Title: A Faded Memory

Author: Devlyne (Originally published as BelleAngeli)

Published: 07-20-03 (Re-Post 9/16/2015)

Disclaimer: I do not own Labyrinth, Jareth or Sarah. Nor do I in any way resemble Jim Henson, The Jim Henson Company, Henson Creature Shop or Disney.

A/N: Revision Completed 9/16/2015. Chapter 4 was completed before Chapter 3. I've since made necessary revisions to Chapter 4 to fix continuity errors. If you spot one I missed, please feel free to politely PM me.

Chapter 3: A Shattered Mirror

Sarah felt as though she had been sitting there for hours when her eyes opened once more. Everything that had happened so far tonight felt unreal. One moment, she had been happy with Chris and looking forward to what might have been an engagement. Now she felt as though her foolish pride had gotten in the way and shattered that perfect illusion. Why hadn't she said yes instead of insinuating that the answer was no?

It wasn't what she'd wanted. She didn't want to be a housewife. Sarah's hands clasped before her and she turned her gaze to that world hidden deep within the mirror. She hardly noticed the light in the window which brightened the room and then faded away. It was more than likely just a car passing by on the street below; that happened a lot at night. She did not notice the wind brushing the curtains back from her window sill. A window which should not have been open but in her introspection, Sarah had not realized it.

"What does matter, Sarah?"

Fear gripped her and a cold chill worked its way up her spine at the sound of a voice echoing through her bedroom. Sarah's eyes searched the darkness to find whomever had spoken buried in the shadows. There was no one standing there as there had been no one in the stairwell earlier. The voice echoed out its words in her mind and Sarah strained to hear it over her own soft breaths and pounding heart. The voice was so familiar and so foreign; it was her own voice.

How much changed the sound of her voice was, burdened by sorrow and doubt. Her eyes lifted to the mirror and Sarah gazed deep within it though this time it was her own soul she was looking for. There was no reason to carry so much sorrow. Yes, Chris had decided that if she would not join him that he would leave her. This was an inevitable consequence of the decision that Sarah had made. Chris had a career that was upward rising and he would have to follow it.

In silence, Sarah wished Chris good luck at chasing and winning his dreams. There was no doubt in her mind that some distant time down the road she would hear his name on the news. He would be known for winning an important case and Sarah would mentally congratulate him. It was his happiness which mattered most to her and Sarah had her own happiness to consider as well. She would not be happy as a housewife and he would not be happy with an unhappy wife.

"Oh, enough already."

Sarah pushed off of the small vanity chair and snatched her book from the bedside table. If she were going to dwell on this the entire night, at least The Room would offer her comfort. The Room was awash in the pale moonlight which gave the books and toys an eerie glow. A flick of the light switch changed that and Sarah settled herself on the plush rug near the window. The hard cover book rested on the floor before her so that she could scan the pages. One chapter went by and then two while Sarah's mind tried to forget the earlier upset.

There were stories to read and characters to wonder at and involve herself with. Within the world of the book, there was no time for Chris and his disappointment. At last though, a glance at the clock telling her it had been two hours, Sarah marked her place and stood to stretch. There was work tomorrow and that would help keep her mind off of what had happened. Perhaps a new perspective and time to think would change her mind on the situation. She doubted it but there was always a possibility.

Only a dull light penetrated the gloom of her room as Sarah entered to look for her pills. They should have been on the dresser where she'd left them earlier in the evening. Her small hand closed on air and air alone. Had they gotten knocked over when she was rushing out the door? She flipped the light switch and illuminated the room. It wasn't the same, the light of a light bulb verses the light of the sun or the moon. Lamplight was a dull companion to the brilliant sun. Turning back to her dressing table, Sarah began to search for the pill bottle she'd laid there. It wasn't there.

Sarah slid down on to the vanity chair and stared in to the mirror. Where had she laid that bottle down? In the bathroom? Had she even gone in to the bathroom before leaving? The bathroom light came on beneath her touch and a row of vanity lights flooded the room with dull color. No pill bottle here either; not on the counter near the sink or on the back of the toilet. That doubt returned that she'd ever entered the bathroom at all.

There hadn't been any time to step in to the bathroom, had there? No, Sarah recalled grabbing her purse and jacket; the bottle left on the nearby dresser. Again she wondered if it had gotten knocked down and rolled behind the dresser. No, the pills would be all over the place if she'd not remembered to put the cap on. Oh, damn. Sarah considered putting the search off until morning. Tomorrow, after she'd slept, her memory would be clearer.

