In a Glass, Darkly Chapter 7, part 1, a labyrinth fanfic

In a Glass, Darkly

Chapter 7, Part 1

Sarah looked around and

– there was the Labyrinth, gleaming in the sun, its intricate coils and turns glittering like a tiled pattern on a marble floor –

it's further than you think – and time is short –

– she took a step down, and another, down down tumbling down the hill and she had sand in her shoes –

come on, feet –

– and there was the gate to the Labyrinth, ancient and dour – vines coiling around it, and one of the vines rippled and changed and reached out to her, and wrapped around her arm –

hello – I like you – you feel like spring – you smell like the sun -

– she looked into the gates – but they weren't gates anymore – they had changed into one immense, beautiful silver mirror, and she smiled at her reflection –

hello – I'm Sarah who are you?

– and she saw the gates of the Labyrinth shimmer, and then the huge mirror dissolved into a fine silver dust that fell upon her like a blessing – the flames flattened out into a golden and amber highway, and she stepped over the snake with one foot and trod it into the ground with the other –

you have no power over me –

– and the silver dust changed into rain. It fell upon her, cooling her and washing away all traces of pain and fear and fire –

when perfection comes, the imperfect disappears –

– and she took a deep breath, and prepared to strike out on the road of gold and amber –

wait ...

– she heard a small voice, crying –

wait …

–the snake lay there, broken-looking, huddled in a heap before the gates of the Labyrinth –

don't go ...

– she felt a sudden rush of compassion, and knelt down to speak to the small creature –

what is it?

– and the broken angles smoothed into silver coils –

I have a secret to tell you -

– she bent forward –

what is it?

– the snake shifted –

closer ...

– she eased one foot off the path –

what?

– the snake's eyes glittered, tiny jewels set in its lithe silver body as it undulated towards her –

closer ...

– she hunched down where she knelt to hear its soft voice –

what is it? I can hardly hear you –

- and she felt the snake lick her ear and whisper -

you feel like spring – you smell like the sun – you taste like the beauty of a rose in bloom, and the ripest fruit from the tree in the middle of the garden –

– she tried to draw back –

I've heard this before –

– and the snake grew, and rippled its long body up and down her arm –

you stand upon the moon and you wear a crown of stars – you are the beginning – you are the end –

– it coiled itself around her wrists –

you are my heart's desire –

– and its words were as soft as feathers and as sweet as the coo of a dove –

you are my heart's desire –

– and Sarah felt the warm sand of the Labyrinth caress her skin as she rolled off the gold and amber path –

you are my heart's desire –

– and the snake bent down to kiss her where she lay –

heart's desire –

– and it somehow grew even bigger, and twisted around her entire body – and she felt pleasure unfurl within her like a slowly opening ostrich-feather fan –

heart's desire – heart's desire – sun moon stars – spring rose fruit rain sky – heart's desire – heart's desire –

– the words beat in time with her heart –

oh –

– she heard herself say, in a surprised voice – as the snake slipped fingers of silver over her and around her and into her, sliding across her body and through her mind, bringing her to a peak of ecstasy –

wait –

– fingers?

since when do snakes have fingers?

"Oh!"

And Sarah sat up in bed, her heart pounding.

Just a dream. It was just a dream.

But it was a good dream – an inner voice murmured – it was delicious – quick, go back to sleep and maybe –

"Nope." Sarah smiled into the darkness, reveling in the warmth and delight of pain gone, of a warm bed and a good night's sleep – "I don't think so. Once I'm up, I'll stay up –" she fumbled for the clock – seven thirty?– "and I'll be right on time ..."

She stretched out both arms –

– and her yawn turned into a shriek when one of her hands bumped against a body that was not her own –

Whatever it was moved abruptly, and said – "What?" in a voice groggy with sleep.

Sarah fumbled for her bedside lamp, and flicked it on.

A yelp – and she half-laughed, despite her thumping heart, at the sight of Jareth covering his eyes with one hand.

"By the ninth circle – could you turn that damned thing down?"

"What –" Sarah adjusted the dimmer switch. "What are you still doing here?"

"What am I still doing here?" Jareth yawned. "Well, I'm ..." He looked at her, gasped, and hid his face behind his hands.

"Well, I'm – what?" she demanded.

His voice was muffled by his palms. "I'm shielding my eyes from your dazzling beauty, my love."

"What?!" Looking down, Sarah squeaked as she saw that she was still naked. She yanked the sheet up to her neck.

"Oh, don't do that ..." Jareth peeped out from between his fingers. "Please?"

Staring at his eyes, at how they gleamed with fun, Sarah bit back another disbelieving laugh.

His hair was askew, his grin was infectious – he looks like a child – and when he dropped his hands from his face to stare at her with unconcealed desire, she blushed.

"Jareth –" and her voice caught as he tipped his head – so much like a child – and his smile broadened – "I'm serious. What are you still doing here?"

He raised his eyebrows. "What time is it?"

"Seven thirty-two – oh." Sarah felt like smacking herself – sunset to sunrise – "You still have –"

"Twenty-five minutes –" the clock flickered – "Twenty-four minutes, alas." The long muscles in his back went taut as he stretched out both arms in front of him, like a cat. "Time waits for no man ..." He glanced at her – "and for no woman."

– You're not a man –

– No –

The memory swam back in front of her eyes – Jareth at the mouth of the alley, rotten to the core, and leering at her –

But that same memory looked dim, somehow, as though she were seeing it through a thick windowpane.

