Disclaimer: standard disclaimer applies. If you recognize it, it's not mine. If you don't, it is.

A/N: Ok, here we go. Now the fun stuff starts ;)

3rd January 2008

Seconds ticked by, sounding in unison to the drumming of my thumbs. Each tick drove my mind further into a flip-flopping frenzy. Stop! Danger! Inside my head the voice yelled and fought, striving to be heard through the mist of stubborn determination. I didn't even miss a beat.

Hours later, by which time my head twitched at every creak, I heard it. Blissfully sharp- the ringing of my doorbell drifting to my ears like a lifeline at sea. In a moment, I was there. Wrenching the door open, staring hungrily out at… a very confused Tim.

"Sar's, you alright, you look a little... uh, well-" I impatiently cut off his garbled explanation, waving him inside with quick, jerky movements of my hands. As he passed, I scanned his backpack. Yes, there it was! The sure shape of the camera pressed tight against the fabric of his bag. Seeing such concrete proof of what I was about to do caused dots to swim into my vision, my breathing coming more rapidly.

"Sar's, Sarah, Sarah, what's wrong?!" Tim's anxious voice cut across my inward reverie. Forcing a smile, I shook my head and led him to the garden. After repeatedly asking if I was alright, Tim reluctantly agreed to help me set up the camera. His voice created a much needed distraction.

The mid-afternoon sun played patterns on the camera's lens. Across the lawn, Tim stood awkwardly, waiting for me to reveal to purpose of this activity. Of course, I never would. Not to him. Frantically, my mind scrambled to think of excuses to send him away; in my worry, I hadn't really thought things through. Now I was stuck with an anxious friend watching my every move. Not how I had imagined things would go.

"Damn," I muttered under my breath.

"What was that, Sar's?" This time, the sound drifted more like fog than a lifeline; oppressive, closing in around me. Thinking fast, I responded.

"Ugh, I think you were right. I don't feel so flash. Could you maybe, possibly, head down to the diary and pick me up some painkillers?" My voice rose to a girlish titter as I fluttered my eyelashes. Tim roared with laughter, loping across the lawn to swing his arm round my shoulders.

"Sure thing, Sar's, you little brat!" In fake fury, I swung a wild punch, which he dodged, laughing all the way. As he ran backwards toward the door, I gave in and laughed with him. My laughter turned into tears as he left. God, I was going to miss this.

Heavily, I returned my gaze to the single standing object left in my pitiful garden. The camera seemed to loom, much too black and stark and real. My eyes clouded over. Slowly, my hand crept toward record, feeling the smooth and unyielding surface. I pressed it. Shuffling like a woman walking to the gallows, I placed myself in front of the softly whirring machine. And I talked. Every detail of my time in the Labyrinth, from the awful words to Jareth's too-tight pants. Every detail of his palace, his labyrinth, anything I could remember.

Smothering silence announced the end of my recounts. The camera's red light no longer flashing, I turned and solemnly marched, head down, inside; the tape clasped in my sweaty grasp. Not breaking stride, I intoned,

"This is what you have driven me to, Jareth. Let me back, or I will make sure no-one ever unwittingly speaks those words again." I didn't even realize I had been moved until my head collided with a scarred brick wall.