Chapter Six: Fleeting Happiness

Sarah winced as the nurse secured the bandages firmly with a final piece of medical
tape. She offered Sarah a knowing glance, etched with a stern care that the woman
probably gave to all attempted suicide cases. However, Sarah knew that this had not been
of her own causing, for she would have remembered it that way. She was certain that this
was not her fault, but was unable to convince anyone else of that fact.

Gabrielle smiled and held Sarah's hand lightly, trying not to jostle the freshly
tended wounds. When the Gabrielle had first rushed into Sarah's room, hair wild and
surrounding a face that was positively ashen with shock, she had been sure that all the
blood meant nothing but death. However, Sarah had been very much alive at that time,
still screaming at the top of her lungs and holding her arms, wrist up, out to anyone for
help.

"Come on Sarah," Gabrielle remarked, holding a sigh at bay as she rose to her feet.

She gripped her plain leather purse firmly in hand and then graced Sarah with a
tender smile. It was obvious that Gabrielle, along with the rest of the actors, believed
Sarah had been faced with too much. Why else would there be two cuts, sliced vertically
down her wrists, than the obvious reason of suicide.

Sarah began to pull herself up, but quickly realized with a cringe, that it was not a
good idea. A searing pain roared through her arms, as the new sutures pulled against the
raw skin. Gabrielle made no move to help Sarah, but instead stood by and watched with
something that could have very well been sympathy, or perhaps only disgust. At that
point Sarah did not really care about anything.

She carefully made her way off the bed and paused by Gabrielle, who waited at the
open door. The clinic was quite small, with only a single doctor practicing, and assisted
by two nurses. However, it had been close by, and considering Sarah's condition earlier
that morning, time was not something of which they had excess.

"I'm surprised they didn't hold you for observation," Gabrielle remarked as she
started out into the waiting room.

The nurse glanced at Sarah once again, noting her downcast expression and the
bruised bags beneath her bloodshot eyes. Just to take in her appearance, one could easily
assume that she was not happy. Yet, how was she supposed to look after a day filled with
haunting apparitions of Jareth? Sarah ignored the stares and hurried out the door, which
Gabrielle held for her.

"I already told you that I didn't do it," Sarah stated, though her voice was
emotionally drained.

Gabrielle glanced at Sarah out of the side of her eyes and then stopped at the car.
Peter had driven, since Gabrielle had been near hysterics at the sight of the blood. Now he
only looked at the two and then promptly revved the engine back to life. He was
obviously upset, and Sarah knew that she could say nothing to convince him that death
was the furthest thought from her mind.

The two women climbed in and, once the doors were shut, the entire atmosphere
of the car was blanketed in a choking silence. It only succeeded in causing even more
chaotic thoughts to enter Sarah's plagued mind, rambling one way and then another to
find some meaning in the nonsense. She was utterly exhausted, and still did not know
whether she had slept at all the night prior, or had dreamt the entire adventure.

"This was quite a shock, Sarah," Peter stated from the front seat, glancing in the
rear-view mirror so as to catch a glimpse of her ashen face.

Sarah immediately turned her attention to the director/playwright. He averted his
gaze back to the road, leaving Sarah suspended and wondering if he would speak more on
the subject. She could not even begin to explain what had happened, and knew that no
one, short of a lunatic, would believe it.

Gabrielle cleared her throat and then turned to look at the passing countryside
scenery. In a distant field she could see a herd of cattle, grazing contentedly upon the
patchy grass. The morning still held quite a fog, that blanketed some areas in gray
mystery. However, it had begun to lift, and even golden rays of sunshine were starting to
peek through the cloud layer overhead.

Peter turned on to yet another country road, this one a bit bumpier than the last.
Sarah could only pray that Fontridge was nearby, for her arms hurt something awful, and
she had begun to feel a bit dizzy as well. She leaned against the door, placing her warm
forehead against the coolness of the glass.

"You might as well rest up today. I can give you what there is of the play," Peter
finally stated, with a discouraged sigh.

