Disclaimer: All references to the characters Jareth, Sarah, Hoggle, Sir Didymus, and the film Labyrinth belong to Jim Henson Studios and other pertinent parties. I do not claim ownership to the characters and / or the original source material.

Life's Little Lessons: Chapter 5

Sarah tapped her finger on the counter impatiently. The rainy day had proved more troublesome than she had planned. No, it wasn't the rain… It was Thomas's behavior. Since waking up from his nap, the boy had become a terror. At every turn, he attempted to coerce or manipulate them into doing what he wanted. Then he would change his mind or pitch a fuss if you didn't do as he said. When they attempted to discipline him, Thomas threw a temper tantrum. That had earned him two time outs sitting in a kitchen chair and staring at the oven timer plus a third facing the corner. Her well of patience was nearly dry. At that moment, Brian trudged into the kitchen having given up control of the television to the mercurial boy.

"Did you slip him something this morning?" he asked her in a quiet voice.

"No, but maybe I should have," she replied and sighed. She started to rub at her temples to dispel her headache, but her husband was in front of her, gently removing her hands. His calloused hands began to massage her temple, and she let a lazy smile creep onto her face. After a moment, the direction of her lips reversed. "I don't want to reward his bad behavior today."

"You planned this outing yesterday," he pointed out. "And I already told him we'd be doing something in his honor tonight."

"He wasn't like this last week…" Her brow furrowed in consternation prettily.

"True." Brian's burly arms wrapped around his wife and he nuzzled her jawline with his beard. She shuddered and smiled wistfully as Brian whispered in her ear. "He needs the attention. We can give him that."

"I'll give him a spanking if he doesn't straighten up tonight," Sarah whispered back in a threatening tone. "Better yet, I should give Toby and Anna a piece of my mind. It's unfair to him and they are taking advantage of us. They need to grow up and be parents to their son." She sighed. "I heard a saying once. You can pick and choose your friends, but you can't pick and choose your family."

Brian unwrapped himself from his wife and held her by the shoulders. They stared at each other for a moment. The years had aged them both, but they were happy years filled with laughter and love. Sarah loved how his reddish hairs in his beard were turning white. Touches of gray were creeping into his hairline as well to give him a more dignified appearance. The small wrinkles around his eyes when he smiled fit him so well. They were aging gracefully, and she was happy that she was going to share her twilight years with this secure, confidant man. She smiled knowing Brian was assessing her as well and found her perfect despite her faults. Finally he spoke, "Then let's be there for Thomas."

"Even if he keeps resenting us and what we have?" she asked sadly. "When my parents divorced, it was quick but painful. Not a dragged out mess like this. At fifteen, I could take care of myself-"

"That's not the story I heard from your Dad…"

"Oh, hush, love. So I was a spoiled daydreamer. I grew out of it eventually," she scolded playfully. She was still a dreamer, but Sarah had found the means to channel it through her part time theater work and full time teaching. It was how she met Brian – backstage during a college production of The Glass Menagerie. He had been a stagehand; she had been Laura. He studied business and hoped to run several successful businesses; she studied education and minored in English literature with the hope of being a teacher and acting part time. All it had taken was one date, and the rest was history.

"But Thomas isn't seeking out relief. He is becoming a small tyrant – a withdrawn, morose eight year old Machiavellian prince. He has no one to talk to… nowhere to escape this harsh reality."

"He has us, Sarah," Brian retorted firmly and confidently. Before he could say more, a roll of thunder punctuated the moment, and the back door swung open. Charlie bounded into the kitchen with a dripping wet raincoat and a few bags of mercantile goods. She leaned out the door and waved at her friends. Brian tried to frown but had to chuckle at his daughter. "In or out, dear. You're flooding the kitchen."

"Sorry, Da!" she apologized shutting the door and slipping out of her wet things. Sarah glanced at the clock. "So, when are we leaving for dinner and the movie? Where's Thomas?" She paused seeing the intimate embrace of her parents and she wrinkled her nose. "Ew. Were you making out in the kitchen?"

"This is our home, love," Sarah said with a wink. Charlie scrunched her face at the thought of her parents doing more than making out in the kitchen.

"I don't even want to know."

"You did ask," her Dad replied happily. "And we are leaving at 5:30. So, go get cleaned up and put your things away. Thomas is in the front living room."

