AN: Just a short chapter to tide ya'll over... =) Sorry about its
length but it was a natural spot to stop... otherwise the next
chapter would be unnaturally long and then you guys would really start
expecting a lot out of me. =) Take care.. Please review!!
Standard disclaimers apply, duh. ;-P
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~Sacrifices: Chapter Four~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Sarah woke again; much more herself in that she remembered all
that she had given up, had lost, with her first conscious thought.
"You've been sleeping for a long time Sarah..." She jerked
up, dark eyes focusing on Jareth, King of the Goblins. He was leaning
nonchalantly against the door frame of her room, dressed
monochromatically in blues, from star strewn dark blue tights, to a
sky blue jacket that went over a silver, ruffled shirt. He raised
mocking brows. "I was starting to think that you'd never wake up..."
Sarah sat up and ran a shaking hand through long, tangled hair,
temporarily ignoring the Goblin King. It was a convenient way that
she had developed to deal with stress. It had mixed results.
Light steps took her back to the vanity. She tried to put her
wild hair in a knot but it resisted. Her breath left her as, fast as
a flash; Jareth was by her side. Silver-gloved hands touched her hair
and it responded to his touch by curling and twisting around his fine
boned fingers.
"Its much longer. Have you cut it at all?" Sarah stepped
away with a swallow and her hair, reluctantly, followed. She walked
back to the bed and sat, nervous, at its edge, eyes resolutely fixed
on her hands and her imperfect, unpolished, nails. Boots came into
her view moments later and that same insistent hand reached down to
take one of hers.
Sarah tried to resist but it went to Jareth on its own will,
proof that the parts did not always bow to the wisdom of the whole.
He held her hand gently, palm upward, and traced the lines and
wrinkles and creases and calluses that time had left. Sarah had not
spent twenty years idly. Fingertips gloved in silk stilled, dwelled,
on one extraordinarily large scar that stretched, ragged, vivid,
white, from pinkie to the base of her wrist.
"How?" Jareth asked, though the question held nothing but
command. Sarah swallowed again.
"It, it was a car accident," she replied softly, not cowed but
subdued. Silence and then...
"There is more." It wasn't a question.
"Yes," she hissed and tried to reclaim her hand. It was held
firm. She relaxed, temporarily defeated. Jareth wasn't like other
men. His presence was overwhelming, but never overpowering. Had he
been anything but the man he was he wouldn't get an answer from her.
He wouldn't be holding her hand. "There, there was glass everywhere,
and screaming. I'll never forget the screaming as long as I live.
"Later I found out it had been a drunk driver. He had sped
out of control, rammed the mini van the lane next to mine. The van
slammed into my driver's side. Three fatalities. I was almost number
four. If it hadn't been, if it hadn't been for Devon..." Her mouth,
trembling, stopped at her ex-fiancé's name. She snatched her
traitorous hand away from Jareth's and turned her back to the Goblin
King.
Sarah held one quaking breath as she sensed his hand poised by
her shoulder and then, when she turned around moments later, Jareth
was gone. Sarah expelled her breath and, finally alone, studied her
palm, face remote.
If it hadn't been for Devon she would have died that night.
She had been lying there, in her crushed civic, the smell of gas in
the air, and hell's fires dancing in front of her vacant eyes. She
had heard sirens distantly, and shouting, voices, but nothing had
pierced the fog of her shock save the screams of those burning alive
in the car next to her, the screams and Devon's voice.
Devon had crawled through the wreckage of three cars, had torn
away the warped door with his bare hands and had pulled Sarah from the
wreckage before the first firefighter had arrived. Her only permanent
physical scar had been the one on her hand, and one other, hidden by
her regrown hair. Devon would sport the scars from hot metal for the
rest of his life.
He was her knight in shining armor. He was her rescuer, her
prince. He had ridden in the ambulance that had borne her to the
hospital. She had sought him out, weeks later, to thank him, the man
who had saved her life. One lunch had led to dinner, and later, to
nights. She had never dated a man with children before but she and
Mel, she and Mel had hit it off from the start. There was no
awkwardness, no difficulty. She had become a part of their life,
seamlessly, and it had been so right, so perfect.