"Thank-you," she responded, for sleep did sound like a dream come true at that
time.

Dreams. The sudden appearance of that word not only halted any thoughts of
sleep, but terrified her as well. Jareth had inflicted this injury upon her, through her sleep,
and had not even considered the very real possibility of her death resulting from the cuts.
She shivered and removed her head from the window. Suddenly the entire car felt too
cold.

Fontridge appeared suddenly from behind the old forest, looming like some beast
in the midst of the dissipating fog. In the mid morning, with only bits of sun breaking
through the clouds, it almost had an eerie look to it. Sarah watched, her breath held, as
they paused at the wrought iron gates, which were forever closed to outsiders.

"You okay, Sarah?" Gabrielle asked, her concern evident in every mannerism of
her character.

Sarah was a bit startled by the sudden worry. She had believed everyone to be
mad at her. She turned to Gabrielle and managed a shaking smile. She then nodded
briefly and glanced back to the closed gate, and Peter. Sarah hoped silently that her entire
career had not been ruined in the form of one magical nightmare.

The gates came alive the next instant, this time creaking only slightly. Peter
cringed at the sound and bit back a few harsh words he would have with the hired help.
They were paid to keep the Manor in proper order. He abruptly drove throughout the
gate and down the cobbled driveway.

As the car pulled to a stop, at the end of the driveway, Sarah could easily see the
several faces peering at them through the window. The other actors and actresses
watched in stunned silence, or what could be perceived as such. However, Sarah could
almost hear the little catches of gossip and laughter that would follow as they waited for
the 'nut' to come back inside.

Gabrielle nearly leapt from the car, and strolled into the chilled morning air. Her
breath formed its own fog, as it hit the coldness. Yet, she did not seem to notice the low
temperature, for Gabrielle remained out there, as Sarah and Peter sat in the car, still
overcome by lack of words.

He acknowledged the crowd of spectators and then turned, only slightly, so that he
could look at the young girl in the back seat. She shivered, as if cold, but a fine sheen of
sweat had graced her furrowed brow. Sarah was obviously deep in thought, for her eyes
stared off into the distance, through the fog, and to something so horrendous that Peter
could only speculate.

"People talk, but you must face it," he said with a detached air, proclaiming
himself, without saying, that he would not become any more involved with her problems.

Sarah turned her misty eyes towards him, breaking the link to the past that had
somehow overshadowed all else for those few fleeting moments. It had felt, almost as if
she could simply step from the car and back into the labyrinth, with Jareth as her guide. A
brush of feathers, soft as silk, touched her face. However, the vision dissipated with
Peter's voice, and Sarah immediately acknowledged him.

"I understand," Sarah responded, trying in vain to sound less drugged than she felt.

"Well, then," Peter proclaimed under his breath as he threw the door open.

He opened her door as well, aiding Sarah from the car with as much gentleness as
possible. Her wrists still were considerably sore, as was her head. She had developed
quite a throbbing headache, that almost blurred her sight as she walked just behind Peter,
and towards Gabrielle, who waited at the verandah. As the three drew into sight, the
onlookers within Fontridge disappeared from the window, and allowed the massive curtain
to fall back into place.

The next instant the door was swung open, and Sarah found herself bombarded
with scores of questions from people who had found her unworthy of even the simplest
form of conversation the night prior. They all wanted to know what had happened and
what she had really done. Of course, Sarah swept past them all, trying to ward off the
sound, but unable to force her tender arms up to cover her ears. They all drilled in on her
already sickening headache.

"What do you all care about her? Leave her alone!" a gruff voice called from the
midst of the crowd.

All questions ceased at once, leaving a strange silence over the room. Peter
stepped forward, absolutely disgusted with every last person he had hired. He had
believed them to be professionals, when in reality he had received nothing more than
trained children. The only true kind soul that had treated Sarah kindly, had been Gabrielle,
who was still shocked that such a thing, as had happened that morning, had really been
true.

