Chapter 18. Lines in the Sand

Sarah entered the office for her appointment that Friday afternoon. She was greeted my an unusually disgruntled Agnes, who was corkscrewing her features at the computer screen in front of her. "Stupid machine," she grumbled. She looked up as Sarah approached the desk, "Miss Williams, he's waiting for you." She pointed to the door.

Sarah looked at the woman and asked softly; "Problem with the computer?"

"It won't give me my file." Agnes growled.

Sarah came around the desk, standing beside Agnes and reached over her from the side. "Try this," with two keystrokes and a right mouse-click, the hidden file popped open on the monitor screen.

"How did you do that?" Asked the amazed woman.

"I've got that same program," Sarah explained, "I keep hitting the wrong function button and sending files into a hidden file; took me six weeks to learn not to do that." She moved toward the inner office's door; "Hope that helps."

Mayfaire was going over notes when the girl entered, he didn't even look up. "Sarah," he greeted her distractedly.

"Doctor," Sarah took a seat and smoothed her uniform skirt. "You do know I won't be here for the next two weeks, don't you?"

He looked over his glasses at her, "No, I was not aware."

"I'm going to be in New York, visiting my mother. Commuting for a one hour shrinking session does not seem reasonable." Her voice sounded teasing and pleasant even to her.

"New York?" He mused, "I imagine that should be a very pleasant change for you."

The girl sighed, "I would have thought so as well, but I'm finding I'm actually thinking about what I'm going to miss here. Seeing Toby with Santa; watching him open his presents." She offered.

Leaning back in the chair, Mayfaire looked completely at ease. Not at all like a doctor or any kind of authority figure, merely a man spending a few stolen moments with a young woman. "Is Toby the only person you're going to miss?"

"Fishing?" She leaned on her elbow on the arm of the chair she'd chosen instead of the couch she'd been occupying for the last few sessions.

"Perhaps I am." He admitted softly. "Perhaps I'll miss our little battles of wills."

Sarah laughed softly, "You could just admit to being the Goblin King and the battles would be over."

"Now, Sarah," he challenged with a merry smile. "What fun would that be?" He came around the desk, looking like someone who was completely at ease within his own skin. "Besides, dear girl, you've yet to prove that I am this rascal."

"Oh, you're him, alright." Sarah stood up, now looking at him with a dreamy eyed expression. "Right down to the mismatched eyes."

"Mismatched?" He seemed to take exception. "Both my eyes are blue, I'll have you know."

Defiantly, she shook her head. "I see one is different from the other, and that's a dead give away, you goblin." She was sure of herself, sure of him. "I know you, Goblin King." She raised her chin, slightly smug, slightly rebellious.

Mayfaire looked at the tempting face, "I don't think you do, girl."

"I beat you before, and I'll do it again, and when I do," she paused.

"What will you do? Banish me for all time?" He challenged. "Do you really want to banish me, Sarah?"

"No," she whispered, "I don't want to banish you." Something in the girl's eyes changed, becoming warm and awake--and seeking. "I want what you promised in that ballroom of crystal and gold and faded dreams." She reached out one hand and touched the man's chin so tenderly that he was only aware of her touch seconds later. "I want mornings of gold, valentine evenings." She whispered softly. "I want what you offered."

Mayfaire, stood still as the girl placed her head to his shoulder. "Sarah." He whispered.

"No," she begged with eyes closed. "No words, no denials, not now. Just for a moment, I want to forget the hostilities between us."

He looked down at the girl, wishing he could allow her that moment, wishing he could allow it for himself as well. However, rules were rules and he couldn't afford to jeopardize his medical license or his work visa. "There was a price for the offer, was there not?" He asked impersonally.

Sarah moaned, knowing the moment that had happened so naturally was gone and could not be recaptured. "Yes, there was a price," she tore herself away from the shoulder that a moment ago had seemed so warm and comfortable.

"Tell me what you felt about the ballroom." He commanded.

"It was beautiful and grotesque at the same time. Some of the people there were so," she paused, remembering the decadence and the debauchery going on before her. The gowns on some of the women had barely covered their ample bosoms. The men, too, were in various states of undress. "It was so beautiful, and they were doing things that belonged behind closed doors." She quietly repeated the words, "behind closed doors."

"And you?"

"You dressed me in a vestal white gown and I was beautiful." Sarah whispered; "Like I was some kind of virgin to be sacrificed, or a bride."

Mayfaire watched her; she was close, very close. "Yes?"

