Chapter XII
Sarah got up again, slowly and carefully – not wanting to fall once more. She could breathe again. Her whole body seemed to be light, almost floating up toward the stars that spread out above her like a million dancing fireflies. She felt peaceful, just sitting there, looking up and not worrying about anything. Bit by bit her memory was returning to her.
The garden, the roses, the bower . . . the overpowering perfume . . . the dizziness . . . How did I get out? How did I ever get out of that deathtrap? Her mind found no logical explanation. But then, Sarah wasn't sure that there even was one . . . She stood up and tottered forward, back toward the castle – back to safety. I had enough roses to last me a lifetime . . . just let me get inside, I'll never even look at a rose again, much less smell one . . . Sarah thought vehemently.
She walked slowly, still weak and not completely herself, along the wall of mist on her left. Then it registered. Mist? Again? What is it this time? Another world? Was she leaving this one behind?
But no, no . . . this was just a weird misty wall, nothing more . . . or was it? Peering through, Sarah caught a brief glimpse of odd twists and turns – and understood. This was the inside wall of her Labyrinth. Strange that she hadn't seen it before . . . was it right here all along? Her mind was in utter confusion – she was too tired and weak for pondering or trying to understand anything. Closing her eyes she took a deep breath – rejoicing once again at the ability - . . . and sighed with relief. This wasn't for her. This labyrinth was for someone else to solve – not her. She had already gotten through hers . . . and destroyed it . . . Wondering if she had heard that last phrase or thought it, Sarah froze on the spot, feeling a strange prickling on the back of her neck.
She turned around – not too fast for fear of falling, cocked her head to the side in a typical Sarah gesture and surveyed the milky white wall in front of her. Something's different . . . Dimly she thought she could see a ghostly dark silhouette. It kind of looked like . . .Did it? Yes! Yes it did look like him. Though more than a year had passed she had not forgotten Jareth's features. She could never understand why, but somehow she knew she would never be able to forget them, however hard she tried. . Never . . . for some strange reason which she could not explain away, this though and feeling were comforting. But now, she could see him clearer . . . that same silhouette . . . Even the eyes – though she couldn't see clearly enough to tell . . . could it be?
"Jareth?" she whispered, moving closer and reaching out her hand. Her words hung in the silence, unheard, unanswered. But despite that, she still moved forward, still reached out. Sarah didn't know why, didn't know what was pushing her, or maybe pulling, towards that swirly wall of fog . . . Of dreams . . . She reached forward, out, farther and farther, nearer and nearer to it, wanting him to be there, to be real, wanting to see his smirk, hear his taunting voice, just wishing . . . to feel him, his coldness and poise and menacing power…for no reason at all . . .
As though he was her strange reflection and not the proud Goblin King, Jareth stretched his hand out as well. As they reached forward, both almost feeling the warmth that precedes contact, the mixing of black and white, of mortal and fae, of fear and hope, like the mixing of fire and ice, love and hate, dream and reality that takes our breath away and leaves us weak and wide-eyed was inevitable. Sarah knew it, knew it with the newly awakened and not yet familiar insight of a woman. A moment longer, and she could loose herself in the mist, in his voice, in his eyes . . . a moment longer, and there would be no need for fear, pride . . . a moment longer and . . . she would loose control. Completely.
She snatched her hand away, even before she had made up her mind to do so. It was an instinctive reflex, something that was akin to the darkness of fainting when the mind is no longer in control, and the body understands that in order to save itself it has to shut down, overwhelmed by emotion.
Immediately regretting her action she almost drowned in the enormity of what she had just thrown away, just rejected. With her heart and hand she reached again, now eagerly, wanting above all else for it not to be too late. But her fingers only encountered a cool, polished surface. It sent a shock through her – reaching out, expecting and now wanting something that was there, that was possible only a few minutes ago, expecting contact, warmth, heartbeat, life, anything but the dead coldness she now found.
For a few seconds Sarah stood there, shivering, staring up into those sad, sad, haunting eyes she could never forget. She felt even more lost – seeing him, so close, but not feeling his presence. She had always dreaded it – he usually overpowered her will with his, inundated her whole being with his power . . . and now, nothing. Not even the faintest hint of it. Was he real at all? This was too much like a mirage . . . Like a twisted, tinted reflection – it couldn't be Jareth!
"…there's such a sad love, deep in your eyes – a kind of pale jewel, opened and closed
within your eyes…"
The Goblin King wouldn't just stand there, staring down at her, seemingly speechless! He would say something strange or sarcastic, hit her with one of his favorite paradoxes, smirk and toss his head . . . At least blink! His eyes should be haughty and cold, laughing at her fear and unsureness, at her confusion . . .laughing, like he had always done . . . not staring down into hers with a sadness so great that she almost wanted to cry just thinking about it . . . With a sigh she turned away. A mirage after all . . . yet how real!