Chapter Sixteen: A Tale Of Two Families.
Jareth's mind flashed through thoughts, too quick to hold on to them, too erratic to interpret them. He couldn't waste the energy to even try; all his efforts were in holding on to his sense of self long enough to confront Linda. The woman had been dropped into the middle of a storm so subtly brutal, so quietly violent, that she had no idea she was already drowning. He couldn't, in good conscience—and, Stars, didn't that make him want to laugh!—not warn Linda that she was walking a thin line, and one false step from her could spell disaster. In all fairness, she had no clue what she had entered, hadn't even known about this part of her daughter's life until just moments ago, but the record had to be set straight, if for no other reason than the sake of his tenuous grasp on reality.
And for the purely sadistic pleasure of watching her squirm. He had his moments of fairness, though they often galled him, but he had moments of revenge much more often. Linda's words and her callous, automatic disregard of her only daughter had lit a fire in Jareth, an angry burning in his chest that had to be put out. Violence was not an option, this was Sarah's mother after all, so he would have to rid himself of the feeling through words.
Words had always been his preferred weapon of battle, he thought fondly as he quietly stalked through the hall that would lead him to Linda's room. It was easier to wound a person with words because it was harder to raise a defense against a thought. Conversation was an intimate war with pricelessly high stakes, but the matching of wits was infinitely more satisfying than the meeting of swords.
Linda Williams was about to learn why it was exceedingly stupid to cross the Goblin King.
Sarah bemusedly watched as Karen tried to disengage herself from Imm and Laim. She was witnessing what was quite possibly the single most uncomfortable moment of her stepmother's life and Sarah was determined to revel in it for all it was worth. Humor aside, however, she couldn't help but notice a certain distance that the Twins were keeping from her family. It wasn't a physical problem—both boys had their arms slung around Karen's shoulders and were gaily showing her around the castle—but they seemed unable, or perhaps unwilling, to fully engage with their human company. The Twins' jokes were stranger than usual, their smiles were twisted; it was only when they turned to Sarah that they seemed to become something more of themselves.
"That's lovely, boys, really," Karen said haltingly, looking at the portrait of Imm and Laim's great-grand-something-or-other, "but I'd like to talk to Sarah for a little while. Alone."
"But we have so much more to show you!" Imm chirped loudly.
"Yes," Laim joined in, "there's so much for you to see!"
"Actually," Sarah finally spoke, coming to Karen's rescue, "I do want to talk to her. Why don't you two go find out what your brother is up to?"
Two sets of eyes quietly regarded her. Something that she thought for a moment might be anger passed from one boy to the other before it disappeared. Two blank smiles bloomed over the Twins before they bowed. "As the Lady wishes," they said together, then turned and left the portrait gallery.
"That entire family is strange," Karen murmured, rubbing her shoulders.
"The very best and the very worst of your dreams," Sarah agreed. "Although I imagine we're incredibly strange to them, too."
Karen shook herself and finally turned her full attention to her stepdaughter. "Are you all right?" she asked quietly, placing a hand on the younger girl's shoulder.
Sarah shrugged. "I'm a little frazzled," she answered, "but I think we all are. How about you, are you all right? I mean, what happened; how did you get here… and why was my mother with you?"
Karen withdrew her hand, only to run it through her blonde hair. "Your mother decided it was time for one of her spontaneous, unannounced visits, but you weren't at your apartment so she came to the house instead. It was absolute murder. I don't care if that woman is your mother, she's still a brat."
Sarah shifted uncomfortably. She knew Linda wasn't the best person, maybe not even a good person, but she was still her mother. For whatever it was worth, Sarah still loved the older woman, had continued to love her long after the novelty of having a daughter had worn off on Linda, it seemed.
"I'm sorry," Karen said a moment later, frustration obvious in her voice, "I didn't mean to—"
"We both know she has numerous character flaws," Sarah cut in, "I just wish they weren't so obvious."
