She couldn't stand it anymore. A quiet lunch spent outside in the shimmering sunshine quickly turned to an aching emptiness inside her stomach as her ears caught the infectious laughter of a couple strolling hand in hand. The golden blond ringlets of the young girl's hair bounced playfully as she trotted to keep pace with her tall, dark-haired companion. The two were chatting, and every so often, he would say something that was obviously amusing enough to send her into a tittering giggle, causing him to chuckle in return as he nuzzled his face into her silky hair with a sigh. They were the absolute picture of happiness. Sarah was happy to see them leave, though she had guiltily watched their backs until she could see them no longer. THIS is what it should be... It was NORMAL. It was so EASY...
And yet, she was left bitter and alone. Why was it that everyone had to be so damn happy? Why couldn't she be a part of it and revel in that simplest and truest of emotions? She had long given up on love, or at least in its truest form. But happiness... Was it too much for her to ask to be happy? Though she had indeed chased her childhood dreams and had had some level of success (countless high school and university stage performances as well as being cast on more than one occasion as an extra in anything from music videos to regular television shows), she found herself feeling unfulfilled, and asking the same nagging queries: Why did she notice those lovely couples and beaming smiles so keenly? And better yet, why did it sting so? All these questions... But, in truth, she very well knew the answer to all of them. And she dare not say his name.
Long ago, she had made it all his fault. Her childhood dreams no longer held as strong an allure as they once had, for he had trapped her within them. There's nothing like cold steel bars and crystal to turn luxury into hell. Now, being on stage... it was nothing more than running futilely towards some semblance of normalcy... Even when she had beaten the Labyrinth in the Underground, found Toby lying asleep in his crib, and returned to the world she knew, somehow everything was different. She couldn't explain how or why, just that she would never be the same again. Was that what they call growing up? Was that all it really was: growing pains...? So, the pain and emptiness she now felt was also normal... right...? She shouldn't even be thinking about him... He'd caused her so much anguish already... There was no reason to give him the satisfaction of invading her waking thoughts.
With a sigh, she bitterly threw the half-finished club sandwich and untouched rice cakes back into her lunch bag. After one more quick look around her to make sure the lovebirds were nowhere in sight, Sarah leapt to her feet and practically hit the ground running. Back to the office...
He could almost feel his ear prick up as a thought carefully caressed them. Immediately, his feral eyes flicked open and he stared into the darkness, not even daring to breathe. Who could disturb his slumber so? But his mind cleared some as the sleep drained from his mind, and a more alert mind immediately knew the source of this intrusion. It was HER...
There was no other explanation, really, and he knew it, though he wouldn't dare admit it. To admit defeat a second time would, after all, hurt far more than just his pride. And he would not – could not – risk it.
Another current razed past his ear, sending shivers down his spine. However, Jareth was now fully awake and already out of bed. Pity, that... It was such a glorious bed, made from the finest cherry wood, giving it a very audacious red hue, fitted with sheets made from the whitest silk in this or any world. Not even the most brilliant pearl could outshine these fine linens. The pillows were so numerous, he could count them everyday and come to a different number. Never was good with numbers, he confessed, if only to himself. But, the pillows... Oh, the pillows... Stuffed with nothing but the down from swans. Nothing was softer, and thus one's head would quickly sink into their confines with little hope to escape, even when the sun had risen, pouring its rays uselessly into the King's chamber.
Unfortunately, this night he roused completely and instantaneously, and this put him in a very poor mood. Even poorer once identifying the source of the disturbance. Sliding gracefully from his silken sheets with a delectable rustling, the edges licking at his ankles, as if beckoning him back to bed. He none the less pushed past them, stood, and trudged to his balcony window. With an impatient grunt, he threw the curtains aside to reveal a twinkling star-blanketed sky. 'What reason could she possibly have to think of me? It's been 8 years...' he thought through gritted teeth. With a heavy sigh, he consigned himself to the possibility of little to no sleep for the remainder of the night.
