Nothingnothingtralala was here, with cake pops, tea and a Labyrinth fan-fiction writer's shirt, (if we want to immortalise it people, we need to start NOW)

Sarah woke to unwanted company.

Bruno stood over her; the sun at his back casting a hulking shadow across the bed, his darkened silhouette grossly exaggerated by the window behind him. Her mind lurched into a forced consciousness as she sat up with a start, her head spinning slightly from the shock of her rude awakening. Her brain failed to cooperate as she tried to pull together memories and meaning from her sleep-addled mind. Reflexively, she backed up towards the wall and bumped her head against the headboard of the bed. Dazed, her hand slid across the pile of small metallic cards which had been left beside her sleeping form.

Then she remembered.

Clumsily, she gathered the scratch cards with nervous hands and held them out to him. She didn't have time to look at what her wish had been worth; she would simply have to trust that the Goblin King had fulfilled his end of the bargain. The cards themselves did catch her eye as Bruno's fist wrapped around them. Her breath caught in her throat. These were not the same scratch cards: that much should be obvious from her wish being granted. More problematic, however, was the fact that they were not the same brand of card, different from the variety she had originally been given to scratch, in size, colour and design. She could feel a cold sweat breaking out over her skin. Would it be noticed or was it an insignificant detail? She had noticed, after all…

Bruno grunted and nodded towards her as he pocketed the cards. He looked around the room briefly and cleared his throat loudly, as if he had something to say. His hooded eyes met hers for a moment before he suddenly turned on his heel and exited the room; the familiar sound of the lock sliding closed behind him. Sarah felt a breath of relief rush from her lungs so quickly it made her dizzy. She sank back against the headboard weakly and closed her eyes. Her mouth felt like sandpaper. A quick inspection of the room yielded no water bottle; the Goblin King had taken it with him. Briefly, she tried to entertain herself with the thought of it taking pride of place somewhere in his throne room, but there was no drowning out the dark thoughts which had rolled in.

What now?

She didn't have long to wait and find out. As she washed her face with cold water in the bathroom basin, she heard the door lock beep in the adjoining room. For a moment she considered drying her face on the skirt of her dress but, considering it unladylike to lift her skirt in front of company – and possibly an invisibly hovering Goblin King – she simply rubbed it across her lower arms and decided it would do. Exiting the bathroom, she came face to face with Bruno who seemed surprised to find her there, or perhaps to find her dripping wet.

"Follow me," he told her gruffly, but not unkindly.

Despite the fact that he was Carl's henchman, Sarah wanted to think well of him. He had, after all, been the sole reason there were any scratchies to begin with. He led her from the room and back down the corridor to the elevator. As they entered the foyer of The Sloan, they were greeted by the musical trickle of the wall fountain, singing happily in the quiet. The front desk was empty now, the glass arc separating it from the foyer reflecting only Sarah and Bruno as they passed out through the automatic door entrance. Bruno led her to the same car she had been transported in the day before, opening the door for her and waiting; she glanced at him hesitantly before committing herself to the back seat. Sinking into the plush seat cover again, she wondered where she was being taken. She tried not to think about the scratch cards. If they had not been all they should have been…

"Off to meet the warden, are we?" queried the Goblin King.

Sarah jumped in her seat and placed a hand over her chest, as if to stop her heart from beating out of her rib cage. Turning her head, she saw that the Goblin King was now lounging comfortably next to her on the back seat of the car. With alarm, she glanced up at Bruno in the rear view mirror.

"Oh no, precious, he can't see or hear me," he assured her. His sharp smile cut her thoughts to pieces, each one spinning off with unanswered questions.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed, rather more forcefully than she had intended. Bruno cleared his throat and Sarah met his eye in the mirror as he frowned at her oddly.

"He can hear you though, Sarah," chuckled the Goblin King. She gave him a withering look.

Great…just great…

The Goblin King whistled jauntily and leaned back; kicking his long legs, he hooked them up onto the head rest of the front passenger seat. Sarah thought it was quite an accomplishment that he somehow managed to make it look comfortable.

"I'm monitoring the progress of the wish," he told her finally, once he had settled himself, "for quality assurance purposes, of course."