With that, the young woman made her way not upstairs but to the living room to tease her cousin. Brian and Sarah listened to the two voices – one sullen and the other chipper. They grew quiet before Thomas's outburst and Charlie's laughter. He chased her up the stairs in order to retaliate against whatever she had done. A door slammed. There was more yelling and laughing. Then Thomas stubbornly thumped down the stairs. He entered the kitchen and his eyes grew wide seeing his relatives. Embarassed, he blushed and turned to walk back to the living room.

"C'mere, love."

His Aunt's soft voice made him look back over his shoulder. She gave him that smile with her arm stretched out to greet him. His Uncle looked on with a grin and his own hand outstretched to draw him into their embrace. Thomas's heart ached and he didn't really know why. He hated them for that moment; he loved them for it. It reminded him of when he was little and been squished between his parents. He wanted that feeling again…

Then the telephone rang. Sarah gave a quizzical look to Brian who moved and answered the phone before Charlie could.

"Hello, Jones household. This is Brian speaking," he said. Thomas watched the burly man's eyes grow wide and he looked at Sarah. She tilted her head to the side and mouthed "What is it?" Brian shook his head and made a gesture as if he needed a pen and paper. Sarah searched frantically, produced both, and handed them to her husband as he continued to make non-committal sounds.

"Yes. Uh huh. No. Yes. Yes. Can you give me the address? Uh huh. Thanks. We'll be there as soon as we can. Thanks for calling us and letting us know."

Brian hung up the phone and looked stricken. His gaze fell first on Thomas then on Sarah. He tried to calm his nerves. "Toby had an accident at work. A bad one. That was his manager."

"I'll tell Charlie and then get our coats and shoes," she stated already moving. Brian folded the scrap of paper and tucked it into his back pocket with his wallet.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on?" Thomas asked suddenly drawing the man's attention to him. "Weren't we going out tonight?"

"We were, Thomas, but we need to get to the hospital to see your Dad," explained Brian. The man's large hands landed on his thin shoulders. "We'll have to postpone tonight's activities until next time."

Thomas was silent for a time as he hung his head. His Uncle squeezed his shoulders.

"Buck up, Thomas. Charlie will be here to watch you. We won't know all the details until we get there, and I'm sure your Dad will pull through."

"I hate him," he whispered. "He always does this. He always ruins my fun. I hate him."

"Hate's a strong word, young man. You don't truly hate your father, do you?"

Thomas fell silent again and tried to blink back the tears. It just wasn't fair. It was never fair. Whenever something good happened, when he started to feel like the world was turning around, his Dad would have to go and leave… or in this instance, probably do something stupid and get hurt.

"Take me with you," he said suddenly and stared up at his Uncle Brian. The man shook his head and looked sad for a moment.

"I… If it's as bad as the manager said, I don't want you to see him like this. Not until we know the whole story," Brian stated. "Until then, have faith that he's okay and that the doctors can work some magic."

"There is no such thing as magic," Thomas bite out angrily. "He deserves to get hurt. Mom would agree. He deserves everything that comes to him!"

Sarah stood in the hallway with her rain slicker and Brian's jacket. Charlie stood on the stairs. She looked up at her daughter and she saw her pain reflected in those similar green eyes. They had heard Thomas's outburst.

"Good luck tonight. We'll call when we know more," she stated quietly.

"I hope he's okay," Charlie replied. She didn't specify who she hoped was okay.

"So do I," Sarah responded and moved into the kitchen. She handed Brian his coat and looked darkly at Thomas. "You should watch what you say, love. Words have power, and hate is a strong word."

"I don't care what you say!" shouted Thomas bitterly. His voice dropped again as he clenched his fists. "I hate him. I hope he dies."

Sarah grew still. "You will regret those words, Thomas."

Something crackled in the air as if they had their own power. Thomas glared at his Aunt before turning on his heel to watch television in the living room. With that standoff over, Sarah and Brian exited the house to rush to the garage. Charlie waved a feeble good bye and swallowed hard. She prayed Uncle Toby would be all right. She wished Thomas would behave. She hoped her parents would return soon with good news. Yet as much as she hoped and wished and prayed, she did not dare speak the words aloud. She glanced at the clock and decided she would try her hand at fixing something for dinner. She would give Thomas time to stew and simmer his hate away. She listened to the faint roll of thunder announcing the approaching storm that stretched across the quiet suburbs. She failed to see the glittering eyes watching her through the window or hear their quiet whispers in the darkened corners of the hallway.