He can't hurt me anymore. Nothing that he says, or does, can hurt me. It's all over, and done. I've won. He has –

"– no power over me –" she muttered aloud.

"Quite the mood breaker," Jareth grumped. He folded his arms across his chest and flopped backwards onto one of her pillows.

Sarah grinned, and then laughed out loud at the sulky look on his face.

"Gloat all you want, Sarah." He turned on his side to face her; she took in the golden-ivory lines of neck, shoulder, arm and chest, and her heart skipped.

"Yes ..." Jareth stretched again, deliberately, watching her reaction with – those eyes ... "Gloat as much as you please – you've earned it."

Sarah fell onto the bed herself, feeling another yawn crack her jaw. "I did earn it – and your promise, Jareth –" she poked his shoulder with one finger. "I persuaded you. Remember your promise."

He made a sour face. "Don't remind me."

"Why not?" All of the torment – the torture – for that's what it had been - torture - Sarah thought to herself, fiercely – all of it had been worth it. "I win. None of the losers of the Labyrinth will be tortured or harmed ever again –"

She inhaled, as Jareth placed two fingers at her mouth. "Shhh ..."

He looked intently into her eyes – his own glowed in the dim light of the lamp. "My dear," he whispered. "I remember what I promised you. I will never again harm anyone who loses at the Labyrinth." His fingers began to trace the outline of her lips. "You have mastered me ..."

"Have I?" Sarah smiled against his fingertips.

Jareth smiled crookedly, raised his eyebrows. Nodded.

"Then I really do want to gloat ..." Sarah purred. "I'm not usually one to do so, but faced with such a loser –" he narrowed his eyes and she bit at one of his fingers – "who could resist?"

"Certainly not you." He traced the line of her jaw with one hand, then spread both hands across her shoulders, drawing her closer.

Sarah let her eyes fall shut. "And you can't resist me ... can you?" She felt Jareth's low growl as she teased his lower lip – then she took a deep breath and kissed him fully, running her hands up and down his arms.

She closed her mind against everything but the sensation of his lips on hers – thin but warm, and soft, and moving against her mouth like nothing she had ever experienced – except earlier this morning, of course – and last night – and in my dreams –

– you are my heart's desire –

Sarah broke the kiss and looked into his eyes. This close, she saw flecks of gold and silver in the blue – so beautiful –

"What is it?" The words puffed against her mouth.

"I don't know –" She grimaced internally at the sound of her own voice – soft, and plaintive. Let's not be a bimbo, here –

Shaking her head, she dismissed the dream. "How long do you have until –" she swallowed – "until you leave?"

Jareth smiled, and raised his head to look at the clock on her bedside table. "Sixteen minutes." His eyes glinted. "Any ideas as to how you want to spend it?"

Sarah opened her mouth, ready to retort with equal suggestiveness – but then the dream-voice crept back through her mind –

– you are my heart's desire –

She shut her mouth with a snap.

"Sarah ..." Jareth had edged closer to her. "Princess ..."

Closing her eyes, she shivered at his words, and the tone with which he said them.

"What is it?"

Sarah mutely shook her head.

"Tell me ..." Jareth murmured. "What troubles you so?"

"I had –" She swallowed, hard. "I had a strange dream."

He was silent.

Before she could stop herself, she continued. "I dreamed you were a snake, Jareth – at least, I think it was you ... And you kissed me, and you spoke to me ..." Sarah finished in a rush. "And you said: 'You are my heart's desire.'"

She waited for his reply. None came.

Opening her eyes, Sarah glared at him. "Say something!"

His face was impassive. "What would you have me say?"

She bit her lip. "I don't know –"

"I think you do know, Sarah ..."

Jareth slipped out of her grasp, and sat up straight. Sarah rose with him, holding the sheet tight. She kept her eyes on his face – and then on the back of his head, as he left the bed, and walked to her vanity, and took the crystal –

– an alarm went off in her mind. The crystal. The feather –

And then all thought fled as she saw him fix a burning look upon her – and as he bent one knee to the ground. Kneeling? Jareth? Why would he –

Oh, my God. Oh, holy shit–

"Sarah ..." Jareth whispered. "My Sarah. Princess. You know that, inasmuch as I have a heart – you have it ... and you, you are its desire. Everything you have dreamed has been truth. You hold the light of dreams in your body, in your mind –" he gestured with the crystal orb, and its glow grew brighter – "You are a dream weaver ... and such a one, that I desire you with everything I am and ever will be."

Sarah gulped – it made a small noise in her throat that she immediately hoped he had not heard. He smiled, though, warmth spreading across his face. "Sarah. You know that I desire you. Come with me."

... What?

Say something.

"Come with you?" She tried to keep her voice light; it sounded brittle. "I've come with you already. Several times, in fact."

He laughed. "Clever girl – wicked girl. You desire me as well – I have read this truth emblazoned on your mind, and tasted it upon your lips, and felt it deep within your body ..." Sarah's mouth went dry and the hand holding the sheet loosened. He saw her reaction, and his eyes flared. "Come with me, Sarah. Come to the Labyrinth, and be my Queen."

Wait. Think. Sarah felt her breath coming faster at the memory of what that voice could do to her – for her – what it had done for her just hours before –

No, don't think about that – Think! Why is he doing this?

... Queen? Queen of the Labyrinth?

... a dream weaver? Creating everything I've ever studied? Actually making dreams?

