Author's Notes: Holy crap this chapter is longer than I planned, so I cut off before bringing Jareth in. Sorry guys, but it's a good place to stop and I promise promise promise he will make an appearance next chapter! Things are starting to pick up, and Sarah's starting to show a little bit of a rebellious side to her. Here's hoping I haven't written her too OOC for this, but I think it's how she'd react given the circumstances and the background I've given her for this particular tale. Thanks to Silken Petal and Hidden Rose for your reviews last chapter. Seeing as how it's been so long since I truly updated, I'm going to go ahead and post this soon after chapter 3. I figured out how to space things by inserting O between lines, so ignore those, they're just markers since I'm apparently to dense to figure out formatting any other way. Enough rambling, on to chapter 4! Enjoy!
O
O
Disclaimer: I own nothing pertaining to the Labyrinth, all original characters are mine, however, despite their claims otherwise. Don't believe them, I treat them just fine. cracks a whip Now where was I. . . .?
O
Field of Innocence
Chapter 4: . . .And Knowing Nothing At All
O
O
Morning came, and Sarah greeted the sunrise from her bedroom window, staring out at the ever brightening horizon from her nest of blankets. She hadn't moved from the spot where she sat huddled against the headboard since first crawling there hours earlier after having finally worked up the strength to pick herself up off of the cold pavement and shakily make her way back to her apartment.
She knew the best course of action would be to call Brett or Jason, someone who could contact the Council and let them know what had happened, but for some unknown reason, she placed the receiver back in the cradle seconds after picking it up, unable to even dial the first digits of any number. Instead she sat, spending the last hours of the night trying to work through what exactly had happened and why. Why was she called by name? How was she known?
Sarah clamped down on the thread of panic beginning to spread through her. There was only one person who would call her by name. One person powerful enough who had anything to gain from her fear. Only he would relish in having her afraid for some reason. After all, hadn't she beaten him? Was this some form of revenge? But why now after all these years?
With a groan, she burrowed under the blankets as the thoughts chased each other around in her head. Nothing made sense and now she was getting a headache. And on top of everything else, her sense of anxiety and foreboding had increased tenfold. She knew she had to get up, to face the day and all it came with, but she found herself seriously contemplating getting on a bus and just leaving, going home, or anywhere away from this mess.
Her conscious was quick to point out this particular mess knew her name and could no doubt follow her, no matter where she chose to go, and endanger anyone who happened to innocently fall in the way.
Sarah was quiet colorfully, albeit silently, cursing her conscious for pointing that out. With a resigned sigh, she detangled herself from her blankets and crawled out of the safety of the nest she'd curled into. Slowly, she trudged to the tiny kitchenette and grabbed a bottle of water out of the refrigerator, once again wondering what she was going to do and whether or not she should tell anyone about her most recent incident.
"I wish I knew more. I wish I had more information." She muttered to herself before freezing, her eyes darting around half expecting something to jump out at her for using that particular phrase.
Get a grip, Sarah. Just get a grip. Take a deep breath, calm down, and figure things out logically.
The ringing of the phone shattered the calm she was striving to build and she gripped the counter tightly for a moment, staring at the innocent looking contraption on her wall. She took a step towards it and reached out a hand that shook a little too much for her liking. She gingerly picked up the receiver, treating it as if it were an alien creature about to lash out and bite her.
"Hello?"
She listened to the voice on the other end for a moment, exhaling shakily.
"I understand. I'll be there as soon as I can, sir. Thank you. Goodbye."
Sarah rested her forehead on the cool wall after hanging up the phone, again cursing mentally. She straightened slowly and moved back to her bedroom to dress and leave, one thought racing through her mind all the while.
So much for keeping it to myself. . .
O
O
O
O
O
O
Sarah jogged the last few blocks towards the alley she'd huddled outside of the night before. To the innocent observer, there appeared to be a simple group of friends, or perhaps family, chatting amicably about something inane that was important only to them. Sarah knew differently. As she drew near, she caught the attention of one of the elder members of the group, a man with a handlebar mustache, who motioned her over, nodding in greeting. She nodded back, noticing Jason standing in the group with a frown on his face. There was a lot of frowning in general, upon further examination.
"Is something wrong?" The question spilled from her lips before she could censor it, but the tension levels of the group made her more uneasy than the encounter last night, and she didn't like the feeling one bit.
"Ms. Williams, were you anywhere near this area last night, around approximately midnight?" The mustached man launched a question of his own without introducing himself and Sarah found herself thrown off guard.
"I. . .why? What happened?"
"You tell us. Mr. Whitmore here," he jerked his head in Jason's direction. "Claims to sense the remainder of your presence here, where there was a disturbance using a large amount of power. What were you doing here, Ms. Williams?"
"I was just walking by here on my way home. That's all."
"I wasn't aware you took that drastic of a detour on the way back to an apartment on the other side of town."
Jason finally spoke up. "If she says she was just walking by, then I believe her. She's not lying."
