DISCLAIMER: Alas, NEVER will I own anything related to Labyrinth, David Bowie or Jim Henson and Co.
CHAPTER FOUR
Hands touch softly in a dance.
A song rings with promise.
The world falls down…
The ticking of a clock filled the ballroom, seeming to grow louder with each passing second. Music played teasingly around her, quiet enough to know it was there, but too soft to name. It was beautiful, and she found her ears straining to hear it better against the whispering chorus of voices prattling about the room. She heard disembodied words, but they sounded far away, as if they came from the bottom of a deep, black well. A weight pressed against her chest— invisible but solid— making it hard to breathe. Hard to think.
A throng of dancers twirled in slow succession, their bodies achingly graceful as they glided across the floor. Faces she knew moved past her— jovial smiles and delighted grins whirled in a blur of friends and neighbors, each flitting carefully around the couple poised at the center on the dance floor. The room glowed. An unearthly shimmer clung to the air in a translucent white haze kissing across her skin.
Sarah let her eyes wander over the array of moving bodies before fixing on the prominent pair at the center: Blythe and Constance. With a smile, the memory caught her. This was their wedding day. Free in their movements, their hands met and fled in time with the haunting tune. They were beautiful, and not just in their dress and appearance; the very air around them was charged with splendor. The sense of euphoria engulfed the entire dance floor, and vibrant smiles twirled and wove together in a stunning display of joy.
The weight on her breast pulsed, forcing Sarah's gaze away. She felt unwelcome. Unwanted. A bitter taste pushed up her throat with nauseating determination— she was going to be ill. Her head swam as she turned, desperate for an escape. Tears stun her eyes, the moisture blurring her vision as she moved further from the crowd. Her shoulders bumped against other dancers as they tried moving closer to her friends.
"Please, let me pass— Please." She pushed back, hard, fighting against them as best she could, until her steps faltered. The crowd grew dense, closing in on her as if she were a rabbit desperate for retreat. Only she had none. No burrow to hide within. No sanctuary from their insidious glances. This was all wrong.
Masks surrounded her.
Fiendish smiles seethed as they corralled her. "Please, let me go!" She bellowed, the sound falling on deaf ears. "I want to leave! Let go!" She was crying now, unable to keep her tears restrained behind her lashes. The hollow faces studied her uncaring; the static expressions mocked her fear. "Stop!" The music had grown louder hiding her words in the sea of strangers.
"HELP!" Her voice became ragged as she shrieked. The room became too hot. Sweat dripped from her brow in a salty mess, her once-perfect curls matted to her reddened face. She could hear them laughing— was this a game? Was she a toy for their amusement? The swell of laughter grew to a growling roar; a ringing pulsed in her ears. Where is Blythe? Constance? Richard?
Sarah fought harder, trying to push the weight of them away from her small frame. Her heartbeat overtook the music, drumming an ache behind her eyes. Hands pulled and tore. Vicious. Torrential. Grappling her this way and that, threatening to rip her apart. Those whose mouths were exposed smiled, grinning like wolves at her misery, their eyes beading with hatred behind the disguise.
Fingers scratched at the patches of exposed flesh— her cries grew hysteric. Fabric ripped beneath their claws. They would tear her apart. Their sharp nails and dull fingers would shred the skin from her bones, flaying her like a beast. Sarah's head thrashed as she fought against them, her voice hoarse. The noise was too much: the music, the laughter, the cries— her cries. She tried to cover her ears, but her limbs were lead in the grip of so many. A flash of white drew her eyes up. An owl perched on an arrant pillar. Hungry eyes watched the macabre scene waiting for its turn to pick at her remains. It would gut her, staining pristine white, tawny feathers with her browning blood.
She hated the bird.
Her scalp burned— the grip in her hair was relentless. Her toes began to bleed from the crushing stampede of tormentors. Stars flashed in her eyes. Every inch of her body hurt, the pain building to— what she prayed— was the final crescendo.
Then silence, for the briefest of moments.
The hands released her, and the music was once again a magical refrain purring in the distance. She looked up from the floor, a mess of tears and fabric, to see a thinning crowd and no sign of those who had attacked her. The pain danced across her skin, torturing her senses. Someone was standing beside her, but her eyes remained fixed on the floor. She saw trousered legs out of the corner of her eye, but she couldn't bring herself to look. A gloved hand reached to her and she moved away, only a fraction, but he saw. She could feel it.
