Disclaimer: I do not own Labyrinth

My Immortal Lover

By Danika Lareyna

Chapter One

You Wouldn't Believe What I've Been Through

Sarah swore at the copy machine. She swore vilely and she swore crudely. She then kept right on swearing, her voice rising in volume until people began to peek over the tops of their cubicle walls to see what all of the screaming was about. From time to time, she would punctuate her words with a swift kick to the beastly machine (which she was certain was the reincarnation of Attila the Hun). Her hair had escaped from its simple but elegant bun and now flew wildly about her rapidly reddening face. The professional yet feminine business suit she wore was disheveled, the jacket crooked and her pantyhose twisted. She vaguely regretted that she had worn sensible flats today rather than high heels with which she could impale the evil, electronic entity through its foul heart (or whatever possessed devil-machines had). Her teeth were bared, her eyes flashed wickedly, and her coworkers slowly slunk back to their seats, pretending they had not seen anything and hoping not to be noticed.

When she had exhausted her vocabulary of curses, a feat which took approximately seven and a half times longer than anyone who knew her would have guessed, Sarah took three long, soothing breaths. She then walked sedately back to her desk, jotted down a letter of resignation, and left the office building forever. Watching her go, a slight skip to her step, all of her coworkers could only shake their heads sadly, agreeing that it was always the sweet, young beauties that lost it first. All of her coworkers, that is, except for Harvey Lorenson, who was rapidly taking notes, having never heard such creative ways of calling someone a fatherless, odorous farmyard animal which practiced questionable sexual acts before.

xXx

Having finally escaped from what she had labeled "The Job of Eternal Stench," Sarah decided that a bit of a celebration was in order. Her immediate impulse was to express her euphoria by setting fire to the building from which she had just emerged, possibly roasting a few marshmallows and singing campfire songs, but she restrained herself (barely). Instead, feeling immensely wicked and guilty, Sarah swung Joseph into the McDonald's drive-thru. Joseph, of course, was Sarah's 1988 Mercury Topaz. He was so named because, like most of her possessions, he was a piece of crap and, therefore, he was constantly stalling. Stalling. Get it? Joseph Stallin' (1). Sarah amused herself so.

The pimply teenager who took her order tried to give her a hard time, but Sarah was finally able to frighten him into handing over her treat- a large chocolate milkshake with hot fudge swirled in and M&Ms sprinkled on top (2). She figured that when you are bad you might as well go all the way. Chortling to herself, Sarah tucked the concoction between her knees and pulled away from the fast-food restaurant. Whose bright idea it was to design Joseph without cup-holders she did not know, but she had wonderful plans if she ever found out. Most of them involved long, hard objects used in ways for which they were never intended and which would most likely shock and appall their manufacturers.

As she maneuvered through the afternoon traffic, Sarah did some quick mental calculations. She figured that she had enough in savings to get by for at least three months, and that she could probably mooch off of her housemate for another two (the girl definitely owed her). What she would do in that time was uncertain, but she knew that one thing was sure- she needed a vacation before she got mired in another dead-end job where she was overworked, underappreciated and not respected at all purely because she was young, pretty and/or female.

A vacation, yes, the word sung to her enticingly. She could not afford anything fancy, but perhaps she could get lost in the woods for a week. She had always been fond of camping, but her stepmother refused to have anything to do with the outdoors. There were too many bugs, germs and random crawly things for Karen William's taste. Sarah felt somewhat sorry for Toby, her younger half-brother, with his obsessive fear of all things dirty. It was just not natural in a nine year old boy.

A wide grin spread across the young woman's face as she pulled into her driveway. A week in the woods sounded ideal. She could fill the backseat of her car with all of the books she had been planning to read, eat nothing even remotely healthy and 'accidentally' forget her cell phone at home. Sarah found herself whistling happily to herself as she searched for her house key. She was certain that the usually somber dirge she was whistling would never forgive her for the bright, cheerful beat she had given it. Oh yes, things were definitely finally looking up for Sarah Williams.

Until she opened the door to her apartment and discovered that her housemate had the day off.

"Sarah!" Briann squealed, pushing her man of the hour away and scrambling for some semblance of clothing. Her beau seemed far less perturbed and merely gave Sarah a dirty look (and an eyeful) as he sauntered back to Briann's bedroom. Sarah had had three different roommates since she had moved out of her father's house and somehow always managed to end up with overly promiscuous girls who had an obsessive interest in both partying and Sarah's love life (or apparent lack thereof) (3).

