Authors Note: Ok well I'm kind of upset... because barely anyone reviewed for part 1... but I guess i deserved that... I've been such a horrible author. I'm sure you're all probably reading more awesome stories who's authors actually are GOOD and UPDATE regularly. I'm sorry... I still hope though that you'll review... because I tried hard in this chapter... even if the chapter is 'eh" please review because it just makes everything better and it really DOES help me to write better/quicker. So... for the few of you probably still reading and reviewing... part 2 is up now. I really hope you enjoy... P.S. free brownies for those who figure out the Ouran reference...Those will be in addition to those free cookies I gave you for being horrible in the last chapter… so yeah.

Disclaimer: I do not own Labyrinth or Pottery Barn… The only ones I own are Holly and Ilda… and the weird front desk girl. Nothing as epic as both above

Sarah pulled up to the retirement building, her eyes roving the parking lot. She saw a tiny old man hobbling around and entering the building. She smiled. THIS is where you get a good babysitter... a retirement home.

She climbed out of the Honda Civic and walked briskly to the front of the home, pushing open the wooden door.

She was overwhelmed with the smell of moth balls and gagged. Spying an itty bitty desk at the back, she walked forward briskly, her heels making a sharp click clack that seemed to bussiness-like for the ancient and slightly mistreated feel about the place.

"Good Afternoon." The girl sitting at the desk looked up, her dark hair covering one blue eye. She took one headphone out in annoyance and drawled,

"Do you want something?" Sarah gaped in surprise at the disrespect. The girl rolled her eyes and looked down at the papers on her desk.

"Are you gonna talk or are you just gonna stand there like a tree?"

"Um... I'm here to see an Ilda Gardener." The girl frowned.

"Oh. Her." Sarah realized she was chewing gum rather loudly and that she could hear the loud rap coming out of her headphones.

"Room 218, on your right." The girl put the other headphone in her ear and turned the volume higher.

"Thank you." Sarah said akwardly, and saw the girl wave at her absently with her hand. Sarah spied an old couple in a room, holding hands and looking at each other sweetly. She almost melted. It was so cute. The people here were older citizens completely occupied with living their life calmly and peacefully. They were not babysitters like JARETH, who somehow managed to make her life both a living hell and a comedy show at the same time. With someone babysitting Toby from here, she wouldn't spend all her time outside of the house worrying about what was going on, not paying attention in her classes and getting scolded by her teacher.

She found room 218 closed and knocked, the sound cutting through the silence of the home sharply.

"COMING!" Someone croaked from the inside and Sarah heard footsteps padding towards the door.

She was met by wrinkled face framed by shocking red hair, almost entirely untouched by grey hairs. Sarah gaped as the old woman's blue eye's twinkled behind her bangs and took her hand when Ilda held it out.

"I'm guessing you're Sarah?" Sarah nodded, recovering her suprise at the woman's ageless hair. She stepped inside the apartment and her mouth dropped once more.

The room was impeccably clean, the countertops shining as if they were made out of glass. It looked as if it had been pulled out of a Pottery Barn catalog, perfect and spotless, except for the mess of letters scattered on the dining room table.

Sarah tore her eyes away from the apartment to look at Ilda, marveling at her hair for a while before she continued downward. Clothed in a light pink shirt and black slacks, she looked respectable and responsible and Sarah gave her a mental checkmark for first impression. She certainly looked the part. Now let's just see if she acts like she dresses.

The brown loafers walked across the room to a small portion of the apartment which Sarah took to be the living room. A small olive green couch rested against the beige walls, its seats sagging slightly, worn out from use. Across from the piece of furniture stood a high backed chair, the fabric stretched tight on the seat and back a light pink.

Sarah settled into the chair, letting the older lady take the couch for herself. Ilda leaned forward, forming a steeple underneath her chin with her fingers and said,

"So, you need a babysitter?"

"Yes, for my little brother Toby... he's 9."

"Well, what's the occasion dear?" Ilda crooned curiously and Sarah smiled.

"You see, I'm a reporter at the New York Times and I'm being sent on a bussiness trip to France this weekend. If I do well, I might get a promotion."

"Well, Lord knows we all want one of those." She winked and Sarah chuckled, nodding inwardly. Hell yes... Lord knows I NEED one.

" Oh, gosh, I'm so sorry!" She burst out and stood up, shuffling towards the kitchen. Sarah caught her eye and raised her eyebrows. Ilda smiled shyly.

"I'm guessing you're generation doesn't do it much anymore... but I'm so used to making tea for my guests... It was how I was raised."

Another checkmark for being raised so politely. If Sarah was lucky, she might be able to enjoy a few days in France. Hopefully, Ilda wouldn't bring out any strange behaviors or mental self did a few fist pumps while chanting YES!.. Note to self: STOP watching Jersey Shore.

"Oh, that's so nice." Sarah replied, drawing herself out of her small world... she had to stop spending so much time in there.

"Yes dear... How do you like yours?" Ilda asked kindly and Sarah shivered. There was something else in her voice... what was that?

Sarah, stop being such a wuss, just your overreactive imagination. Probably Liz being a pervert once more. A voice chided reprimandingly. Sarah nodded inside her head once more and sent a mental kick to Liz, causing her body to spasm out of the corner she was sleeping in and profound words to stream out of her mouth. Mushrooms spattered through the air and Sarah smirked. Serves her right for sulking at the lack of sex and growing mushrooms in dark dingy corners.

She swam back into reality guilitily just as Ilda handed her a cup of tea, smoke trailing from the top.

"Be careful honey it's hot. You didn't answer so I put some sugar in but no milk. Is that OK?" Sarah nodded and took a careful sip,sighing while relaxing back into the chair, her nerves calmed.

Her eyes watched over the top of her mug as Ilda took a sip and sighed also.