"I win again, Little Goblin," she announced happily.

"I hate this game," he grumbled and threw the controller away from him. "I don't want to play this game anymore."

"I can't let you cheat and win every time, y'know," Charlie retorted as she attempted to retrieve the controller without getting up for it. "What do you want to play instead, Tom Thumb?"

"Stop calling me that," he snapped. "I hate those nicknames."

"You used to love being called Tom Thumb and Little Goblin," she replied waggling her fingers at him. "And you're acting like a goblin now. Probably worse than those mischief makers."

"I am NOT worse than a goblin!" he shouted and stamped his foot. "Stop teasing me!"

"But it's fun and you like the attention," she countered with a sly grin like a Cheshire cat. Thomas huffed through his nose and crossed his arms. He barely heard her mutterings but he did. "Maybe I should start calling you the little spoiled, Goblin Prince."

"I am NOT spoiled," he growled at her and rose to his feet. He kicked her lightly with his stocking foot. Not hard, but enough to vent his anger again. She turned to look at him but he was already moving towards the couch to flop onto it. He pushed the buttons and the television input switched from the video game to the live cable feed. He flipped through channels until he found something bloody and violent.

"You shouldn't watch that. It's not appropriate for a kid your age," his cousin admonished gently.

"My Mom lets me watch this kind of stuff all the time."

"Yeah, right, and I'm the Queen of Sheba."

He had no idea who the Queen of Sheba was, but he assumed she was an idiot like his cousin. Why did she irritate him so? Her hand came forward to retrieve the remote control from him, but he glared at her and moved it away.

"Give it up, Goblin Prince. We'll find something else to watch." He jerked the remote control away again and buried it between the armrest and the cushion.

"No." She dug into the tight space, but Thomas pulled on her wrist painfully to stop her.

"Thomas." Her voice held that superior, adult warning, but he didn't care.

"Get away from me!" He grabbed the remote control. His arm and hand came out swinging. The remote control made contact with Charlie's nose. She winced, lost her balance, and fell backward. Thomas watched in horror as she fell and whacked her head on the edge of the wood coffee table they had pushed aside earlier. The horror quickly abated as he grew spiteful.

"You deserved that!" he yelled at his stunned cousin. "You're just like everyone else! You just don't understand! I can't do anything that I want to do!"

"Thomas…" she said weakly from the carpet. She winced as she sat up and rubbed the back of her head.

"All you ever do is tease me. You don't care about me. If you did, you would be nice to me," he seethed. He watched as Charlie rose to her feet and stumbled a little. She adjusted her feet and rubbed her head again.

"Apologize," she said calmly. Some of the wind went out of Thomas's sails, but then his anger peeked.

"I'm not apologizing to you," he retorted sharply.

"Apologize for hitting me or you can spend the rest of the night in your room…" she ordered again. Her hand came out to ruffle his hair and a small smile touched her lips. "I know you didn't mean it, Goblin Prince, but it did hurt."

Anger swelled in his chest as he popped up off the couch. He smacked her hand away and his other hand came as a fist into her stomach. Charlie gasped and glared at him.

"I hate you! You always treat me like a child!"

"'Cause you are!" Charlie shouted back. She had finally broke, and annoyance was plain on her face. Frustration dripped from her words. "Just grow UP and apologize, you spoiled, little brat!"

Thomas stilled but the anger boiled over. He would show her. He would show them all. And with that thought, he was bounding up the stairs. Not even a moment later, the door to the office slammed with enough force to shake through the walls of the house.

Charlie sighed and rubbed her stomach. His fist hadn't hurt that much. Comparatively, the blow to her nose and her head still smarted. She glared in the office's general direction, but she couldn't hold it for long. He's just a kid. He's under a lot of stress. He isn't mad at me. He just feels powerless, she thought. The phrases had become almost a mantra that evening. Earlier, she had asked her friend Emma what to do about Thomas since Emma had dealt with the same thing. Her advice helped more than her mother's advice on the matter. Somewhat. Emma had talked about how powerless she felt, how out of control the whole situation was for her. She had found solace in dancing and school. The same couldn't be said for Thomas. He had no hobbies. He was alone and hurt.