Sarah burned with quiet resentment; she had something to say about the quality of the wish. The change to the scratch cards still haunted her; would she be asked to explain that minor miracle? He smirked at her mounting anger.

"Oh my, I do rather like it when you can't talk back, precious thing," he laughed. Sarah did her best to ignore him for the rest of the journey. She gritted her teeth through him whistling 'Don't Fear the Reaper' and 'Sympathy for the Devil', and tried to settle her frayed nerves. Eventually the car pulled up in front of a long line of expensive-looking boutiques and Bruno killed the engine. Sarah opened her mouth to abuse the Goblin King as soon as Bruno had stepped from the car, but she paused when Bruno immediately turned, opening her door and prompting her to follow. The Goblin King's self-satisfied grin as she climbed from the car only managed to rile her further. Stomping, she followed Bruno, telling herself she no longer cared about their destination. She just wanted to be as far as possible from a particular smug, fae being. Bruno stopped at the first store and glanced up at the window. Large glass panes displayed a multitude of fashionable attire, accessories, and an odd assortment of bizarrely arranged bird cages. The woman in Sarah couldn't help but notice a particularly nice set of leather ankle boots in the window. They moved down to the next store, business wear, and on past another for sport apparel. Finally they reached Bruno's destination, which was a chic looking boutique with an arrangement of semi-formal gowns on display, and a French looking name scrawled across the shop front in such heavy cursive that Sarah could only guess at how it read. An antiquated little bell over the door sounded as he steered her inside, and a dark haired woman with bright pink lipstick came to greet them on the shop floor.

"Abby," greeted Bruno, presumably the woman's name. "Dress this girl for lunch with the boss."

Abby gave him a questioning look and then raised an eyebrow at Sarah.

"For lunch?" she asked.

Bruno nodded. She made a tutting sound as she examined Sarah's clothes and hair.

"What about her hair and makeup?"

Bruno shrugged and shook his head.

"Isn't it fine?" he asked. Abby narrowed her eyes at him and threw up her hands.

"Men," she added, rolling her eyes at Sarah. "Of course it's not fine, looks like the poor girl hasn't even had a shower."

Bruno frowned at both women and reached into his shirt to pull out a pack of cigarettes.

"Whatever," he replied, removing one from the pack and placing it in his mouth. "Just have her ready by one."

With that he turned on his heel and left the store, pulling a lighter from his back pocket as he went. Abby took Sarah by the hand, leading her through the store and straight into a small changing room. Highly polished, wall length mirrors reflected Sarah from several angles, all of the reflections looking worried and worn. The small cubicle was brightly lit by neon globes which hummed quietly in the eerie stillness of the shop, giving the surreal impression that the booth was disconnected from the world outside.

Abby was a small woman with a slightly pinched heart-shaped face. Heavy locks of curling, chocolate hair framed her face and she wore a tight blue skirt and white blouse, high heels, which looked like they might snap her ankles at any moment, and just a little bit too much mascara. She gave Sarah an awkward smile and ushered her behind the changing curtain of the booth.

"Don't worry about names or circumstances, I don't want to get into any trouble," she told her. "Just try on the dresses I pass to you."

Sarah nodded mutely, forgetting that she couldn't see her response from behind the curtain. This person was also no friend to her; even if she was sympathetic, Sarah was nothing more than a stranger to any of them, dancing to Carl's tune. When the first dress, a brown taffeta full length gown, was passed through the fabric doorway, Sarah took it and draped it across the hook on the wall numbly. As she slid the straps of her sundress from her shoulders her hands shook; the hair on the back of her neck prickled. Glancing behind her, she found the Goblin King reclining against the changing room mirror with a curious look on his face.

"Oh, don't mind me precious," he replied seriously.

It took a moment for her brain to connect with her hands and force them to stop mid action; Sarah was mildly grateful that her brain could still connect to anything. She sighed. Somehow, being so angry at him, and so frightened in general, was just making her feel tired.

"Get out please?" she pleaded.

"Oh, don't you just wish I would?"

"Yes," she replied honestly. "No…Wait… I didn't mean that… Wait..."