And she had lost it all... No that wasn't fair and Sarah
always tried to be fair, if only to everyone but herself. She had
made a hypothetical deal with the 'devil'. She should have expected
to get burned. Her child for her life... She had sworn it and Jareth
had accepted her promise on good faith. Just as he had accepted her
new deal, with bland amused acknowledgment.
And now she was here, in the Labyrinth, for good. She had
used defiance and rebelliousness and sheer grit to survive twenty
years ago. She had labeled the King of the Goblins as a demon, a
thing to be hated, but god, it went so much deeper, was so much more
complex than that. For thirteen hours her world had been black and
white. How the hell was she supposed to deal with the place as it was
now, a world of grays?
What were the new rules? What was the game? At least before
there had been set rules, had been something, anything for her to
cling to but now? She had sworn herself to the Goblin King but she
had no idea what that meant. What that entailed.
Frustrated, restless, Sarah rose and went to her balcony
doors. She threw them open and was surprised by the rush of cold
air. She almost withdrew but abruptly changed her mind, drawing her
bath robe closer for warmth as she stepped hesitatingly onto the
marble balcony and leaned on the ornate stone railing. The Goblin
City was an odd assortment of buildings and chimneys below her, the
Labyrinth stretched into the hills beyond, and the world, the world
was framed on all sides by dark mountains that stretched longingly
towards the sky. It was beautiful, beautiful in a magical sort of way
that Sarah had long ago stopped believing in, for her own sanity.
It was clear tonight and Sarah lifted her face, bathing it in
the silver light of the moon and stars. She ignored her tears and
sighed before opening her dark, unreadable gaze. One hand, on its own
free will, stretched longingly towards the heavens, towards those
silver stars.
"I wish I may, I wish I might..." Her voice trailed away and
died before she finished the fanciful rhyme bitterly, "I wish none of
my dreams come true, ever again. I might not survive next time."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
In a room in the heart of Jareth's castle a golden egg
gleamed, nestled in silk pillows and cashmere blankets. Gleamed and
rocked once, violently, before subsiding. The surface of the great
egg, nearly four feet tall and three wide, gleamed with swirls of
yellow and emerald green.
There was a gentle sigh and a slight scratching that came from
inside the egg as it shifted position and calmed. It wasn't time, not
yet, not quite yet but soon, soon.
length but it was a natural spot to stop... otherwise the next
chapter would be unnaturally long and then you guys would really start
expecting a lot out of me. =) Take care.. Please review!!
Standard disclaimers apply, duh. ;-P
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~Sacrifices: Chapter Four~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Sarah woke again; much more herself in that she remembered all
that she had given up, had lost, with her first conscious thought.
"You've been sleeping for a long time Sarah..." She jerked
up, dark eyes focusing on Jareth, King of the Goblins. He was leaning
nonchalantly against the door frame of her room, dressed
monochromatically in blues, from star strewn dark blue tights, to a
sky blue jacket that went over a silver, ruffled shirt. He raised
mocking brows. "I was starting to think that you'd never wake up..."
Sarah sat up and ran a shaking hand through long, tangled hair,
temporarily ignoring the Goblin King. It was a convenient way that
she had developed to deal with stress. It had mixed results.
Light steps took her back to the vanity. She tried to put her
wild hair in a knot but it resisted. Her breath left her as, fast as
a flash; Jareth was by her side. Silver-gloved hands touched her hair
and it responded to his touch by curling and twisting around his fine
boned fingers.
"Its much longer. Have you cut it at all?" Sarah stepped
away with a swallow and her hair, reluctantly, followed. She walked
back to the bed and sat, nervous, at its edge, eyes resolutely fixed
on her hands and her imperfect, unpolished, nails. Boots came into
her view moments later and that same insistent hand reached down to
take one of hers.
Sarah tried to resist but it went to Jareth on its own will,
proof that the parts did not always bow to the wisdom of the whole.
He held her hand gently, palm upward, and traced the lines and
wrinkles and creases and calluses that time had left. Sarah had not
spent twenty years idly. Fingertips gloved in silk stilled, dwelled,
on one extraordinarily large scar that stretched, ragged, vivid,
white, from pinkie to the base of her wrist.
"How?" Jareth asked, though the question held nothing but
command. Sarah swallowed again.
"It, it was a car accident," she replied softly, not cowed but
subdued. Silence and then...
"There is more." It wasn't a question.
