New chapter! I did my best to edit, but if you catch any mistakes feel free to let me know and I'll correct them. Thank you!


One

Sarah Williams-Bradshaw chopped celery with a little more force than was necessary and tried her hardest not to be irritated with her stepmother. It seemed like she was always irritated with her stepmother. She tried not to be, because Karen meant well, but she had this chronic habit of meddling. Perhaps when Sarah was still a teenager, her meddling had been justified (although Sarah would never admit such a thing). But she had turned twenty-six not so long ago, and the last thing she wanted was to be given pointers on how she ought to be running her own life. She was married, for cripes sake! Had been for almost seven years now. That had to account for something, didn't it?

Okay, so maybe her marriage was on the verge of collapse, but that wasn't her fault. She wasn't the one who'd gone off and cheated. On more than one occasion, she suspected, although Augustine had only ever admitted to the one affair. And that was only because she'd come home from work three hours early one day, and walked in right as he was in the middle of having it.

Thank goodness Katie, their seven-year-old daughter, had still been in school during that fiasco…

"Ow!" Sarah jerked her hand away from the cutting board and stuck her thumb in her mouth, glared at the knife she'd just sliced across its pad. That's what she got for not paying attention.

"Do you need a band-aid?"

"No, Karen, I'm fine," she sighed, examining the shallow wound critically. Even after all these years, Sarah still refused to call her stepmother "Mom". She could tell it bothered the woman, who had long since given up trying to convince her to do so. Sometimes she even felt guilty about it, but she couldn't bring herself to call Karen by anything other than her given name. It felt like she'd be betraying her own mother to do otherwise.

Never mind that her own mother had moved to London with her famous boyfriend not long after Sarah's sixteenth birthday and hadn't been back since. She hadn't even returned for the birth of her first grandchild—She'd recently been cast as a lead in one of Andrew Lloyd Webber's musicals and just couldn't come for a visit at such a critical time—and although Sarah had assured her that she understood, she didn't. Not really. But her mother had always been career-driven that way. It was why she'd chosen to walk out on her own daughter in the first place.

Her thumb finally stopped bleeding, and Sarah resumed chopping vegetables for the beef stew she was throwing together for dinner tonight. It was her day off, which automatically made it her day to cook. She didn't really mind cooking, but she did wish Karen would take herself off somewhere else. Like grocery shopping or over to the neighbor's house for a few hours of gossip. She really wasn't in the mood for company at the moment.

The glimpse of dark yellow caught her eye, reminded her of the thick manilla envelope teetering on the corner of the kitchen table. It was still unopened even a week after its arrival, but she knew what it contained. Divorce papers. She and Augustine had been separated for eight months. The moment she'd found him in bed with that woman (whose name she still didn't know, nor did she care to learn), she'd packed a suitcase for herself and her daughter and left straightaway for her childhood home.

When she'd married, she had moved only a few miles away—practically within walking distance, really—and in all this time she hadn't returned to her own house even once. She was afraid to, afraid of what she might yet again walk in on. Besides, it wasn't even her house. Augustine had already owned the place before they'd gotten married, left to him by some deceased relative or other. It had been an inexpensive and convenient solution at the time, and the house was beautiful. A lot like the one she'd grown up in, with plenty of room inside and a big backyard outside. And the beloved park where Sarah used to act out so many of her fantasies was still completely accessible. It was the perfect place for raising a family, exactly what a newlywed couple with their first child already on the way needed. Sarah had never imagined she'd be in danger of losing it someday.

She'd even left the family dog there, for which Katie had yet to forgive her, but Karen wasn't fond of large, hairy animals, so he'd had to stay behind. Sarah could only hope her husband remembered to feed Ambrosius on a daily basis. He could be so scatterbrained when he delved into his work, teaching mythology courses at the university where she'd met him. He'd only been a student teacher back then (more like an errand boy for the established professors, he often joked). It had practically been love at first sight for her. He was cultured. Handsome, charismatic, and very grown-up. He, in fact, reminded her a great deal of Jeremy, her mother's boyfriend, whom she'd had something of a crush on in her younger days. And, if she was being completely honest with herself, he reminded her a little of a certain other handsome, charismatic gentleman she'd once known. One who'd run her through one of the most magical and exciting adventures of her teenaged life, and then vanished from it forever.

Sarah gave herself a mental shake before her mind could wander further into dangerous memories. That had been practically another life, almost like a dream. And she was the only one who remembered. Toby had barely been two years old, much too young to remember anything about the Labyrinth. And although she used to tell him stories about her unusual friends and their adventures, he was almost thirteen now and much too grown up for silly fairy tales.