She held up a hand as if to stop him and then ran it across her face, covering her eyes. She swallowed the choking sob which rose within her, and fought to breathe evenly, her other hand still holding the strap of her sundress just off her shoulder.

She couldn't do this.

She couldn't just play dress up, AND deal with him, AND wait to see what was going to happen to her next. She just couldn't, it wasn't possible. Taking a shuddering breath, she wiped her now wet eyes with the back of her hand. She was supposed to be strong and courageous, that was what she wanted to be. Now suddenly she was out of luck and everything seemed to be beyond her control, beyond her ability to fix. Another day she might have boldly changed in front of him, she might have refused to change at all, or screamed at Abby and Bruno, fighting for…

For what?

Freedom, fairness, the triumph of good over evil? She bit back a callous laugh which nearly choked her. Readying herself, she took a deep breath and removed the hand from her eyes to face the Goblin King, and stopped: he was nowhere to be seen. Unbidden, a gurgling laugh rose in her chest, and she sank down into a squatting position, hugging her knees and letting her hair fall over her face. She stayed there for a while, not looking at the brown taffeta dress, not doing anything.

Lunch with the boss… which was who… Carl? What for, why now, what next?

"I wonder what it's like to be able to see the future," she whispered, her face pressed against her thighs. She wasn't sure if she really wanted to know what it had in store for her.

"Decidedly boring," echoed the half-expected reply. The Goblin King's voice was low, as if measured to match her own. She did not jump at the sound of it this time. Tilting her head slightly, she could see his outline on the other side of the screen. He was holding a white dress through the curtain break delicately; it hung like a flag of truce from his once confident hands, now vulnerable in the harsh overhead light.

She did not move to take it from him.

"If you watch for long enough you start to see the pattern of history repeating. Things evolve, but people and events are always predictable. The future might change every time you look at it, but you learn to anticipate what's coming next, you form expectations."

"So the future has never surprised you?" croaked Sarah at last, pushing hair from her tear-stained face. The Goblin King's hand tensed slightly at the question, and then relaxed.

"You're going to be okay, Sarah," he told her.

She knew he couldn't possibly know that, he couldn't see it and know for sure, he had no power over her. But for some unknown reason, it made her feel better just to hear him say it.

"Of course I am," she agreed, clearing her throat and finding her feet. As she took the dress from his outstretched hand, she ran her thumb across the back of his gloved palm, resisting the urge to give it a squeeze. It didn't take her long to change: her fingers were still awkward and clumsy but the tremor in her hands was gone. He was waiting for her. She practised her smile while the dress slipped into place, trying to remember what it was to feel confident.

The dress was lovely. Layered organza over a white petticoat base, the pleated skirt hung down nearly as low as her ankles, with a generous neckline and short capped sleeves. The mid-section was separated with a large white ribbon and small delicate flowers had been embroidered in a scattered pattern, throughout the organza layer. She sighed as she admired it, a fluffy feeling of contentment almost overwhelming the unease which had been plaguing her all morning. As she found a genuine smile the curtain was ripped open behind her.

"Oh," said Abby, her eyes narrowing at the gown. "I don't remember getting that one out."

She frowned at Sarah, shifting a small pile of dresses she had gathered from one hand to the other. "Well, that one's fine isn't it? We don't have much time anyway."

Abby pulled at her hand again, dragging her from the changing booth and back through the store. Sarah looked for the Goblin King but he seemed to have disappeared. She took comfort in the fact that he never seemed to be very far away. She was led into a grungy little back room area, attached to the store with a laundry/bathroom adjacent. A single bulb hung low, casting an unflattering light on the unappealing room. In contrast to the clean shop floor, the store room smelt dank and musty. Sickening yellowed wallpaper clung to the walls, strips peeling in areas, accentuated by dark ominous stains. The floor was plain concrete, long since blackened by the trail of dirty feet which had travelled across it.