Her breath caught. For one long moment, she saw the Labyrinth before her eyes, stretching into infinity, ancient and mysterious and overflowing with knowledge and beauty –

And then Sarah gasped in earnest – she did see the Labyrinth. It was in the mirror, reflecting on her vanity –

"All this I will give you, Sarah – this and more. So much more – if you will only come with me."

– just let me rule you –

Sarah's skin prickled at the memory. She shivered, and glanced from the mirror back to Jareth.

He had not moved his eyes from her. She looked into them, into the strange, glowing depth of blue – beautiful, magical – but somehow otherworldly ... and she felt another twinge of fear –

Jareth revolved the crystal in his hand, and whispered: "Sarah – look what I'm offering you ..."

– look what I'm offering you – your dreams –

"Sarah ... Princess ..." he hissed. "Come with me. Come with me, now. I will give you all the kingdoms of the world, and their splendor, if you will but come with me."

– look what I'm offering you –

Memory came crashing back through the thick windowpane in her mind –

– it was her birthday – and he was there in the mirror – and the walls of the room pressed in on her further in black bands – and was it a trick of the mirror or the angle of light that made the beauty of his face twist and distort into rage – all of a sudden he was so much closer in the mirror, pressing one palm against the other side of the glass and baring his teeth in a snarl his eyes molten silver glowing white-hot with fury –

– and the Goblin King smiled –

– too late –

– and he jammed the needle into Aaron's right eye –

– I always knew you were shallow Sarah – you'd do well to remember pretty is as pretty does –

– to and fro upon the earth walking up and down in it – places to visit, people to see – I'm a busy man –

– you're not a man –

– no –– Sarah – when did I ever imply that I wanted you to kiss my mouth? –

– that's it – that's right – just like that – ah – when did you learn to do this so well precious thing? –

– and where do you think you're going? –

– listen to me – no no – mustn't turn that pretty head of yours, precious – listen to me – I could keep you here all night – all night long – and I think I will, because you want me to, don't you Sarah – don't you – admit it – no, say it or I'll have you screaming it before I'm through –

– let me do this to you, and this – you've always wanted me to do this – haven't you? –

– I want to pin you to the wall and fuck you until you cannot move –

– anything to oblige you –

– when the left hand knows not what the right hand is doing –

– how long do you think it will take that romantic bridegroom Sarah to figure out how to do this –

– you like it when I do this to you, don't you Sarah – you like it because you're a filthy – little – whore – say it – no, say it louder – louder –

– now that's too loud – open your mouth – do it – do it now – there – silence is golden, screaming is silver, tears are diamonds, so by the time I'm done I'll have a fucking treasure chest, you understand? –

– really, Sarah, you'll wake the neighbors –

– poor dear – cat got your tongue, but I've got the rest, haven't I? –

– the snake whispered in her ear –

you would not have your dreams, Sarah? –

– it kissed her –

your dreams, Sarah –

– and then it coiled around her body –

look what I'm offering you –

– again – and again – undulating around her in a rhythm that she matched, writhing in pleasure –

your dreams –

– it gazed down into her eyes –

sweet dreams –

– and the huge silver snake twisted tighter, and squeezed – she heard the pop and snap of her own ribs breaking, and then she could not breathe –

sweets for the sweet my darling –

– and then its jaws gaped wide to swallow her whole –

sweet –

Sarah screamed, and woke up.

A dream? Tell me that was a dream. Oh God, oh God –

"Oh, my God –" she gasped, then whirled, where she sat upright in the bed, and almost screamed again – for Jareth was there – he hadn't moved – he was still holding out the crystal, and his face had gone white with rage at her words.

"Sarah –" he hissed.

"No!"

The crystal orb burned into her eyes, searing them –

"Come with me, Sarah!" he snarled.

"NO!" She shouted as loudly as she could. "I defeated you, Goblin King! Leave! Leave right now – because –" she looked wildly at the rose-gold light easing around the curtains – "That's the sunrise. That's the sunrise, and your time is up! You lost, Jareth – now take yourself away from me!"

The walls caught on fire, and the carpet, and the vanity – burning with silver flames of his fury – and she heard his scream reverberate through the room as his image fractured, splintered, and dissolved into silver dust that flew through the air –

But then the dust coalesced into a vague shape that stood at the edge of her bed, whirling, glittering, amorphous – when he – it – spoke, it was in a voice completely cold, and alien –

– this is not over, between us –

"Oh yes it is, you bastard!" she spat.

– third time's the charm, Sarah –

"You've lost!" she shrieked. "Go! Go away!"

– a warning, then, my crusader –

The shape solidified into Jareth – in a strange robe, shining so brightly that she had to squeeze her eyes shut and shield her face with her hands –

– Look to your subjects, crusader. Sarah. Princess – Look to your vassals – for power can prove a double-edged sword –

"Power – no – you have no power over me!"

Sarah screamed until her voice gave out, overpowering Jareth's howl of rage. The light blazed through the room, and then crashed through the window and into the mirror in a rush of wind, and feathers, and magic –

– and she woke up, gasping and crying –

A dream? Tell me that was a dream. Please, let that have been a dream too –

"Sarah?"

She shivered at the sound of his voice, and buried her face in her hands.

"What is it?"

That voice – so gentle – closer, now ... she peered through her fingers and saw where he was kneeling at the side of her bed.

The stark planes of his face were softened in the rosy glow beginning to ease up the edges of the window curtain. He looked like an icon, ivory painted with gold and silver, delicate and incomparably beautiful ...

