ACT II
SCENE FIVE
JARETH stands alone center stage, his back to the audience, staring off into the distance. His hair is grayer than when we last saw him, his cloak more worn. On the scrim we see projections of moving colors and shapes that indicate fire and the advancement of great numbers of people and / or animals. Sound effect: shouts, the clashing of metal on metal, crackling fire.
From stage left SIR DIDYMUS enters, his armor, sword, and shield battle-stained, his whiskers matted with dirt and blood. He watches the king for a beat before speaking.
DIDYMUS: Your Majesty, they've breached the gates.
A pause. JARETH lifts up a crystal and looks into it.
JARETH: Thank you, Sir Knight. I've been following their movements.
DIDYMUS: We can spirit thee out of the castle through the tunnels, your Majesty, the longest ones extend into the forest—
JARETH: No.
DIDYMUS: Majesty, I beg forgive my presumption, but they will take thee prisoner—
JARETH: No, they won't, Sir Knight.
JARETH reaches inside his cloak and produces a small vial of liquid. He sits at the table downstage left and gestures for SIR DIDYMUS to join him.
JARETH: Fancy a drink?
DIDYMUS: (resigned, but still fierce) If your Majesty would allow it, I would prefer to meet my end in battle.
JARETH: (pouring himself a glass of wine) It is fortunate, then, that so many just outside those doors will be happy to give you that privilege.
DIDYMUS: (bowing) I take my leave, then, your Majesty. (He begins to exit stage right and pauses.) It has been an honor to serve thee, your Majesty.
JARETH: (raising his glass) You have always gone above and beyond your duty, Sir Knight. I thank you.
Exit SIR DIDYMUS to the sound of battle. JARETH holds the vial of liquid up for a moment, then uncaps it and pours the contents into his glass. He drinks the wine in one swig and then stands up. He removes his cloak and gloves and produces another crystal ball, gazing into it as he moves to the castle window upstage left. He sits on the window ledge, looking out beyond the castle walls and then back to the crystal, caressing it fondly as the sounds of battle increase in volume and the lights slowly transition to red, then fade to black.
END OF PLAY
Sarah realized she was afraid to look up as she heard Jareth read the last words. Her hands shook, gripping the edges of her jacket tightly, her throat dry.
She'd read those words a hundred times before, of course—at home in front of her computer, in her scriptwriters' workshop. She'd seen them performed by two very talented actors during the rehearsal process. She knew them by heart, just as she knew the words of almost every play she'd ever written by heart.
Hearing them read directly by the one who'd inspired them, though, was something else altogether.
She was staring at him through the vanity mirror on her desk, which she had never been able to part with, though it had been several years since she'd passed through it. Jareth never seemed to age, of course, though as always she had wondered if his face would look gaunt when she saw him. She wondered if years felt like moments to him (but maybe they didn't, when he knew that there was no end in sight).
He wore his usual tight leggings, thigh-high black boots, a black shirt that hung open at the front, and a cream-colored cloak embroidered with a pattern that resembled feathers. He was surrounded by what looked like a medieval city, where people were moving in the background, a brilliant sun gleaming over a clear sky, cobblestone streets and stone buildings with turrets and arched roofs stretching off into the distance.
He was lounging on the edge of a fountain, which he managed to make look like a throne. When he read out the final stage directions he closed the small Samuel French paperback she'd given him and was silent for a long time.
He hates it. Shit, he hates it.
Jareth finally sighed, his expression pained. "Really, Sarah. You couldn't have had me meet my end by slaying a dragon?"
She laughed and felt warmth rush through her. "Maybe the Goblin Kingdom has unlimited funds, Jareth, but Broadway theaters don't. Not quite sure how we'd stage that without spending a fortune."
"I at least could have fought a duel. Saved a princess."
"Have you ever done either of those things?"
"Of course not." He smirked. "My sword skills are fairly useless, and the princesses usually have to save themselves from me, present company included."
"Well then, there you are." She smiled and approached the mirror. "I wanted to keep things somewhat true to life."
Jareth flipped idly through the script. "I'm sure your friends were happy to know they made appearances. Especially Didymus, with his honorable death."
"Well, I must give Didymus a bit of credit as a co-author, though he wouldn't allow me to put his name on the credits page. And he was also disappointed that there were no dragons for him to slay."
Jareth flipped to the end of the book, and she could tell he was perusing the final scene again. "How long did it take my treasonous subjects to reconcile with you?"
She sighed. "Probably not as long as I deserved. I spent a lot of time in front of the mirror apologizing in different ways. Hoggle was the most difficult, but I managed to lure him back with jewelry."
Jareth snorted. "I shall sleep better at night knowing that the labyrinth's first line of defense can be breached with a shiny bracelet." He flipped to the middle of the book. "You made him rather more heroic and selfless in this telling."
"Well, he is heroic. In his own way." She smiled, enjoying the sight of Jareth intently reading what she'd written. "And I hope your ending will still bring you comfort, dragons or no."
He nodded, not looking at her. "It will."
He rose from the edge of the fountain and placed his hand on the mirror against hers, and she felt a tingling warmth.
"I must say, it took you long enough to write."
