Author's notes: Yeah I know this one's weird. It's really running away with me at the moment to tell the truth so any and all criticism is welcomed. I'm hoping this becomes clearer as we go along.


* * * * *
THE INBETWEEN TIME

CHAPTER 1

By Caitlin.

* * * * *

Sarah could feel the first fat drops of rain as she rushed up the slippery stone steps.

By now the sweat was rolling down the back of her neck, under her ebony brown locks and soaking into the already damp cotton of her tee shirt. The rain couldn't have come soon enough.

Racing to get to the porch she balanced bags of groceries on her knee and angled the key into the door lock. Sweat began to roll down her forehead and the groceries were beginning to slip. She rushed into the apartment, into the kitchen and just made it to the table--losing only one bag in the process.

"Damn," She cursed and with a sigh slumped into a nearby chair and stared up at the ceiling fans which seem to share her complaints about the humidity. They twisted slowly, almost mocking her with their ineffectiveness. Crown moulding traced the ceiling and she thought she could see the mildew in the curlicues.

The apartment appeared to be in various states of disrepair and after two months was now slowly sinking into a dark, ragged gentility, desperate for renovation. The A/C was constantly on the fritz and bound to stay that way. But at the moment it was all she could afford. She didn't plan on staying here much longer.

She turned back to the groceries. The condensation from the soda was already creating rivers of water, veritable ponds on the tabletop. Opening the refrigerator door was an invitation too good to resist. Lifting her hair she let the artificially cooled air roll sluggishly against her face and sweat drenched skin. It had been so hot today that she'd almost forgotten what anything else felt like in this wet melting furnace.

After a few moments the groceries were put away. She leant against the old scarred oak table to look at the threadbare kitchen. She chose it because of the kitchen. It reminded her of her Grandmother's house and the big wooden table where she used to lay out cookies. Chocolate. Sarah's favourite. She remembered sitting at the end of the table on a chair so big her feet swung far above the ground, awed by her grandmother as she presided over the table like some queen.

She sighed, laughing inwardly at the feelings conjured up by the overpowering summer heat.

Wow, how long has it been since I've thought of my childhood? Sarah wondered. She looked around.

Not long enough.

Her grandmother had ruled all that she saw. Everyone was a rushing, simpering peasant to her whims. She remembered a different sparkling Tiffany lamp instead of her lonely swinging lightbulb and the old family silver not her plastic forks and knifes. She remembered sitting so proper and straight, crisp linen napkin in her lap and elbows off the table.

From her modest living room she heard the high pitched shrill of a telephone and quickly made her way inside.

"Hello?"

"Hey baby," Came the friendly voice from the other end.

"Hi mum," Sarah replied rolling her eyes. This had been the sixth time Linda Williams had rang in the last couple of weeks. She definitely knew something was up. Usually when her mother was on tour she got one long phone call a week and that did Sarah fine. since their reconciliation of sorts almost four years ago Sarah had discovered her mom could get incredibly stressed when touring with her company.

"So.how's my only daughter doing?"

Sarah felt a strange pang at that, even after four years. But holding the past against her mother wasn't going to get her anywhere. Besides, she more than made up with all the recent incessant calling for leaving all those years ago.

"The same as the last time you called mum," She said twirling the telephone wire absently around a finger.

"I just get so worried about you. In that tiny dingy little apartment by yourself all the time."

Sarah sighed, "Mum, I'm barely here. Work takes up most of my time at the moment."

It was a half lie. She was at work a lot, doing basic editing jobs and basically the office lackey whilst trying to convince her boss Ian she could actually write. But she wasn't *really* there. Her mind drifted much too much and her concentration was forever lapsing.

"Well that can't be good either Sarah. You've got to have a life outside of work."

That was rich, Sarah thought, coming from her mother.

"I have mum," she insisted getting slightly frustrated, "Ian's given me a weeks holiday and I've got loads of things planned."

This time a full lie. Except for maybe meeting with some "friends" from work tonight she had nothing planned.

"Just as long as you're getting out then."

"I am mum, I swear. Don't worry,"

"But I do Sarah. You've just been so distant every time I phone you. Are you sure you're sleeping alright?"

"I'm sleeping fine. Look you don't have to worry. Everything's good. My jobs going well, I'm meeting people, I might even get to do an article of my own soon. Everything's good. Now I've really got to go, I'm meeting some friends soon."

Linda Williams gave in, "Okay then sweetie. You know you can call me whenever you want right?"

Sarah's voice softened, "I know, I know. I really have to go now or else I'm going to be late. Love you,"

"Love you too honey."