Karen sighed heavily. "My own mother was rather the same, you know," she replied quietly, in a rare moment of connectedness to her tempestuous stepchild. "Not fanciful like Linda—she detested anything beyond her scope of reality—but she was very much callous and unconcerned with those around her. There wasn't room in her heart for anyone but herself." Her blue eyes connected with emerald green ones. "Don't run yourself ragged looking for her approval, Sarah. Trust me, in the end it isn't worth it."
With sudden insight, Sarah finally understood why her and Karen always butted heads. It was, perhaps, because a long time ago Karen had been like her: lonely with nothing but fantasy to keep her company, neglected, and desperately trying to seek out the affections of her own mother. To do that the older woman had had to give up her fantasy and had, in her own quiet way, regretted it ever since, perhaps even resented Sarah a bit for her continued imagination. They weren't so very different after all.
"So," the dark haired woman changed subjects, "where's dad and Toby?"
Karen rolled her eyes. "I left them back at the room, but I'd be willing to bet they aren't there any more. Toby seemed hell-bent on exploring, despite the fact that your father and I could spend the rest of the day sleeping off the stress."
"He's a little boy," Sarah smiled, "standing on the edge of a bright new world; I'd be exploring too, if I were him." She paused for a few minutes, casting idle glances around the portrait gallery, her eyes never staying on one painting long enough to truly see it. "Were you—"
"We came here by choice," Karen interrupted knowingly. "Things can't continue on as they have; I might not like it, I might not like them, but I'm willing to do what has to be done in order to straighten all of our lives out. I can't promise that there won't be more fighting, but we're here for you this time, Sarah."
"Oh, joy," Linda sneered, "the one who manhandled my daughter is here. What do you want?"
Though he was loath to do it, Jareth had to admit that Linda was a stunningly beautiful woman who was just exiting the prime of her life. Her inky dark hair had lost some of its luster, but it was long with a hint of curl, her skin was pale and unblemished, and her eyes were a clear hazel. Gazing at Linda was eerily similar to gazing at Sarah, so much of the daughter was in the mother. But there was a meanness to Linda's eyes that her daughter did not possess, a cruelty that Sarah had thankfully not inherited. That was not to say that the younger woman wasn't cruel, she was, but hers was an intimate and personal cruelty, whereas Linda's was all encompassing. Sarah's harshness came from the fact that she did what she had to regardless of personal desire, Linda's came from the fact that she only did what she wanted to regardless of the situation. It was really a shame that such a lovely package contained such a horrid personality.
Jareth quietly shut the door behind him and moved forward, taking care to make sure that, no matter what, he would always be between Linda and her only means of escape. "It's amazing how you only acknowledge her when it lends a hand to your indignation," he remarked levelly.
"And what the hell is that supposed to mean," she snapped, straightening on the sofa from her lounging position.
"Do you know why you're here right now?" he asked.
She shrugged, a petulant expression on her face. "No," she finally answered, flipping a dark lock out of her face, "as far as I can see, I'm only here by mistake."
"What is Sarah to you, Linda?" Jareth countered, digesting her previous answer.
"I assure you, Mr.—" Linda finally stumbled for a minute, unsure of how to address him.
"Jareth," he answered, an unpleasant grin twisting his lips, "just Jareth."
"Ah," she frowned, subtly inching away from him, further back into her chair. "Well, Jareth, I assure you that, as I said earlier, Sarah is my daughter."
He shook his head and approached the woman, stopping within inches of where she sat. "Only part of the time," he said distastefully, "so what is she to you the rest of the time?"
Linda drew her feet up to the cushion she was resting on, clearly uncomfortable with how close he was standing to her. "I don't think I understand what you're asking me," she finally replied, fingers clenched tight to her modest-length skirt.
Jareth tsked quietly, but his disapproval filled the small sitting room around them. "If you truly considered her your daughter and cared for her as a mother should, then you wouldn't wonder why you were here or dismiss your presence as a mere mistake. If you regarded Sarah as family at all you would be willing to put aside your own misgivings for the chance to support her."
Linda snorted indelicately. "She dug this ditch herself, so she can find her own way to climb out of it. It isn't my problem," she said firmly.