The hand never wavered— waiting until she gave in and blindly took what was offered. Her muscles shook as if with fever, though no further evidence existed of her turmoil. The last remaining tears dripped from her eyes as she was pulled graciously onto the dance floor by her mysterious partner. He curved his fingers around hers and stepped closer— Sarah held her breath. Her mysterious partner placed his hand against her back, taking control with such delicacy that she hardly felt his touch at all, their steps never breaking as he joined them seamlessly with the others.
They twirled around the ballroom dancing to the music as though they had done so a thousand times before, but Sarah couldn't dare to look at him. What horrors waited when her eyes found his? Another mask? Or something far more sinister? Fear outweighed curiosity and her eyes focused instead, on the happy faces of the— now— much smaller crowd. They seemed genuine, and Sarah found her self begin to calm— if only just.
She inhaled, and the scent of sandalwood and lemon tickled her nose, bringing with it a wave of relief. Richard had come to her rescue after all! She sighed, all her fear dissipating with that single breath. Floating along, light as air, she was guided with an expertise she had never before known. They turned and turned until she felt breathless, and yet she never wanted the dance to end. For here, in his arms, her fears were easily pushed to the shadows where they could not harm her.
In a rush, the weight that had so heavily pushed against her heart vanished. The sudden reprieve from her burden was not a soothing balm, but rather an acute sting lodged deep within her core, breaking like a dam. Tremors, imperceptible to anyone but herself, snaked through her muscles as her adrenaline pitched to the floor. Relieved to be shielded by his strength, grateful the faces were no longer a swirling blur of color and pain, Sarah cried. A strangled whimper halted their movement.
They stood motionless amid the flock of billowy fabrics gliding around them, the masks fogging in the wake of her tears. Humiliation overtook her as she thought of her wet cheeks and reddened nose: what a sight she must be! Her head fell into him as her hand covered her face. She was buried in glaring white linen at his chest, her fingers making purchase in the dazzling lapels surrounding it.
Strong arms held her close, tightening around her— possessive. Long fingers stroked her hair as she hiccuped on a sob. "I'm sorry—" Her muddled voice shook in the ruffled shirt, "I— I thought— but you're here!" A sniveling whine lurched from her pale lips; she felt weak and callow. "I was so frightened." The words were as a fragile as a prayer trembling into his broad chest. "Thank you—" Her voice finally broke, "thank you."
Sarah began to calm. Each breath perfumed with lemon and something that could only be Richard grounded her. Though the tears still ran steadily, the knot that had so tightly coiled in her stomach unraveled at his touch. For the first time, her heart felt a stirring, a faint flicker of hope lighting the bleak space in her soul where she had long-since locked him away. It was a foreign sensation, her polite acceptance of the situation had ruled her emotions for months— but now she wanted more— could see more in their future. Allowing herself settle into his arms, Sarah rested her head lightly at his chest as the music caressed her. They still weren't dancing, but it didn't matter— she was content, and for the first time in ages— happy.
A faint laugh floated over the noise. A sense of confusion slipped past her bliss. Sarah needed to tell him all her heart had revealed, all that she now wanted from him; she lifted her gaze to his face. A chill ran through her, and she wrenched away from him. She gasped, a sharp intake of breath that might have been a scream had her breath not caught in her throat. It wasn't Richard. It was another man, thin-faced with wild hair and those eyes-those penetrating, pale eyes that haunted her dreams—smirking down at her.
Sarah woke, chest heaving as she fought to slow her breaths. She lay drenched in a cold sweat, her heart pounding in her chest with such force that she had to struggle for each breath, wheezing for air like a drowning man. Deep in her chest she ached from the tumultuous pounding of her heart as she remembered the fear: fresh, sharp and overwhelming, a force that consumed her soul. Even now she couldn't quite recall the faintest memory of it, but the danger pulsed and grew around her. It was an entity all its own, living and breathing into the night, furiously grasping for anything it could manipulate and conquer. The lingering unease kissed up her arms leaving gooseflesh in its path. Tears dropped onto the sheets then all at once a steady stream ran down her face. She couldn't help herself— her body trembled as she wiped her eyes on her sleeve.
Weary, over-tired eyes darted about the room. Her panic abating as she stared int the moon-lit space— nothing was different about this night. She had woken frightened, but it was a dream. Nothing more. Like countless nights before she had dreamed and now could only the recall the broken pictures flashing in her mind: dancing, masks, and the eyes.