"So honey, tell me a bit about yourself. After all, I have to know about the little tyke's sister don't I?"

A weird feeling blossomed in Sarah's stomach but she brushed it aside. She had surely imagined the mischevious tone in the older woman's voice.

"Well... as you know, I'm a journalist and work with the NY Times. "The little tyke" by the way is named Toby, just so you know. He's very hyper but when he's treated well he's very sweet. His bedtime is 10 o'clock and you can't let him drink hot chocolate because if he does he gets very high very fast and then crashes VERY hard. He has to take a bath with his duckie and if he doesn't he gets very upset and doesn't let you was his hair. Also, don't let him bounce on the trampoline because the last time he did that he almost broke Jareth's nose." Sarah looked up to see the old woman looking at her curiously and she took a nervous sip.

"Jareth?"

Oh shit. Now all the questions would start. Damn it Sarah. Her inner voice chided( No not Liz, she was currently suffering from a coma) She had been trying NOT to mention Jareth today. And now she had gone and blown it.

"Oh come on SPILL Sarah." A greedy kind of look wormed itself into her eyes and Sarah backed farther into her chair, stuttering.

"U-well, u-um..."

"Is he your boyfriend?"

Sarah shook her head deftly and looked down, ashamed at acting like a lovestruck teenager in denial.

Ilda stood up and headed towards Sarah's chair, crouching down to be level with her. She placed one arm on the back and tilted the younger woman's chin up.

"Is he... your stripper?"

It was as if a car suddenly zoomed into Sarah's head and swerved over her mind repeatedly, complete with crashing sound effects. She stared blankly forward and Ilda's smile faded. She looked into Sarah's face and frowned.

"Sarah?" the rough voice spoke but she was only slightly aware. The car had now turned into Liz, clad in all black, who was cackling and scattering glitter all over the place( the place in question being a large, all white room with cushy walls that were surprisingly comfortable). MindSARAH was very frustrated though because while Liz strode around, pinning up pictures of Jareth, MindSARAH could do nothing about it for she was inprisoned in some horrible contraption that looked like a coat except the sleeves wrapped around her tightly, constricting movement while she blushed... very hard.. stupid pictures.

"SARAH!" Ilda's voice finally cut through her thoughts and she shook her head numbly. What had just-Oh yeah. Realization came back and she raised her hand up in a stop signal

"How-" she heard her voice, which seemed to be shaking in rage. "does everyone FUCKING KNOW ABOUT THAT?"

She felt the presence next to her flinch away and Sarah stood up, her hands balled in fists by her side.

"Well, you see, I'm very good friends with-"

"Mrs. Primp, I presume?" she interrupted coldly staring down at the carpeted floor. "I'm guessing SHE told you?"

Something inside of Sarah cracked as she looked up to the woman next to her and she growled.

"It-is-not-ANYONE'S-bussiness-what-I-do-and-whom-I-do-it-with-understood?" The babysitting job was forgotten as she ground the question out, sounding more like a threat. She saw Mrs. Gardener nod and smirked, satisfied.

"Good. Now, I do-"

"I'm sorry Sarah. I was just bringing it up because- well, I was wondering if I could join."

For the third time (wait- third or fourth?) that day, the younger woman's went agape. Had she seriously heard right? Had this innocent old lady seriously asked if she could join whatever she thought her and Jareth were doing? Sarah fought the urge to gag and felt her mind once again being run over although this time the feeling was more flattening than crashing. A steamroller possibly?

Well, on the bright side, a voice chirped. Liz. It continued, after this day, you'll probably never be surprised again!

"Excuse me?" Sarah squeaked, finally able to emit some kind of human noise.

Ilda was looking at the floor, her toe idly(right way to say it kai?) making circles in the carpet.

"Can I join you and your-boytoy?"

Apparently, this day could not get any weirder. This time, Sarah couldn't restrain her gag as the woman uttered the word boy-toy.

"Although, I'm older I still perform very well and... I have a lot of instruments." The older woman's tone changed from shy to excited and her hand reached down to a drawer below the little table they had been having tea on to grapple for some unseen things.

"Ah! There we go." Out came about a dozen strange-looking things. There was no other way Sarah could describe them really. The one on the left looked like some kind of torture chamber instrument, complete with shiny spikes and... were those HANDCUFFS? The one next to it- oh... she knew what that one was...

"Quite a collection, no?" The question broke through the wave of disgust and Sarah looked up to find Ilda smiling, her hand stroking one of the instruments as she had called them, lovingly.

"This one here is my favorite!" Excitedly, the toy was shoved into Sarah's hand where she held it gingerly. I don't even want to know where that's been. Liz, the ever perverted, sex-maniac, Liz, was disgusted. The small part of Sarah's brain that was still working and not in shut-down mode mentally wrote down this moment because it knew this wouldn't last.

However, that part died a tragic death as someone whispered into Sarah's ear exactly how this thing was used and exactly what kind of reaction it produced. She heard the words "Keep it as a souvenir." and stood up, barely aware of what was happening except that she wanted to get out of here ASAP.

"Th-Thank You, Mrs. Gardener. I have- um- no need of your services anymore. Now, if you'll excuse me- I need to go throw up and possibly die and then hole off into my room to read city of glass, eat ice cream and mutter like a lunatic. Thank you for your... time... I'm sure you could have spent it in a more... productive way." She was hardly aware of what she was saying as Sarah rushed out of the room, her hair flying behind her like a black flag, her steps unsteady.

Ilda Gardener watched as her figure retreated, getting smaller and smaller until it finally dissapeared around the hallway. She let out one more desperate cry,

"So, is that a no!"

Thanks for reading guys and I hope you liked it. Reviews are lovely, beautiful things that should be cherished… so please click that little hyperlink and type away.