Sarah looked down at the card in her hand, written in a scrawling hand. Her hand shook a little, and she felt her fingers go cold and numb.
For every moment, there is a purpose. –J
She knew who it was from, and for a moment her head swam with memories of the Labyrinth; of him. His wild hair flashed in her memory, and those hazel eyes. She crumpled the card and tossed it in the trash, not wanting to think of him any more than she had to. She had gone through years of therapy to prove to herself that he wasn't real—that it had been a dream. Now this card mocked her, as well as the flowers it was attached to. Jareth, she thought. Why now? It's been years since I even thought about him and that place. Why now? She tossed away the bouquet and took a deep breath. It was just a dream. These meant nothing. Someone was just playing a prank on her.
Sarah hadn't planned on calling her therapist on her birthday, but she pulled out her phone and started dialing.
"Dr. Philman's office," the secretary answered.
"Hi, Jeanine, it's Sarah Williams. Is Dr. Philman in today, and does he have an opening?" She was proud of the fact that her voice didn't waver.
There was a momentary pause, and Jeanine came back on the line. "He has an opening at 2; can you make it for that, Sarah?"
Sarah affirmed that she could, thanked Jeanine, and hung up. She grabbed her purse and left a note for her friend, who was supposed to be meeting her at the house later. She hoped that Liz wouldn't be planning a birthday party for her. She felt too old for birthday parties. She was going to be 30, after all.
30… and still no romantic prospects on the horizon. There had been one or two over the past decade, but nothing really stuck. Of course they didn't, her brain said sardonically. They could never measure up to him. She sighed, knowing it was true. Dream or no, nothing compared to Jareth. Not "or no", he was a dream. Plain and simple, a dream and nothing more. She scolded herself silently, trying to remember the mantras that Dr. Philman had given her. Shaking her head when she couldn't conjure any up, she picked up her keys and left, locking the door behind her.
As she drove to the therapist's office, Sarah could not keep her thoughts from wandering back to the Labyrinth, all those years ago. She had gone through so much for Toby, for herself, and it had been hard to let it go as a dream. For a while, she had hoped that Toby would remember it when he started talking, but she was out of luck there. Toby had grown into an unruly teenager, not unlike his sister, and now, at 16, he was threatening to run away about once a week. She remembered having those thoughts, and how they stopped after her travels to the Labyrinth.
Her father was at a loss when it came to dealing with Toby, and Sarah's stepmother was too high strung to deal with him herself. He had been in and out of counseling for years, none of it doing much good. Sarah wondered idly how many of Toby's problems stemmed from memories he couldn't recall, memories of the Labyrinth. Stop that, it was just a dream. That was getting harder and harder to believe.
She pulled into Dr. Philman's parking lot and sat in her car for a moment, gathering her thoughts. Every time she thought about those flowers, a flash of Jareth's face swam before her eyes. Jareth, dressed all in white, begging her to love him. She couldn't take it. She grabbed her purse from the seat beside her and walked into the office.
Dr. Philman's office was designed mostly for children, with toys and posters and books strewn about. Sarah had been seeing him since not long after her (adventure?) dream about that place. Even then, she was a little old for his practice, but she felt at home and safe among his trappings.
Now she felt out of place. She tried to convince herself that she should feel out of place—she was a 30 year old woman, not a child of 15 anymore. Somewhere inside, though, she still feels like that teenager. Like she'd just come back from the Labyrinth and she needed help.
"Sarah?" Dr. Philman's voice broke through her tormented thoughts. He motioned her into his inner office, and she gratefully followed him in, taking a seat on the sofa.
Dr. Philman settled himself in a chair opposite her, took up his laptop, and looked at Sarah. "So what's going on?"
Sarah opened her mouth, and then realized she didn't know where to start. She couldn't tell him about the flowers, or who they were supposedly from, but she needed to. Instead, she started with her birthday and why it was always such a rough day for her.
"Ever since my mom left, I've just felt like I'm a burden on everyone and everything, especially on this day. I want to run away and hide; I think that's why I dreamed about the Labyrinth. It was a way for me to escape and not be a bother." Sarah looked down at her clasped hands as she spoke quietly. Dr. Philman didn't say anything at first, waiting for her to go on.
"I know I'm not really a bother," Sarah continued after a moment, "but every year I feel it again on this day. Today it's making me see things, things I know can't be true, and I'm freaking out."
