First posted: 12/2/2001
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Anything that can be found from the Labyrinth movie
belongs to Jim Henson. The rest to me.
Contact: Caitlin@teenagewildlife.com
Summary: Sarah won more than her brother when she defeated Jareth
five years ago; however now that it has shown itself the gift is
unwelcome and driving her crazy. But the only person who can help
her is also the same person who needs to use her gift for his own
twisted purpose.
Author's notes: Hi all. This is the first fanfiction I've written
in a while so I'm sorry if it's not up to the standard of some of
the brilliant fics I've been reading in the Laby section. Please
feel free to leave any comments even if it's criticism. This
story's coming from a dark place so probably will be a little
dark and a little sexy at times (I hope!). Also I would love a
beta if anyone's interested as I'm really paranoid about this
becoming clichéd and boring. Sorry about all the babbling and I
hope you enjoy.
* * * * *
THE INBETWEEN TIME
PROLOGUE
By
Caitlin.
* * * * *
"Tell
me about him...."
She wanted to. God knows she had thought about telling someone
enough. Thought about the freedom and the relief there would be
in actually saying the words. Just bursting out with it to her
mother then weeping into her lap at the fear that she was crazy
whilst she stroked her hair and murmured soothing words. Maybe
then they'd stop. A month of feeling on the brink of insanity
with weird images and dreams that didn't belong to her had left
her drained. A shadow of the person she had been.
Lately, since the fist time that was, she spent sleepless night
after sleepless night just thinking about everything. A black
sort of despair washing over her that something that she wasn't
even sure was real haunted her so much. At night the knowledge
seemed so tangible when she could only see black and the hustle
bustle of real life wasn't intruding. At times like that she felt
she knew him clearly and more deeply then the thirteen hours in
that maze had allowed her to and that the rest of the world was
crazy. Not her.
Now, with these cold indifferent medical books around her with
their hard names Regression and Childhood trauma, The Human
subconscious from a Post-modernist perspective, it was if he
wasn't even real at all. Some sort of psychological manifestation
of her solitary childhood; a psychosomatic world of her own to
avoid the trauma of her mother leaving. It all made perfect
sense. But then surely figures like that should be flimsy and
shadowy. Easy to destroy and forget. He wasn't. He was hard and
bright and so was his kingdom. If anything she could only think
of him in the flesh. Blonde hair, sharp eyes, thin curled lips,
skin like pale ashes; but then he was so much more than that. Her
imagination wasn't capable of creating someone like him nor these
images that kept on haunting her.
It was important that this Psychiatrist know that, for some
peculiar reason. It was important that he could to grasp the
figure and the experience which had lingered in the back of her
head for so many years. Unresolved. It seemed important that he
understand.
"I can't." She whispered.
She wanted these visions and she wanted the Labyrinth to be real
because she didn't want to be crazy. But then if it was
real
"Sarah," Reprimanded the voice from somewhere behind
her, "You didn't come here, spend all this money, risk all
your *principles* to tell me nothing now did you?"
Lights dimmed. Clutter and confusion of the small dinky office
erased. Just greyness now.
"No. I suppose not."
Idly she stared out of the dirty window in front of her. Under
the murkiness she could see the snow thickening, whirling
sideways, blotting out the buildings across the street, muffling
the sound of car tyres moving north towards the city. Her
companion was placing a tape into a slim black box behind her and
pressing a button. She heard the click and reflected distantly on
the idea of her voice being recorded and captured on that reel of
tap. For some reason she didn't like the idea.
"Tell me about where you met him then."
Cold. She thought suddenly, it's cold in here. Shouldn't places
like this be warm? How was she supposed to bare her soul when she
couldn't stop shivering? This was stupid. Stupid, stupid stupid.
She was a stupid little girl.
"That's not any easier." She finally replied.
She felt ridiculous laying down. Prone. She counted his footsteps
as he walked around the office. Focussed on the pattern of his
feet; something simple to ease the hot fist of nervousness
curling in her stomach. Six steps from wall to wall at first. The
odd pause to shuffle with some papers, check his tape recorder.
And then the pattern changed as he wandered over to the window
and drew the blinds shut swiftly. No light at all now. He was a
shadow to her; dark and looming but walking slowly this time.