As she settled into her pillow, ready to steal whatever sleep she could grasp, the fading images kept her company— lulling her to the precipice of oblivion. The moment she would have plunged into a dreamless rest, the mismatched eyes found her, framed with wild hair and a devious smirk.
Sarah jolted upright, the revelation flooding her senses with a single memory. It was indeed a man haunting her dreams— and she had seen his face.
Nothing extraordinary had ever happened in thirty-six days. The world was created in seven. Ten plagues haunted Egypt for twenty-six or so days, and even Jesus Christ fasted for no less than forty. If anything was of consequence, it did not happen in thirty-six days. Though she was hesitant to admit such a thing, Constance was aware of just how much time had passed since Sarah's dreams began; the number itself was of little importance. But something had changed since last night and she had a strong suspicion it had nothing to do with Mr. Lefroy.
Constance swallowed the questions plaguing her tongue. A quick glance to the sky showed slate clouds rather than the afternoon sun. They would not have long before the rain would drive them back inside. She peered out at the rippling water, its surface— on a windless day— a perfect mirror of the bright ether above. A single stone turret jutted from the sweeping current; whatever it had once belonged to was long forgotten beneath its muddy depths. The lake was tucked away; hidden within the forest behind the cemetery walls.
From what she understood, Blythe and Sarah found it quite by accident shorty after the scandal surrounding Sarah's family came to light. It became their secret. Their refuge. Concealed by the trees, safely veiled from the eyes and ears of pious vultures who reveled in the condemnation of sinners, they could forget their troubles if only for a few short hours. Here they played, laughed, cried— learning its secrets and trading theirs in return. This was their haven; the pebbled shore, and crestfallen logs provided more sanctuary than any cathedral ever could.
Ineptly, she tossed the small stone in her hand hoping it would leap across the troubled loch— it sank instantly. Her lips pursed and she turned to Sarah; her tired eyes staring up at the clouds, fingers toying with the corner of her faded shawl. "I can stand it no longer! Tell me, what did you dream that had you in such a state this morning?"
"I wasn't in a state."
"You were, and you know it!"
Sarah turned her attention back to the sky, the wind swirling between them. "I dreamt of your wedding— or something resembling it. People were dancing; some I recognized and many I didn't. You and Blythe were at the center of it, so wrapped in each other I hardly think you noticed the other couples. There was music— a song— and I heard it as I've never heard anything in my life before." Her lips hinted at a wistful smile, "I couldn't sing it to you if you asked me, but I can hear it even now, playing faintly between each breath." Sarah turned to her, brow furrowed, and as she spoke a seriousness settled in her dark-rimmed eyes, "It felt wrong. Or at least, I did— I was unwanted. Somehow, I knew I was not welcome there."
"If we made you feel unwanted or unimportant— I am so sorry, Sarah. We truly hadn't meant to! You were—are wanted." The very idea was absurd, heartbreaking. She and Blythe had done all in their power to ensure Sarah was as much a member of their little family as her own sister— if not more. Suddenly, Constance understood why she had been so adamant they come alone; the knowledge would have gutted Blythe. Aside from her, Sarah was the most important person in his life, more so than even his parents. All he ever wanted was to see her happy— not withering away, forgotten in black corners of London. A wave of nausea stung in her throat— how could she tell him?
"Oh! Constance— No!" She grasped her hands, giving them a firm squeeze. "You have never made me feel unwanted— or unimportant. I promise." Her look was intent and left no room for doubt as she smiled. After a moment she continued, their hands still firmly together. "I never felt that way at your wedding— I swear. However, there— in that dream— I was unwelcome. It's strange— not a single person spoke me, and yet I felt the overwhelming sensation that I had to leave. So I did— or at least I tried. The small party became a massive hoard swarming me like flies to honey. Their faces suddenly changed and they were no longer your guests but masked strangers. I have never seen such terrifying faces, and the more I cried— the more frightened I became— the harder they laughed! I tried to escape but they began to attack me! Oh, Constance, I thought they would tear me apart! I didn't know where you or Blythe— or Richard were! I screamed— begged for help, for them to stop— no one listened." Tears slid down her cheeks, and her voice trembled. "I don't know how long it went on, but it felt like an eternity and then—" Sarah stopped, her breathing ragged.
It took her a moment to find her voice again, and she only managed a whisper, her mouth too dry for more. "Then it stopped. All at once the crowd vanished— the masked assailants gone like smoke, leaving no trace of the carnage I had endured. As though it hadn't happened at all."
