Labyrinth and Leroux

Chapter 4: Sarah's Abduction

Sarah's quest to find a bathroom was not going well. She had seen public restrooms earlier when she was exploring the hallways, but couldn't find one now to save her life. She stopped every so often to look over her shoulder to make sure Jareth wasn't going to pop out from behind her. Sarah was doing her bet to convince herself that it had all been in her imagination. Some sort of psychotic set back. Her heart was pounding so loudly she thought it would beat right out of her chest. All she wanted to do now was splash some ice-cold water on her face and try to pull herself together.

Sarah's wanderings seemed only to plunge her deeper into the shadows of the opera house. She was trespassing into areas she knew she shouldn't. At the moment she was in a corridor that was almost deserted. This unsettled Sarah. She needed to find her way back to the main entrance. The sound of two people walking towards her made her step back. She opened the door of the nearest private box and left the door ajar just enough to see out.

The black domino and the white rushed past the door in their strange two-person train. They entered the private box next to Sarah's. Sarah heard a woman's voice.

"He must have gone higher. He's coming down again."

Sarah gulped. It better not be Jareth. She looked cautiously out the crack in her door. On the stairway across from her she saw a red foot appear. Then another. Slowly, majestically the man dressed as the Red Death descended. Sarah heard a man's voice from next door.

"It is he! This time he shall not escape me!" Sarah then heard the sound of a door slamming. A muffled argument began next door.

The Red Death moved closer towards the private boxes. Sarah backed away from the door. Was he pursuing her or this strange couple? Why did this all seem oddly familiar? She saw the red of his cloak pass by the crack in her door. She couldn't hear his footsteps on the carpeted hallway. Sarah could only guess at his movements. If she were a betting woman she would guess he was listening at the door of the next private box. Sarah pushed her ear against the wall. She heard a woman's voice.

"I shall never sing again Raoul!"

A man's voice replied, "Really? So he is taking you off the stage…"

Sarah backed away. She recognized the conversation. She had read it in Leroux's novel.

"Damn writers" she swore under her breath. So Mr. Phantom of the Opera has found himself some two playmates eh? He had himself a Raoul and a Christine to help him reenact scenes from Leroux's novel. They actually had her going for a minute.

The thought that there were three eccentric writers reenacting their favorite book eased Sarah's anxiety and increased it at the same time. She was comforted by the fact she was still in the company of her fellow writers. It made the notion that she had actually seen Jareth all the more remote. On the other hand, the thought that people were playing make-believe so convincingly was upsetting. She had done it in her youth. Play like that only led down a dark road.

Sarah took a deep breath and resolved to take control of the situation. No more floundering, no more hiding. She was going to march right out the opera house's front door, hail a cab and go back to her hotel. Then all of this nonsense would be over. Forget to Phantom re-enactors. Forget Jareth and his Maze of Mirrors. Just go back to the hotel, take a sleeping pill, and forget this whole sorted affair.

Sarah opened the door of private box and stepped into the hallway. The Red Death was still there and stared back at her. She rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips.

"You know if you are going to do it, do it right. You aren't supposed to be in the hallway when Raoul and Christine come out. You're supposed to go and wait for her behind the mirror in her dressing room. Then you take her down to your lair, etc. etc."

Sarah waited for some sort of reply to her reprimand from the man across from her. He stood still. Sarah huffed in frustration and turned on her heal towards the nearest downward stairwell. She wasn't going to waste any more time on this Red Death fellow.

Sarah was filled with a know-it-all bravado from telling off her hallway Phantom. She was so pleased with herself that she hardly noticed the time it took her to find her way back to the grand staircase. She descended the stairs with a strong arrogant step of a modern American woman. The nineteenth century masqueraders gawked at the dark haired woman. Some of the female guests stopped and whispered to each other about the brazen woman behind their fans. Sarah paid no attention to the gossip she was starting. She was on a mission. Walk out the front door. It was easy as that. Out the front door and she was back in control. The sight of cars and street lights would plant her firmly in reality and do away with all of this fantasy.

Sarah stepped out into the chill of the night. There were no cars. No electric street lights. No airplanes lights blinking across the night sky. What she saw instead were horses and carriages. Women in bustles and men in top hats. The light was dim on the street with only gas light posts flickering away. In short, Sarah stepped outside and found herself in the past.

Sarah closed her eyes. No, no, no. This was all in her imagination. She was in the present. It was modern day. "Open your eyes and see reality." She opened her eyes. Horses and carriages.

Sarah's stomach dropped. What was happening to her? Did her mind latch onto the Phantom fantasy the others were reenacting? A gentleman in a top hat bumped into her trying to exit the opera house.