Sarah gulped, and hugged her arms to herself as she saw the crystal, now resting innocently in his hands, his graceful fingers twined around it.

"Jareth ..." Her voice croaked.

"My own dear love." He unlinked one of his hands from the other, reached out, and rested it on her knee. She felt the warmth of his skin through the blanket. "What is it? I do not care to leave you so sorrowful ..."

"I had a vision of you – such a strange dream – wait –" she stuttered. "You're leaving?"

"Yes – I must." Jareth smiled; it looked sad. He watched her, for a quiet moment, then sighed. "And you will not come with me, will you? Not for all the kingdoms of the world, and their splendor."

She exhaled in one long and shuddering breath. "No, Jareth ... I have my work here. I know my purpose now."

His look turned inward. "And I cannot take you from it, it would seem." He peered up at her through his silver hair, his eyes hooded. "Can I?"

Sarah felt the skin on the back of her neck prickle. "No."

"Well, then." He stared at where his fingers laid on her knee. Then he reached for her hand, and gently took it.

"Will you not kiss me, before I go?"

Sarah bit her lip, hard. If this is a dream, I want to wake up, right now, before I get set on fire, or devoured, or freaked the fuck out somehow –

"Sarah ..." He kissed her hand. "My princess."

"Shh." She turned her fingers upward, and traced his mouth with them. "Here." Striving to lighten the moment, and to banish any last remnants of her fear, she smiled. "Take one for the road."

And before she could reconsider, she bent forward and kissed him.

Sarah kept her eyes closed, so she could not see his expression, even if she wanted to ... She tasted salt, though, and a hint of bitterness – and something sweet as well –

Honey and milk are under thy tongue – the phrase flashed across her memory –

Then her mind shivered, as she heard his voice – somehow inside – inside her head –

– thank you –

She spoke in return –

– no problem –

Was that a hint of laughter?

– such good intentions –

She did not reply, but sighed against his mouth instead.

And then the timbre of his voice changed, in her mind –

– my crusader ... my own dear princess ... look to your vassals –

Something changed, in the air –

– be watchful – be vigilant –

Sarah gasped, as she felt a breeze through the window –

– heart's desire –

And she opened her eyes in time to see his own fixed upon her, as the wind swept through the glass and through the fading lines of his form, as he let the crystal orb float away, cupping her face in his hands instead – and as his body, his face, his hair, his eyes, everything about him dissolved into nothingness in the warm golden light of the risen sun.

Her alarm clock blared.

Sarah blinked awake, and stared up at the ceiling. Her head was pounding.

She knew what it was.

For once.

Nothing weird, nothing supernatural or magical. Just a plain, everyday, honest-to-goodness hangover.

Rolling over, she squinted at the vanity.

No orb, no feather.

Sarah grinned, and punched the air – and immediately regretted it, as her stomach churned.

"All right, all right," she groaned. "First thing – water; second thing, sleep. Oh – and …"

Sliding out of bed, she grabbed her cell phone and dialed the psychiatric department.

The message droned, and ended with a beep.

"Hello," Sarah said – and then modified her tone to sound ill. "It's Dr. Williams – I have the 'flu … and I won't be coming in until Monday. Keep Mrs. Johnston on the Risperdal, and have Dr. Brown talk to Rachel Duvall."

She hung up, and flopped back into bed – screw the water – and screw Saturday shopping – I'm going to sleep straight through until Monday – and fell back asleep.

On Monday, work was normal.

Sarah walked through her ordinary routine. Same words, same smiles, same stale sandwiches in the cafeteria – but she hardly noticed them, or the coffee that she couldn't seem to get hot enough. Instead, she practically floated, feeling as though she were walking on air.

Does it show? Sarah wondered as she walked through the hospital. Guess what, everyone … I won. I won! He has no power over me – I know my purpose now ...

The first thing she saw when she breezed into the NICU was her own smile, reflected in the glass doors. The next thing she saw was Ben – Ben! – slumped over by own of the incubators.

"Hey, Father!" She reached out, and flicked his collar.

"Hmm?" Ben blinked and rubbed at his eyelids.

"I said: Hey, Father!"

"Oh." Ben sighed, and stretched. "Hey, Doctor – wait –" He peered at her. "Hey, indeed, Doctor. Make hay while the sun shines, Doctor. You're looking a lot better than you have – for a while –"

"You know it." Sarah tossed her hair, and smirked. She had foregone her customary knot in favor of letting her hair hang loose that day. New era – new look.

Ben swallowed, and Sarah noticed the dark rings around his eyes. "But you, Father –" She mimed a punch at his shoulder. "You're not looking well at all. What's up?"

He shrugged, tiredly, and ran one hand across his unshaven jaw. "Bad dreams." A sigh. "And then I stayed up pretty late with this little guy." His uneven gesture encompassed the incubator – the infant whose mother she recalled singing and rocking –

"Rachel Duvall," Sarah whispered, remembering. "Where is she? She was in the psych ward Friday night –"

"Yeah." Ben grimaced. "AMA."

Sarah's jaw dropped. "What?!"

"You heard me. She checked out on – let me think – Saturday morning. Haven't seen her since."

"But – but why? How?!"

"The usual way." Ben's voice was rough. "Left against medical advice, with the words, and I quote: 'I've been punished enough.'"

