Chapter 3

Mirror Work Journal, Day 1

"I said the words. It was a lot harder than I thought it would be. I practice monologues in front of the mirror all the time, but I've never actually talked to myself in the mirror. It kind of made me feel sick."

Sarah's fingers hovered over the keyboard. How honest do I have to be in this thing? Rebecca didn't say she would read it, but still…

She drained the cup of coffee on her desk—her third one in as many hours—and began typing again.

"Sure, I don't love myself very much. But does anyone? Isn't going around talking about how much you love yourself kind of…annoying?"

She smirked. I bet Jareth loves himself. A lot.

She shook her head vigorously. Thoughts of Jareth meant thoughts of that kiss, and all those very deep feelings that she definitely wanted to feel again, wanted badly enough to be cause for concern. Which might explain why she'd barely slept at all last night and had spent her one weekly day off from her waitressing job desperately trying to stay awake, anxious about what she might see if she fell asleep again.

"Anyway, I don't like this and I think it's kind of stupid, but Rebecca seems sane, even if she did come recommended by Karen. So I'll keep saying the damn words and writing in this damn journal, but I don't know if I'll be looking into a mirror again anytime soon, because there's someone in there waiting for me who is all kinds of trouble and memory that I don't need right now."

She deleted that last part, wrote it again, and deleted it again. She heard a knock on her bedroom door and jumped.

"Sarah?" Julia opened the door a crack. "Sorry, I didn't mean to…wow."

Julia hadn't spent more than thirty seconds in Sarah's bedroom since they'd become roommates, but even so, Sarah imagined the transformation must have been shocking. The pile of dirty clothes on the bed was gone. The bed itself was made, with pillows and Lancelot (whom Toby had given back to her after he declared himself too old for stuffed animals) positioned on top. Books were arranged neatly on the shelves. The wood floor looked spotless.

Julia looked relieved and more than a little unnerved. "You…cleaned."

Sarah smiled. "Yeah, I've been keeping busy." Cleaning as if my life depended on it, you could say.

Julia nodded, continuing to take in the room until her eyes settled on the full-length mirror on Sarah's wall, which was now covered with a dark-colored shawl. "Just one thing," Julia said, and Sarah could tell that she was trying very hard to be polite. "Is there a reason all the mirrors in the apartment are covered?"

"Oh." She hadn't considered the fact that this might seem odd to someone who wasn't expecting strangers to appear in their mirrors. And occasionally step out of them. "I'm sorry, I'll take the covers off, it's just—"

"Oh! Are you sitting shiva? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"No!" Dammit, that would have been a very rational explanation. But a very bad idea in the long run, considering all the research you'd have to do about Jewish mourning customs. "No, it's not that, I just…" Hate my reflection? Want to experiment with freeform makeup styles? "The play is opening tomorrow night, and it's just something I do before a performance, you know…try to look inward and not focus so much on my appearance."

"I see." Julia smiled. "Well, that makes sense, but is it okay if I take the covers off occasionally? It's hard to fix my hair if I can't see myself."

"Of course, I'll take them down and I'll just…wear dark sunglasses. Same effect."

"Thank you. Oh, and have a great opening night."

"Thanks. I'd offer you a free ticket but the show's terrible."

Julia chuckled and closed the door behind her.

Sarah glanced at the clock on her desk. It was only five pm, and there was no rehearsal tonight—the director wanted everyone "refreshed" for opening night. No work, either. She would have to sleep eventually, but if she could make it a few more hours maybe she'd be so exhausted that she wouldn't dream.

She texted Miguel. Any plans? He texted back a few minutes later. Sorry, date night with Nick, been a while with all the rehearsals. You okay? She was tempted to spill everything, but she already worried that Miguel saw her more as a pity project than as a friend he'd known since college, so she simply wrote Yeah, all good, gonna watch TV and crash.

Sarah stood up and paced her bedroom, feeling a strange mix of utter exhaustion in her limbs and caffeinated hyper-altertness. You could watch a movie. You could bake. You could go for a jog.

You could just check and see if anything's lurking in your mirror.

Sarah rolled her eyes. What exactly was it that the Goblin King had given her? It was nothing she hadn't seen or thought of before, though admittedly some of those memories hadn't been touched in a long time. But what she'd felt…that had been different.