She shrugged. "These things happen when they happen. I've been a bit busy."
"So you have." He studied her. "You look different."
"Unlike you, I age."
"I prefer your hair longer."
She rolled her eyes. "Never heard that one before."
It wasn't just age, Sarah knew, though of course that was a part of it. Her hair was shorter now, layered to just below her shoulders, with a few streaks of bright blue running through it. She wore a short leather jacket that Lori Meeker had given her after they'd finished the (very successful) run of The Retreat, a bright red blouse, and tight jeans tucked into thigh-high boots.
From the waist down, at least, she could see where a lot of the influence came from.
He backed away slightly, folding his arms across his chest. "Your apartment seems quiet. Has that annoying fellow moved out completely, then?"
She rolled her eyes. "I don't know why you bother asking questions like that when we both know you see almost everything in your crystals."
"Yes, well, not everything I saw made sense. You were no longer lovers, but you were still living together."
"Because it was amicable. It still is. We're very good friends."
Jareth threw up his hands. "What is the point of ending a love affair if it doesn't end in fire and chaos?"
"Makes it easier to share custody of the dog, for one thing."
Jareth sighed. "Mortals continue to bewilder me. Though I will give—Christopher, was it?—respect for his persistence, especially after all those times he made a complete fool of himself in front of you."
Sarah smirked. "You mean the times that goblins just happened to shove him into a pond, steal his bicycle out from under him, and make my faucet explode in his face?"
Jareth's face was comically shocked. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Oh, come off it, you mzhrashtej. Goblins aren't that good at hiding, and I know they didn't act on their own."
Jareth's eyes widened. "I may have taught you Goblin, Sarah, but I most definitely did not teach you that word."
"I have other sources of knowledge," she said in Goblin.
He sighed. "You take far too much pleasure in gaining power over me."
"Only a little." She put her hands on her hips. "At least you weren't especially persistent with the pranks you played on Christopher."
Jareth turned away and plucked a crystal from the air, weaving it back and forth. "At some point I acknowledged that you were happy, though how that was possible with such an ordinary man I couldn't fathom."
"Very mature of you." She smirked. "Very…selfless."
He looked offended, as she'd known he would. His smile was razor-thin. "It's a shame neither of you wanted to have children. I looked forward to you wishing at least one of them away."
Ohhhh, we're going there, are we? She returned the thin smile. "Well, I'm a bit of a second mother to Miguel and Nick's twins, and I seem to have refrained from wishing them away so far." She stealthily picked up a glass ball that had been sitting on her desk.
"A pity. Twins would be a novelty here. Young Toby certainly enjoyed his time with the goblins, I should pay him a—" He went slack-jawed when he saw what she was doing.
She forced herself not to grin too broadly as she wove the glass ball back and forth between her hands. "Pay him a visit? Isn't Toby a bit old to be turned into a goblin?"
Jareth's face had gone white. "That is…not fair. At all."
She raised the ball above her head as she flipped it back and forth. "Ah, but what's your basis for comparison?"
If it had been possible for steam to come out of the Goblin King's ears, she felt sure that's what would have happened. Instead, his eyes simply narrowed until she thought they would disappear into his head. "You are purposefully provoking and defying me, toward what end I know not, but rest assured that—"
Of course the glass ball chose exactly that moment to fall from her hands directly onto her nose.
She let out a little yelp of pain and opened her eyes to see an expression of pure, unadulterated joy on Jareth's face. She rubbed her nose, where she was sure a bruise was already forming. "You don't have to look so—"
"Shhhh." He held up a hand. "I am committing this moment to memory by replaying it in my mind again and again." He closed his eyes and smiled. "My God, it improves with every viewing."
She laughed, and then she couldn't stop laughing, at her never-ending attempts at coolness that almost always failed, at the way she never missed a chance to one-up an old rival, and at Jareth, for the childlike glee that her slip-ups seemed to inspire in him. He watched her and smiled a slightly less self-satisfied smile.
"Fuck." She wiped a tear away. "I've missed you."
His smile faltered, and she saw a flicker of that ache in his eyes that hinted at things she knew he'd never say. "I assume that's why you're here, after such a long absence."
She heard the accusation in his voice. "I haven't been completely absent."
"No, but you haven't passed through the mirror in quite a while. Not since His Ordinariness came into your life."
"Monogamy, Jareth. Some mortals are into it. And we both know that I couldn't have passed through that mirror without getting into trouble."
Jareth lay back on the edge of the fountain, crossed his legs, and very, very slowly removed one glove, holding his hand up in the sunlight. "Sarah, Sarah." He flexed his fingers and had the gall to lick one of them, very slowly. "I'm not that irresistible."
She knew she was blushing. "Right. I may speak your language and be able to juggle a bit, but you've still got plenty of power over me in that arena."
He turned to look at her. "I'm sorry, precious, could you say that again?"
"What, the part about me speaking Goblin and being able to—"
"No, no." He smiled. "The part about me having power over you."
She shook her head and pressed her hand against the mirror again. He approached and entwined his fingers with hers, making the mirror shimmer.
"You are still the star's fire in which I would happily burn," she said in Goblin. "Happy?"