Peter met the downcast gazes of several of the more haughty performers and then
rushed down the hall Sarah had taken in search of refuge. He knew already that she
would be lost. As a matter of fact, her room was in the entire different direction. He
doubted that she was thinking straight after everything.

"Sarah?" Peter called, skirting past the maid who had just exited one of the many
rooms that lined this hallway.

A gentle murmur from just around the corner, answered his call. Peter casually
glanced around, to meet Sarah's tear-stained gaze. She abruptly wiped the tears from her
cheeks with her sweater. However, there was no hiding the toll that life had taken on such
a young woman. Her face was drawn, and paled. Eyes that appeared so deep and
thoughtful, now seemed only lost, and forever reddened with unspent tears. Even her rich
chestnut locks had lost their lustrous appearance.

Sarah did not move, but only looked at him as if he would suddenly change before
her widened eyes. He very nearly feared it himself, for she was so overcome with terror.
Peter offered her his hand, to lead her to her room. Yet, she only glanced briefly at it and
then turned her eyes to the ground.

"Come with me, Sarah," Peter demanded, though did so in a soft, almost alluring
voice.

The tone rang in her mind as one that she had heard far too many times. It was
that of the Goblin King. Sarah recoiled from the kind gesture, and turned from Peter. Her
delusions had broken into the real world, and had even infected some innocent bystanders.
Now, she was too tired to think, or even dwell on any of the problems at hand.

After quite some time spent in that stand still, Peter grabbed Sarah's thin arm and
forced her to look, to at least understand that she was not all alone. Even then, her eyes
burned with resentment, or perhaps something that was merely sadness. He could spend
forever in attempts to analyze her many facets, but did not even imagine having that much
time.

"I suppose this is it then," Sarah stated as she slowly walked forward, and broke
herself from her semi-catatonic state.

Peter only turned, not really in the mood to take up any of that type of
conversation. It was obvious that Sarah had been through a lot, and he wasn't quite sure
if she should have had the extra pressures of acting to add to all the other stressors of
regular life. He did not want to be responsible for someone's mental breakdown. He
turned a corner, still leaving her statement without a remark.

Sarah sighed deeply, but continued to follow the man. She glanced casually down
at her bandaged wrists, so very like what had happened years earlier. Only then, she had
been immediately placed in an institution, her entire family fearing that she had gone
completely mad.

"I'm going slightly mad," she heard the familiar song's phrase in her mind, bringing
a smile forth from her dismal mood.

Peter stopped, and offered Sarah the strangest look at her grin. He placed one
hand on the knob of the door, directly beside him, almost as if ready to get away from the
crazy woman. Sarah, however, quickly brushed the smile from her face, for reality had a
tendency to seep into any bit of mirth she was allowed.

He did not move, but instead swung the door open, offering Sarah a view of the
room within. She immediately realized where she was, and that the suitcase resting on the
ground near the massive bed was, in fact, hers. He had brought her to a place so that she
might be alone, or more importantly, away from callous people. Yet, at that precise
moment, rest sounded the most enticing prospect for her hours in isolation.

She brushed past Peter, not entirely sure why his eyes followed her so closely. She
was certain that he did not believe her to be dangerous, so why keep such a keen watch
over her every move? Sarah instantly turned about, so that she might also watch Peter.
Trust was something she was rather short on at the present time.

"Will you be all right?" he questioned, leaning against the doorframe.

Sarah averted her gaze to the bed and allowed a ragged sigh to escape from her
mouth. It did look so very inviting, but the idea of dreams plagued her sleepy mind. Rest
would have to wait until later. She nodded, still not daring to look back at the director in
fear of what worry might be present in his features.

It could have been cat-like grace, or possibly Sarah's drowsy mind, but somehow
Peter had found his way to her side. A tender hand swept through her thick, lustrous hair,
brushing it away from her face. Sarah jerked backwards and prepared to ward off the
possible threat. Peter merely smiled and then allowed a seriousness to return to his face.

"I'll be fine," Sarah responded, hoping that maybe a verbal answer might entice
him to leave her quicker.