These days when she felt something deeply it was usually rage. It was what had landed her in Rebecca's office in the first place—one too many shouting matches with her father and Karen. And though she would argue—and had, quite loudly—that anger was a perfectly justified response to certain situations, even she admitted that it had gotten out of hand.

But other emotions…no. Not so much anymore.

Which is remarkable, really. You used to cry during soap operas. And you thought nothing would ever give you more joy than that music box you got for your birthday. Why'd you stop feeling things? Especially when it clearly gives you a lot of pleasure?

"Well, it was pleasurable because someone with a very nice face was kissing me."

Yeah, but that wasn't all of it.

She rolled her eyes and continued to pace.There are other ways to achieve deep feelings, you know. You could get drunk. You could listen to angsty music. You could open your phone and be naked with someone in a few hours.

Somehow all of those seemed like a very poor substitute for what she'd experienced the day before.

Of course the shawl covering her desk mirror chose exactly that moment to slip just slightly off the edges, revealing a glint of reflection underneath.

Sarah put her hands on her hips. Did you do that, Jareth?

She pushed the shawl a little more to the side and it fell completely off the mirror. She covered her eyes, expecting to see strange things staring back at her, but there was nothing. Just her own face, hair somewhat mussed, dark circles under her eyes.

Unable to stop herself, she reached out and touched the mirror. It was cold. She got up to confirm that Julia was in her own room and far out of earshot, then sat down in front of the mirror again.

"Hello?"

No response.

"Is anyone in there? Do I have to…'say my right words,' or something?"

As if in response, a page in the open book on her desk fluttered slightly. Sarah sighed.

"You have got to be kidding me."

The page seemed to flutter again.

"Fine. Tit for tat, I suppose—you watch me humiliate myself and I get a fix of raw emotion." Sarah flipped the pages back to the beginning of the book and stared at herself in the mirror.

"I really want to learn to love you, Sarah."

She winced at the sound of the words. Nothing happened. She tried for more sincerity.

"I really, really want to learn to love you, Sarah."

Still nothing. Maybe because you've already done that one? Try the second one.

She flipped a few pages forward and groaned. "Dear Lord, it gets worse." She kept one finger on the page and looked into the mirror again. "Past guilt…is a weight…weighing me down. I am willing to let go of past guilt."

The mirror shimmered slightly. Sarah reached out and touched it, it was warm. She gritted her teeth and said the words again.

"Past guilt is a weight weighing me down. I am willing to let go of past guilt."

The mirror shimmered again, the reflection blurring and distorting and then re-shaping until she saw…

Sarah gasped. It was her old bedroom, with the built-in shelves for her stuffed animals, the pictures of her mother all over the vanity mirror, the bed with the curtains and the patchwork quilt. The bed that the Goblin King was currently lounging on, hands behind his head, a bemused smile on his face.

"I do like that one. Guilt as a weight, it's very poetic. Such a fascinating concept, guilt."

Sarah crossed her arms. "I take it you've never felt it."

Jareth stretched as if he had just woken from a particularly pleasant nap. "I can't say that I have. Which might be why it fascinates me so, the way mortals twist themselves into knots over a past that can't be changed. Not being able to re-order time must be such a nuisance." He turned to gaze at her, his smile like a blade. "You obviously know guilt intimately, Sarah, else you wouldn't be here."

She felt her face flush. "I didn't come here out of guilt. I came because…because…"

He stood up and came close to the mirror, eyes suddenly alive and hungry. "Say your right words, precious."

Sarah snorted. "I already said the damn—"

"Not those." He pressed his hand against the glass. "Tell me why you're here."

She stared into his eyes, felt the hunger radiating off of him, and pressed her hand against his. Immediately she felt a tingle, a faint echo of what she'd felt the day before, and she closed her eyes at the rush.

"I'm here because…I need something from you."

Jareth closed his eyes and gave a small sigh of pleasure. His face seemed to glow slightly, the very subtle lines at the edges of his eyes and mouth smoothing, his hair gleaming more brightly.

"Thank you, precious." The mirror shimmered and his fingers pushed through it to entwine with hers. "This will only hurt for a moment."

"Wait, wha—"

He pulled her through the mirror.

Author's note: Thank you for the reads and reviews! Sorry to end on a cliffhanger (or mirror-dangler, if you will). Chapter 4 is in progress, it's a bit long and complicated and I'm going to keep picking at it for a while until I've got it where I want it, but hopefully that won't take too long.