Disclaimer: The only thing I own is a beat-up 1972 Volkswagen without a heater. Obviously, said Volkswagen does not include Jareth, Sarah, or the rest of the Labyrinth gang.
A/N–Written while "rocking out" to the Beatles' Revolver album. You have been warned.
Sarah was what one would call "happily adjusted." Since graduating from college with a degree in sociology, she had landed a job that paid enough for her to buy a home in an upper-middle-class neighborhood and a car that, while not glamorous, was dependable. While in college she'd had next to no problems adjusting to her independence–Karen had made sure of that–and unlike so many of her friends, she hadn't really been a party girl. She'd stayed focused, gotten the grades she needed to pass, and gotten out. Now, she had everything she wanted, and while Karen–and one of her neighbors–thought she should be anxious to be married and start a family, she wasn't.
Thinking about her neighbor brought a smile to her face. She had used to babysit for their daughters–Melissa, and Amy, later on–take care of them on Friday nights when their parents went out. It had been their mother–Sadie–who had first asked why Sarah didn't get married and start a family of her own.
"You're so good with the girls," she had said. "Why don't you settle down and have a daughter of your own? You'd make a wonderful mother."
At this, Sarah had laughed and shrugged it off, saying that she much preferred being in charge of children only temporarily, and only when she was paid for it. It wasn't the truth, though. She had enjoyed taking care of Melissa and Amy–she'd been sad when their parents decided that Melissa was old enough to be left in charge. Melissa had listened to her stories of the labyrinth and the terrible goblin king therein with a rapt expression every time. Perhaps it was because of this that Sarah had given the neighbor's daughter her copy of the red book.
Thinking about the Labyrinth always made her sad, somehow–sad to think that as she had grown up, she had accepted what had happened as only a dream–that somehow, she had imagined the entire thing. It made things somewhat easier, thinking that she had only dreamed that she was stupid enough to wish her brother away, and yet, conversely, others more difficult. Pretending that the labyrinth wasn't real, for instance, didn't help explain why after "waking up," her shoes smelt so terrible that she'd had to throw them out, or why, in the weeks that followed, she seemed to have developed a great number of imaginary friends. It also didn't explain the strange sense of loss she'd felt in the weeks that followed–as if she had lost something (or someone) very dear to her. And yet, somehow, she could not bring herself to admit that what had happened was real. Admitting that the labyrinth was real was (to Sarah) admitting that her hold on reality was not perhaps so strong as she had previously thought. So she chose not to accept it. What had happened was a dream. There was no such place as the labyrinth. There was no such person as the goblin king. What she had experience had been nothing more than her already over-active imagination acting up on her, perhaps as a result of too much stress from her sophomore year. Whatever had happened had not been real.
What a nasty surprise for her it was, when Melissa showed up, with Jareth in tow, and told her that Amy had been taken by the goblins.
"Okay," said Melissa carefully. "If I take your offer, will I get Amy back?"
"That depends. Will you follow my instructions?" asked Jareth.
"I'll try," Melissa replied nervously.
"Then I'll let you try to win your sister back," said Jareth imperviously.
Before Melissa could object, he had summoned a crystal and was using it to transport both him and her to the Aboveground, where his plan would be carried out in full.
"Your sister said that you love me," commented Jareth wryly, as they marched along the stretch sidewalk before the park.
Melissa blushed. "I don't."
"Really now," asked Jareth, "don't you?"
"No," said Melissa firmly. "I've never been in love, let alone with someone like you."
"Someone like me?" said Jareth, in mock-offense. "My, my. Then it would not hurt you to know that I could never love someone such as yourself?"
Melissa paused for a moment on the sidewalk. "No, it wouldn't hurt me. I don't think you're capable of love, anyway, or if you are, incapable of loving anyone but yourself." She began trudging down the sidewalk once again, satisfied with her answer.
A hand on her shoulder stopped her. "I am capable of love," said Jareth in a soft voice. "And of heartbreak. Why else would I be dragging you on a quest to find Sarah Williams?"
Melissa pondered this for a moment. "I . . . don't know," she admitted. "Vengeance, maybe, or advice–how to better hinder those that wander through your Labyrinth?"
"No," said Jareth lightly. "I–have more to discuss with her than that."
Melissa gave him a blank look. "You love her," she exclaimed, surprised.
"Yes," replied Jareth calmly, in a way quite unlike any she had seen before. "I do."