Blending in with the darkness around. A few steps at the time and
then a pause, a few more steps and then a pause and then.
"Would you like to talk about these episodes you've been
having? These 'blackouts' as you called them?"
Sarah felt a sharp sting of panic in her gut. She'd forgotten
she'd told him about them, in the brief words they'd had before
she'd laid down on this couch which didn't really feel like a
couch at all anymore. More like a sacrificial altar. No, she
couldn't talk about them. The Labyrinth and him was a long time
ago. She could use time to forget about them. But with these-she
couldn't even think the word-these *visions* she couldn't use
time. They were much too recent and much too vivid and she
planned on using a well worn method on those. Not think about
them and hope they go away. Just stress, she told herself and
Kelly who couldn't seem to let the issue go, just stress. And
anyway the word wasn't even accurate, they were more like
fractured images in her mind of people she didn't know and things
she didn't understand.
And that was why they were so scary.
"Maybe we should start somewhere else then?" He
ventured interpreting her silence as refusal, his voice a soft
lull.
"Like the beginning?"
"No. Before that."
Sarah blinked. She didn't feel like starting at all now. Her
palms felt clammy and she could feel sweat beading on her
forehead. How much time had passed? Would she be in time to call
her mum before she left for the airport? That reminded her, she
had things to do, places to go, people to see. More important
things then spill out the contents of her unstable mind to some
psychiatrist she had only just met. What had she been thinking?
She'd been thinking about taking a chance. Seizing the
opportunity. She'd been thinking about an exorcism.
"Why do people insist on laying down on these things?"
Sarah asked frowning, staring at the door but still not able to
gather the courage to leave. Feeling ludicrous lying on her back
she sat up and swivelled her legs around the side of the couch.
"Because they're afraid of falling down." He said
without a moments hesitation. She thought she heard frustration
in his voice but dismissed it. He didn't bother to explain
further or comment on her obvious aversion to the subject in
hand.
"Oh." Replied Sarah, not sure what else to say.
He was circling her now. Hands clasped behind his back and not
looking at her. In the gloom he was clearer to her then he'd been
at the dinner party with all those flashy chandeliers and
expensive glass. Amidst the swathe of people he'd seemed as
bright and false as the rest of them. A complete and utter
stranger who would be leaving town on the weekend; no danger of
anyone ever finding out. Doctor Richards PhD. A degree in
psychiatry, most esteemed. He had a slow smile and a warm rich
laugh and never tried to look her straight in the eye too much.
Competent at his job. Quiet, unimposing.
------"You look lost." A warm voice amidst a
cacophony of high mocking laughs. He was tall with wire framed
glasses. Lightly tanned with a trim beard lending his face age
and trust. Trust. She felt comfortable talking to him
immediately. Which was strange - socialising had never been her
forte.
"No, just-"
"Not your kind of thing." He finished for her.
She smiled. "Exactly."
"You're the new intern right? At the paper?."
"That's right." She said, mildly surprised that he knew
and still wanted to talk to her. Until she made a reputation,
being an intern was one of the lowest of the lows. But then she
was still only at Uni.
"I'm Doctor Richards," He offered his hand and when she
took it it was warm and strong. "I was at your office
yesterday. Ian seems interested in doing an article on hypnotism
and I offered to help him out."
"You're a hypnotist?"
He laughed but it wasn't mocking, "No a Psychiatrist.
Although I have just begun using hypnotherapy as a new method of
treating patients,"
Sarah pulled a face and he seemed to read her thoughts. "Not
a believer?"
"I didn't say that. I just don't like the idea of hypnotism.
I'd prefer a doctor who allowed me to-"
"Stay in control?" He finished again and she found
herself smiling again. He picked up a wine glass and swished the
red liquid around it like a whirlpool. He took a slow deliberate
sip, his eyes never leaving her then said in a conversational
tone.
"You know I'm in town until the end of the week."
------
She'd made an appointment straight away.
But now they were in the room she noticed how slim he was, how he
never looked at her, and the way the vein in his slim neck stuck
out under the collar of his expensive shirt and it was suddenly
too dark. Much too dark and much too quiet. The tape recorder
whirled behind her, insistent. His smooth movements and low voice
didn't seem as calm and reassuring as before. There was an
urgency in his step and a sense of pressure in the fluttering of
his hands behind his back she'd never noticed.
