Chapter Three: Dream a Little Dream of Me

That night, Sarah had the dream. Or perhaps the Dream, as it should be called, for she had dreamed it many nights since she had ventured through the Labyrinth. It usually visited after she contacted her friends, though this wasn't a reliable catalyst. It always followed the same basic formula; she would find herself in some area of the Goblin Kingdom that she had visited—the Firey Forest, the hedge maze, the Goblin City, outside the gates, or sometimes in the throne room of the castle. The landscape was always very blurry; it was hard to see clearly, and little if any sound reached her. Disjointed, as dreams tend to be. The feeling that she was in the Labyrinth wasn't a production of her senses; she simply knew that she was there. After all, dreams are the creation of one's brain. The eyes play no part.

This time, she was in the stony throne room. There was another figure in the room with her, though it seemed otherwise deserted. She couldn't make out its features. The girl could hear broken fragments of sentences; it was talking to her, or to itself, possibly to someone beyond her line of sight. The sound was very far away, rather like a conversation through a static-filled telephone line.

"Stupid... why don't you... try and try... not even... should never have..." The voice sounded disgusted, with her or itself.

"Idiotic impulse... doesn't understand.... take the damn... girl..."

Dream-Sarah seemed rooted to the spot, though she wasn't aware of any feet that could possibly have taken root. In fact, she appeared to be hovering in mid-air. Did she even have a body? This realization jolted her into self-awareness; Dream-Sarah blinked and, prodded by curiosity, made an effort at a response. This was a first.

"What?" she asked, forcing her mouth to make the proper movement. The sound echoed, echoed, pure and shockingly loud.

"So you decided to make an appearance." The other voice was now clear and much closer than she had anticipated, though its source was only visible as a shining, almost-human blur... maybe.

"This is pure luck, I'm sure; you certainly don't have the wits to come on your own." A shift in the blur.

"Call me, you stupid girl." The bitterness again. The light-blur stretched, grew taller, and began moving toward Sarah's dream-self. Frightened, she moved backwards, except that moving back didn't seem to involved a spatial relationship with the blurred figure at all. Things just moved more and more out of focus.

"Damn it all!" A sharp curse broke forth before the scene vanished entirely. She felt a falling sensation and panicked, stretching her arms out in search of something to hold on to.

Her clawing hands grasped bedsheets. Sarah sat up quickly, gasping through her sudden terror. Her room was quiet and serene as ever, moonlight pouring in from the window. The clock read 3:06 AM on its glowing digital face. The AC whirred gently from the vent in the ceiling.

Sarah has the Dream often. She puts it down as another example of the trauma caused by the Labyrinth. No doubt that is why, of all things, she always dreams of Jareth.

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Karen and Robert reacted to Linda's invitation with surprise and skepticism, minus any of the hopeful delight that tempered Sarah's own cynicism. The girl knew that they had every right to raise their eyebrows at her mother's actions—Linda hadn't spent more than a couple days with Sarah for over a year. Unfortunately, her brain couldn't quite convince her heart of the validity of their actions.

In the weeks between Sarah's birthday and spring break, tension levels were somewhat raised in the Williams household. They were willing to let her go, but they weren't overjoyed with the idea.

Sarah's friends, for the most part, were disappointed that she would be gone for their week off, but still happy that she got to visit her mom. Her inner circle, i.e. Dinah and Ben and Aaron, shared the opinions of Karen and Sarah's dad.

"Really?" was Dinah's reply when Sarah first broke the news. They were eating lunch in the school's courtyard, lounging beneath an ancient weeping willow collectively termed "Veronica" by the school's populace.

"Yep. A whole week. She just called me a few days ago."

"I didn't think you had much contact with your mom," commented Ben thoughtfully. He scrutinized Sarah through narrowed eyes.

"Well, not lately. She's been busy with a play, and school's been kind of crazy this year, so..." Sarah trailed off. She shifted uncomfortably under Dinah's stare.

"What?"

"You don't need to justify your mom's actions, Sarah. They're her fault, not yours." Dinah's normally bouncy voice had flattened to a monotone.

"I'm not trying to justify anything. I'm saying what happened."

"Hey," interjected Aaron uncertainly. Dinah and Sarah turned to look at him. "I guess I'm just a newcomer here, but what's up? So what if Sarah's mom invited her over on vacation? She has as much a right to see her as her dad."

"The problem is, Sarah's mom is a brat and Sarah refuses to admit it. She idolizes her, and blames her mom's shortcomings on herself."