As always happens on sleepless nights, the King's thoughts turned to times gone by... So many times she came to him in dreams, but he swatted her away like a pest, for he knew what even remembering her could do. He'd already seen the damage she'd done with his own eyes, felt it keenly as if it were an injury to his very person. He felt every shift in the Labyrinth, every turn of the Underground. But on this occasion, her image continued to nag at him endlessly, somehow more urgent than was usual, and his mind unwittingly began to wander, bending uncharacteristically to her will for the first time in many years.
His memory paid special attention to her face. There was something so exhilarating in her youth and naiveté. Slowly, a tiny smile formed on his thin lips, spreading wider and wider as he remembered how she had trounced through his Labyrinth, besting any and all who stood in her way. Finding dependable companions in those he had long ago deemed nothing but useless scoundrels, miscreants, and nuisances. Though at the time, he had never been so wracked by nervousness in his long life as when she had bounced up the path to his castle gates, upon closer examination of his memory, there had been something else there... He was panicking, yes. And rightly so. The Labyrinth was not made to be conquered, and there were consequences even he had not fathomed until it was too late...
But, her face was simply too pure to resist... She had had no idea yet the horrors or trials she would face in her world as she grew older. He had only wanted to protect that glorious face from a world that would most certainly do it harm. Such beauty should never be forced to suffer a wrinkle. And such a pristine heart should never be in anguish...
Suddenly, Jareth felt an excruciating stabbing in his chest. He cried out, clutching his hands to himself, as though they could somehow still his screaming heart pounding behind his ribs. He wanted to call out, wanted for his last words to be... However, he knew very well that this was not the end, even if sometimes he wished it so. A sharp gasp caught in his throat, and he found himself gasping for breath, which made his heart begin to pound in retribution. Without thinking, he subconsciously uttered a single word in the back of his mind: 'Sarah...' And, for a time, everything went black as darkest night.
Sarah found herself staring blankly past the streaked windowpane in her office. She scarcely noticed even as the first shimmering drop of rain graced its surface and glided helplessly down it, twisting and turning past the unseen crevices in a zigzagging free fall. Her eyes were looking out beyond the rain, the trees along the boardwalk, the buildings in neat lines reaching past the horizon... But what was it exactly she was seeing? By the end of the day, her concentration had broken so entirely that she couldn't even remember the thoughts that had flitted through her mind not moments before. All she could feel was this incomprehensible sadness, and an aching that left her feeling ravenous, yet with no hope to find it sustenance.
She was brought to her senses by a familiar, "That time again, eh?" She jumped with a start, and looked toward the open end of her cubicle to her tall, hulking manager, leaning one elbow upon the wall, seeming as though it would splinter under his weight. His brown eyes were twinkling, brushed by his carefully side swept chestnut bangs, and his mouth was turned up at one corner in his usual smirk.
"Oh! Mr. Wilson!" she fumbled, trying to scatter her documents on her desk as if to look busy, though she knew that as usual, the jig was up. "I didn't hear you walk up!" she covered even as her cheeks began to burn. He simply chuckled.
"No worries, Sarah. If I'd had a problem with your work, you'd have heard of it by now," he assured coolly.
"I'm sorry sir... I just don't know what's gotten into me these days," she apologized hurriedly. Suddenly, the silence seemed deafening as Sarah realized exactly how late it had become. Every single person in the office seemed to have already quit the office for home. She immediately felt silly for losing track of time staring out the window while her coworkers had undoubtedly noisily exited the room. She hung her head in shame, and mumbled, "It won't happen again."
Just then, there was a crack of lightning that seemed to set every falling drop of drizzle ablaze and lit every corner of the quickly darkening office. The lights flickered, and she could hear audible pops as a few of them blew their fuses from the exchange. She gasped lightly, trying to stifle it as best she could.
"Oh dear... The storm knocked out a few of the lights..." Mr. Wilson purred. This strange tone in her boss' tone caused her to turn back to him, now only half bathed in the light. She gasped more loudly this time at the expression laid across his face, as his smirk had contorted into a sneer that was not at all kind. The soft, careful eyes she so remembered after working with him all these years now seemed not to see her, and all that was left was a blank, carnal desire that was still only barely held in check. The most unusual point she somehow noticed through her mounting fear was the uneasy creasing of his brows, knit together tightly, as if in protest.