"Pardon moi mademoiselle"

Sarah looked at him in horror and disbelief. She backed away from him and stumbled back into the opera house. It was lit with candles and gas lights. The masqueraders around her were not the motley crew of writers, nor were they Jareth's Venetian goblin folk. They were what Sarah had imagined what Leroux's masqueraders looked like.

"Get a grip Sarah" she reprimanded herself. "Get a grip."

Sarah scanned the people around her. This wasn't really happening. There was no way she was actually inside the story of The Phantom of the Opera. And what if she was? Well…it was still better than getting kidnapped by Jareth, she mused. The Phantom was obsessed with Christine, not her. She had already seen a Christine Daae here and a Phantom. Maybe Sarah could just let the story run its course. Erik would die. Christine would go off and live with Raoul. The story would end and Sarah would just bibbidy-bobbity-boo back into her own reality. Sane enough plan she thought to herself.

"Ok Sarah. Just wait it out. If it is real, you know how the story ends. Just wait for Erik, Christine and Raoul's story to play itself out. If it's all in your mind, well then the story ending will snap you out of it. You ended the story when you defeated Jareth. It will be the same here. Just let the story end."

Sarah kept on talking to herself pacing in front of the grand staircase. As she did so she had the sense that someone was watching her. At first she thought it was just one of the many nameless masqueraders, probably thinking her costume and her demeanor scandalous. But as her instinct grew stronger, a tingle in the pit of her stomach began to form. Her senses put her on alert. Someone wasn't just watching her. Someone was hunting her.

Sarah looked up. In an alcove at the top of the stairs stood a man elegantly dressed in a tuxedo. Sarah didn't recognize him at first. He almost faded seamlessly into the bustling crowd around him. Almost. Jareth lifted his hands to adjust his gloves and the recognition fell into place for Sarah.

"Bastard" she swore under her breath. That nasty evil little imp was here. That certainly complicated her "wait it out" plan. Jareth smiled down at her. He moved his way through the masqueraders towards the stairway. He was coming for her.

Sarah looked around. She had already been out the front door. Danger only awaited her there. If she really was stuck in the Phantom's time, then people would either think her a madwoman or a prostitute dressed as she was. Why run anyway? This wasn't Jareth's Labyrinth. None of this was his style. This was the Phantom's world. This was Erik's domain. Maybe Jareth was stuck here too? Arrogant bastard thought he'd play a game in someone else's yard and now has to pay the price for it? The idea that Jareth was trapped here too and not causing all of this amused Sarah. She decided to stand her ground. Wait for Jareth, talk to him, and feel him out for information.

Sarah watched Jareth descend the staircase. Pompous and aristocratic as ever, he took his time to make sure everyone in the room knew he was kingly, if not to know he was actually a king. Sarah rolled her eyes at the performance and crossed her arms. She tapped her foot impatiently waiting for him to get down . Jareth did not know he was wasting precious time. Someone else in the room had his eye on Sarah. Someone else was hunting her. Jareth was loosing his opportunity to grab her.

Sarah stood absently waiting for her old sparring partner to arrive. She felt a hand on her waist.

"What the…" she dropped her arms and looked down.

The bony hand spun her round and gripped her tightly by the wrist. Erik was pulling her away from the staircase quickly and forcefully. Sarah recognized the feel of his hand from their encounter in the hallway before, but wasn't sure it was the same man at first. Erik was no longer wearing his Red Death costume. He was now in a tuxedo, much like Jareth's, but with a black hat and cloak shielding himself from the crowd around him. He was like a black shadow darting through the crowd. Sarah could hardly keep up with him.

In time she hardly thought possible, Erik had pulled Sarah away from the main hall towards an ordinary looking wall. In a blink a secret passageway opened and he thrust her inside. The door sealed behind her. There was nothing but pitch black on the hidden side. The dull murmur of the party faded and the bony hand pulled her deeper and deeper into the pitch.

To find that Sarah missing from the bottom of the stairway was more than a small annoyance to Jareth. Teasing him like this was not something he enjoyed. Jareth looked around. At the far end of the main hall he saw Sarah's Spanish skirts bouncing away. A man cloaked in black was pulling her away from him.

Jareth ran in pursuit pushing party guests out of his way. He followed the trail until he literally hit a wall. Jareth hit it hard, but made no breach into the secret passageway behind it. He backed away and turned down a hallway trying to pick up the trail again. Someone had stolen what was rightfully his. Jareth did not like to be a pawn in games. He liked to control the game. Whomever had stolen Sarah would have to be ready for a war. He was not going home empty handed tonight.