"Yes," she hissed and tried to reclaim her hand. It was held
firm. She relaxed, temporarily defeated. Jareth wasn't like other
men. His presence was overwhelming, but never overpowering. Had he
been anything but the man he was he wouldn't get an answer from her.
He wouldn't be holding her hand. "There, there was glass everywhere,
and screaming. I'll never forget the screaming as long as I live.
"Later I found out it had been a drunk driver. He had sped
out of control, rammed the mini van the lane next to mine. The van
slammed into my driver's side. Three fatalities. I was almost number
four. If it hadn't been, if it hadn't been for Devon..." Her mouth,
trembling, stopped at her ex-fiancé's name. She snatched her
traitorous hand away from Jareth's and turned her back to the Goblin
King.
Sarah held one quaking breath as she sensed his hand poised by
her shoulder and then, when she turned around moments later, Jareth
was gone. Sarah expelled her breath and, finally alone, studied her
palm, face remote.
If it hadn't been for Devon she would have died that night.
She had been lying there, in her crushed civic, the smell of gas in
the air, and hell's fires dancing in front of her vacant eyes. She
had heard sirens distantly, and shouting, voices, but nothing had
pierced the fog of her shock save the screams of those burning alive
in the car next to her, the screams and Devon's voice.
Devon had crawled through the wreckage of three cars, had torn
away the warped door with his bare hands and had pulled Sarah from the
wreckage before the first firefighter had arrived. Her only permanent
physical scar had been the one on her hand, and one other, hidden by
her regrown hair. Devon would sport the scars from hot metal for the
rest of his life.
He was her knight in shining armor. He was her rescuer, her
prince. He had ridden in the ambulance that had borne her to the
hospital. She had sought him out, weeks later, to thank him, the man
who had saved her life. One lunch had led to dinner, and later, to
nights. She had never dated a man with children before but she and
Mel, she and Mel had hit it off from the start. There was no
awkwardness, no difficulty. She had become a part of their life,
seamlessly, and it had been so right, so perfect.
And she had lost it all... No that wasn't fair and Sarah
always tried to be fair, if only to everyone but herself. She had
made a hypothetical deal with the 'devil'. She should have expected
to get burned. Her child for her life... She had sworn it and Jareth
had accepted her promise on good faith. Just as he had accepted her
new deal, with bland amused acknowledgment.
And now she was here, in the Labyrinth, for good. She had
used defiance and rebelliousness and sheer grit to survive twenty
years ago. She had labeled the King of the Goblins as a demon, a
thing to be hated, but god, it went so much deeper, was so much more
complex than that. For thirteen hours her world had been black and
white. How the hell was she supposed to deal with the place as it was
now, a world of grays?
What were the new rules? What was the game? At least before
there had been set rules, had been something, anything for her to
cling to but now? She had sworn herself to the Goblin King but she
had no idea what that meant. What that entailed.
Frustrated, restless, Sarah rose and went to her balcony
doors. She threw them open and was surprised by the rush of cold
air. She almost withdrew but abruptly changed her mind, drawing her
bath robe closer for warmth as she stepped hesitatingly onto the
marble balcony and leaned on the ornate stone railing. The Goblin
City was an odd assortment of buildings and chimneys below her, the
Labyrinth stretched into the hills beyond, and the world, the world
was framed on all sides by dark mountains that stretched longingly
towards the sky. It was beautiful, beautiful in a magical sort of way
that Sarah had long ago stopped believing in, for her own sanity.
It was clear tonight and Sarah lifted her face, bathing it in
the silver light of the moon and stars. She ignored her tears and
sighed before opening her dark, unreadable gaze. One hand, on its own
free will, stretched longingly towards the heavens, towards those
silver stars.
"I wish I may, I wish I might..." Her voice trailed away and
died before she finished the fanciful rhyme bitterly, "I wish none of
my dreams come true, ever again. I might not survive next time."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
In a room in the heart of Jareth's castle a golden egg
gleamed, nestled in silk pillows and cashmere blankets. Gleamed and
rocked once, violently, before subsiding. The surface of the great
egg, nearly four feet tall and three wide, gleamed with swirls of
yellow and emerald green.
There was a gentle sigh and a slight scratching that came from
inside the egg as it shifted position and calmed. It wasn't time, not
yet, not quite yet but soon, soon.