"My point exactly," he snarled. "You don't act like her mother and you don't particularly regard her as your daughter, so this really isn't any of your concern. I'll kindly ask you to keep out of this matter until it is settled." He shook his head angrily. "You'll be playing with fire otherwise. It would be… unwise to use her as leverage when you don't even know the game that is being played."
Her hazel eyes narrowed, anger taking the place of her discomfort at his threat. The change was so remarkably familiar that Jareth knew he was staring directly at the person Sarah had inherited her stubborn streak from. "Who are you to tell me what to do?" she hissed indignantly. "What concern is the relationship I share with my daughter to you?"
He cocked his head, brushing a hand over her cheek, then tucked a loose tendril of hair behind her ear. "Because, unlike you, I actually recognize when Sarah's been hurt, and I feel that pain as though it were my own," he murmured silkily. In a flash he had her chin in an iron grip, "And, I fear, I am walking a thin line these days, Linda. My restraint isn't what it used to be." He ran his other hand over her forehead, grimly satisfied with the fear at his touch that hid in Linda's eyes. "By all means, continue to provoke me! Throw Sarah into my face, threaten me with her! I will tolerate your presence, Linda. I won't enjoy it, but I will tolerate it, and do you know why?"
She tried to jerk against his hold, but was held steady. "Because of my daughter?" she snapped.
"Ah," he crooned gently, "you are not so dimwitted as you appear. Yes, because of Sarah." Jareth finally released his hold on the woman's face. "Provoke me as you wish, but don't expect me spare you from the consequences of you actions unless Sarah demands it. Your future rests on her favor, Linda; I would do my utmost to please her, if I were you, because her good graces may be the only thing that saves your worthless hide."
Robert Williams was a man who was easily eclipsed by the intensity of his children, the aloofness of his ex-wife, and the steeliness of his second wife, but he was a solid man, quietly supporting his family from the background. For that alone Oran had to respect him, and the more time he spent with the mortal, the harder he found it to dislike him.
"You try to be there for them," Robert continued his own personal musing, "but, somewhere along the line, they leave you behind and you're left to wonder how your children got so far away from you." He sighed. "Sarah's a good kid, I know she is, but I just don't understand how she managed to get into this mess in the first place."
"Children will always have the innate ability to baffle their parents," Oran commiserated. "We simply do the best we can in raising them, and pray that it is enough to get them through life. Sometimes it is… and sometimes it isn't," he admitted, thinking of his own children. "Everyone makes mistakes when raising their children, and we all pay for the consequences together."
"We used to be close, Sarah and I," the younger man offered after a few minutes of silence. "It all fell apart after I married Karen, but for a few years she hung on to my every word." He shook his head sadly, "I still remember the day she was born. I knew, right then and there, that she was going to be a heartbreaker, I just didn't think it was my heart she was going to break."
"We lost two before Jareth," Oran said quietly, not making eye contact with the other man, "both born premature in a world that was never equipped to nurture such delicate lives. I think the loss killed something in Leshia, because I know it killed something in me; there is no pain so searingly vicious as parting with your babes before you even get a chance to truly see them grow." He sighed heavily, "But Jareth, when he came, was my greatest friend. I took him everywhere I went until he was old enough to walk, and then he followed me of his own will. I cannot think of happier days than those, when he was content to play at his father's knee. I suppose I didn't really notice him drifting away as he grew older, not until he had already taken the throne and… circumstances drove us apart."
Robert nodded sympathetically. "It doesn't seem fair that they get over their infatuation, but we never do; long after they've stopped confiding in us, our worlds continue to revolve around them."
Oran laughed, breaking the solemn mood. "How perfectly eloquent! You surprise me, Mr. Williams, though I suppose I should know better by now. It may be too soon to hope, but I begin to get the feeling that the coming days may not be so horrible as I had imagined."
Robert made a motion, as though tipping the brim of a hat. "I'd drink to that," he said.
"So would I," Oran replied evenly, "but I fear my wife would kill me if I tried."
"I said to find your brother, not mine," Sarah raised an eyebrow at the Twins.