"Mr... Wilson...? What are you-?" she began, but was quickly cut short as he closed the distance between them in a single stride.
"Oh, come now... You didn't think I'd have you work here for so long from such a young age just because I thought you were clever!" he laughed menacingly. "You knew this would happen sooner or later..."
Sarah's thoughts flashed back to when she had entered this publishing agency around the age of 18, hoping to supplement her modeling and acting. Mr. Wilson was like a second father, who took her in regardless of her inexperience in exchange for her insatiable passion. He was a harmless, supportive, middle-aged man of average girth whose only dream was to bring the world of entertainment to the masses, and to employ only the best and brightest. At least, that's what she had always thought...
Her lips began moving of their own accord, breaking her from her reverie, saying, "You can't possibly-!" Again she was cut off as he lunged for her, at once forcing his lips against her own and grabbing at her breast with one hand. She screamed through his terrible lips pressed tightly against hers, and pushed at him feebly until her own words gave her the strength she needed: "Get OFF me!" With that she angled her leg up and shoved him away, her spike heel to his abdomen. He grunted in surprise and pain as he crashed into the outer wall of her cubicle, knocking it askew. She grabbed her purse and jacket and raced past him toward the door, her heart beating so loud she could barely hear his reply.
"Sarah! Wait! I didn't mean to...! I don't know what came over me!" he pleaded sincerely. Was there a hint of genuine confusion in his voice...?
"Save it! Consider this my resignation!" she spat venomously at him as she sped out the door and down the stairs into the rain, now coming down in sheets.
Sarah wandered the streets, unsure of where to go. She just couldn't wrap her mind around what had just happened. She never would have guessed Mr. Wilson of all people would do something so horrible. It was so out of character, and so awful, and she couldn't get the gruesome images of her attack out of her mind. 'At least it ended there... It could have been so much worse...' she thought bitterly. That was certainly an experience she would hope to soon forget.
The longer she walked, the more lost she realized she had become. Luckily, due to her unique childhood experience, she was no longer afraid to lose her way. There was always a way back home, after all. However, she found herself slowly becoming depressed from her ordeal, her mind sinking once more into melancholy, like a dark cloud she could not fan away. Just then, she spotted an unassuming bar, its neon lights beckoning to her across the avenue. Her feet felt heavy, for she hadn't frequented these establishments much since her initial fascination around the age of 21, but felt that her day quite warranted a drink or two. For just a few hours, she wanted to forget...
She heard the tinkling of a bell held above the door as she shoved past it into the dimly lit, smoky room. Her heart froze for a moment in her chest. 'You're joking... A biker bar in the middle of Manhattan?' the thought incredulously. With a sigh of resignation, she lumbered over to the waxy, thick bartop, and motioned for the barkeep with a twenty dollar bill held loosely in one hand. The huge, white beard and mustachioed man in his black leather Hell's Angels-esque biker vest and bandanaed head walked past the other customers thrusting fives and tens at him toward her. His voice was a low boom: "What'll you have?"
"Just a Corona, thanks," Sarah responded tiredly.
"Comin' up." As her grabbed her beer and went in search of a wedge of lime, the man next to Sarah at the bar began to very obviously size her up, lingering on her breasts before traveling the length of her. The sight of it made her skin crawl, and she tried not to shudder so noticeably.
"So, uh..." he began, his breath laced with the stench of more than a few beers.
"Don't even think about it..." she snapped icily. As the barkeep returned with her beer, lime carefully in place, there was a low rumble of thunder that shook the entire bar as if to the very foundations. Only a few seconds later, there was another riff of lightning that sent the lights flickering, and the familiar sound of pops drowned out almost completely by the roiling thunder that sounded as though it had bubbled up from the very depths of hell. With that, as the lights went out, she heard grunts and shrieks all around the room as people were stumbling into one another and toes were stubbed, and Sarah's anxiety shot up from zero to sixty in a matter of seconds. She could feel the panic as it felt all to familiar to what had just occurred in the office. 'This can't be happening!' her mind screamed as she instinctively dropped her beer on the counter and sprinted for the door.