"What kind of things?" Dr. Philman asked softly.
Sarah told him about the flowers then, wishing she'd brought along the card to show him as proof. See?! She would shout as she shoved the card under his nose. I didn't imagine him!
Dr. Philman typed something in his laptop silently, and then looked back up at Sarah. "And you think the flowers were sent by this figment? Do you hear how that would sound to someone outside of your own head?"
"Yes, I do. But it doesn't change the fact that I know that handwriting, even after all of these years I know it. It was his. I know what I saw, Dr. Philman. I know it sounds crazy, but I know what I saw." She protested.
"All right, you know what you saw. I'm not denying that someone sent you flowers—it's your birthday. But I want you to think of another possibility—that someone with handwriting similar to what you think you remember of this person, this Jareth character, sent them."
"I know what I saw." Sarah muttered. She was suddenly very unsure why she wanted to come here. She wouldn't be believed.
"Sarah, it sounds like you're upset that I don't believe it was Jareth. Let me ask you this: how could it be him? He was a figment of your imagination as a child, an imaginary friend of sorts. He doesn't exist, so how could he send you flowers?"
Sarah sat silently for a moment, processing what Dr. Philman had said. It was true; how could Jareth send her flowers if he didn't exist. If? Of course he doesn't exist. I spent years proving that to myself. "I suppose you're right, Dr. Philman." Sarah said eventually, slowly. "I just freaked out when I saw them. They were probably from my friends."
"Good. Now, what are your plans for your birthday?"
The rest of their session went by quickly, Sarah telling Dr. Philman of her plans to stay home and binge watch something on TV. He seemed satisfied that she had forgotten about the flowers by the time she left.
Sarah got back into her car and sighed deeply. She hadn't forgotten about the flowers at all. She didn't believe for a moment that the flowers were from a friend of hers, but then who sent them? She shot down the idea that they were actually from Jareth—that was ridiculous—but if not him, then who? Her head spun. She shook it in frustration and turned on the car, heading home.
Later that night, Sarah sat on her sofa in the lounge, ice cream in hand and watching some crime drama on TV. She had lost track of what was going on in this episode; her eyes kept drifting to the kitchen trash where she could just see the stems of the flowers. Feeling like a fool, Sarah got up and went to the kitchen, pulled the lid off the trash can, and pushed aside the flowers until she saw the crumpled card. She reached in and grabbed it, putting the lid back on the bin. For every moment, there is a purpose. –J
She pored over those words for a few minutes and was still staring at it when she heard a loud THUD against the window of the kitchen. Sarah jumped in surprise, and then went to look out the window to see what caused the noise. Down on the flagstones of the patio was a stunned barn owl. It was huge. Sarah went to the linen cupboard and grabbed a towel, then went outside and wrapped up the unconscious owl and brought it inside. She put it on the kitchen table and looked it over for any obvious injuries. It seemed all right, just stunned.
Sarah reached out to touch its feathers again, fascinated by their softness, and the lights in her kitchen flickered and went off. An instant later, they came back on and the owl was gone. In its place was a full grown, naked man. Sarah recognized him immediately and her throat went dry. That wild blond hair, those arched brows, the long, lithe body… Only one man in her entire life could have those features. Not to mention transforming from an owl, she thought sardonically.
"Jareth?" she asked quietly. The word sounded strange in her ears, spoken aloud for the first time in so long. At first he didn't move, but then he groaned and sat up. She realized he was still on her kitchen table, covered in nothing but a towel, and she blushed. He had been impressively terrifying to her as a teenager, now he just looked tired.
"I will never get used to the limited brain of an owl, no matter how many centuries I've tried." He muttered under his breath, rubbing his shoulder. Then he noticed her, and his expression changed. The last time he had seen her, she had been a child in jeans and a billowing blouse. Now she was a woman, curvier than some, and she was dressed in cut off sweat shorts and a tank top. His gaze was appreciative and contemplative. Sarah ran to the lounge and grabbed the blanket from the sofa, wrapping it around her shoulders and giving him a pointed look.
"What are you doing here?! You're not supposed to be real. No, I dreamed all of that. You're not real. I went to years of therapy to convince myself that I dreamed you up! You're not real!" Sarah was babbling now, but she couldn't stop herself. Here he was, right in front of her, and yet… wasn't he a dream? If not…Oh god, she thought to herself as the room spun and she started to fall backwards.