"I do not!" Sarah replied hotly, setting down a french fry she had been fidgeting with for the past few moments. "I know she's not exactly mother-of-the-year material. Not all women are perfect little homemakers, you know. She just has a busy career."

"More like she's just completely selfish. Come on, Sarah, why do you put up with her anymore? If I were you, I'd ask her where she's been on your last two birthdays and tell her to go to hell!"

Sarah began to rise from her seat, face twisted with anger; Aaron, sitting next to her, put a hand on her arm as she started to pick up her tray. Dinah began to get up as well, locking eyes with her friend.

"Hey! Hey, you two." Quiet Benjamin raised his voice to halt them. "Sarah, sit down. Dinah, don't be an asshole."

Everyone gaped at Ben. He frowned back.

"Sarah, we're just worried about you is all. I know that Dinah has an unnecessarily large mouth--" a sharp elbowing from the red-haired girl, "--but no insult is meant. You've beaten yourself up a lot in the past, when your mom did thoughtless things, and we don't want you to get hurt again. Isn't that what you meant to say, Dinah?"

"More or less," she replied sulkily. At this, Sarah sank back onto her bench, sighing. Aaron wrapped his arm around her supportively; she leaned into him.

"But this isn't a thoughtless act; she's inviting me over to stay with her for a week and see her and Jeremy get married. What's so bad about that? Isn't it good?" Sarah asked plaintively.

"You just shouldn't get all your hopes up for a better relationship," stated Dinah. Her voice had gone from accusing to worried. "Probably you won't hear from her for months after this. As usual. And then you'll be brokenhearted again."

"I promise I won't do that," she replied. Her heart twisted as she said it; she knew that she already had been. Getting her hopes up, that is.

"Good. Now let's move onto more important topics. Such as, have you seen your bridesmaid dress yet?"

Sarah laughed out loud, the heavy mood broken. "No, Mom didn't mention anything about it. I don't even know if they're having a big wedding. I kind of doubt it; she and Jeremy seem too chic for that sort of thing. I'm kind of surprised they're getting married at all. It just sounds too domestic. I can see Jeremy as an illicit lover, but he's too pretty for a husband."

"What's this?" Aaron raised his eyebrows in mock alarm. "Don't you dare get a crush on your step-dad. Not only is it creepy, it seriously undermines my position."

"Don't worry," she said with a smile. "I don't care for blonds."

---------------------

A few weeks later found Sarah standing outside a train station in New York City, a large duffel bag slung over one of her shoulders. She had been waiting there for fifteen minutes, and would have been worried if she had not just spotted two familiar faces coming through the crowd.

Sarah definitely took after her mother as far as looks went. Linda Carlisle was of average height and slim, with milky skin that was nearly impervious to tanning. Her hair was the color of dark chocolate and straight; instead of being worn long like Sarah's, it was cut in a stylish bob. But Linda's eyes were brown instead of Sarah's gray, and her features were sharper. She also oozed self-assurance.

Walking next to the elegant Ms. Carlisle was Jeremy Dara, whom Sarah had only met a handful of times. He was a lighter-colored, male version of her mother; with his artfully-disarranged dirty blond hair and blue eyes, he was every bit as polished as Linda. When Sarah had first met him in her early teens, it was all that the girl could do to form a coherent sentence in his presence. Unsurprisingly, after meeting the Goblin King in the Labyrinth, Jeremy wasn't nearly so intimidating.

Linda swooped down on her daughter with a hug, giving her an air kiss on each cheek.

"My, my, this cannot be my little Sarah. You're all grown up, dear. When on earth did this happen?"

"It was pretty gradual," replied Sarah wryly. "I'm not quite sure myself. You're looking good too, Mom. Nice to see you again, Jeremy." She shook hands with the man politely.

"We have a cab waiting a little ways down the street," he said, his light British accent giving the sentence an interesting lilt. "Want me to carry your bag?"

"No, I'm fine. I've carried it this far." They started back down the sidewalk.

"We're going to have a great time this week, Sarah," Linda proclaimed as they walked. They found the cab, stashed the duffel in the trunk, and got in before she continued.

"I thought maybe we could go catch a show, might as well make the most of a visit to the city, and we simply have to go shopping for a dress for you. I don't know what you brought, but I insist on buying you something new."

"What kind of dress?" asked Sarah curiously. "For the wedding?"

"Oh, not exactly. We figured we'd just stop in and have a judge do the thing, nothing big. It's the party that counts."

"We thought that maybe you could be our witness," added Jeremy helpfully. "Since you've just turned eighteen."

