Disclaimer: I do not own the Labyrinth, Sarah, Jareth, or Toby.

Chapter Twenty

His Patronus Was a Doe.

Sarah looked around the empty study. What am I supposed to do?she wondered, hesitating between two armchairs facing a mahogany desk and another set in front of a roaring fire. She bit down on her lower lip and folded her arms unsure of herself. This is where we were supposed to meet, right?She had been standing in the middle of the room for five minutes already. At least five minutes according to a large grandfather clock. The clock was built into the ornately engraved wooden paneling that encompassed the fire place. A melodic tune began to chime from the clock, followed by eleven flat dings. It's late. And I'm tired. Where is he?She walked over to the massive desk, and sank into the leather arm chair. In front of her she stared at three large portraits. She recognized Jareth immediately. The other two were probably his father and grandfather she imagined. At Jareth's age, they look alike. So handsome.She smiled to herself dreamily. Noo! You're mad at Jareth.She huffed, forcing her eyes away from Jareth's cheeky grin, only to find her gaze fixed on his mismatched eyes. Well, he is handsome, objectively speaking.

"You are admiring my father's work, I see," a familiar deep voice cut through the silence.

Sarah jumped, startled, before letting out a sigh of relief. Jareth.She turned to the direction of the voice, "Jareth, am I glad to see…" but it wasn't him.

"Hello, Sarah," the man at the door said.

Sarah stood up, spinning around to face the handsome older man. This was definitely Jareth's father, but to an unknowing human he would appear to be an older brother. He was broader than Jareth, with ash blonde hair and dark eyes, but Jareth had this man's sculpted face, thin lips, and discerning brow.

"Hello," Sarah said, observing the man curiously.

The man walked over to her, cupping her hands in his palms.

"I am Mavius Domasj, father to Jareth and Terajh, and Keeper of the Truth to Jorg." His voice was measured and strong as he stared directly into Sarah's eyes.

"You are the Keeper of the Truth, here?" Sarah shifted under the weight of his bold stare. Something about the way he looked at her made her feel uneasy. It runs in the family,she thought.

"Yes. As was my father, and my grandfather, and their father's fathers. As Jareth will be, when I retire," Mavius said, letting go of Sarah's hands.

"But I thought the Keeper of the Truth was elected."

"Our family's first made sons have been elected for over three thousand years. I don't see that changing anytime soon." Mavius walked behind the desk and sat down. Gesturing to the arm chair where Sarah had been sitting before. "Please," he said, his smile breaking into a bleak expression.

Sarah sat obediently. Just another thing I didn't know about Jareth,she thought.

"What do you know about the lives of Keepers of the Truth, Sarah?"

"Uhh…very little. They are responsible for obtaining all the knowledge from their town and reporting it to the Halls of Half Truths." Sarah's eyes darted from portrait to portrait above Mavius' head.

"Yes. And, what do you think that means to our families?" Mavius said his gaze fixed on Sarah again.

"I'm sorry I am not sure I…"

"It means, Sarah, I wasn't there for Terajh , Jareth, or for my wife Rosela as I should have been. I have spent more than half my life travelling between the Halls and here."

"I see."

"Jareth will have to follow in my footsteps."

"Does he not want to?"

"It is an honor to be elected Keeper of the Truth. Jareth has always perceived it as thus," Mavius said.

"Then that's wonderful." Sarah felt a shiver down her spine. She turned her head to the hearth. The fire blazed but she was certain she felt a cold stream of air on her right arm.

"It is." Mavius looked squarely at Sarah, his voice becoming heavy and low. "But you see Sarah, when Jareth becomes the Keeper of the Truth he will no longer have the time to visit the mortal world. He will be bound to the Makers Realm by duty."

Ohhh…Sarah thought, her heart beginning to pound heavily under her ribcage. He knows.

"Do you understand what I am saying, Sarah?"

"Jareth will be bound to this world." Sarah felt like the world around her was spinning.

"He won't be able to see you, Sarah. Not there. Time passes much more quickly over there. His absence would be too long in our world."

"So…the only way I can see him, is to be here?" Her breath became labored as she contemplated what that could mean. Could she stay in the Maker's Realm for Jareth? If he loved me…I would do anything for him.

"Sarah, you are not meant for this world."

"Why not? I'm half Maker aren't I?"

"You have spent all your life in the human world. It is a great change to be here."

"My mother gave up everything to be with the man she loved."

"Your mother came back," Mavius challenged her.

"My mother was taken by the brotherhood. She had had her memory modified!" Sarah spat out, surprised at her own acceptance of the fact. She had been forcing that thought into her subconscious for days.

"Precisely that, Sarah. There is the Brotherhood as well."

"Yes, there is. I am painfully aware of their existence. Staying in the human world means I can't 'make' to defend myself, so if they have targeted me, I am in more danger over there than here."

Mavius nodded, conceding the argument. "And you are willing to give up your past life to be here, with Jareth."

"If he wants me here, yes. YES."