He nodded and squeezed her hand. He did seem genuinely happy. "You look beautiful, by the way."
"Thank you."
"The blue in your hair's a bit much, though."
She laughed. "A bit much? You are telling me that something is a bit much?"
"Come now, Sarah." He stepped back and gave his cloak a particularly dramatic flourish. "I'm a monarch. I have a reputation to uphold."
"And so do I. Blue hair and the occasional tattoo helps to hide the fact that I'm a complete square, at least by New York theater standards."
He raised an eyebrow. "You have tattoos?"
"Just two. Rather small."
He smirked. "Where?"
She smirked back. "Wouldn't you like to know?"
He put his glove back on and crossed his arms. "Is that why you're here, then? Mortal lover's gone, ready to dust off the immortal lover you've got in storage?"
"Somehow I doubt you've been in storage," she said. "You're looking fairly healthy, at least."
"Yes, well, a steady stream of 'I need a ballroom fantasy' and 'I wish the goblins would come and take my impossible parakeet away' has kept me from shriveling into nothing." He fingered the cover of her script. "And yes, there have been a few doe-eyed young ladies wandering the labyrinth recently, though none have particularly struck my fancy."
She smiled. "That's a shame."
"Is it really, Sarah?"
"Yes." Mostly. "I wouldn't begrudge you a bit of happiness."
"Ugh, Sarah, your altruism is making my head ache."
She laughed. "Then maybe I should start telling you what I need."
His faced perked up at that. "Indeed. I was curious about what this," he gestured at his surroundings, "might signify."
She folded her arms. "I suppose I need…a bit of an adventure."
He smiled and approached the mirror, reaching through it to grip her hand. "Tell me more, precious."
She cleared her throat. "I need to go on an adventure. I need a bit of danger. Maybe even some dragons." She smiled, squeezing his hand. "And I need to show you my tattoos."
He grinned. "Anything else?"
"Pull me through this mirror and we can figure it out together."
Jareth gripped her hand tightly and kissed it. The light that danced in his eyes was mesmerizing.
"Demanding girl."
He pulled her through the mirror.
Author's Note: And that's all she wrote. Thank you from the bottom of my heart to everyone who read, favorited, followed, and reviewed, it really has meant the world to me.
This story took up a huge amount of space in my brain for two months, to the point where I was writing and rewriting it in my head while I was administering final exams (shhh, don't tell) and acting out dialogue in front of my own bathroom mirror and on crowded Tokyo trains (to the amusement and / or horror of my fellow commuters). To give credit where credit is due:
A huge thank you to K.L. Morgan, whose uber-brilliant A Forfeit of Dreams (over on AO3) led me down a rabbit hole of shockingly good Labyrinth fanfic including Subtilior's Advent and Erlkönig and Pika-la-Cynique's Girls Next Door webcomic and The Tshirt Incident: Retaliation and Escalation. (Girls Next Door is over on Deviant Art, you'll need to click on the GND gallery and scroll WAY down to the bottom if you want to start from the beginning.)
2. A very special thank you to Pika's drawing "Games of Patience," (also over on Deviant Art, in the "Labyrinth Stuffs" folder) which heavily inspired the ending of this story and which was like a lighthouse in a storm while I was writing. I knew that I wanted to get to that moment somehow, just wasn't sure quite how it would happen.
3. Another big thank you to The Tshirt Incident: Retaliation & Escalation for showing me how to walk that thin tightrope between R-rated and NC-17-rated sex scenes. (I'm all in for the NC-17 stuff as well, but I didn't think that level of explicitness really suited this story.)
4. Thanks to Louise Hay's book Mirror Work, of course, and to the therapist who recommended it. In all honesty the approach didn't really work for me (I share Sarah's cynicism about self-help and positive thinking, which is probably an indication that I could benefit from it), but a lot of other approaches did (like writing this story and writing down "conversations" with the different facets of my personality).
UPDATE: It has been brought to my attention that Louise Hay caused a lot of harm in the 1980s with her approach to AIDS and other illnesses (by basically arguing that certain illnesses were the fault of the sufferer and could be cured through positive thinking). You can read more about that in David Groff's article for Slate, "How Louise Hay's Spiritual Pseudoscience Harmed a Generation of Gay Men." In truth, I didn't really like her Mirror Work book-she makes a lot of VERY dubious claims in that one as well. Still, I felt that the basic concept (of looking into a mirror and being honest with yourself, and writing about it) was helpful, or at the very least harmless.
5. Thanks to these songs, which became a sort of Mirror Work playlist. Some of them have lines or themes that reminded me of the story, and I tended to play them on repeat, and some were just a good jam to dance around my living room to while I had writer's block.
Disclosure featuring Lorde, Magnets
Lana del Rey, You're My Religion
Jace Everett, Bad Things
Bassboosa, Succumb
Naomi Greenwald, Evan Williams
Girls' Generation, Mr. Taxi
Nine Inch Nails, Sunspots
6. Finally, again, a huge thank you to everyone who read this. I wrote it for myself, for the joy of it, and to exorcise a few personal demons, but if it spoke to you in some way, or if it just gave you a bit of happiness or titillation, that's awesome.