Sarah inhaled, hearing the hidden meaning in the words. Punished. Rachel Duvall had been punished – forget about the baby, she had whispered … But she must have been repeating what she had heard – what someone had said to her, earlier, when she had made a wish –

Forget about the baby –

I've been punished enough –

It all fit together. Sarah felt her heart thump, hard, in her chest. Rachel Duvall had lost her baby to the Labyrinth – the Goblin King must have been punishing her –

Except now he had stopped.

" – threw everything in a bag and practically ran out of here." Ben was still speaking, his voice low. He tapped his fingers against the top of the incubator – the frail, tiny baby cheeped, hardly audible above the whir and buzz of machinery.

"And what about the baby?" Sarah could hardly hear her own whisper.

Ben shrugged again. "We didn't think he was going to make it, Friday night – but then he pulled through. Well – kind of."

"Kind of?"

The lines of fatigue deepened in his face. "Sarah, he's not thriving. No, forget thriving – he's not even making up for lost ground, anymore. Still not putting on any weight. The first cold he catches –" and Ben flicked his fingers against the glass. "You see how it is."

"Yes." I see.

Sarah saw. Of course the baby wasn't thriving. Of course he looked frail, and wispy, as though a breath of air could make him dissolve. He didn't belong …

The words echoed through her mind.

He doesn't belong here, anymore … He belongs to the Goblin King. He belongs with the Goblin King …

Or he did – did he still? Maybe that was part of the victory. Perhaps she had to keep him in this world … Sarah looked down at the baby, ensconced in the glass and wire. I'll protect you. I'll help you grow. I'll keep you safe …

"But you look a lot better, Doctor –" Ben spoke lightly, obviously trying to change the subject. He turned away from the incubator and began to walk with her to the door. "You got over – whatever it was?"

Sarah smiled fiercely. "Yes." I've won. I've won, and he's gone, and he'll stay gone, now, even if I do remember –

heart's desire –

– and she sucked in a breath at the memory of Jareth running one hand down her legs, in the darkness, with the feeling of silk sliding over silk, and he had brought his hand back up to her hip and had kissed between her breasts, over her heart, and had whispered –

heart's desire –

Sarah shook herself away from the image, her mouth dry. Ben was still talking. "Well, good. Whatever the cure for whatever that was, bottle it and give me some –" he yawned – "cause I'm going to need it, before the next few weeks are up."

"Oh?"

"Yep. A few more weeks, and then the Holy Week blitz, and then I have Easter to worry about – Easter baptisms, Easter confirmations, Easter weddings – all Easter, all the time. I'll probably end up eating nothing but Cadbury and Peeps in order to pull through –" He struck a pose of dramatic anguish, and then dropped it. "And speaking of weddings, Lyn will be back in a week …"

Sarah kept her voice airy. "Really?"

"Yeah …" Ben darted a glance at her, a tentative look on his face. "You know, she'd like to see you."

Sarah knew nothing of the sort, but she smiled anyway. "Why not?"

"Really?" Her friend brightened. "Can I pass the word along?"

"Again …" They had reached the door. "Why not?"

"Great." His face was still weary, but now he smiled back at her. "I'm glad you're feeling better, Sarah –"

"Mm." She began to peel off her gloves.

" – and – about that guy …"

A glove snapped. Sarah yelped, and shook the sting from her hand.

"Sarah?"

"Yeah?" she sighed. "What about him?"

"Well, I'm sorry." Sarah looked at her friend, surprised; Ben looked serious. "It was none of my business – who he was, and what you were doing with him."

"Oh." Then, remembering, she cut Ben off as he was opening his mouth to speak again. "Wait – I was going to ask you - what did you see? What did he remind you of? What freaked you out to such a great extent –" she raised an eyebrow – "Father?"

Ben flushed. "I said you wouldn't believe me."

"Sure I will."

"It might take a while."

"I've got time." She opened the door. "Come on. Walk me to the elevator, why don't you?"

"Well." He fell into a walk beside her, and cleared his throat. "You know – it was just one of those silly things that you do when you're young …"

"Even when you were young, you didn't do anything stupid. I was there, remember? At least, in college."

"Fine. To make a very long and very stupid story short – I went on a mission trip to New York City, in seminary, and I –" he swallowed – "I was getting sick of the whole thing."

"The mission trip?"

"And seminary, really. So I went gambling a bit. I'm pretty good at poker, you know."

"And that's the big surprise?"

"No. A friend - or - someone I thought was a friend ... invited me to a party. It was in a big hotel."

Sarah quickened her step. "I don't see how -"

"No, let me finish. I don't know how, but I got up to the penthouse suite. They weren't playing cards there. They were doing - I don't know what kind of drugs. There was no light. Everyone had flashlights, and it was packed full of people, and noisy, and."

"And?"

"They had - people dancing on the tables."

"Were these ... women people, Ben?" Sarah sighed. "All that sexual repression: it's the gift that keeps on giving."

"You don't understand, Sarah. Yes, they were women. But they were stark naked, and high as kites, and - being made to do things."

"How did you know they were high?"

Ben stopped walking. Sarah stopped with him. "I mean, usually you need to be close enough to see the shakes, or the pupils, or ... other behavior. Exhibitionists exist in this world, yes? Just because people are naked doesn't mean they're out of their minds."

"All right." He closed his eyes. "I was close enough to smell - the breath, from one of them. She looked terrible. And when she opened her mouth at me, I saw - she had fillings, yeah, but her tongue was bleeding."