Abby pulled Sarah into the wash room area and directed her to the large laundry sink. Pushing her head down, she wrapped a towel around her shoulders to protect the dress, and began the vigorous process of washing Sarah's hair beneath the faucet. Once she estimated enough had been done, she produced another towel, wringing the hair dry and then wrapping it securely before she allowed her to leave the sink. She moved methodically and with an assured manner, despite her size, and Sarah constantly found herself ducking to acquiesce to her attentions. They returned to the store room again and Sarah was positioned on a low stool, where Abby finished towelling off her hair and pulled out a small bag. From the bag, she drew a variety of cosmetics, nodding over some and scowling at others as she lined them up along the small table in the corner of the room. As a rule Sarah didn't much care for wearing makeup; it was a time consuming process and often led to unsatisfactory results. She sat patiently as Abby began to blob different substances onto her skin, while muttering to herself and glancing at the small silver watch on her wrist. Since it was stuck in her head, Sarah hummed 'Sympathy for the Devil,' as she followed Abby's commands to close her eyes and purse her lips when necessary.

Bruno arrived early.

Abby swore as he filled the doorway of the store room, clearing his throat and fidgeting.

"I haven't had time to do anything with her hair yet," she grumbled. Bruno looked Sarah over with a bored expression.

"It will dry in the car," he claimed, waving for Sarah to follow.

As they were leaving, Sarah yanked several tissues from a box placed on the register counter. Abby yelled after them, just as the little bell over the door chimed to ring them out.

"Wait," she cried, "shoes, shoes!"

She ran awkwardly towards them on her excessively sized heels, almost toppling as she thrust a simple pair of black pumps, topped with a small white bow, into Sarah's hands. It wasn't until she was sitting back in the car that Sarah realised she had left her first set of clothes behind in the changing room. Finding herself in Bruno's rear view mirror, she set to the task of wiping off some of the heavily applied makeup. Once the area around her eyes had been lightened, she blotted the crimson lipstick onto the tissues she had retrieved. When she turned from the chore she caught sight of the Goblin King who had returned to his languid pose beside her, his eyes shone with amusement. Ignoring him, the quirk of smile playing across her own lips, she removed her socks and sneakers and slipped on the black pumps with as much poise as possible. After another fifteen minutes or so, the car made another stop and Bruno stepped out to open the door for Sarah. She followed him through the parking lot of the La Trottoria, her new heels pinching slightly as she walked. Despite everything, Abby had done a close job on guessing her shoe size. The La Trottoria was a quaint looking little Italian restaurant. Textured sandstone walls invited company, and a red canvas canopy fringed the front of the store, repeated in the parasols placed in the alfresco, outdoor eating area. The delicious scent of pasta and melted cheese drifted through the open doorway, mingling with the smell of sunshine, and Sarah's freshly washed hair drying in the daylight. The inside of the restaurant was slightly disappointing. Moving out of the bright sunshine the indoors was gloomy by comparison, stuffy and overheated. Small candles burning on the tables were unable to disguise the shameful lack of windows available to offer light. Carl sat at the back of the store, cramped into a small booth; his hands lay in his lap like limp fish, his notebook ever-present on the dining table.

The boss.

Sarah strode purposefully towards him and took her seat, ready for the future that neither she nor the Goblin King could see. Carl's face was a mystery as he observed her from across the table. After a few minutes had passed, he lifted his notebook and reached beneath it, pulling out the familiar scratch cards and placing them face up towards her. Rather than looking down at them, Sarah continued to watch the man himself.

"A fifty thousand dollar win, Sarah, not bad," he told her.

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his beady eyes darting up to meet hers. That amount, she knew, was all that had saved her. A penny less and she would be nothing to him.

"I'm in the business of gambling, but not so used to gambling myself," he went on. "I wonder if you might be a more valuable asset than I had estimated."

A woman laden with plates appeared by Carl's shoulder, winking at Sarah, she unloaded them onto the table and disappeared just as quickly. Carl indicated that she should eat as he continued to talk.

"How does this… ability… work?" he asked.

Sarah stared at the food doubtfully, picking up a fork from the table and gripping it so tightly in her hand that her knuckles were white.

"I don't know," she told him.

His eyes narrowed at her and his lips tightened in displeasure.

