Title: The Labyrinth: The Way Back

Author: Aviry Nolane ()

Notes: Updated Ch 4 is done! Hopefully I'll get through all the old chapters this week and start working on some new ones for the weekend. In the meantime, it's just helpful to get back in the groove – so to speak. Please r&r if you're enjoying the work so far!

Disclaimer: No, they aren't mine - and Sarah is being such an idiot I wouldn't want her. In fact, that goes both ways - they're both being infinitely stupid and I wouldn't take then at all for the next chapter or two. If you see a character and are confused because you really don't remember them being in the movie, then they most likely belong to me.

Ladies and Gentlemen: without further ado I bring you. Chapter 4.

Chapter 4 - A Visitor At This Hour?

When Sarah woke the next morning he was already gone. Gone. But that didn't exactly make her feel like dancing. It made her grumpy.

There was no one to cook breakfast for her.

She sighed, being engaged to a world renowned chef was one thing, having him home to cook for you was quite obviously another.

The sunlight that shone through her blinds and into her eyes made her think twice about attempting to sleep longer. Crawling out of bed she searched blindly around the room for her sweatshirt.

Some things never change, despite how mature one might feel or appear to be.

Sarah was never a morning person.

Ultimately, after several tense moments of inaction, she discovered her fluffy maroon shirt hanging dejectedly on her doorknob. She pulled it on in one swift motion and gathered her hair into a decidedly dated scrunchy from her bedside table.

She stretched and groaned along with the protest of her strained muscles as she made her way to the kitchen nook of her tiny apartment, the aquamarine carpeting that covered the floors warming her cold feet. She gazed around the room in a glassy eyed stare as she walked to the nook. Her presence was distinctly felt here, and that was more than she could say for anywhere else she had ever lived. She had painted, upholstered, detailed and hand-picked everything in the room. She stopped for a moment to admire it in her half-sleeping daze.

There had always been someone else, Dad or Karen or a roommate, to pick and choose what her home looked like. Now that she lived alone she enjoyed the fact that her apartment was truly a reflection of her, from the light blue walls to the cozy Room and Board decor, the eclectic apartment truly fit her. She enjoyed the feeling of safety her padded apartment gave her, from the bold throws flung haphazardly about the room, to the variable mountains of brightly patterned pillows she had collected throughout the years. After years of feeling unsteady in this world, she had managed to create a warm cocoon for herself to crawl into after a long day of work. She rarely went out, and when she did, there was a slight pang of apprehension that stung her. A night at the theater, a trip out of town, even a night spent at Bill's, all left her win an anxious desire to return to the safety of her nest.

She moved on into the kitchen area and nodded along with her inner monologue. 'Ah, home. Tiny for anywhere else maybe, but immaculately spacious for New York' she reminded herself. 'Almost like a castle.' She chuckled to herself as she pulled a box of pop tarts from her cabinet.

'Ha. A castle. Hm, blue frosting? Mmm. Castle.' She giggled groggily at a mental image of herself making a breakfast of pop-tarts and boxed orange juice in Elizabethan dress. She swept her sweatshirt around her and held the pop tarts like an orb about her as she bowed regally to Sviddy, who watched her without interest from the tiled counter.

Sarah was very tired.

She grinned, "Oh Svidrigailov, you are certainly the most sovereign and stately of any Russian gray I have ever come in contact with." Sarah bobbed her head and began speaking in a very dated, and let's face it, just plain bad - English accent. "I knight thee, Sir. Didymus."

She gasped, and the box of breakfast pastries fell to the ground with a thud.

Where had that come from? She took a moment to appraise the situation. Yes, yes indeed.

What the hell was she doing?

Well, whatever it was it was over now. She was not in the mood to tackle the bundle of nervous tension which had somehow led her down a path of late night hallucination only hours before. She would deal with her manic delusions after her morning coffee, if she was going to do so at all. Over the years since her first… episode of neurosis, she had found that complete and utter denial was the most effective tool at her disposal.

'Sarah, Sarah,' she chirped privately as she stirred her coffee, 'You are obviously in need of a break. Childhood fantasies, regardless of how, well, adult they may seem, have no place in your world anymore.'

She bent down, the coffee spoon still dangling from her mouth, to pick up the box of discarded breakfast treats. When she looked up from her sugar gathering position she was met with an indisputable reminder of those childish fantasies she had sworn to suppress.

"Why greetings, my fair lady! I was wondering when you would have occasion to call me into your service once again."

Her mind reeled. He wasn't here. He was a figment of her imagination. Just like last night. He was a dust bunny. The Goblin King was a shadow. Didymus hadn't just greeted her. The Goblin King did not stare her up and try to kidnap her last night. She was blowing this whole thing out of proportion. Her hands flew to her temples as she tried to maintain her balance.

"I am calm. I am relaxed. I am perfectly sane. There is no talking fox in my kitchen. There is no Underground. And there is certainly no Goblin - Oooh." She stopped short.