With the heavy entryway closed behind her, she leaned on the brick sidewall of the bar, gasping for breath, trying to regain her composure. Once her breath had slowed to near its normal rate, she straightened up and turned on her heel to face the street. She jumped with a shriek, her fear instantly raging and rendering her heart motionless as her breath caught in her throat. There in front of her was the loser from the bar. And in his eyes, she saw the same primal desire she had seen in Mr. Wilson's eyes not thirty minutes ago. Although this man's face was different. It was completely unfamiliar, dirty, grimy, no acknowledgement of who she was, as they were complete strangers. This man's face held no restraint, no regret for what he was about to do... He was free to allow his demons to do their worst... Sarah gulped nervously and steeled her body.
"Sorry. I thought about it..." he whispered to her menacingly as he dove toward her. She screamed as he slammed into her and dragged her further into the alley beside the bar, but the thunder washed her protests away, almost like someone was timing them. Like turning on a light switch. The man couldn't stop cackling and giggling as he stuck his tongue down her throat even as she cried out, the sick taste of beer and tequila dripping down into her. He reached down and ripped open her blouse with one, quick movement, and she felt her eyes bleed as he grabbed at her bare flesh...
The ringing grew loud in an instant, shaking him from his unconsciousness as a dog would a small toy. He awoke finally gasping, his head set afire by a screaming that had replaced the dull sound that normally perforates his sleep. The burning in his chest flared, and he groaned in pain, but willed it still. 'This voice...'
The feeling of the miscreant's hands, callused and grubby, squeezing and teasing her breasts was as revolting his panting breath upon her face. An endless parade of tears streamed down her red cheeks, but fell where no one would ever see them. Fear and bitterness and anguish were all tinged with the pain of him holding her wrists tightly above her head, her back resting roughly upon a discarded aluminum trash can lid, and worst of all, his nipping at the nape of her neck and ear between kisses. All the while, he'd been handling her chest, but suddenly, that hand pulled away, and he stopped kissing her. She chanced opening her eyes when he began grunting, and with horror, realized that he was tugging at his belt.
"Oh god, please no..." she sobbed pitifully. "I'll do anything... Anything, just please..."
"Aw, look at that! She thinks she's in a position to make a deal," hissed with a laugh. She started kicking at open air behind him, and tried with every ounce of strength she had left to wriggle free, just like last time. 'Why isn't it working...?' she thought, her mind beginning to close itself off from the excruciating sorrow. Finally he'd worked his belt open, and had freed himself, and as he went to work opening her slacks, she bucked her hips weakly against his prying hands, but the more she did so, the more he laughed and the rougher he became. In exasperation, he tore them open in the end, and she screamed as she sobbed, but to no avail. She crushed her eyes closed, forcing the standing tears in her eyes out down her cheeks. He couldn't make her watch... That much she could do... And as she felt the open air and rain upon her cold skin and his warmth coming ever closer, she whispered his name, for she was surely dying: "Jareth..."
Without even knowing what it was he was doing, and why, once he heard her whisper... She had said his name... Joy should have washed over him, or a sense of victory, at least. But no emotion touched him save for dread.
He didn't have to think of how to find her. The line between them had been drawn, he simply needed to go to it. Somehow, he knew that by owl would not be fast enough. Urgency rang loud and clear in her plea, and without so much as a second thought, dressed in only a black silk shirt and matching britches, he closed his feral eyes in concentration and willed himself to wherever it was she was. He felt the very fabric of time and space swirl about him like a tempest, and as the roaring faded, it was quickly replaced with her muffled screams and sobs and a man laughing like a demented fool. The scene he beheld as he opened his eyes was far beyond anything he had expected.