"Um. Sure. I'd be happy to." Sarah blinked.

"We're neither of us very religious," explained her mother, "And I'm too old to wear a big poofy dress down the aisle. So to avoid insulting our acquaintance, not to mention my publicist, we decided to throw a big black-tie reception. Jeremy's family's coming, and a few close friends of ours. And you, of course. You'll be the representative from my side."

"Oh, I see." Sarah's mind instantly filled with visions of long gowns and sparkling jewelry. A smile spread across her face. "That sounds like fun."

"I know that look," chuckled Jeremy. "Something else in common with your mum, I guess. Please, try to keep it under a thousand, for my sake. I like eating."

Linda shot her daughter a conspiratorial look; Sarah winked back at her. They both laughed.

Life was good. Until the first big fight, at least. Surprisingly, though, the fight held off for quite awhile. Even when they were living together permanently Sarah and Linda fought like cats and dogs, but on this visit they managed to cohabit amicably for several days. They agreed on going to see "The Phantom of the Opera", and they even agreed on the dress that they eventually bought—Linda's tastes usually tended to run to the wild. The gown in question was floor-length and of dark gray silk. The strapless bodice fell into a slim tiered skirt, and the overall effect was quite elegant. Sarah nearly had an aneurysm when she saw the price tag, but her mother just sniffed. She wasn't exactly hurting for money.

So days passed, and eventually it was the night before the wedding (and the reception that would far overshadow it). Sarah was reading her new Shakespeare when her mom approached up her purposefully.

"Sarah, Jeremy and I are going out to have dinner with an old friend of his this evening. Do you want to come? Honestly, I don't think that you'll enjoy it. I've never met him myself, and I think he and Jeremy are going to spend the entire night reminiscing. I understand they went to drama school together in Britain; he's just flown over for the party." Linda raised her eyebrows, waiting for a response. Sarah cocked her head to the side thoughtfully.

"Actually, I've been lusting over your couch since I've gotten here, so I think this might be the perfect occasion to watch a movie and hog it completely. I brought Ladyhawke, you see."

Her mother's face broke into a smile. "Still your favorite, after all these years?"

"Definitely." Sarah remembered the days when Linda was still her mother, when she had chicken pox and they had stayed home and watched it together. Had that really been the same glamorous creature that stood before her now, with her perfectly coiffed hair and designer dress? Sarah shook her head slightly to drive away the pointless memories.

"So feel free to go without me."

"It's settled then." The older woman seemed relieved, somehow; the girl couldn't quite put her finger on it. "There's leftovers in the fridge, and deli meat if you want a sandwich. You'll find something."

"Sure."

They left a couple of hours later. Sarah luxuriated in the silence of the spacious apartment, savoring the serene atmosphere as she made herself sandwich. She wondered vaguely if she would live in a place like this someday, if she made it as an actress. It was hard picturing it.

Sarah ate while watching the movie, sprawling comfortably over the aforementioned couch. It was a wondrous creation, deep and soft and cushy with butter-smooth leather upholstery. Pillows and a chenille throw made it even better; she practically radiated contentment as she watched the film run its course. The introduction of the hero, the trek across the countryside, the approach of the climax followed by the final fight, and then the lovers reunited. The familiarity of the story made it no less dear to her.

By the time Linda and Jeremy arrived home, hours later, she was sketching idly on the couch.

"Where are you, dear?" called her mother from the front hallway, where Sarah could hear the jingle of keys and the quiet thump of male footsteps. Linda's high heels made a sharper tapping noise. Voices were murmuring; the door closed softly.

"We've brought home a visitor," added Jeremy in his pleasant baritone. Sarah rose from her seat curiously, glad that she had resisted the impulse to put on her pajamas. Jeremy's friend, she decided as she walked to the adults. The group met her at the great room's entrance before she had made five steps.

"Sarah, this is Mr. Leighton, a good---"

Sudden silence cut through Jeremy's words more effectively than a gun blast. Perhaps Sarah's sudden gasp stopped him, or the look on the face of his companion. The silence certainly emanated from the two of them, echoing off of each other and becoming all the louder. Sarah felt her breathing stop, followed by her heart and her mind and the very movement of the earth and time. A bubble of pure astonishment enclosed her. She couldn't have moved if she wanted to.

Across the room, equally still, stood a tall thin figure with icy blond hair cut short and a stylish black outfit; not Jeremy, because his hair was darker and he was wearing gray and blue. The figure appeared to be enveloped in the same shock-induced bonds as she was, perhaps hoping, like her, that if they stood still enough the other wouldn't see them.