A flash of lightning quickly followed by thunder made her jump. The thunderstorm is so close! she thought. I hope we don't lose power tonight. She glanced back upstairs. Maybe he's cooled off by now. Climbing the stairs, she noticed the lights flicker once. She wondered if she should gather up candles and matches just in case. She glanced at the clock in the hallway downstairs. It was quarter past nine. Her parents had left a little after 5pm. How much longer were they going to be? she wondered. If I can't get Thomas calmed down, we're going to have an even worse fight in trying to get him to turn in. Maybe… I should just let him watch what he wants, pop some popcorn, and dig out Dad's secret stash of chocolate. Thomas likes chocolate and something sweet might make him less of a goblin.

Charlie found herself in front of the door to her Mom's office and Thomas's temporary refuge. She raised her hand and gently rapped on the door three times. She waited and mustered her most calm tone of voice.

"Thomas, it's me. I'm sorry I yelled at you. Won't you please come out and talk to me?" She paused and waited a few heartbeats. She thought she heard a rustling of sheets, but she wasn't sure. "Or you don't have to talk to me out here. Or you can stay in there and talk through the door. I don't mind." She paused again but heard nothing. "I'm sorry I keep calling you nicknames. I know you hate them. I just like teasing you. That's all."

The silence drew itself out into a thin, twisted thread. She changed tactics.

"Thomas, I know you're angry and hurt, but I'm not a mind reader," she pleaded. "Just talk to me. You can trust me, y'know? I won't tell your parents or mine, I promise. Just… can you please talk to me?" She didn't get an answer again. She sighed, an audible admission of defeat.

"I'll be downstairs if you want to join me," she stated a little despondently. So much for calling a truce.

Just as she stepped foot onto the carpeted stairs, the door to the office flew open. Thomas stepped out and glared at her over the railing. Charlie looked over her should and smiled at him expecting him to sullenly join her in the living room. It didn't change his stubborn mind. He didn't believe in magic, but if words had power, he believed in that moment.

"I wish the goblins would come and take you away to the Goblin King," he stated in an imperious tone of voice. He expected the house to shake, a figure to appear, something… but nothing happened. Thomas looked around expectantly. Charlie raised eyebrow.

"Goblin King?" she asked genuinely curious. She turned around and leaned on the banister to look at her cousin. She noticed in Thomas's hand a red book that looked vaguely familiar. In turn, Thomas glared at her and tucked the book into his back pocket of his pants. It barely fit. A knowing smile crept across her face. "Oh. I see. I used to believe-"

Her words were cut off by a great boom of thunder as lightning struck nearby. The lights in the house brightened as power surged through the system; then they were plunged into darkness. Not even the streetlights outside shone through the windows. The air seemed to crackle with energy as more thunder rolled through the silence. In the darkness, Charlie and Thomas looked around frantically. Charlie rubbed at her bare arms in a vain attempt to get her hair to lay back down.

"I'll see if there are candles and matches in the kitchen," she stated in a quiet voice. Already she was down the stairs, familiar with her home even in the darkness. Thomas realized his grip on the banister was painful and he let go. In the semi-darkness, he made out the top of Charlie's head moving down the hallway to the kitchen. Slowly he moved to go downstairs as the thunder ceased to extend across the sky in all directions. A sense of unease, of something not quite right, gripped him with each step. He didn't hear her rummaging in the kitchen. When did the soft pad of her feet end? He reached the bottom of the stairs and paused.

"Charlie?" he called out uneasily. There was no answer. Gingerly making his way, Thomas went down step by slow step. A hushed sound of voices and laughter made him pause. He looked around frantically, but the voices were gone. Maybe she didn't hear me? he thought. "Charlie?"

As he reached the bottom of the stairs, that strange hushed sound of voices and laughter caught his ear again. I must be imagining it, he thought. It made him feel nervous. A second crash of lightning and thunder struck close to him and he nearly jumped out of his skin. The laughter became audible, and it seemed to be coming from the living room.

Thomas looked inside and froze at the sight. In the living room, everything was normal… except for a tall, shadowy figure standing in the center of the room. Another flash of lightning bathed the room in light for a second, and Thomas thought he saw a thin, blond haired man dressed in black leather with a ebony feathered cape smiling smugly at him. Thomas rubbed at his eyes, but the afterimage of the man played on his retinas in dazzling colors.

"Hello, young man. I am the Goblin King," a masculine, accented voice said in greeting from the darkness. Goblin voices, maniacal in their laughter, filled the air, and Thomas shivered in fear.