"I get the feeling you're not being honest with me." He
turned to face her but she still couldn't see his eyes, "I
need complete honesty Sarah. How do you expect me to help you if
you can't tell me the truth?"
This had been a bad idea. Rash. All her worst experiences were
always borne of rash decisions. What did she really know about
him? She was a journalist, trainee journalist at that, not a
psychiatrist. All she'd gone on was the recommendation of
colleagues who'd probably had too much wine anyway.
"You know," Sarah tentatively got up, moving towards
the wall by her and fumbling for a light switch, "maybe this
wasn't such a good idea."
She was getting that feeling again. That rumbling in her head;
that feeling of anticipation. No not here, not now. Not with this
man in the room she barely knew and suddenly felt wary around.
"Why not?" She grasped for her bag and in her haste
knocked it off the desk where she had left it, papers fell to the
floor. Squinting in the gloom she quickly bent to pick them up
and stuff them in her bag.
Suddenly he was next to her, helping her. His breath hot on her
neck. "Perhaps you'd like to comeback at a later time when
you're more-" he paused looking for the word,
"receptive?"
Sarah gave a nervous laugh. "This is about as receptive as I
get and anyway I just remembered a very important meeting I have
to be in so."
"Why don't we start with what you told me earlier? Would
that be easier?"
"No really. I have to go." She said standing up. He
moved with her, "I'm sorry for wasting your time, please
keep the money." She spoke quickly, flustered, "I'll
phone your office, make another appointment."
Lies all lies. She just had to get out. She could feel herself
loosing her grip. Like the way you get before you're about to
faint. When you feel like you've lost all control. This was how
it always started.
When he flicked the light on Sarah gasped.
"This isn't going to go away you know."
He was extremely close. His voice was husky, barely audible and
desperate. So very desperate. Sarah took a step away, eyes
focussed on a point away from his face. She couldn't look at him.
Couldn't recognise him, the voice was enough.
"I have to go." She said quietly her voice slightly
wavering. Comprehending but not understanding the feeling of fear
in her belly. Refusing to believe what was happening.
"Look at me Sarah. Or are you going to ignore me
again?"
"Again? I don't understand. Who are you?" She feebly
protested against the reality staring her in the face and held
her breath whilst trying to take a step backwards. Run! the sane
part of her mind screamed but she couldn't move.
"I said look at me."
She looked at him. But then something fluttered in her stomach as
she realised she couldn't see him. Her eyesight was blurring.
Only an outline of the vague places where features should be. A
dark hole for a mouth, crystals for eyes molten silver for hair.
Another one was coming.
"Jareth," She murmured.
"Did you really believe I was anyone else?" Said a soft
but contemptful voice which sounded distant and far away.
But no it couldn't be. It just couldn't. Even if he was real,
she'd defeated him. She was done with him. She wasn't a little
girl anymore.
"Let it come Sarah," She heard a wry laugh, "It
will anyway."
No, she thought desperately, no. These visions had nothing to do
with him. Nothing. It was hard to breathe now. She felt her
pupils dilate lose focus. She felt herself fall-
-and suddenly she wasn't in the office anymore. She didn't know
where she was. Everything was hazy and dream like, but clearer
then any vision she had had before. This time instead of quick
unrelenting waves of images and words it was if she had stepped
inside a dream. A dream that didn't belong to her.
The room she was in was large and the whole ceiling was covered
in mirrors. A bed draped in silk was being made by a woman
dressed all in linens of browns and pale creams. A maid. She was
speaking but the words came to Sarah as if through water; thick
and floating. She hadn't even noticed Sarah there. The nurse
turned her head to the bay windows that were open across from the
bed as if addressing someone. Thin white curtains fluttered in
the breeze like dove wings. In a window seat, slightly obscured
by the white, a young girl not older than sixteen sat who Sarah
had never seen before. She wore flowing robes of a pale flimsy
blue and a bored but not sulky look. She was watching something
move in the garden twirling black black hair round a fingertip.