Sarah waited a few seconds before putting the phone down. She hadn't been lying, she did have to go out but not quite yet. Kelly was insisting she come to the opening party of a friend of hers gallery. Although she didn't feel like going Kelly would never let it go if she didn't and would know something was wrong for certain. But that didn't start for a few hours. Still some time to try and get some of that ever elusive sleep.

Sarah didn't bother going to her bedroom. It was stupid but she didn't like the big windows there and the thin transparent curtains that barely held out the moonlight. She stretched out on her couch, rolling up the sleeves of the flimsy pale blue shirt she was wearing. Feeling nice and normal. Her mum was worried about her, she was seeing her friends tonight, she had a weeks holiday and she'd done her shopping.

Three months and counting, she thought to herself.

Three months and no visions, no Jareth, no peculiar "Doctor Richards." So what if Ian had given her a weird look when she asked if he knew a John Richards or remembered him from the weekend. The experience at the clinic was just that. An experience. Just like the Labyrinth was. And just like the Labyrinth it was over and could be forgotten about. She wasn't losing her mind. Kicking off her sandals Sarah closed her eyes whilst making a mental note to pack her groceries away later. She could leave everything till later. There was enough unresolved in her life already, one more thing couldn't hurt.

* * * * *


When it happened the first time she was standing motionless in Kelly's apartment at the window overlooking the hazy street below. It was a perfect Friday night two months ago. A pregnant and heavy full December blood moon loomed over the horizon rising into a brilliant starlit sky. A thin smile was on her lips as she listened to Kelly tell her about a snobby gallery owner who had not liked her paintings.

"I know that art is in the eye of the beholder but Sarah you should have seen some of the stuff he had in there,"

As she spoke she was splashing bright purple paint on a canvas in, what seemed to Sarah, no sequence at all. It was all a bit too random and loud to her but, she had to admit - still pretty cool. The whole apartment floor seemed to be littered with canvasses. Only until you reached the open stairs which lead to the bedroom on the first floor was there any clear space. Half finished smiles and faces in stark impartial colours gaped at Sarah. All the melting water colour landscapes mixed with snakes and hands in Kelly's strange style gleamed in the fading light, disconcerting her a little.

Kelly was a third year art Student at the local University where Sarah was also studying English as well as keeping up with an Internship at a small magazine in the centre of New York; "Art in Action." She'd met Kelly whilst doing a small article called "Artists of the future" and immediately appreciated her dry sense of humour and brash personality. She found a lot of people at her Uni. and at the magazine too snobby for her liking. Kelly was a breath of fresh air.

"I mean a picture of a baked bean can," Kelly continued, "Nothing Andy Warhol-esque about it at all. Just a baked bean can. Yet apparently my work is too 'domestic' " Kelly scoffed, "I'll show him domestic."

Sarah nodded in agreement only half listening. It wasn't that she wasn't interested, she was just suddenly feeling a bit dizzy. She tried to watch her friend but although she heard her Kelly's berry painted lips barely moved at all and all the canvasses seemed to be floating away. The purple paint seemed to hang to the canvass half heartedly, dripping lazily down.

Something was wrong. Sarah swallowed as half toothed smiles leered at her and snakes uncurled themselves to hiss before her eyes.

"Sarah, hon, what's up?" Kelly's concerned voice echoed bizarrely in her head.

"I feel strange," She murmured but her voice didn't seem to belong to her at all. Her vision was gradually narrowing and Kelly's voice was muffled in her hears. She felt her legs tremble and give way just before she lost consciousness-

-the faint disconnected her from time. Reminding her of a moment now swallowed in bliss last thought of a long time ago. Dazed, images flashed in her mind. Fluttering shapes flew like winged shadows, some light, some dark. A raven and a dove and an owl. A bright white owl. Moving...consuming all the colour in her mind of reality in lieu of a black and white world.

Sarah saw flames of fire buried in rich, velvet blackness and chains flickering like stars and then hands. Long thin hands with almost translucent fingernails covered in chains. Wisps of white, transparent cloth wrapped upon an hourglass as swift and graceful as dandelion powder in the wind, weaved in and out of her consciousness. She heard protesting screams so loud she thought her ears were going to bleed. She saw people and crowds jeering, she heard familiar jittering and saw tiny beady yellow eyes which turned to slits-

-"Sarah!"

A blink and she was back in the apartment, surrounded by towering sneering paintings; dazed by what she had seen. Or what she thought she had seenand remembered. No, she thought dimly, not now. Not after all this time.

"Sarah, Sarah wake up. Please wake up."

As Kelly's voice echoed over and over again in her head, something like dread settled in Sarah's stomach.

*****