Of course there was always the possibility that she might forget and oversleep. What then? Would the pills then stay forgotten until later in the evening? Sarah gripped the edge of the dresser and gave a tug. Her feet dug in to the carpet as she shifted the heavy furniture aside. Nothing. There was no pill bottle nor any sign of it. She crouched and put her cheek to the carpet to see beneath the dresser. No, still nothing. The bottle was not where it should be. It should be right here. That edge of panic rising in the back of her mind; had someone broken in and moved her pills? Ludicrous. Who would do that?

"Oh, damn. Where are they? Think, Sarah, think."

Moments passed as Sarah sat on the floor with her head in her hands staring down at the carpet beneath her. The pills were not on the dress or vanity, not on the floor and not under the dresser. She had not gone in to the bathroom or laid them in the front room. It didn't make sense; they should be there. At last, pulling herself to her feet, she tugged open the vanity drawer and peered down in to its depths. There, nestled in the organizer tray, was the bottle of pills laying in its place.

She could see the white pills through the transparent orange container. Her pills were there, exactly where they should have been if Sarah thought she'd put them away. It had just been a mistake. She must have put them away out of instinct and a need for order. There had been no point to all the paranoid panic which had consumed the last half hour. A sigh of relief escaped her lips and she slid in to the vanity chair, hands resting on her knees and gripping them. Why had the thought of not having the pills bothered her so much?

The answer was far simpler than Sarah liked. She had to take the pills so that she could prove that she didn't need the pills. If she didn't take her pills, she couldn't be normal. Isn't that what Sarah wanted? There was a disjointed feeling at the thought that Sarah and the person who took the pills were separate. They couldn't be. Sarah was Sarah whether she took her medication or not. What did it matter if Sarah thought her reflection was gazing back with accusing eyes?

Life wasn't monotonous. Hadn't she just spent the last day and a half thinking that it was? The museum was a wonderful place to work and make friends. It wasn't acting but that had been a childhood dream. This was better, wasn't it? Sarah was good at her job which was all that counted in the end, right? That seed of doubt began to creep its way further in to her head.

Most of Sarah's childhood friends had moved on from the town they'd grown up in. One by one she had watched them leave, or had come back from college to find them moved on. She hadn't had many friends to begin with as it was generally believed that Sarah was crazy. That had been the rumor in high school, at least. The friends from Underground had faded away when Sarah had stopped believing in them. That was what happened to imaginary friends when their children grew up. Sir Didymus, Ludo and Hoggle had outlived their usefulness to her.

They had outlived their usefulness. It was a horrible way to look at the situation. Sarah's chest ached as she felt that pain bubble up inside and clench at her heart. She could hear their voices, faint and weary, screaming out that she had murdered them all. They were dead and gone because Sarah had stopped believing in them; hadn't she promised not to?

A soft chuckle echoed through the bedroom and chill fingers worked their way up her spine. Sarah's eyes roamed the mirror looking for the source of the sound but there was no one in the room behind her. The sound coming again though this time it was closer to her and nearer to the door. It was her chuckle; she was chuckling. Her lips twisted in to an ugly smile. Those friends had not been real. They could not be injured by her lack of belief in them; they were not real. When they were gone, they were gone; they didn't feel.

Again a shimmer turned Sarah's attention to the mirror and she found herself staring in to its depths. The other Sarah stared back at her from the shiny surface with a wry smile upon her lips. One at a time the pills slid between Sarah's lips and each swallowed in its turn until fifteen or twenty were gone. The moment was surreal; she did not feel herself moving and the medication left no bitter after taste.

It's a dream. Just a dream; when I wake up, all will be well.

Over and over Sarah's mind whispered to itself that this was just a hallucination. This was why she needed to take her pills and keep to her schedule. Without her medication, she fancied that the mirror was giving off light that did not come from the room. No, the mirror was the source of the illumination rather than the reflection of it. Beneath the surface of the glass there were ripples that her fingertips tried to catch but could not. The light began to fade until the room a dull reflection of its former self.

I must be waking up. The dream is ending.

That little voice inside Sarah's head which kept her on schedule decided to speak up at that moment. The dishes needed washing. She should make her bed before going to work. A chill crept up her spine as she searched the mirror for that light; why was the room so full of shadows? They crept closer and closer still to where she perched on the vanity chair. The dream came to an abrupt end when a soft male voice murmured beside her ear.

"Sarah, what have you done?"