"Yes, but we've always wanted a little brother," Imm grinned from where he was sitting next to Toby, both of them covered from head to toe in flour.
"After all," Laim, also covered in flour, threw an arm around her shoulders, "we've already got the little sister." He smirked, "Why not have the matching set?"
Sarah jolted, suddenly struck by the familiarity of the scene before her. They were hanging out in a narrow stairwell, Imm lounging on the steps while Laim stood to the side and idly tugged on his long auburn braid. It had been her first real incident with the Twins, helping them make trouble with the kitchen staffed, and it was in an area much the same as this that they had hidden from the irate staff, and then declared her to be their sister.
She eyed all three of the boys suspiciously. "He didn't blow up a stove, did he?" she asked Laim, cautiously while indicating her brother.
"Unfortunately," Imm answered for his older brother, "you are the only one who holds that distinct honor."
Toby straightened from beating the flour off his jeans. "Sarah blew up a stove?" he asked, wide-eyed and eager for the story.
"I don't think I want to be here to hear this," Sarah interrupted quickly. "I was really just wondering if Toby knew where dad might be wandering around?"
"He's talking with their dad," the young boy said off-handedly, back to beating the flour out of his clothes.
"Alright, that's one less person I have to make rounds to, I guess," she shrugged, turning her attention to the Twins. "Do either of you know where my mother might be, then?"
All three boys looked a little disgruntled at Linda's mention in the midst of their merrymaking, but Laim shook it off the fastest. "Yeah," he nodded, his eyes dimming a bit, "I have a pretty good idea of where our mother might have put her. Come on," he said, turning to go up the stairs, "we'll take you to her."
Leshia was not particularly known for her tact or subtlety, but if there was one thing she was better at than anyone else in the castle, it was smoothing down ruffled feathers. Linda Williams was definitely ruffled, but she didn't seem to want to be soothed out of it in any way. "I understand that the situation is troubling—"
"Troubling?" Linda snapped. "I want to go home! I'm not supposed to be here and it's obvious I'm not welcome, either."
Leshia gently shushed the raging woman. "Guests are always welcome here," she murmured, inwardly wincing at the fact that mortal guests were especially welcomed in the Labyrinth, and few had ever returned to their world Above.
"Ha!" the dark haired woman snorted. "Your husband and your son both snapped at me! That's hardly what I would call welcoming."
"My boys have always been overly protective," the serene woman shrugged. "They're just worried about how your presence might effect Sarah."
"They're out of line," Linda countered heatedly.
"I'm not saying I disagree with them," Leshia added softly, "merely that their actions are a bit too intense." She sighed, "I don't want to be as callous as they are Linda, but you've been thrown into a world that you know nothing about, over a situation that you had no knowledge of, all wrapped around a daughter that you appear to have nothing to do with. I cannot fathom, as a mother myself, how there is so much distance between you and Sarah and how little that seems to concern you. This is your chance to do something for your daughter, for once, and if you're not willing to do even that then I recommend find some other way to occupy your time and enjoy this little vacation for whatever it's worth." Leshia shook her head as she made her way to the door; she had once gotten the sense that there was a gap between Sarah and her mother and she found it infinitely sad to now be proven right.
"I care about my daughter!" Linda fumed, huffing herself up.
Leshia paused, her hand already on the doorknob. "Perhaps," she conceded, exiting the room. "But not nearly as much as you care for yourself," she met eyes with the other woman for a protracted moment, then closed the door.
A/N: I've found that writing an unbalanced Jareth is really fun when listening to The Elephant Man soundtrack.
References from Dramatic Orchestrations: The second scene with the Twins references chapter 37.
Thank you a thousand times over to everyone who waited so very patiently for this chapter, who gave me the encouraging words and the time I needed to get back on my feet. Also, thank you to everyone who extended their condolences; it's been a rough three months, and I think it shows, but I'm climbing back.
Please Review!
Disclaimer: I do not own Jareth, Sarah, Toby, Robert, Karen, Linda, the Underground, or the Labyrinth. Most everything else belongs to me.