A small, disgusting man was on top of her, his Sarah, defiling her. Jareth hadn't felt such rage, not once, in his entire existence, and as he grabbed this horrid man by the neck and lifted him high into the air, he turned him to grip him in his other hand so he could look beseechingly into his eyes. He had no need of words. His eyes pierced the little man's soul, and the little beady eyes grew wide in sheer terror. Jareth knew not exactly what images he was sending through his eyes to the man's brain. He simply wished to relish in the litany of emotions flashing across those contorted features. Tears began to stream down his face at some point, and he started to sob like his Sarah had moments before. After a time, madness crept into the man's eyes, and remained there. And though his work was done, Jareth found himself tightening his grip unconsciously while his features fell into a deadly glare. Just as the life was fleeing his victim's eyes, the Goblin King realized with shock, that tears had leaked from his own eyes. 'What...?' He reached his free hand up to touch the wetness there. 'Another time...' he assured himself. He shook himself from the thought, and tossed the body aside to lie against... What is it they call these things again? Ah yes, "dumpsters". Where the trash goes. 'Wouldn't want to deprive the dogs and other animals of the alley their evening meal,' he thought contemptuously. After what felt like an eternity, he turned to regard his angel...
Truly, even fallen angels can be beautiful, but the sight of her in this state after all these years nearly threatened to call back the tears from moments ago. This was to be their reunion? What he had wished for so bitterly in self-resentment for all these years? The poor thing was nearly stripped naked, her blouse and undergarments ripped, exposing the rosy flesh of her bosom, slick with rain. Under the circumstances, Jareth refused to allow his eyes to linger upon her intimate areas, and instead took inventory of every cut, bruise, drop of blood...
In the flurry of activity of the last few minutes, the Goblin King had all but forgotten about the electric pain still undulating just under the surface of his consciousness. It attempted now in the lull to retake his body and wrack it once again with blindingly terrifying sensation, however in this time of great need... Her need... He held it firmly in the depths of his being, squeezing his eyes shut for a few seconds in concentration, though they ached to be thrust open to see her.
Without wasting another moment, he stepped over to her and knelt down to pick her up. However, her hair was disheveled and masking her eyes and lips. 'First, first...' he thought tenderly as he reached one trembling hand to brush away her bangs. Just as he was about to pull away, her eyes shot open to reveal her frantic, honey depths. She screeched and scooted herself away from the Goblin King without even really seeing who he was. Her eyes seemed clouded and unseeing, but unblinking, with fresh tears pouring out of them.
"Sarah...!" he pleaded gently, and she stopped thrashing about at the sound of his voice, though the wild look in her eyes did not lessen.
"Goblin King...?" she cried. Suddenly, she realized her tattered clothes and quickly hugged and held the various fabrics in place. "Don't look at me!" she screamed.
"Sarah, please, calm down...!" Jareth begged as he inched closer to her.
"I'm disgusting! Dirty! Please don't look at me! You of all people can't see me like this!" Her words trailed off at the end, into almost a fit of muttering. "I can't, I just can't... Please, no... Why? Why did they...? Oh GOD!" she cried with her head between her hands, slowly rocking herself to and fro. Finally, he was within arm's reach, and Sarah didn't even seem to notice when he wrapped her in his arms.
"Shh, shhhh... Hush now..." he whispered into her ear. His tenderness shocked even himself, as he found himself thinking, 'Why am I even doing this? It was all her fault! Why must I always clean up her messes...?' Her soft string of nearly unintelligible words ended abruptly and brought him out of his musings.
He held her in his arms, and she was looking directly into his eyes, her own still as of yet unblinking. Even he could not decode the emotions behind them. "Jareth... Take me away from here," she said simply, every feature of her little face lit with anguish. Her request swept through his brain, decimating any hope of saving his Labyrinth and Underground, and already he could feel the bittersweet choir of demons praising his fortune. Anger welled up within him at the small bundle now unconscious in his arms, nearly overtaking his pity. 'Pity for us both,' he raged silently. But as he looked upon her face, once he spied the crystalline tears still sneaking out from under her clumped, wet lashes, he cursed himself through mercilessly clenched teeth. Even now, he could not refuse her...
From somewhere far away, yet somehow close at hand from where the Goblin King and the girl were reunited, a figure watched sourly from the darkness. Bathed in shadows, it paced angrily, its shape forming and reforming like smoke in a soft wind, its eyes spraying cold flames out over what could be considered its face. For a creature that hated logic and the predictable nature of the beings of this world, it found itself fuming over a quite surprising, unpredictable turn of events.
"Damn you, Jareth... You'll pay for this... And I'll make sure she pays for your mistake most of all... No one ignores me..." it said in a terrible hiss.