Sarah reached out to push the elevator button. "Do I want to hear the rest of this?"

"All right. To sum up: then I had this horrible hallucination of the Devil coming to take me to Hell."

The Devil! The Prince of Darkness! Sarah sighed. "Just like that?"

"The woman tried to touch my face; I wanted to get up to leave the table. But someone put a hand on my shoulder. It was so heavy I could hardly move. Everything went quiet, and I heard my own heart - and get this: I could only see one person's reflection in the table. Not my own, not the woman's. Only the one with the hand on my shoulder."

Her skin prickled.

"I got up anyway. Just some hands-y guy, right? So I turned, and - in this guy's face, there was nothing. And then I looked around and there was nothing. And then I looked back, and ... it was like all the walls in the room were made of nothing but - blood and teeth. The guy was in the middle of it all. He smiled at me."

"That sounds scary."

"I don't know how I knew it, but he held out one hand, and - everything was sharp, and coming at my eyes, and my head, and my heart, and -"

"Beware of the big, nasty pointy teeth?"

"I knew you wouldn't believe me."

"I believe you had an hallucination, but that it could have been from any drug cocktail. You'd nothing to blame yourself for."

Ben exhaled in a gust. "Right. So I went back to seminary, and dreamed bad dreams for a few years, but then my last-year roommate told my confessor about what I kept saying in my sleep – and he dragged it out of me and gave me merry hell for screwing around with … what did he say … 'powers of evil' - "

"He means drugs? Or the naked women?"

"– and he gave me another mission trip as penance – but in Alaska instead of New York. Six months, freezing my penitent ass off in the cold and snow."

"They got medieval on your ass. So that's what you saw, with my – acquaintance?" not going to say 'friend', because he wasn't my friend – my lover, though – and if I keep thinking along those lines I'm going to get in so much trouble if I don't pay attention to anything but –

– the memory of Jareth, tracing his fingers across her hips in patterns that caught at her skin with tiny flashes of heat – feathering kisses over her breasts and sighing – heart's desire – heart's desire –

She shook her head, hard. "Was there anything else? I've got a lot to do."

"Thanks a lot, Doctor –" Ben grimaced. "To answer your question – it was the way that guy stood – or walked – or something - that just made me remember –" He ground to a halt.

"Remember what?"

"Huh." He looked confused. "I don't remember." Ben turned to look at Sarah fully. "I don't remember what he looked like."

"Who? Your Satan? Or my guy?"

"... Your guy."

"Convenient. Of course you don't remember."

"Just ... tell me I'm not crazy, Doctor."

"You're normal." A normal tourist. She pressed the button for the elevator. "And you were using tropes, archetypes – images familiar to you, from your studies and from your beliefs – to create a projection suitable for thoughts and feelings that were truly, deeply troubling you at the time –"

Ben looked white.

Sarah sighed again; decided, despite everything, to try to lighten the mood. "Or you were just on drugs. Didn't your mom ever tell you not to take anything from strangers?"

"My mom was an exemplary one - no food, no drink, no candy, nothing from a stranger. And for the other: Jesuit, pediatrician wannabe, rock star, all-around nice guy ... priest, remember?" He spread his hands. "No drugs allowed."

"But you, Father, don't remember – and that in itself indicates that a veritable cornucopia of substances could have been percolating in your system –"

"Yeah, yeah."

The elevator doors opened. Sarah stepped inside.

Ben put his hands in his pockets, and then spoke, hurriedly. "So – how about that guy?"

Sarah inclined her head as the doors slid shut.

"Long gone."

Long gone. Long gone. I've won. Guess what, everybody? I faced down my inner demon – and he tried to terrorize me, and torture me, and then seduce me – but I withstood him and I won –

"Dr. Williams?"

Sarah wheeled on one foot, catching the tapping of the cane before seeing Dr. Michaels fix her with a curious expression. She blinked, and then gaped, inwardly, as she realized that she had walked to the psych ward without knowing it.

"Yes, sir?"

"No need for that, really …" The older man spoke softly. "In fact, I would not be surprised if you will be coming in for a great deal of respect, if young Mr. Cohen makes a full recovery –"

At Sarah's gasp, he frowned. "They didn't tell you?"

"Oh – ah –" Sarah fumbled for words, then gathered her wits back together, and enunciated carefully. "I was out sick over the weekend, so anything that happened – well, I just got back, is all."

"I see." Dr. Michaels was unaware of the irony as he stepped closer to her, his shadowed glasses showing her startled reflection. "Well, Aaron emerged from his coma on Saturday morning, and insisted that he was, in his words, 'all better now.' We will continue to monitor him, of course, but it would appear that the first signs of recovery are there, and promising –"

"Wait a minute." Sarah interrupted. "I mean – sir – we're still going to treat him? After he made a full recovery?"

"Nobody has yet said anything about a full recovery, Dr. Williams," the older man said, in a testy voice. "Young Aaron has been alternately delirious and catatonic for the past week, and afflicted with schizophrenia for the past two years. We are not going to release him from the hospital solely on his say-so, no matter how confident he appears to be."

Sarah bit her lip. "He's – confident, you say?"

Dr. Michaels began walking – she hastened to keep up. "Yes – or, at least, he was on Saturday morning. He seemed rather upset at being informed of his removal to the Briarwood facility – although Dr. Brown was quite gentle in explaining the need for further monitoring –"

"He's upset?" Her voice was faint; she could hardly feel where she was biting down on her mouth – her lips felt numb.