At least her Katie still enjoyed them, Sarah thought fondly, although she supposed it wouldn't be too much longer before her daughter decided she was also too grown up for such things. She'd always been more of a practical, sensible child; she took after neither of her parents in that aspect. Sarah told stories of the Labyrinth more for her own benefit than for Katie's. Just to make sure she wouldn't completely forget the people she'd met during her brief time there, whom she hadn't seen since before Katie had been born. Since before she'd even graduated high school.

For awhile, Hoggle and Sir Didymus had visited every few nights, speaking to her in her world through the small vanity mirror that somehow connected theirs. Ludo also would join them every once in awhile, his large shaggy body filling every inch of the wooden mirror frame. Frankly, it had looked uncomfortable, being all squished together like that. Sarah had often invited them through to visit in her bedroom, as they'd done that first night, but they always politely refused. Something about transporting between worlds requiring a lot of magic, and Jareth might get wind of their little visits and be … not so happy about it, considering.

Sarah had always suspected the Goblin King already knew about their visits—he seemed the type to know everything about everybody, after all—but she never pressed the issue. Ludo really was rather too large for her cozy bedroom, and she hated having her space invaded by anyone, even good friends. So, she'd been content to chat through the mirror with them, relating events of her (relatively dull and normal) life, and listening eagerly to their stories about the events in theirs. Didymus did most of the talking on these occasions, as he was the best storyteller of the three and, besides, once the excitable little fox knight really got going, it was hard to get a word in edgewise.

It was these stories that Sarah repeated to her little brother and, later, to her daughter (with a few added embellishments of her own). Toby had loved them, and so did Katie, and Sarah wondered if maybe she ought to write them down sometime, put them together in a collection for either of the children to pass on to their kids when the time came. And in this way she could be sure that her dear friends would never, ever be forgotten.

Even if it seemed like, for all accounts and purposes, they had completely forgotten about her.

After a couple of years, happening so gradually that she'd hardly noticed, Sarah had come to realize that her friends' visits were coming less and less. Daily visits that occurred three or four times a week became three or four times a month. Then twice a month. Then once or twice every few months. When she pressed for reasons, Hoggle had been rather vague, but he'd always been a terrible liar and she knew that, although he'd assured her things were fine and dandy in the Underground, all was not well in his world. When she grew more insistent that he tell her what was going on, however, he became defensive and edgy, told her in no uncertain terms that it was best she keep her nose in her own business and out of his. And that had been the end of it.

If Sarah recalled correctly, that had also been one of the last times she'd spoken with the grouchy little dwarf.

Not that she was willing to just sit back and take his advice, of course. She was far too stubborn to let the subject go so easily. But she had no idea what she could do to amend the problem. For starters, how could she even reach the Labyrinth again? The mirror seemed to be a portal, but only from their side and she certainly didn't possess the magic to use it. The only sure way she knew to reach them would be to call upon Jareth. And given how things had turned out the first time that happened, she wasn't about to tempt the Goblin King's wrath by invoking his name a second time. Besides, the only thing she had to wish away was herself, and she wasn't about to put her life into the hands of someone whom she was certain hated her now. For breaking his pride, at least, if not his entire kingdom.

The only thing she could do in the end was just sit back and wait and hope that her friends might come back someday, and try to ignore the sharp sting of rejection their disappearance had wrought.

Perhaps, Sarah thought, as she loaded chopped vegetables and beef into the crock-pot to simmer, that was where it had all gone so wrong. Perhaps if she hadn't been so desperate to cling to her tenuous grasp on the Labyrinth and its inhabitants, she never would have enrolled in those weekend mythology courses at the university, hoping to learn about something in regards to the Underground. Perhaps stories of its king? Or even its denizens. Or, dare she say, some ancient method of traveling to and from that world.

And if she hadn't taken those classes, maybe she never would have laid eyes on Augustine Harrison Bradshaw. No matter that he was already twenty-seven to her mere seventeen-and-a-half years, and well into adulthood; Sarah had begun to suspect by this point that she was attracted to older men in general. Especially tall, gorgeous men with blond hair and intense eyes and mysterious auras. First Jeremy-the-actor. Then—grudgingly admitted—Jareth (who was a friggin' faerie king for cripes sake!), and now her mythology professor.

What had been even more astounding was that he'd seemed to like her back. At least, well enough to take her virginity and knock her up after only their sixth date, which had been to celebrate her eighteenth (and first legal) birthday. Sarah scowled darkly, stabbed the tip of her knife into the cutting board hard enough so it stood upright, wobbling slightly from the force. She winced and hoped Karen hadn't noticed. Her stepmom tended to be as particular about her expensive kitchen appliances as Sarah used to be about her bedroom.