Sarah crept forward, an intense curiosity inside her. She wanted
to look at the girl in more detail and what had caught her
attention. Questions of where she was, what *he* had to do with
this and why she was here were left unanswered as she peered
outside.
Through the windows there was a bright garden. It seemed to
stretch for eons and was sun-dappled with huge overpowering
flowers. Amidst them stood a boy with dark blonde hair. He
couldn't have been much older than the girl beside Sarah but was
slender with broad shoulders clothed in an open white shirt and
tight brown breeches which disappeared into boots. He was talking
to someone. A man with a coarse grey beard but warm brown eyes
which creased at the corners from age. He kept on obscuring the
boy's face from view. When the older man left the boy turned and
looked straight at them both, his lips curving into a sly smile
and his eyes flashing a bright bright blue and bright green in
the sun. Bright blue and bright green-
-and then Sarah was back in the office again, leaning against a
wall with her legs curled beneath her, her breath coming in large
gasps. The stone wall was cold and the ache in her head and heart
large.
Immediately she swung around checking everything was real.
Checking to see who was with her. She tried to remember what she
had seen but it was hard. Images of Jareth were getting mixed up
with the scene and it was hard to think. She opened her mouth
trying to speak but her lips were dry so she ran her tongue
across them.
"Hello?" She said in a small voice, and then unwilling
to even say his name, "Jareth?"
No reply. She was alone and she realised she wasn't even in an
office at all but some kind of storage room.
Suddenly feeling angry she shouted, "I know you're here.
Show yourself!" she exhaled hard , "Show yourself you
coward!"
Nothing.
She drew herself up with a shudder, her fingers clutching at the
neck of her blouse repetitively. How could she have mistaken this
room for an office? The couch she had laid on was obviously an
old unused one, fraying at the edges with foam poking out in
places. The room was filled with some half dozen chairs and desks
buried beneath boxes, books and papers. The walls of the room
were painted a cold blue and the old rarely used radiator let out
a subterranean gurgle but it grew no hotter.
No. Sarah thought angrily. No, she wasn't stupid. This had been
an office. A proper office which even had his name on the
outside. Quickly she exited anxious to look at the little gold
sign hung on the door which would show her she wasn't just
dreaming. Storage room 11a. She brought her hand to her mouth.
No. She thought again. No. Furious Sarah marched down the
corridor. She was intelligent, she was observant. She couldn't
have just been tricked. There was still the possibility that she
was just losing her mind, a much more comforting possibility then
the alternative. That he was back.
"Doctor Richards," She demanded when she got to the
reception.
The woman at the desk gave her a strange look. "Excuse me
ma'am?"
"Doctor Richards. I need to talk to Doctor Richards."
"I'm sorry Ma'am but we don't have a Doctor Richards here.
Do you mean Doctor Richmond perhaps?"
Sarah shook her head in disbelief. The woman narrowed her eyes
and began to get up looking concerned.
"Ma'am are you alright?"
Sarah pursed her lips, eyes blazing. "Fine." And
stormed out of the clinic as fast as she could.
The snow was heavy and cold when she got outside. Falling on her
without mercy. She took quick gasps of the bitter air and looked
around at all the people rushing about but not really seeing them
at all. She leant against the wall outside for support, swaying
slightly, her face drained of colour staring at the streets
around her which were much too loud. She shook her head again,
silently fighting against the deep realisation sinking into her.
It was real. It was all real. And now it was happening again.
After all these years.
Suddenly everywhere she turned she thought she saw him. Smirking
at her. Eyes glimmering. Everywhere she looked a thousand Doctor
Richards who were really a thousand Jareths laughed at her and
lifted wine glasses with crimson red liquid in them to sneering
lips.
"No!" she screamed eliciting weird looks from the
people around her. "I'm not fifteen anymore! You won't fool
me again!"
But he had. Even though she was twenty now and not fifteen
anymore and she hadn't even let herself think about the Labyrinth
until six months ago. Six months ago when the visions had first
started coming. And coming. Weird shapes and voices she could
pass off as her imagination and stress at first. Strange
blackouts she could take pills for. The Labyrinth had been real,
although she secretly had always known that. The Goblin King had
been real and now he was back.
And she had no idea why.
* * * * *