Title: Something Has to Give
Author: AKA Jay
E-Mail: ashj@sympatico.ca
Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine. They belong to Jim Henson Productions.
For the most part, this is a good thing.
Feedback: Would be appreciated.
Summary: Wouldn't that involve some forethought on my part?
Note: Wow. I got a much larger response to the first part of this than I expected.
Not that I'm complaining, mind you. I'd forgotten how wonderful this fandom
was in the comments department. (It's also pretty wonderful in most other departments
too. Guess there's just something about kidnapping, sorcery, goblins and petulance
that brings out the best in people. Yeah, that makes no sense.)
Part Two
Sarah was humming happily as she wandered around the kitchen. Her father and stepmother watched her with the kind of wary caution normally reserved for small ticking packages wrapped in brown paper and people who start conversations at cocktail parties by saying things like: So, have you heard the Truth?
The fact that she was smiling wasn't a cause for alarm in itself; Sarah smiled a lot. She'd perfected a wide variety of smiling styles that ran the gamut from wistful pouts to wistful grins to mocking, although still wistful, smirks.
When Sarah smiled, people thought of princesses. They thought of Ophelia. They thought of old world masterpieces featuring sad beautiful women and lots and lots of fruit. This smile would make people think of those deranged grinning clown paintings done on black velvet. They could see her teeth.
And then there were her clothes. It wasn't just that she was wearing jeans. Jeans were normal for Sarah, at least since the school had officially forbidden her to wear authentic leather breeches. But the shirt above the jeans was... different. For starters, there was no lace on it.
In fact, the blue flannel shirt seemed to be exuding a slightly embarrassed air, since as a gift of clothing from a distant relative it had plainly never really been meant to be worn. Such a bemused look might a fruitcake project if some misguided soul actually attempted to eat it.
Something was wrong, the parents silently decided. If they hadn't been such practical people words like 'alien abduction' and 'gypsy curse' might have been running through their minds. At that, they wouldn't have been far off.
But they were realistic people and so they independently settled on the same explanation. For an entire decade of every life, one excuse covers everything from bad hairstyles to minor felonies to that thing you did at that one party when you thought no one was watching you. (You know what I'm talking about. Don't make me get the yearbook.) With one mind the two authority figures mentally shrugged, thought Teenagers. and returned to their normal morning routine.
Sarah, for her part, was lost in a blissful haze. She almost danced over to the stove to get her pancakes, glorying in the knowledge that the floor wasn't going to slip out from under her feet. Glancing out the window, she saw Merlin romping in the still damp grass and felt a momentary pang of regret. Ambrosius. Sir Didymus. Hoggle... I wish-
She caught herself and clamped down hard on that train of thought, pushing nostalgia ruthlessly to the back of her mind. She forced herself to stay focused on all of the reasons why it was so good to be out of the Labyrinth.
The most important thing was the total lack of life-or-death deadlines. She
had a history paper due on Tuesday, but that just didn't inspire the same kind
of terror. Only slightly less important was the feeling of freedom. There was
something very comforting about knowing that nobody was watching her.
*****
The concept of jinxing is seen as childish and superstitious by a portion of the population. This would be the portion of the population that regularly falls into open manholes.
The more wary and less concussed know that jinxing actually falls under a little known category of natural laws. Functioning as a sort of appendix to the law of gravity, the law of jinxing is stated thus:
"If what goes up must necessarily come down, then those who say 'Nothing can stop me now!' must necessarily be trampled to death by an unseasonable horde of elephants. And it serves them right, the cocky bastards."
(In books of pseudo-science this law is usually referenced in the same chapter as the section on the stealth capabilities of writing utensils and the footnote explanation of why all small yipping dogs are largely nocturnal.)
It was therefore completely understandable that Jareth would be gazing at Sarah at the precise moment when she was exulting about the fact that he wasn't.
And she had no one to blame but herself.
She looks so happy.
During Sarah's entire adventure in the Labyrinth, Jareth had seen her smile
perhaps twice. Even when he was being at his most amusing. Even when he offered
her her dreams...
A small part of him felt badly that he couldn't leave her to this uncomplicated life - a very, very small part. He would be giving her a life of infinite magic, of adventures without end and luxury beyond the dreams of avarice. What were heart-shaped pancakes and pulpy orange juice compared to that?
Most importantly, he would give her Eternity. Actually, he'd already given her that. She just didn't know it yet.
And he meant to get her back before she found out. Whether she liked it or not, Sarah belonged in the Labyrinth now. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that she belonged to the Labyrinth. And if the Labyrinth was incarnated into a building, (and it was) it would most definitely not be a lending library. Which is to say, Sarah couldn't simply check herself out for the next fifty years and expect no more than an occasional threatening letter.
Jareth let the crystal dissolve and leaned back in his throne, eyes half closed as he thought. It was infuriating that he wasn't allowed to go down, grab her, bring her back and worry about explanations later. But there was a way to get around it. For Jareth, there was always a way. And as Sarah was now partly his creature, the rules could be bent.
As he contemplated the possibilities, his mood lightened. A new game and one without time limits or the possibility of failure.
His kind of game.
With a half-smile he rose from his throne and walked out of the throne room to make the preparations, pausing to casually kick a few goblins into the wall.
The goblins had straggled sheepishly back to the castle during the night, fully expecting to be punished in lengthy and creative ways for their failure. Resigned to horrific punishment, they had been even more worried by the lack thereof.
For the goblins, Jareth's suddenly playful mood was very reassuring. For Sarah, it would prove less so.
____________
End Part Two
Man, what was I thinking? Seriously, you have no idea how strange this is going
to get. I never should have stopped working on this one. *g*