"I certainly don't think your fine, Sarah. In fact, you're far from it, but I don't
believe that you are the kind who would kill herself. What really happened...is something
that I hope one day you might tell me," he urged, as he took a single step closer to her.

His emerald eyes shone with a form of magic that had only been seen in Jareth's till
that instant. Sarah herself had not quite ruled out the possibility that Peter could very well
be the Goblin king in disguise. However, as a strange giddy feeling emerged from her
very soul, Sarah hoped with every breath that would ever pass from her body that Peter
had no relation to her sworn enemy.

He stopped before her once more and grasped her hands in his own. She had not
even guessed that Peter felt this way. She hadn't even dreamed about it. Of course, her
dreams were no longer her own. Instead they had become the strange realm for a certain
Fae king she could have done without.

Peter urged her forward with soft tugs on her hands. She dared a step, an
embarrassed laugh breaking the unnerving silence. Peter too grinned, but did nothing
more to assure her that this was acceptable, for a relationship to form between employee
and employer. Sarah was not quite sure if it was such a wise thing to do, but could not
speak her worries.

With agility that rivaled that of Jareth's, Sarah found herself in his arms. He pulled
her close, holding her, comforting her. Sarah sighed and titled her chin upwards, so that
she might gaze into those calming emerald eyes that twinkled in the filtering sunlight. It
was perfect, entirely and utterly bliss.

The next instant he closed the distance between them to nothing, pressing his
warm lips firmly to her own. Hunger burst within her, a need to be alive again with a
human who could possibly comprehend all she had faced. Sarah clutched her arms about
his strong neck and returned his passion.

Peter suddenly jerked away, his breath caught and held, as if he had heard
something or suspected that he had been caught in here. He glanced around, gazing at the
door, only left slightly ajar. Nothing had changed, as far as Sarah could tell. However,
the moment had been shattered, and Sarah felt the intensity of her feelings dulled to only
scant sparks of emotions, that could be towards Peter, or perhaps meant for someone else
entirely. Sarah shivered at the thought.

"I'm sorry," Peter muttered, dropping his arms from around her body and casually
stepping away.

Sarah quickly gathered herself together and managed a reassuring smile. Peter
returned it and then rubbed the back of his neck. This had all turned into a horridly
awkward situation. She was not quite sure how to solve it, but decided that it was about
time for Peter to leave. He seemed worried about being discovered kissing the crazy
foreigner.

"Thank you, Peter, for everything," Sarah added emphasis so that he might
understand the extent of her gratitude.

He reached out and gripped her hand in his own, and gazed into her eyes for what
seemed like a lifetime. If he had not suddenly pulled away, she was sure she would find
herself in his arms once again. Yet, without warning he dropped from view, behind the
door and closed it gently after himself. Sarah could only stand there, her heart beating a
bit fast and her breath slightly rushed. Still, she could not help but feel great.

Everything felt so very bright, after the lovely experience. Surely she had never
been so positive in the face of adversity before, even when traversing the labyrinth so
many years before. Sarah clasped her hands together and turned to look at the mocking
bed. She still felt entirely exhausted, but the memory of what horrid times she had spent
while sleeping seemed to plague her entire being. Nonetheless, the comfortable mattress
and downy pillow looked so very inviting.

The high-pitched sound of nails across glass broke Sarah from her tired state. She
swirled around, ready to face the Goblin King from any direction he should chose to
attack. All that met her wild, angered gaze, was an innocent little bird, fluttering just
outside her room. It seemed to raise a bit, and then settle back to eye level, as if it was
watching her.

With a final beat of its wings, the bird rose into the air, and away from Sarah. She
reached out to the curtains, the next instant, and pulled them closed. She did not intend
on seeing any other peculiar sights that day. With a sigh, she turned from the window and
headed towards one of the several velveteen chairs in her room. If sleep was not an
option, then studying the script would be.

"I guess this will have to do," she whispered to herself, gazing at the scant amount
of papers she held in her hands.

With another contented sigh she relaxed back in the chair to read through the
section of the mysterious play, fighting against her heavy lids the entire time.