Sarah stared into the earth. Wayward tendrils scattered and whipped about her face, wild and unruly. She looked like a small girl, alone and frightened. Constance could find no words of comfort or solace. Her own body trembled, a sudden chill that could not be blamed on the impending tempest. Thunder rolled in the distance, the ominous drums ricocheting through the trees.
"Then he was there—"
"Richard!" Constance couldn't stop the relief flooding her voice. With a soft chuckle she chastised herself— it was only a dream after all.
The faintest smile touched Sarah's pale lips as she continued. "We danced and I wasn't afraid anymore, because I knew he would protect me; I knew I was safe." Her expression turned pained, distant . She pulled away, one hand pressed firmly at her stomach, a reflex born of trepidation, meant to stable her nerves— or today, her heart. "I never wanted him to let go— I belonged there, wrapped in the security and comfort of his arms. It was the first time I felt that I may be able to feel something more than admiration for him. If he inspired such feelings in me—" She shook her head, as though she couldn't believe the words on her lips.
A smile so broad it was nearly painful split Constance's face, her eyes alight. She had never expected such news— only hoped for such fortune to smile upon someone so ill-starred. Perhaps her marriage could be blessed with the same kind of happiness as she and Blythe's.
Sarah turned to face the water, her skirts fighting wildly about her, "I hadn't even the courage to look him in the eyes, so I focused on anything—everything that wasn't him." Her words fought against the billowing wind, both desperate to be the ruling sound. Constance remained rooted where she stood, curiosity and hope vying for her attention. Thunder crashed again, as if proving its worth amid the chaos.
"I wanted— needed to tell him. I could ignore it no longer, I could feel the desire picking at me the way an owl picks at its prey—" her words faded away, a hint of disbelief trailing in their wake. The odd image appeared stark in her mind, as Sarah remained silent.
"What did you do? What did he say?" She prodded, softly. The fierce currents pulled the sound away, but the straightening of Sarah's spine proved they met their target.
"Nothing." She turned, her eyes burdened with heavy tears, each blink sending another skating down her face. It was not sorrow or hurt lingering in the reddened jades now boring into her; it was unease, trepidation— fear. "When I dared to look, it was not Richard I saw— but him."
"Him?" She repeated breathlessly, her head shaking with both shock and confusion. "I don't understand."
"I saw him, Constance— I saw his face."
"Whose face?"
"The one with mismatched eyes—"
She gasped, stepping forward, "Y-you saw him?" A puffed breath of laughter and alarm shook her shoulders. "Well?" One side of her mouth pulled into a smile, her brown eyes sparkled with delight. "Who was he? What did he look like?" She urged, excitedly.
White lips moved, trying to form the words but no sound came— or it was lost on the air. Shaking her head, whether to banish or summon the memory, Sarah sighed into the heavens. "He was tall—" her eyes narrowed, "fair, and— and pale." Her voice stumbled ungraciously between them. "He was striking and wild. Proud— demanding. He never said a word to me— but he smiled." Sarah watched the water toss and the trees bend. "The moment our eyes met I felt suddenly— I knew— that the center of this man's attention was a very dangerous place to be."
They were quiet. Neither quite knowing how to continue without worsening the silence with an ill-managed attempt to improve it. It had only been a dream, a harmless illusion conjured by the sleeping mind— but this felt different. This felt wrong.
Wind whistled through the towering trees, bringing with it the sweet scent of rain. Droplets began to splatter about them; several fat pearls landed on her shoulders— they wouldn't have long before the full fury of the tempest was upon them. A burst of lightening shot across the sky, the quaking rumble that followed shook the earth. "Sarah, we should go—" The heavens roared again and she jumped— her words drowned beneath the sound.
Sarah hadn't moved.
Her body stood frozen in the whirlwind, eyes locked on a lone figure, mouth agape. Rain dripped from her hair as she remained immobile, snowy knuckles gripping the shawl to her chest. White and fawn feathers clashed against the darkened sky and gold-green leaves, where one silly owl settled in the branches, unencumbered by the angry weather. Sarah's lips trembled and she worried the lower with her teeth. Her eyes were round and wide, locked firmly with the small black pools of the animal balanced on the arm of the tree dancing in the wind.
"It was real."
A/N: Once again a big thanks to those that read and those that review! I love hearing what you all think of my humble story. I promised Jareth and Sarah would have an interaction— and although this most likely NOT what you expected I hope you all enjoyed it. I promise they will TALK to each other soon! Sorry it took me longer than two weeks to post this, I will TRY to post every two weeks. Thanks again for all the support!