As she began cleaning up the counter, she heard the rumble of a school bus slowing in front of the house, pulling up to the curb on squeaky breaks to unload its passengers. She glanced at the clock with a smile. Three-thirty on the dot. Never a moment late. A minute later the front door burst open and Toby's jubilant shout of "We're home!" resounded through the house.

"Shoes off and coats hung!" Karen reprimanded before her son could forget and leave his things in a heap on the floor, as he tended to do. The scuffle of activity, and the sound of feet pounding up the stairs; that would be Toby, Sarah mused, probably off to catch his favorite cartoon on the small TV set up in his room. A lighter step caught her attention as a little girl bounced into the kitchen, backpack dragging on the floor behind her. She grinned and made a beeline to Karen, threw her arms around her in a hug. "Hi, Grandma!" she chirped. "Guess what we did in class today? Ms. Julia gave us notebooks and told us to write our own story about what we like, and we have to draw pictures for it and everything." She withdrew her hug and stepped back, a thoughtful frown on her face. "I don't know what I should write, though."

"Well, what do you like?" Karen prompted.

Katie shrugged. "I like school." Her face lit up. "And I like your sugar cookies!"

Sarah laughed. "I think that's a hint for a snack, huh?"

"Mommy!" Katie abandoned her grandmother to throw her arms around her mother's waist and grin up at her, chin pressed to her stomach. "Can I have a cookie?" She offered her best puppy expression through eyes that were just like her mother's, and Sarah mussed her fine blond hair, which was in serious danger of unraveling from its long braid. "You can have two cookies," she bargained, "if you promise to offer one of them to your uncle."

"Okay!" Katie nodded emphatically, and although Sarah knew Toby would probably never catch a glimpse of that second cookie, she decided not to call her on it. Katie was just too adorable, and she realized, right then and there, that it was worth it. Whatever had happened in the past, her foolish decision to marry Augustine when he'd proposed not too long after learning she was pregnant (and she knew that he'd only done it to save face, if not his career). Whether or not her marriage did, indeed, end in shambles, in a far too similar fashion as her parents' … it was all worth it, because she'd gotten a beautiful little daughter out of the deal, and unlike her house and everything in it, Katie was one hundred percent hers, and nothing was ever going to change that.

Sarah sighed, glanced again at the envelope on the table. The one with her name typed in neat, impersonal print on the label in the middle—along with her parents' address, not her own—and the neat, impersonal name and return address of an unknown lawyer on the top left-hand corner. It was funny; she'd never realized lawyers even put return addresses on things like this, offering a modicum of privacy for their clients, perhaps. But maybe Augustine had insisted his lawyer do so, just to mess with her. Just to let her know in no uncertain terms that he was ready to end this farce of a marriage and go off and have affairs with as many women as he liked, guilt-free.

Charming, handsome men like that were all the same, she supposed. Jeremy had eventually abandoned her mother in London … or maybe her mother had abandoned him; Sarah really wouldn't have put it past the woman to move on to greener pastures when she got bored. She'd done it once already, after all.

As for the Goblin King, well… Sarah really didn't want to think about his conquests. He was immortal, after all. He'd probably lived long enough to have had thousands of them by this point. And who knew how many children he might've fathered as a result? Sarah knew next to nothing about him. Hoggle and Didymus never brought him up, and she'd always been too shy to broach the subject and inquire after his health or something, afraid it might raise suspicions and possibly a little teasing. A guy like Jareth, after all, was way out of the league of any human being, much less an inexperienced teenager such as herself.

"Where are you going?"

Karen's question snapped Sarah out of gloomy thoughts. She realized with some surprise that she'd unknowingly picked up the envelope and had been headed out of the kitchen, following her daughter. She blinked and pondered for a moment, sighed in defeat. "To my room," she decided. "I've got some reading to do, I guess. Call me when dinner's ready, okay?"

Karen offered a sympathetic smile as she watched her stepdaughter walk dejectedly away. This was, after all, what she'd been trying to get her to do for the better part of a week now. She knew from experience that this sort of situation was devastating, but Sarah couldn't keep avoiding the responsibility of dealing with it, if only for Katie's sake. The sooner she faced facts and got the whole messy business over with, the sooner she could get her and her daughter's lives back on track and into some semblance of normalcy.

Karen sat back and sipped her coffee, watched the minutes tick by, and wished it was six o'clock so her own dear Robert would be finished with work and come home. Suddenly, all she wanted was curl up in his arms and remind herself—and him—of just how lucky they both were for everything they had.