"You offered me so much in that moment, and I nearly forgot." Her voice broke with sadness. "The clock brought me back, striking twelve. I had but one hour left. I pulled out of your arms, ran to the thin glass wall and shattered it with a gilded chair." She turned away from him, her eyes were still closed and she opened them slowly. "Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered…"

"You resisted the offer then, why want it now?" He asked watching her coming to terms with some private demon of her own making.

"Because, I'm afraid;" she admitted turning to look at him. "I think you were right about Meg. She's not the friend that I think she is." Sarah Williams, the girl who had beaten the Labyrinth and won back the child who was wished away, now stood defenseless before her 'foe'. "I need your help, Goblin King."

"What can I do?"

"Promise to save me. You did before… you came when I cried out for someone to save me. You didn't let me die in the Labyrinth; I know you were watching me, protecting me, and setting me back on the path time and again. I don't know how I know it, but I do." She argued persuasively. "Promise you'll save me again… just one last time." He looked as if he were about to deny her and Sarah grabbed his wrists. "Jareth, please… you don't have to admit to being the Goblin King, just promise to save me should I cry out."

The man with blue eyes of two very distinctive shades looked down at the hands on his wrists. Without hesitation, he said, "I promise."

Sarah released his wrists, "I knew you wouldn't let me down." She sounded more confident than before.

Mayfaire stepped back; he looked at the clock on the desk. "Where does the time go?" He asked aloud. "Your father will be here," he looked at his calendar; "The first Friday in January, then. Have a happy holiday, Sarah."

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Terry was used to being unseen. She was not pretty, not stunning like Meg, or even Lana. Nor was she appealing and sweet like Sarah. She was mousey, plain, and timid. It had been her own private plague. So, it came as a huge surprise to her when Meg had started paying attention to her. She had been overcome with the heady sensations of acceptance that friendship with Meg gave. She had adored her, and when the girl had begun taking advantage of her, she had not really minded. Not even when Meg had begun the sexual demands. She had not even minded when Meg brought Lana, and then, in turn Hank, into the games of sex play. She didn't mind sharing Meg; she did mind being treated like an object without feelings. Just because she was anonymous, didn't mean she was without feelings.

She had known for some time that Meg was tired of her and was looking to replace her. She figured that Meg had Sarah pegged for the replacement. At first, Terry found herself hating Sarah; she was glad when Meg's father found the drawing. Working in the administrator's office as a student aide had made her privy to the goings on in the school. Being a bit of a wall flower gave her anonymity; it was something she'd learned to use. Even the Headmaster, Doctor Madison, didn't see her or even know her full name. He often referred her as 'Miss Whatever-her-name-is.' Terry had used that this position to get information for Meg whenever she needed it. This time, she had information going the opposite direction, and she was not sure how to use it.

'Why should I save Sarah?' She asked herself. 'Why should I care if they drug her and let Hank rape the shit out of her?' She brooded in the kitchen of her parent's home. 'Why should I worry about her?'

The phone rang and her mother picked it up. "Hello? Oh hello Meg," she looked over at her daughter who was rolling out cookie dough for Christmas cookies. "No, dear, I'm sorry. Terry is up in Utica at my sister's house getting things ready for Christmas. Yes, the entire family will be going up there. And Terry will be staying to help with the children. Yes, I'm sure she'll have been sorry to have missed your call. Merry Christmas to you too," she hung up the phone, an expression of concern on her face. "Care to tell me what it is you're hiding from, young lady?"

Terry stopped using the Swedish rolling pin that had been in the family forever. "Mom, if you knew someone you sort of looked up to was about to do something really wrong, what would you do?"

Terry's mother took a seat at the kitchen table, looking at her daughter. "Is that what's happening here?"

Terry bit her lower lip and nodded. "Yeah."

"What's going to happen?" Her mother asked, "And how are you involved?"

"I'm not really involved, Mom." The girl looked up with mousey eyes. "I don't think I ever was, really." she thought about it. "Meg sort of uses me as a stooge… and I let her."

"Terry," Her mother tried to sound understanding. "I can only say that if I knew someone I cared about was going to do the wrong thing, I'd try to do the right thing, what ever that was."

The girl nodded, "I think you're right, Mom. I have to do the right thing." She stood up and dusted the flour off her hands. "I'm going out for a bit."

"Terry." Her mother held out her hand and touched her daughter's arm. "Be careful."

Terry looked at the older woman with a wistful expression. "Don't worry about me, Mom, I'm a coward."

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