Authors Note:

Hello, it has been years since I have even been inspired to write something of my own. I more or so have always loved reading someone else's work. My two favorite genres had always been The Labyrinth and Harry Potter HG/SS. I wanted to give this a shot. It will be a slow process. I know I suck at punctuation a great deal and at times I write in a wonky fashion. I ask that you kindly guide me so that I can improve my writing skills. I also hope that you'll enjoy this story. Please, do not flame me. I feel like this is a whole new area to me and there is much unknown. 3

I do not own any of the characters and as always Jim Henson has all rights. That gloriously brilliant man.

What if "What's said is Said" isn't truly all there is? What if things were not done, unfinished, and there was a chance to go back and correct whatever need be from finish to start? Where a world shattered can perhaps be put back to rights…albeit maybe with stubborn team-work?

What's Said is Not Always Done

Chapter 1: Something Missing

It had been a month since she had beat Jareth. As each day that passed since her victory party, she felt a piece of her was lost in a void or better yet perhaps an oubliette. Sarah sat forward in her chair at her vanity, chocolate eyes with a hint of caramel searching the vast reflection of the mirror. 'What has happened to me…' she thought avidly. She felt aged, weighted down, and like something was missing.

Her friends were missing that was for sure, perhaps Jareth spitefully kept them from her. In the first week she called upon them constantly each night but no one ever came. Her mind continued to wonder and in wondering it made her think only more about the one place she wanted to forget; but could not no matter how hard she tried.

This is how Sarah came to be, staring off into her vanity mirror. In one months' time Sarah's hair had grown another inch and a half and in her face her cheeks seemed more defined, the childish fat having seemed to slowly come off causing her jaw to be even more defined but softly so; it felt as if she had a growth spurt. Slowly she stood and stared at herself. She had taken to running lately. Her stomach lean and hard, her breasts tighter but larger than previously; her form was becoming athletic but it still held that softness. She pursed her lips and seeing beyond herself, all her childhood toys set perfectly around her room.

Sarah sneered, "Go back to your room…play with your toys and costumes," she spat. Suddenly this anger, this irritation itching its way through her veins gave away. She stormed down to the garage to find some totes and lugged them back up to her room. No one was home tonight as she stomped her way back and forth. Tossing stuffed animals and toys in bins, closing them up and writing her name on them. Her room began to empty chaotically.

Her act was desperate, it was fuelled, and as Sarah released a breath of irritation she paused staring at Lancelot on her bed. Her eyes narrowed as she slowly padded forward and reached down picking him off the bed. With a final thought she grabbed a stuffed animal curiously looking like Sir Didymus, Hoggle, and Ludo and placed them all in Toby's room. She clapped her hands together, as if brushing off dirt and grime and stormed back into her room.

Grabbing her vanity chair she turned it to face the room, and threw herself down into it half-hazardly and stared at her barren room. Everything had been taken down into the garage for storage. She leaned forward and slowly slid her hands up over her face and into her hair, nails slowly scratching against her skull as she stared forward, "I wish..," but the front door opened and her step-mother and father called to her, "Sarah we're home!"

'As am I…' she thought sarcastically. It wasn't that she still hated her step-mother. She actually had a full turnabout in her views and thought process. No more did she feel the spiteful brat everyone deemed her to be. To be honest her parents didn't know what to think. Karen however still erred on the side of suspicious caution.

Shaking her head as they called her down, hearing her baby brother happily gurgling she left her room, lost in thought, 'I bet Karen will have a coronary when she sees my room.'

As the door closed an owl cocked its head, miss-matched eyes staring hard into the girl's room. Oh the owl vowed revenge. That was his intent for being there; well, besides being trapped in such a state. Perhaps fate was giving him an altered plan. With a low sharp hoot, wings came away from his body as he took flight; a new plan forming in his mind.