimed her. Slowly, she stood up, and held the railing of the bridge in her hands once more. I might not be able to do this... But she had one last idea, one last act of hope before the darkness enveloped her soul completely. Breathing deeply, Sarah closed her eyes and whispered aloud, with all of the willpower she had left inside, "I wish the goblins would come and take me away..." She closed her eyes and looked into the last traces of the sun. "Right now."
The wind that blew around her sounded like an old woman's sigh as the leaves gathered around Sarah's feet. Hope swelled in her chest, upward, through the base of her spine into the tips of her fingers. She was suddenly aware of every little detail of being alive, from the strands of her hair blowing in the wind to the comfortable angle of her foot in her heeled boot, from the rough texture of her jeans to the cold sore inside her lower lip. And slowly, she felt the familiar surge of something tugging at her insides whenever magic was near...
"I thought you'd never say those words." This time, his voice was not an illusion. Sarah whirled around and saw Jareth standing right in front of her in all his magnificence. He had hardly changed since she had seen him last.
"It's you," she gasped. It's him.
"In the flesh," he replied, wearing his trademark smirk. He looked at Sarah for a moment, though 'inspecting' might have been a better word for how he let his eyes trail up and down her body. Finally he crossed his arms and leaned against a pillar of the bridge. "Really, Sarah, I didn't think it would take you that long."
"Wh... what?" Sarah was flustered. She was still taking in Jareth's sudden appearance.
"Wishing yourself away. I expected you to do it much sooner."
"Oh." Sarah blushed.
"It would have saved you a lot of trouble, too, I think." His smirk broadened as he nodded – ever so faintly – at the railing of the bridge.
Sarah drove a hand through her hair and looked at the Goblin King with reddening cheeks. Slowly she started to notice that he looked different than he did when she had last seen him. His fair was longer and flatter, and he was wearing different clothes, in which, Sarah figured, he wouldn't look out of place in a goth club. Fashion changed in the Underground too, she supposed. "So..." she began, uncertainty obvious with every breath. Now he was standing in front of her. The one she had so yearned for all these years. She jumped inwardly as the thought came to her that maybe he knew about the other men. And what was worse, what if he knew that she had been thinking of him? That his was the last face she saw in her mind's eye before she fell asleep at night? "Yes. I wished myself away." To you.
Jareth to a step closer to Sarah. "You know what that means." There was a fire in his eyes that Sarah recognised. She had seen it during their last encounter ten years ago. She felt her heart beat higher.
A car drove by. But it was slow, sluggish even, but the sound of the motor suggested a high gear. It was as if they were standing in a dream. The sun's light grew redder and darker and more radiant than Sarah had ever witnessed. "Yes," she answered, and felt herself slip into a dreamlike state. Magic, with Jareth's distinct signature.
"There is no turning back," he continued, coming closer still, close enough to touch.
"No," she agreed. Sarah drifted voluntarily farther into a state of subservience.
Jareth took her hand and raised it, her palm against his. He slipped his other arm around her waist and leaned into her. "You are mine," he breathed into her ear.
Visions appeared before her eyes, and somehow she knew that Jareth was seeing them, too. Her parents, their divorce, her introduction to Karen, Toby's birth, school friends, good times. The Labyrinth. It was as if she were feeling all of the emotions again for the first time, in an impossible speed. She felt the victory of defeating Jareth and she felt the ache that he unknowingly caused her over the years to come. The emptiness that grew in her soul was there again, burning within her. She saw the many times she tried to fill the void with men and too much drink, and felt again the hollow shame that she awoke to every time. But most of all she felt the longing for Jareth that was embedded in her mind for all this time, the impassioned burning for his touch, his will. And now he was right here, embracing her. His warmth was like fire against her body that threatened to consume her completely. She felt like she was going to explode. The memories, the feelings, everything that had been hidden in the corners of her mind was returning to the surface, released, free. She was torn between joy, anger, sorrow, and desire. The heat of emotions grew and grew, until Sarah felt that she could take it no longer. For an instant, she considered stepping away, out of his grasp, but found that she couldn't bring herself to do so. "Jareth..." she whispered, overcome by the whirlwind inside. Fighting the waves of emotion within, she opened her eyes. Jareth stood in front of her, his mismatched eyes holding hers in an iron gaze. Colours and visions were swirling rapidly around them, mirror images of Sarah's memories and emotions. "Let me fear you..." The colours grew reddish. "Love you..." Images of her fantasies appeared around them. "And do as you say..." The whirlwind rose, and in strong gusts, as suddenly as it had arrived, it cleared completely, leaving Sarah and Jareth standing in a white and empty space.
"And I," Jareth placed his palm upon her cheek, "will be your slave."