They walked through the doors of the psychiatric ward; Sarah could immediately hear Aaron's shrieking.

"Very much so. In fact –" Dr. Michaels turned his face toward her – "It is quite odd, Dr. Williams, that he should appear to have fixated on you in such a way. But he insists that you spoke to the figure in his hallucinations, and convinced it to refrain from tormenting him any further. Now I have no idea why he should choose to express himself thusly – but –" and his look turned intent – "Do you have any notion of why he would say such a thing?"

Sarah felt her blood pulsing in her ears.

I can't tell them what happened. They'd never believe me. They'd think I was a lunatic – and – and they'd slap him right back in the ward – hell, I would slap him right back in the ward if he came to me with that story, if I hadn't seen what I had seen –

She swallowed hard, took a deep breath. I'm sorry, Aaron …

"No." She forced a smile. "No – I haven't a clue."

"Ah. Yes. There was some malfunction in the psych ward cameras Friday night, and in the card scanner – you didn't visit him at all?"

Sarah felt cold. She trailed her fingers over a heating vent, hoping to warm them. "No."

"He seems to think you did."

"I assure you, Doctor –" she licked her lips. "It's his imagination. Or perhaps it was a dream he had – perhaps he's trying to express his anxiety about moving away from a schizoid state by projecting the action onto a figure of authority, and thus validating it –"

She heard the jargon spill from her mouth as though from a distance; her mind recoiled as she saw her coworkers, and Dr. Brown, clustered around a stretcher that was being wheeled towards her down the hallway.

Aaron was crying, like he had before ... she half expected to see the Goblin King prancing alongside the stretcher - grinning, juggling a crystal or two - but there was nothing - there would be nothing, because - I won - I defeated him ...

The words sounded bleak, in her own mind.

"Here they are –" Dr. Michaels began, and then the boy saw him, and her, and began to thrash, and sat up on the cot.

"Dr. Williams –" he moaned. "Dr. Williams – please please please don't let them take me away – I'm all better – you saw that I'm all better – you talked to the Goblin King and he said that nothing would ever hurt me again – please – please – please tell them how you talked to him –"

Sarah felt the eyes of everyone on her; she took a deep breath, and spoke soothingly. "Aaron – I know you're scared, but – but you're just going with Dr. Brown for a little while, to a very nice place – and they'll help you get all better there –"

"I am all better!" His voice rose to a hysterical pitch. "He's gone! He's never going to bother me again – and you saved me – you saved me, Dr. Williams – please tell them what happened."

"Shh –" She placed one hand on his shoulder, and then moved it to his sweaty brow. "Oh, honey, you've got a fever – just let us take care of you, and then you'll be able to go wherever you want, and do what you like best, O.K.?"

Sarah stepped back, and nodded to the orderlies.

"No!" Aaron shrieked as they gently pushed him back down. "No – Dr. Williams – "I'm not crazy! Help me, Dr. Williams! Help me!"

"Good-bye, Aaron," she spoke, softly. "I'll see you soon."

"Help me – help me – I want my – Dr. Williams –" he choked, crying, "I want my dad – I want my mom – mommy –"

Sarah took another deep breath, shaking, as the orderlies rolled the stretcher away, with Dr. Brown at its head, holding Aaron's hand. Then they went through the ward doors, and they were gone.

Her coworkers stood around her, Dr. Michaels with them.

Then somebody exhaled, loudly, and the silent tension broke.

"Uphill battle, but he'll be O.K. –"

"Once they get him to stop screaming like a banshee –"

"Just send him a few cough drops, and give the Briarwood people a heads-up –"

A guffaw was hastily swallowed as Dr. Michaels spoke with authority.

"All right, enough - we still have a full roster, so if you would return to your assigned duties –"

"Hey, Williams," one of the younger doctors jibed. "Come on and work that magic on my main man – Delrae Jones – the guy dreams a different dream every night –"

Sarah could almost hear the last straw snap.

"Oh, will you shut up?!" she barked. "I have no idea what the hell that kid was dreaming about, but if you'd back the fuck off I'd appreciate it –"

Silence fell, in the wake of her words.

Sarah gulped, looking around the circle of her colleagues. Some eyes were wide, some were abashed, and some understanding –

"Well, Dr. Williams has been under considerable stress, as have we all." Dr. Michaels' voice smoothed over the awkward moment. "But let us return to work. Ladies, gentleman, doctors all – duty calls."

His wristwatch announced – eleven – A – M – and punctuated it with a loud, obnoxious rooster crow, echoing in the silence.

There was some shifting, as a few individuals peeled off the group – but silence remained – and in the long, quiet moment that stretched before she left to go on her rounds, Sarah found herself swallowing against a lump in her throat.

She walked to the ward doors.

Trust him to figure out a way to hurt me, even when he kept his promise. Bastard. The absolute bastard -

Sarah gulped again, and massaged at her throat, willing the ache to go away.

He never said it would be easy. But I've won – I defeated him – and I know my purpose now. Nobody said my path would be an easy one …

She waited for the elevator to take her to the E.R., and as she did, she swiped angrily at the tears were stinging at her eyes for no reason at all.

Stay tuned, for the conclusion of "In a Glass, Darkly" – coming soon, as Chapter 7, Part 2

In the meantime – you read? Please review!