The mustached man looked affronted at the interruption. "Be that as it may, that doesn't explain the fear you claimed you felt associated with her residual signature, does it, Mr. Whitmore?"
Sarah lifted her gaze to Jason and met a stare as blank as she was striving to make hers, giving nothing away. She held her breath as he answered.
"No, it doesn't, but maybe if you gave her a chance to explain, she could tell you."
Sarah was suddenly acutely aware of the intense scrutiny she was under as all eyes turned to her.
"I-It was dark. And windy. I guess I just got spooked by something I heard." The words sounded false and empty, even to her ears.
Something dangerous flashed in the eyes of the man in front of her and he grabbed her by the arm, forcing a startled cry from her. He dragged her towards the alley before anyone could react or protest. "Maybe what you heard that spooked you was that happening."
Any protests died in her throat as he thrust her into the alley. She stumbled, and threw out her hands to catch herself and regain some semblance of balance.
Her first clue something was wrong was the smell. Something thick and rancid, but strangely sweet at the same time. The second indicator was the oddly slick texture to the ground. Pavement wasn't supposed to be that oily or that smooth. She looked up and froze.
The human brain is a fascinating organ. It has its own self defense mechanisms. If there's a sight to horrifying, too traumatic, it tends to try and scramble it, to keep from registering it as a method of protecting itself and the person. But if he or she stares too long, the brain can't protect. The images slowly become unscrambled and form a picture with sickening clarity. Sarah's mind tried to shield her, to protect her from the sight before her, but she stared too long, and the sight slowly came together.
Brackish blood ran in a slow stream through the alleyway, smearing across the ground like paint. Thicker substances, substances she didn't want to think too long about what they were, had been flung on the wall by an unknown force. Her hands were streaked with blood and other thicker things, and she looked at them as they started to shake. Glancing up again, she noticed thick chunks of what she had believed to be trash dotting the ground, but as the pieces of the macabre puzzle came together with agonizing slowness she realized her error.
Leathery flesh checkered the area. Bits of hair, matted with blood and other things clumped to each other. A lone eye sat in a puddle inches away from her knees, staring at her balefully, accusingly.
A fresh rush of power filled the night, cutting the scream off violently until only the whistling wind could be heard once more.
She gagged. Leaning forward on her hands, she heaved, bringing up the water she'd consumed until her stomach had emptied, and still she gagged, the taste of bile burning in the back of her throat. She remained where she crouched, breathing quickly through her mouth trying not to inhale anymore of that cloying scent.
Arms reached for her, wrapping around her waist and dragging her to her feet. Dimly, she registered a voice in her ear, but it sounded hollow and tinny, far away.
"Deep breaths, Sarah, don't hyperventilate. Just take deep breaths."
She was dragged away from the grisly sight, out of the alley and towards the wall where she had hidden the night before. All the while being urged to take deep breaths, to focus and stay calm.
Finally she was able to pull her mind out of the loop it was playing on, away from the repetitious reel of carnage being played over and over in her head. She down at the arms around her waist and followed them up until she met Jason's concerned gaze.
"Feeling a little better?"
She nodded slowly, not trusting herself to speak.
"Good" He stared grimly at the man who had dragged her over in the first place. "He had no right to do that. It doesn't matter if he represents the Council, he had no right."
"I'm ok. Really. Jason, what happened? What happened there! That's. . .it's just so. . ."
"Violent. Yeah, I know. It echoed, Sarah, that's how I found it. It hit hard and woke me up. This kind of thing doesn't just fade and get forgotten once it's done. There was and still is a lot of pain tied up in this place."
She was silent a moment, before saying the only thing that really came to mind. "I'm sorry you had to feel it."
He flashed a wry grin. "Comes with the territory. Come on, let's get you someplace where you can clean up."
Her attention was drawn to her hands and she felt her gorge beginning to rise again. A small whimper escaped despite her best efforts to quell it. "Oh. . .oh god."
"Deep breaths, Sarah! You were doing well, sweetheart, keep it up!"
She clenched her teeth and the automatic retort ground out. "Don't call me sweetheart!"
"Shh! Not so loud or the ringmaster might decide to question you some more."
"Ringmaster?"
"The guy who dragged you in there. His mustache kind of reminds me of a circus ringmaster. I think it fits."
"Never mind, can I just go wash up? Please?"
"Sure, come on." Keeping a steadying hand on her waist he maneuvered her through the crowd . Under any other circumstances, Sarah might have accused him of taking liberties, but since she wasn't certain her legs were capable of holding her, she said nothing, silently grateful for the support.
"Just one moment! Where are you taking her, Mr. Whitmore?"
Jason cursed under his breath before turning to face the one he'd dubbed 'Ringmaster'. "I'm taking her back to the warehouse, so she can get cleaned up and calmed down. You sent her into shock by shoving her into the alley, and you can bet I'm telling someone higher up than you about that!"