Jareth was up like a flash and caught her before her head hit the floor. The towel fell off of him, was all that Sarah could think before she passed out cold.
When Sarah came to, she was on the sofa and the show was still playing on the TV. For a moment, she thought she had just dreamed it all. It would make sense; after the freak out of the card it was only reasonable that she would have another dream of Jareth—this time a slightly steamy one. Then that moment of serenity was shattered as Jareth came walking up the hallway toward her. Sarah groaned. Jareth had found the boxed up clothes from her ex and was wearing a heavy metal t-shirt with a pair of jeans that hugged…every…angle. Sarah gulped.
"I found something somewhat suitable to wear for now. At least until I can find something better or get back. In the meantime, I hope you don't mind the company." The last was not a question. He went to the chair opposite her and sat down in it, looking for the entire world like a king on his throne. Sarah tried to dispel the thought but it wouldn't leave her. She stood and walked over to the chair, standing before him with her hands on her hips.
"Wh—what are you doing here?" she asked again, this time through a dry, scratchy throat. Jareth looked back at her for a minute before answering.
"I ran into some trouble back at my castle. I needed somewhere they wouldn't look for me."
"And you thought of me?! After 15 years, you thought to just pop 'round for a visit?" Sarah's voice was acerbic.
"Well…no. Not exactly. I came to this world to get away from them. The visit was for your birthday." He said nonchalantly with a charming smile, as though his very existence here wasn't throwing her into a panic and tearing down all of her hard work over the years.
Sarah decided to try another tactic. "What kind of trouble?" She asked, trying to calm herself down and give herself something to focus on.
"A group of hobgoblins attacked my castle, under someone's command—I don't know whose just yet—and destroyed a good portion of it looking for me. For all I know, they've completely dismantled it by now. I had to leave before they found me and took me back to whoever it is they report to. You see, I'm not technically supposed to be using the Labyrinth the way I have been."
"You mean to kidnap teenage girls and try to kill them?" Sarah couldn't keep the caustic quality from her voice.
"Oh come now! You were in no real danger. I wouldn't have let anything really happen to you." Jareth waved away her concerns as though they were small insects annoying him. "No, what I mean is for my own personal fun. The puzzles, letting the various creatures wander free… There are rules, Sarah, and I hadn't been following them for a very long time. So I imagine the hobs are ransacking my castle because of that. Someone must have gotten wind that I was misbehaving and decided to finally do something about it. The big question is who."
Sarah had to admit, seeing how intensely he stared off into space as he contemplated this question himself, that he was still very handsome. Oh get a grip! She told herself, looking away. He's hundreds of years old – probably – and not even human, and he kidnapped you. It doesn't matter how handsome he is, he's bad news! With that sorted in her head, she looked again over at him and swallowed hard. He was still very handsome.
Jareth shook his head, unable to decipher the puzzle of who sent the hobgoblins, and looked up at her. A look of surprise crossed his face, as though seeing her for the first time. He took in her shorts and tank top, the blanket wrapped around her shoulders, and her brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. Sarah found that, before that probing gaze, she felt naked. She wrapped the blanket around herself better, covering her bare legs and arms, and cleared her throat.
"You've grown up," was all he said on the subject, his voice holding what sounded like a bit of sadness mixed with wonder.
Sarah cleared her throat again. "Yes, well, that does tend to happen when 15 years pass. Unlike some, I'm merely human."
"Never say that. I've seen humans capable of so much more than any creature alive. You're truly wondrous." He said, his gaze moving on to look through her, to something far off.
Sarah stood awkwardly for a moment, then went back to sit on the sofa. She sighed heavily and put her hands in her head, shaking it slowly. "This can't be real. It can't." She kept muttering that under her breath, refusing to look up at Jareth.
In one swift movement, Jareth was up and kneeling before her. He took her hands in his and pulled them away from her head. "I understand. I do. I work better as a remembered dream than a reality. But I may need your help with this, and I have no one else I can turn to right now. For right now, can you suspend disbelief and just accept that I'm here before you, asking you for your help?"
Sarah looked down at her hands in his, felt his warm touch, and looked into his hazel eyes. Whatever she told herself, he was here. Jareth was real and he was in her lounge, asking for her help. Sarah didn't know what to think, but she knew this was going to make a lot less sense before it started clearing up for her.