Edited again, 28 August 2013, to add:

After more discussion with reader toshers-girl, I've decided to take out the entire passage mentioned below. I'm leaving it up so you can see I'm not trying to hide that fact that I did write it. Needless to say, I am sorry for that same writing. Toshers-girl outlines the massive problems with the passage, and gives an idea of what's at stake in the whole matter, more eloquently in this thread; I'll paraphrase, and say: that eliding Western traditional ideas of the devil with Voudon is a lazy shorthand that capitalizes on deliberate misunderstanding of an underprivileged religion, and people have done the same over history in order to justify disenfranchising or abusing the practitioners.

So that. Is. Out! And now the scene reflects "Requiem for a Dream." Any questions or comments? Please feel free to get in touch.

Thanks, Subtilior

Edited, 8 August 2013, to add:

A reader brought to my attention something I wrote that is pretty damn offensive: lumping together the practice of Voudon with Satan worship. It is not so, and I sincerely apologize to anyone I've hurt or triggered through that writing.

I've edited the passage to call the Benedict character what he is; I am not sure whether it jars, for Sarah's narrative tone (going from sleep-deprived, slightly inappropriate glee, to weariness with Ben's usual style) ... let me know if it flows.

Here is how the original read:

"Oh. That's O.K., I guess –" Then, remembering, she interrupted Ben as he was opening his mouth to speak again. "Wait – I was going to ask you - what did you see? What did he remind you of? What freaked you out to such a great extent," she raised an eyebrow, "Father?"

Ben flushed. "I said you wouldn't believe me."

"Sure I will."

"It might take a while."

"I've got time. Come on. Walk me to the elevator, why don't you?"

"Well." He fell into a walk beside her, and cleared his throat. "You know – it was just one of those silly things that you do when you're young …"

"I knew you when you were young. Remember? You never did anything silly."

"Fine, then. To make a very long and very stupid story short – I went on a mission trip to New Orleans, in seminary, and I –" he swallowed – "I took this one guy up on a dare, and I went to a voodoo ceremony –"

Her sympathy abruptly began to evaporate. "Am I going to appreciate where this is going? As the only one of us who took comparative religion?"

"Just let me tell the story. I was at this voodoo thing, and they had given me something weird to drink, so I was feeling sick already. Then they started chanting, and after a really long time I thought they threw blood into the fire, or something – and – and –" he spoke in a rush – "I don't know if that drink made me see things, or what, I thought they all screamed together, and then I had this horrible hallucination of the Devil coming to take me to Hell -"

The Devil! The Prince of Darkness! Sarah fought to control her temper. "Public service announcement: none of their gods is Satan."

" - lots of fire and screaming, and the big kahuna himself, coming out of the flames and grinning at me – I swear, it gave me nightmares for years."

"Get therapy."

"Consider my point of view. I was just an innocent little seminarian – and they were so impressed by my rolling around on the ground and foaming at the mouth that they wanted me to come train as a voodoo dancer, or whatever the heck it is they call their priests –"

"Right, I'm done."

"What'd I do? I'm just trying to tell you -"

Sarah picked up her pace. "I give you courtesy, right - even though you believe a woman conceived a child without any form of sex - but you can't give it to other people. Some days, Ben -"

He exhaled in a gust. "Right. So I went back to seminary, and dreamed bad dreams for a few years, but then my last-year roommate told my confessor about what I kept saying in my sleep – and he dragged it out of me and gave me merry hell for screwing around with … what did he say … 'powers of evil' –"

"Christ, should I just keep 'for the bigots' as a scrip?"

" - and he gave me another mission trip as penance – but in Alaska instead of New Orleans. Six months, freezing my penitent ass off in the cold and snow."

"They got medieval on your ass. So that's all you thought you saw, with my – acquaintance?" not going to say 'friend', because he wasn't my friend – my lover, though – and if I keep thinking along those lines I'm going to get in so much trouble if I don't pay attention to anything but –

"I knew you wouldn't believe me."

"It's not a question of belief. It sounds like you, after all." She lifted a shoulder. "There are just only so many days I can handle your kindest bigotry, and Father? This is not one of them."

"Thanks a lot, Doctor –" Ben grimaced. "To answer your question – it was the way that guy stood – or walked – or something - that just made me remember –" He ground to a halt.

"Remember what?"

"Huh." He looked confused. "I don't remember." Ben turned to look at Sarah fully. "I don't remember what he looked like."

"Who? Your Satan? Or the other guy?"

"The other guy."

"Of course you don't." They had reached the elevator.

"So tell me I'm not crazy, Doctor."

"You're normal." A normal tourist. She pressed the button for the elevator. "You were just using tropes, archetypes – images familiar to you, from your studies and from your beliefs – to create a projection suitable for thoughts and feelings that were truly, deeply troubling you at the time."

Ben looked white. Sarah sighed - and, despite everything, decided to lighten the mood.

"Or you were just on drugs. Didn't your mom ever tell you not to take anything from strangers?"

"My mom was an exemplary one - no food, no drink, no candy, nothing from a stranger. And for the other: Hi! I'm Benedict Romani - Jesuit, pediatrician wannabe, rock star, all-around nice guy ... priest, remember?" He spread his hands. "No drugs allowed."

"But you, Father, don't remember – and that in itself indicates that a veritable cornucopia of substances could have been percolating in your system –"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah."

The elevator doors opened. Sarah stepped inside. "Anything else? I've got a lot to do."

Ben put his hands in his pockets, and then spoke, hurriedly. "So – how about that guy?"

Sarah inclined her head as the doors slid shut.

"Long gone."