Just as involuntarily, the silence was broken by a strangled word spoken by both mouths simultaneously.

"You."

Sarah Williams was forced to comprehend, reluctantly, that she was standing in front of the Goblin King for the first time in nearly three years. He was unmistakable. And, if for an unlikely moment she had watched his odd eyes widen and his lean form stiffen, that moment was quickly over.

"What a strange coincidence," he hissed, eyes narrowing arrogantly, frame falling into a gracefully-feline slouch. "Is the little minx the prospective step-daughter, then?" The question was obviously directed toward Jeremy, but the eyes never left Sarah, waiting for a response.

"How... what..." she was still spluttering in disbelief, drawing amusement from her old adversary.

"Such sparkling conversation, Sarah."

"Shut up." Anger replaced disbelief. Sarah always clung to anger in confusing moments. "You bastard."

"I wouldn't speak that way." Anger from him, too, now. "My temper is very short where you are concerned."

"You forget something. You have no power--"

"Don't you dare."

Suddenly, without any real idea of how she had gotten there, Sarah was halfway across the room , pressed against a table as if she had rapidly skittered backwards. Jeremy had a restraining hand on Jareth's shoulder. He had also moved a few steps forward.

"What on earth? Jareth, what's come over you? Sarah?" Jeremy's normally cultured voice was strained and bewildered as he glanced between the Goblin King and the girl.

"What is going on here?" Linda Carlisle was confused, a state that made her obstreperous. Her stern tone seemed to say 'Explain. Now.'

"I apologize," spoke Jareth. He freed himself from the other man's grasp with as much dignity as possible. "As I said, my temper is short around the brat. I meant to cause you no alarm, Ms. Carlisle."

"Have you met before?" asked Jeremy incredulously. His clear blue eyes looked back and forth between the man and the teenager.

"Jeremy," started Sarah in voice a tad to high, "I don't know what's going on. I know this sounds crazy, but he's not a normal person. He's the King of the Goblins!"

"I know that already. What I'm wondering is, how do you know?"

"I..." the girl's voice trailed off. "What? Mom?"

"I didn't realize he would bother you so much, honey." Linda's expression changed from stern to apologetic in one of her mercurial temper shifts.

Having had the two adults she trusted disregard her unspoken question, Sarah's gaze landed on Jareth. He was watching her with an unreadable countenance.

"Jeremy and I are old acquaintances," he said shortly. "As I said before, this is a pure coincidence. I did not seek you out tonight."

Jeremy shifted irritably. "Must I ask again?"

"Sarah?" Her nemesis passed the question onto her. She swallowed uneasily. Expectant silence filled the room, and she sighed.

"A few years ago, I... accidentally wished Toby away to the goblins." The girl's voice was barely above a whisper as she spoke, shame clear in her stance. She looked at her feet.

"That's not possible," said Jeremy calmly. "You showed your mother a picture of him a few days ago. He's in preschool now."

"I'm not lying." Sarah's eyes were drawn to Jareth again, who remained impassive. She watched him and said, "I solved the Labyrinth. I got Toby back."

"No human has ever solved the Labyrinth." He continued to disbelieve her.

"Well, want to propose another explanation?" she snapped. That procured a fleeting smile from the king.

"Jareth?"

"She's a very clever brat. Selfish, stubborn, ungrateful, and pig-headed, but clever." His tone was pleasantly venomous.

"A brat?" asked Sarah, stung. "Is that something to call a person who defeated you?"

"You did not defeat me," he snarled, taking a threatening step closer to her. "Do not make light of me, girl. I have little patience for you lately." He took in a long breath before turning to face Jeremy and Linda. "I apologize once again for breaking up the peace of your home. I think it is best that I leave now."

"Perhaps so. You are coming tomorrow, though?"

"Of course." And, quickly, looking back at Sarah-- "I will speak with you later."

Then he was gone. Just gone.

Sarah snapped.

"What the hell just happened?"

"Do not use that tone in my house, young lady," warned Linda.

"I will take that tone until someone explains why you two were eating dinner with the fucking Goblin King. And do not tell me that he's a friend from drama school."

"Don't defy me, Sarah." Her mother's face was fierce. Sarah's jaw dropped.

"What did you say?" she squeaked. Then she buried her face in her hands. "Oh, my god. Oh, damn. Please," she added, standing straight again, "Why? Just tell me why?"

The adults exchanged glances.

"We should go sit down," said Jeremy gently. "This could take awhile."