"How much does my family owe you?" Sarah asked. She twirled a strand of spaghetti over and over with her fork. Her stomach grumbled angrily as she watched the food circle the utensil endlessly, unable to bring it to her mouth.

"Why?" he smiled lazily. "Can you choose to win an exact amount?"

"No," she replied immediately. It wasn't really a lie; the luck had never worked that way. Then again, being lucky meant that you'd end up with enough, but the less he knew the better. The luck was gone anyway; there was no need to explain the process to him. It wouldn't be a good idea for Carl to think she could win specific amounts on command. There needed to be an end to this. "I just want to know when I've won enough to pay off my family's debt."

Unthinkingly, she popped the fork load of pasta into her mouth. Chewing the glue like substance methodically, she found it to be completely tasteless; she forced herself to swallow.

"I'll be sure to let you know when you've paid your dues," he assured her with a watery smile.

He patted the book on the table out of reflex. As she began to frame an argument, a strange, buzzing noise erupted from his pocket. Frowning, Carl dipped his hand into his coat and pulled out his mobile phone, snapping it open to take the call. As he began mumbling into the phone, Sarah leaned back in her seat, staring helplessly at the plates of food in front of them. She ran her hands through her nearly dry hair, and sighed. He had said nothing about the change to the scratchies. It made sense that he hadn't noticed; he would never have seen the originals. The question was: who had purchased them, Bruno? It seemed that the change had gone unnoticed anyway, the outcome being foremost in Carl's mind; she supposed anything else could be explained away.

"Oh, I'm late, you've started without me," groaned the Goblin King.

Appearing next to Sarah, he waved his hand ostentatiously and his oversized throne appeared next to the table, placed between Carl and Sarah. Throwing himself into it sulkily, he inclined his head slightly to observe Carl and glanced back at her.

"So this is what all the fuss is about?" he yawned.

When Sarah managed to overcome the fact that she could still be surprised at being surprised by the Goblin King, she noticed that Carl's phone conversation had started to escalate.

"What do you mean you can't find her?" he growled, mopping his brow. "She was with me yesterday."

The Goblin King smiled unpleasantly.

"Ah yes, Cindy," he whispered to Sarah conspiratorially. "She was being a little rough on my playthings."

Sarah blinked at him uncomprehendingly, a sick feeling brewing in the pit of her stomach. It became overwhelming when Carl closed his cell phone impulsively to end his call, and placed a sweaty palm over her hand. Hers couldn't have gone any stiller had it been nailed to the table.

"Sarah, I have some business to take care of," he explained. She continued to stare down at the unwanted contact, disgusted.

"Oh, sure, he can touch you Sarah, that's fair," complained the Goblin King.

She sat like a rabbit in the headlights between the two of them.

"I'll have Bruno take you over to the new suite; we'll arrange something else for you, a chance for you to settle those debts, hmm?" he offered.

The sweat from his palm was warming against the back of her hand, infecting her. The recently swallowed spaghetti threatened to re-emerge. Finally he backed away, snapping his phone open again, his attention elsewhere. Sarah leaned forward against the table and looked over at the Goblin King.

It took every fibre of willpower she had not to wish for a chance to wash her hands.

Thank you for all your lovely reviews, they keep me writing.

Aleta Wolff: As you wish!

Kaytori: Indeed Irene is a weak woman if she sticks around, but then Sarah's take on the situation and what's actually happening amongst the family left behind might be very different!

Ahaha I think at that point the 'allowed to touch' power would certainly have registered in the 'unwanted item' category, not so much now perhaps? The twist is that whatever is traded must be freely given, so really Sarah has the power here, but then Jareth can just as easily deny the wish if the trade is insufficient...

Indeed what will it take for Carl to be satisfied, is such a thing even possible? He definitely falls into the 'greed' wishing category.

Wudelfin: Indeed I have considered the Williams and they shall be revisited. I think that closure on the Williams family should be satisfactory for all, and hopefully you'll all feel a little bit more sympathetic towards Robert as more is revealed... but perhaps not. He was written to be a flawed character after all.

I liked the idea that as an unwanted child Sarah already belongs to the Goblin King - how interesting, I can just imagine him thinking that Sarah is his due to her circumstances.