"Sarah, Sarah! Will you please sign my book?"
I had to admit, I was just a bit overwhelmed, and even after hours of signing I was still a bit frazzled. I hadn't expected so many people to show up for the book signing. Honestly, I hadn't believed the book had done as well as my agent claimed.

"Of course," I exclaimed, smiling brightly. "Come on over."

The young boy pushed past a few lingering fans to set his book on the table. "I certainly didn't expect you to be here."

Ten year old Toby grinned broadly at me. "Well, mom made me come," he admitted sheepishly. "Then I get to go to the arcade with Ryan."
"I could have signed it tomorrow at dinner," I replied as I scribbled a brief greeting of some sort and my name on the inside cover.

Toby rolled his eyes.

"'You need to show your big sister that you care'," he replied, mimicking his mother so accurately I couldn't help but laugh.

"You done?" I replied, snapping the book closed before handing it to him.
"Yeah! Now I can go play video games!" he cried, shoving rather rudely through the people he had just come through. I'd definitely have to go into big sister' mode on him about it later.

I shook my head and glanced towards the clock.

Five past six.

I should have been out of the bookstore by now! Grayson was going to be very upset if I was late for dinner- again.

I hastily began tossing my things into my bag and just as I was about to rise, a shadow fell over the table.

"Sorry to interrupt," a man's voice drifted softly to meet my ears, "but do you have time for one more autograph, Miss Reid?"

He set the book down with a soft thump and slid it across the table towards me.

I sighed inwardly, but kept that smile on my face- what was one more scribble?

Without looking up I flipped open the cover of the book and uncapped my pen. "Who am I making it out to?" I asked, pen poised in the ready.

"Jareth," he said.

Pen paused mid-stroke.

"Excuse me?" I said, finally looking up.

At this angle I could hardly make out any facial features, let alone anything distinguishing or... familiar. The shadows caused by dim lights hanging over head didn't help either.

"Garrison, Victor Garrison," he repeated. "It's for my son, he's a big fan of yours."

Garrison, of course. I hastily scribbled something that could be called a signature and handed the book back to him. " Already? Well, I hope he enjoys it."

The man nodded. "I'm sure he will."

I slung my bag over my shoulder and watched as the man left, disappearing behind rows of bookshelves and other displays.

Get a grip, Sarah, I muttered before leaving the store myself.

As I sat in rush-hour traffic, I thought about the book signing, and the man. I didn't understand why but sometimes the dream still seemed so vividly real in my mind. I couldn't believe I had once thought it had actually happened.

I'd always had an overactive imagination, especially in my youth. I had always fantasized about being a princess caught up in a dire plot against her kingdom. However with age came responsibility, and with responsibility came the harsh coldness of reality.

I'm no princess and the only dire plots against me were the bills I had to pay every month. That, however, didn't mean life was dull and lacked any sort of adventure, far from it. In fact, living each day without climbing deeper into the economical hole called debt was all the excitement I could handle now a days.

Call me cynical or pessimistic, but life was turning out to be no happily ever after'. not that I was depressed with the path my life I had taken. I had a stable job writing for a magazine, I had a good house, a nice car and a steady boyfriend.

I mean, Grayson might not have ridden up on a white horse, he didn't sing ballads outside my window after an argument, he certainly wasn't prince charming rescuing me from an otherwise horrible life spent locked in a tower. But there was love there, or at least genuine like, and I couldn't complain.

The blaring of a horn jolted me from my thoughts to inform me that the light had turned green and I was just sitting there.

I started forward again, glancing once more at the clock. Six-ten. I had twenty minutes to get to the restaurant. In this traffic, I was at least half an hour away if not more.

I had made the mistake in my youth, to tell my stepmother what happened that night I had the dream. I had been so convinced it was real, it had happened, that Toby had been kidnapped from his bed by a Goblin King, that I refused to see otherwise.

We fought so often in those days, she blamed my story telling on my hating her. I insisted that I wouldn't take the time to waste a story on her. I never believed that she understood me, and I still don't think she does.

Somewhere along the line we made a silent, but mutual truce and if we couldn't be mother and daughter, we settled somewhere in the range of friends. After a while I just stopped trying to convince her it was the truth and began writing the book- Into the Labyrinth.

It was my attempt at getting my story to the world, proving to them that my experiences had been just that, experiences. Not some dream I created to get under my stepmother's skin. Two years passed and the thirteen hours I believed I had spent in the maze to get my baby brother back started to grow vague. Facts were confused and names forgotten.

I began to grow up, dated boys, went to parties, lived a normal, teenage life and forgot about a night that had never really happened save for in the deepest recesses of my mind.

I pulled to a stop in front of the Regal Royal Hotel and Restaurant at seven-ten.

Wonderful.

"Keys miss?" A very prompt valet asked, holding out his hand.

I handed the keys to him in exchange for a slip of paper with a number on it, then hurried into the restaurant. It took me only a minute to find him, sitting at a table with a rather annoyed expression upon his face.

"Grayson, I'm sorry," I said when I drew close enough to be heard. He looked towards me with a skeptical look on his face and I knew very well I deserved it. Being on time was never my forté.

"I asked you if six-thirty would be okay," Grayson said with a frown.

"I'm sorry, there were more people at the signing then I expected, and then rush-hour, the highway was jammed-"

"You always have an excuse, Sarah," Grayson said, shaking his head.

I tried not to frown. I hadn't been that late, he was being too hard. He was being very unfair.

The thought startled me, it was certainly something that hadn't entered my mind in quite a while. Not since... not since that night.

"Sarah? Are you even listening to me?"

I nodded my head and looked at him. "Yes, of course."

It didn't look like he believed me but he kept on talking regardless. I was beginning to think he did it because he liked the sound of his own voice.
"Kingsley wants me in New York by tomorrow morning," he said, glancing over the menut.

"What? Tomorrow? What about dinner with my parents, remember?"

Had he really forgotten? It had taken months to plan, to find a day when we were all free and could get together. Have a chance to really get to know each other better.

"I'm sorry, sweets," he replied, taking a sip of his water. He didn't look sorry.

"Can't you leave the day after, or late tomorrow night even?" I pleaded with him. "This is very important to me." He rubbed lightly at this temples and I knew instantly that I had pushed to far, that I had annoyed him.

"I know, Sarah," he replied in a clipped, short tone. "But my job should be as well, especially if you plan on being a writer. Someone has to be able to support us."

I don't know if it was what he said, or the way he said it, but something struck a nerve.

"You don't think I could do that?" I asked, trying not to sound as hurt as I felt.

"I'm not going to get into an argument with you, Sarah," Grayson replied with a sigh. "Let's order shall we?"

Just like that the conversation had been put to a stop. Anything else I had planned to say died on the tip of my tongue and I just stared as Grayson ordered for the both of us. This was reality, and in reality there were no dragons or evil wizards. Only workaholic business men with the power of guilt and the evil of money to fuel it.