She was sure not going to make that mistake again. Even though he didn't exist. She nodded. Especially because he didn't exist. She was not going to go around chanting his name like some deranged Shirpa just to make a point. No, no - she was confident enough with her stability that she did not have to go to such lengths.

There was certainly nothing in her kitchen. She had nothing to fear. She opened her eyes.

Nothing.

He was. Gone.

Now didn't that sound familiar.

Unfortunately, she didn't have time to make up a new song and dance routine, for at the moment she was reassuring herself of her sound judgment, it seemed Sviddy had gone out of his little kitty mind.

She turned to the small living area in search of her feline companion. "Sviddy" she cooed, "Sviddykins."

Sviddykins? Sviddy he could stand, but Sviddykins? For goodness sake, couldn't she see he had a breaking point? He was an individual, a living being, with emotions and feelings. And he was feeling a strong emotion toward the notion of subjecting himself to the name 'Sviddykins'. He mewed to himself.

He knew what he had to do.

This woman had to be taught a lesson.

He pawed the couch fibers beneath him as she bent over to search beneath a table. If he had the ability to cackle, he would have done so, spitefully.

Amateur.

He readied himself for the jump, and -

An ear-piercing shriek filled the air around Sarah.

She turned with alarm, her mind all at once flashing through various episodes of Rescue 911 which involved kittens stuck in heating vents or magazine racks.

What she saw, especially after such an exemplary job of stratifying her sanity, nearly made her fall to the floor in defeat.

"Back away, fair lady!" screamed the airborne fox. A shocked Russian Grey stared out at her from his makeshift prison; a Meijer bag. "I have apprehended the mongrel! You have nothing to fear!" He landed and poked the bag with his 'sword', which looked suspiciously like a large cocktail stirrer.

'Leave it to Jareth to-"

- Oh well now. This certainly raised an interesting question.

Or rather, dissolved a vastly significant defense barrier.

If Didymus was real, And he was here, now.

A certain bedazzled king of the Underground was not as much whimsy or imagination as she would have liked.

Which meant that a very real, very imposing, very tangible Goblin King had been in her bed last night.

Despite her efforts to rationalize, the dreamer in her won out.

She blushed.

Well not in her bed of course, but certainly on it and -

An unexpected gagging sensation ripped at her abdomen. Was she having idle schoolgirl thoughts about the evil, amoral, and painfully overdressed Goblin King of the Underground?

Most certainly not.

"Sarah, get a grip," she berated herself. She rolled her eyes at her absurdity and turned toward the bright yellow tile floor of her pint-size kitchen. She would get coffee. She would deal with this later. She would be fine.

If she had been given appropriate time to adjust, a bit of quiet meditation, a little space to breathe, and possibly a mug of hot chocolate and a bin of yoga tapes, she probably would have been right. Sarah was a very resilient girl, and it is quite likely that had circumstances been ideal she could have managed to pass off even this entire morning as a hallucination.

It's too bad that there wasn't nearly enough of any of these saving graces at her disposal.

The gentle displaced mewing of Sviddy had been replaced by full out shrieking hisses.

She was now suddenly aware of the fact that the impromptu prison bag now had quite a few deep slashes down its side. Didymus was doing his best to help the situation, and so naturally he was worsening the circumstances terribly with his persistent 'my-fair-lady-ing' and "vicious scoundrel" this and "ghastly cretin" that. Plus, the way he was jabbing at Sviddy would just not do.

She had to stop this.

Raising herself from her crouched position on the floor, she leapt toward the bag. Gripping it up with a swift hand before Didymus had chance to object, she ran to the study at the front of her home.

She yanked the double doors and tossed the cat, bag and all, onto the top of her desk. She was well aware of the fact that a foolhardy, knee-high fox was hot on her trail.

Judging by the ruckus of 'art thous' and 'wilt thous' that hemmed her in from behind; he was definitely getting closer.

She shut the doors to the study just as he approached her.

"Why Lady Sarah!" he admonished, "While I will admit that I have never in all my travels encountered a fair maiden as brave and chivalrous as yourself, I would ask that your ladyship does permit my guardianship, as it is my foresworn duty as a knight to -"

His last few words were cut off by the strangling grip of Sarah's arms.

He was quite out of breath and visibly shaken when she finally let him free. Sarah had tried to help the warm smile from spreading across her face, but almost instantaneously, her resolve to rationalize him from existence fell away and was replaced by a warm glow.

After all, Didymus was the short, light and fuzzy type. Jareth had nothing on him.

"Oh Didymus," she sighed, "Whatever would I do without you?"

It was then that she caught sight of the small digital clock over Didymus's furry shoulder.

8:45.

She had fifteen minutes, and she was still embracing a beloved friend and/or figment of her imagination on her living room floor.

Didymus yelped as Sarah tossed him across the room and on to the over-stuffed couch. Rubbing his head with his paws, he righted himself so that his hind legs were again under him.

Womenfolk.