"She probably had something to do with it!" He walked over, every fiber in his body screaming righteous indignation as he waved a finger under Sarah's nose. "I'm going to be watching her, make no mistake. And I'll be reporting my suspicions to the Council!"
He fixed his beady eyes on Sarah and she cringed at the intensity within them. "Oh yes, I'll be watching you, Ms. Williams. For your own sake, you'd best stay out of trouble."
O
O
O
O
O
O
The ride to the warehouse had been silent, and Sarah had locked herself in one of the bathrooms immediately upon arrival, scrubbing the grime off of her hands furiously. Once certain that not one speck remained, not even under her fingernails, she found a quiet place to sit and perform some of the breathing exercises she had been taught to calm herself. They worked only marginally, for every time she shut her eyes she saw the grotesque scene from the alley, and that only agitated her more.
She wasn't sure how long she spent hiding in the dark corner, but eventually she was found and brought to a meeting to discuss what had happened. Dully, she recounted the events of the morning to the shadowed faces of the Council members, giving the same explanation she had given before being thrown to the ground to the still unnamed 'Ringmaster'. Like him, the Council members never shared their names, they were addressed by sir, or madam, a practice Sarah felt only increased the sense of inequality, as though she and other fellow agents of the group were subordinate in some way.
Shaking off that thought, she refocused her attention on the current speaker, droning on.
". . .and regardless of the actions taking, considering the nature of the incident, there will me no reprimands for anyone involved concerning their actions. The Council will meet to determine the next steps and those who need to briefed will. That is all."
Sarah sighed and stood, making her way towards the exit with a single minded intensity, choosing to ignore any looks directed her way. She really didn't want to answer any more questions about what she had seen or smelled, she only wanted to go back to her apartment, take a long hot shower and got back to bed.
Unfortunately, fate had other plans.
"Sarah! Hey, Sarah, wait!"
She sighed again and hoped she didn't look as annoyed as she felt at being called back.
"Yes, Brett?"
"Where are you off to in such a hurry?"
"Home for a shower. It's been a long morning."
"I heard what happened. Do you want to talk about it?"
"Not really."
"Sarah." He began hesitantly. "You do know withholding information from the Council is a bad idea, not to mention against the rules."
She looked at him curiously. "Yes, I know that. Why are you mentioning it so suddenly?"
He sighed and put a hand on her shoulder. "Look, Sarah, I know this job can be kind of stressful, and sometimes people think they know better than the Council, but-"
She shrugged out of his grasp. "Brett! What are you saying? That I'm lying, I'm off trying to do something on my own?"
"You tell me. Sarah, you've been more quiet and secretive than ever before. You need to trust the Council, they have access to more information than you, and they know what they're talking about. Look, what happened last night looks like something's preparing to launch a war, and we need everyone working together to stop it."
"Did you ever stop to think maybe that's why I don't trust the Council?" The words bubbled out before she could stop them, and she vented, listing everything that had been bothering her.
"I mean, they have all this information in the archives, but no one but them is allowed to see it? How do we know they aren't filtering it for their own purposes? Why do we have to blindly trust them and everything they say? Why aren't we allowed to search for information ourselves and have our own opinions? It doesn't make sense, none of it does and I really don't like it. We get limited information, limited warnings, and we're still expected to do our best, but get reprimanded every single time we don't do things the way the Council wants them done! It's not-"
Sarah stopped immediately, cutting off that final word that threatened to leap from her mouth.
"It's not what, Sarah? Not fair? No, it's not, but that's just it, life isn't fair. You don't know more than the Council, so you need to trust them, trust they know what they're doing."
She raised her head and levelly met his gaze. "Brett, how can I trust them, when they don't trust me?"
"Sarah-"
"Forget it, Brett. Until I see proof of this so called war being waged, which I might add, there doesn't seem to be any because there's no viable reason for there to be, I'm not going to keep following orders blindly. I'll keep patrolling, but I'm not going to stop asking questions. I can't."
Brett stared at her sadly. "I hope you know what you're doing, kid. It's not smart to take on the Council."
"I guess I'll have to figure it out for myself. I've got to go, I'll see you later." Sarah sidestepped him, moving past him to the doorway, plans already falling into place in her mind.
I need to get into the archives for myself somehow. I need to find the answers on my own. It's the only way to make things make sense.
End Chapter 4
Notes: The part about the human brain is reminiscent of a particular vampire series I read by Laurell K. Hamilton. I didn't quote her, it's just an idea I had after reading her books. I know she dislikes having fanfictions of her books written, so I'm putting this here to state it isn't about her book, it's just an idea I got after reading it. It's put into my own words, but I'm giving credit for the though here, just in case. If anyone has a problem with it let me know and I'll edit it out, I'd rather not have my story booted or my account after so long. It's true, actually, and I find it fascinating how our own mind tries to block out trauma and protect us. Either way, I just felt the need to mention that. See you next chapter, and if you're feeling kind, please leave a review in the little box.