Briann was great, no mistake, she and Sarah got along swimmingly. Sarah just wished that the girl would learn to keep bedroom activities confined to the bedroom. She had the unfortunate experience of walking in on the blonde when she was 'occupied' in the kitchen, the living room, the bathroom, the backyard, the attic, that little crawlspace under the stairs, the car, and once she had heard distinctly suspicious noises coming from the roof. Sarah swore up and down that if she ever caught Briann in her bedroom she would invite all of the girl's ex-lovers over for a lovely dinner party so they could meet and... share experiences.

As her housemate scurried around, retrieving lost articles of clothing, Sarah took the opportunity to hide her milkshake. If Briann laid eyes on it she would begin making comments about chocolate going straight to Sarah's butt and she simply was not in the mood for it now. Sarah was convinced that she was destined to be pleasantly plump in life but, thanks to the meddling of 'concerned friends', she was forced to be tall, thin and ethereal. Curse them.

"Sorry about that, Sarah!" Briann piped, tugging on a large, ugly shirt with something offensive to Sarah's relatively feminist ideals scrawled across the front. She could only assume that the crude bit of fashion belong to Briann's boy-toy, as she usually refused to wear anything that cost less than Sarah made in a week. The dark-haired woman merely rolled her eyes and moved to sit on the couch. She paused, considering the purpose to which the couch had recently been put, and decided to stand instead.

Putting her hands on her hips, Sarah tried to look chastising. "Briann, you know I've asked you to be more careful. At least lock the door."

Briann tugged on a shiny, curled blond lock. Sarah could not help but wonder how she managed to keep her hair perfectly in place despite her earlier... vigor. Her makeup was unsmudged as well. It almost seemed to defy the laws of physics. Or at least the laws of cosmetics. "I said I was sorry," she pouted. "Anyway, I didn't think you'd be home. Shouldn't you be at work?"

Choking down a blush, Sarah grumbled, "Don't try to change the subject. It's not like this is the first time it has happened. Or the tenth. Or even twentieth!"

Briann grinned widely, sparkling teeth almost blindingly white. "Jealous?" she asked. "I could lend you Roger for a while. ...or was it Matthew? Paul... maybe? Eh, anyway, interested?" She winked bawdily.

Sarah was sure that the look of utter disgust on her face was answer enough, but just to be certain she spat, "No, thank you. Generous as your offer is I'm afraid Roger or Matthew or maybe Paul is just not my type."

"What is your type?" Briann huffed. "I've never seen you show interest in a man." Her eyes widened and her plump, pink lips formed a little 'o'. "Sarah," she whispered, leaning forward conspiratorially, "Do you... you know, play for the other team?"

The dark-haired young woman pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers, closing her eyes. "No," she replied, in a slow, even voice. "No, Briann. I am not a lesbian."

"Well," Briann said, tilting her head so that long, blond curls tumbled down over her crude t-shirt, "What kind of guys do you like? I'm sure I can find you somebody. You know I have the connections, I just need to know what I'm looking for."

Sarah crossed her arms, making a show of considering her answer. At last she replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "Well for one thing, I like a man whose name I can remember." Her eyes took a far-off look as her mouth ran away with her, sarcasm forgotten. "A name I could never forget. A name that makes people tremble with its power. A name fit for a king..." Sarah cut off, blinking back into reality.

Briann snorted, "A king, huh? I hate to tell you this, Girlfriend, but it just isn't going to happen. You need to lower your standards- a lot." She turned and began to walk back towards her room, swaying her hips and tossing her head. As she pulled open her door she called over her shoulder, "I hate to tell you this, Sarah, but you're just not the type to attract a man like that. Maybe a nice librarian?"

The door shut firmly and Sarah stared at it for a moment, mouth slightly agape. With a snort, she snatched her milkshake from its hiding place and took a long draw. She only succeeded in giving herself a splitting cold-headache. Massaging her temples, Sarah stormed into her own bedroom, closing the door to drown out the insipid giggles that were floating from Briann's room. She set her shake on the dresser and began fumbling her way across the room to turn on her bedside light when a voice, smooth and elegant as the most expensive wine, spoke behind her.

"She is right, Sarah," the voice purred, "You really ought to settle for a nice librarian."

With a content sigh, Sarah collapsed into the waiting arms of her lover.

xXx

AN-

(1) - Not my car. My brothers. MY car is Joseph's big brother, a Ford Tempo- also without cup holders.

(2) - No, I do not partake of these myself. I am allergic to chocolate and would probably DIE. However I worked at McDonald's for a time and they -were- ordered.

(3) - See just about any fic where Sarah has a roommate for examples.