A knock disrupted the heated atmosphere. Jareth?Sarah pleaded inwardly.

"Enter," Mavius said, rising from his seat.

Sarah watched as the door opened to reveal a tall pale man with black hair. She sighed, disappointed again.

"Yes, Yolis?"

"Sir, Palow is here to report knowledge from the Second Upper Quadrant. Should I show him in?"

"No, Yolis. I will come to him. Please tell him to wait in the Prism room."

The man nodded dutifully and hurried away.

"Sarah, I would like to continue our conversation. Could you please wait here?"

"Yes," she said, regarding the man in front of her. A look of concern flickered behind his dark eyes.

"So eager to say 'yes.' I don't believe you know the weight of your words, Sarah." Mavius shifted his gaze to the grandfather clock behind Sarah before gliding out of the study and into the hall.

Sarah was left alone in the study, surrounded by a heavy silence. She sighed loudly and closed her tired eyes. I do not want to think. I do not want to think, she repeated to herself, trying to clear her cluttered mind of the plethora of information that had been thrown at her. I can't process all of this today. Think about it tomorrow, she pleaded inwardly. Sarah concentrated on her breathing and allowed the fire's warm glow to mentally transport her to a peaceful deserted island. The sun soaking into her back as she lazily swayed in a hammock, a copy of "Northanger Abby" folded open in front of her. She smiled at the peaceful mental scene. She could almost believe she was there…if it wasn't for that incessant cool breeze that chilled her spine. Where is that coming from?She glowered into the study, looking around for an open window. The grandfather clock behind her struck a flat, sinister note. It's eleven-thirty.Her eyes followed the source of the low hum. That clock is a masterpiece,she thought. She felt drawn in by its archaic engravings as she wandered forward, tracing the smooth thin lines of a dragon's wings above the hanging pendulums. The wood was cool to her touch, and she felt a stream of cold air on her right shoulder. Why is it cold? We are next to the fire,she thought perplexed, studying the wood paneling around the clock. Her eyes fell upon a dark thin line between the grandfather clock and the wood. She squinted before her, not sure if she could trust her eyes. It was gap reaching from the stone floor up to the mahogany crown molding, as if on cue the thin gap widened slightly. A new gush of cool, damp air raised the hair on Sarah's forearm. It's a secret passage.Her eyes widened curiously as she looked around the empty study. She could feel excitement and fear pulsing through her veins, as her heartbeat thudded loudly in her chest cavity. Biting her lower lip and shooting another glance behind her shoulders, she forced open the passage, stepped forward and was immersed in darkness.

"Light," she whispered through shallow breath. Every nerve of her body was on edge.

A series of candles lit along a long, dark tunnel. I shouldn't be here,she thought as her feet forced her forward. Why did she feel compelled to continue? Sarah,she tried to reason with herself, you know the proverb about the curious cat. Yes, he died.She could make out nothing beyond the dimly lit tunnel but blackness.Sarah, stop and go back,she persisted onward. She inched forward slowly but surely before reaching the edge of the candle lit passageway. She stood at the edge of darkness and ventured one foot forward on solid ground, the other followed suit. She breathed heavily into the cool darkness before mustering the courage to speak.

"Light," she murmured into the black. Before her a large, round room blazed into view. The white light temporarily blinded her as she blinked away the contrasting harshness from her eyes. When her eyes had finally adapted to the intense light, she studied the cave around her. It was a studio. A painter's studio.Portraits and landscapes were exposed all along the walls, stacked up to the ceiling. Easels were scattered about the room, and shelves were lined with paint and brushes. She looked about her in awe. She had expected anything but this. She walked around the cave slowly, studying the work before her. This must be Jareth's grandfather's studio.She smiled amazed at the work. He was partial to landscapes,she thought, amazed at the scenes he had painted. The fantastical views seemed impossible to be real, from an unknowing human perspective. But Sarah knew he had visited these places during his travels as Keeper of the Truth. His life was recorded in these paintings, she mused. She carried on her tour of the paintings before stumbling upon something extraordinary. The paintings had begun to change in subject, but more interestingly, she noted, these paintings were signed. MDJ. She felt a jolt of realization. MDJ. It couldn't be a coincidence, could it?She studied the paintings in front of her. A woman posed gracefully against a tree in a forest, a book on her lap. The same woman merrily pushing an infant on a swing hanging from the tree. A child with large brown eyes playing with dolls in the middle of green pasture. That little girl, she is the same as the portrait I have in my bedroom.Sarah thought back to the painting signed MDJ she had bought at a flea market a few years back. How is this is possible? Who is MDJ? MDJ… Her breath caught in her chest. Jareth's father's name is Mavius…something…of Jorg.Her mouth gaped open, perplexed. That little girl…there is something so familiar.Her eyes darted to another MDJ portrait. Two women sitting side by side among a meadow of yellow flowers. Sarah gasped.

"Yes," Mavius deep voice bellowed from behind her, breaking the heavy silence. "I painted your mother."