Path of Strange Stars
Chapter 1: Hardships Unnumbered
Disclaimer: The Labyrinth remains the intellectual property of the Jim Henson Company. We are making no money off of this fan fiction; we're just two rabid fangirls who want to see Jareth and Sarah wind up together and torture them while we're at it. :D We've done extensive research into other continuations of the story and have pieced together our own interpretation of what might've happened to these characters. In short, we're trying to do something original-ish. Other fantasy/science fiction influences may, admittedly, bleed into this story.
Authors' Notes: This is a continuation of Jim Henson's Labyrinth several years after the original tale leaves off. As a collaborative work, the updates for this fic will be at the mercy of when our schedules overlap, and thus are likely to be slow and spread out. Editing will also be done as we go along. We thank you for reading and hope that you will enjoy the story as it progresses. :)
If you would like to check out our individual stories on FFnet, please follow the links on our joint profile page. Cheers! — Mystical_Grace and Meghanna Starsong
This chapter was updated 10/25/21 to reflect story changes.
"""""
The snow owl gazed at the dark-haired woman through the window of a classroom, the glass decorated with children's crayon drawings. She'd haunted his every thought since her triumphant return to the mortal realm with her brother in tow. He'd observed her from the shadows, had watched as she'd grown up and gone about the daily business of living.
The light around her—that special something which drew him to her—was still present, but faint. That had worried him for some time.
There were moments, like now when she was animatedly reading stories to enthralled children, where it flared brightly and lit her face. As she pantomimed a character's actions with her hands, she mesmerized him with her beauty, a beauty all the rarer since it came from within.
As time passed, something inside of her had diminished, becoming tarnished by the demands of the human world. He'd watched her light fade to something delicate and misty, soon dispelled by the harshness of reality. Most humans looking at her would see a capable adult with a steady job holding a proper place in society.
But he wasn't fooled. He knew better.
She was barely treading water, almost drowning in the waves of expectation and spitefulness battering her from all sides. She'd spent so long trying to be what everyone else wanted her to be, pretending to be someone she wasn't, that she'd lost herself.
How much longer would her stubborn nature bolster her against the depression, the emptiness?
Another woman in a prim blouse and pencil skirt entering the classroom interrupted his vigil. The object of his desire frowned at the unexpected newcomer before shooing the children in her care off in the direction of her assistant. The young ones began to settle down on mats with blankets and pillows in preparation for their afternoon nap.
The owl ruffled his pale feathers, his unblinking gold eyes following the black-haired woman through various windows of the building. He lost sight of her when she passed through a door and into an office. His talons bit deeper into the bark of the branch, all too aware of who that office belonged to and what awaited her inside. He spread his wings and hopped off the branch, flying off in search of a new perch from which to watch over her.
"""""
Sarah stood for a moment outside of Principal Shytle's office. She'd left her assistant in charge of her class during naptime after Jennifer, the school secretary, paid her an in-person visit. Her boss, the "lord" of Riverton Elementary Academy, apparently wanted to see her, and she was certain it couldn't be for anything good. Principal Shytle never had anything nice to say to anyone, especially her.
Her stomach churning with nerves, she took a deep breath and knocked softly on the glazed glass of the door.
"Come in," said a nasally voice.
She turned the handle and poked her head in. "Jennifer said you wanted to see me, Principal Shytle."
The principal looked up from some papers to peer at her. He was a man whose height was offset by his excessive weight, as he preferred sitting at his antique desk and overseeing those beneath him from the sanctuary of his office. His thinning hair was a dull, graying brown, which plastered to his brow when he was hot. Despite being almost the same height as Sarah herself, he somehow always managed to look down on her with patronizing eyes. His suits were a decade out of fashion and somber in color, as if he ran an outdated funeral home rather than a school.
When he met with members of the school board, his superior behavior strategically turned to simpering; in short, the man knew how to cater to his own bosses. Doing so allowed Shytle to remain in his comfortable position and preserved his own power. Worse, he often took credit for successful classroom techniques created by the teachers while scolding them for ridiculous infractions.
Sarah loathed him and was confident the sentiment was returned threefold.
"Ah, Ms. Williams." The older man leaned back in his wide leatherback chair. His small, piggish eyes narrowed further with what she interpreted as anticipation. "Come in and have a seat."
Sarah shut the door and walked to the two guest chairs in front of the mahogany desk. She sat down on a cracked cushion and tucked a wisp of her hair behind an ear. On the paneled walls of the principal's office hung elaborately framed photographs of the Riverton campus, some dating back to when it was founded a century ago. There was a dark bookcase to the side of the desk with Encyclopedia volumes and yearbooks from years past. Shytle kept one plant in his office, a large, bulbous cactus in a terracotta pot. He'd placed it on a pedestal in front of the window facing out over the playground.
"How can I help you?" she asked, masking her apprehension with a veneer of professionalism.
Shytle sniffed in a manner that was clearly meant to be condescending. He folded his hands over his generous belly, the buttons of his ironed shirt straining. "I'm afraid, Ms. Williams, that I've received a disturbing report regarding your interactions with some of our students."
She blinked in surprise. Whatever she'd expected, this wasn't it. "What do you mean by 'disturbing report'?" she demanded.
"The fact that you don't know what I'm speaking of makes it all the more worrisome."
"I don't mean to be rude, but I honestly have no idea what you're talking about." Sarah placed both hands on her knees and squeezed them, her nails biting into her skin through the fabric of her trousers.
Principal Shytle's chair squeaked as he shifted in it. "Didn't you involve yourself in a dispute between students in grades 3 and 4 during yesterday's recess?" he asked, tapping his fingers on the stack of papers in front of him.
She scowled, remembering the incident in question. "Well, yes. Some of the older students were making fun of a girl in Mrs. Kennan's class. Since no one else seemed inclined to do anything, I took it upon myself to put a stop to it before it escalated. How's that disturbing?"
"Aside from involving yourself with students that weren't in your care, there's the fact that you interrupted a group of children who were working out social issues." He gave her a thin-lipped, merciless smile. "How can children learn to stand up for themselves if we interfere every time they squabble?"
She couldn't have heard that right. "Sir, Carmen was crying. She was outnumbered eight to one! Something needed to be done!" At his grimace, she lowered the volume of her voice with some effort. "I'm sorry if you think my intervention was unnecessary, but to me, that looked an awful lot like bullying."
"What, exactly, was this so-called 'bullying' about?"
Sarah glanced down at her brown loafers, recalling as much detail about yesterday as she could. "The 4th graders were teasing Carmen, because she was playing with unicorn toys. When their behavior escalated to taunts and pushing, I stepped in. I told them that she had as much right to play with unicorns as they did video games or Cops and Robbers. They left, and I comforted Carmen as best I could before going back to my own class."
"Yes, let's discuss this 'comfort' of yours." The way he spoke reminded her of a surgeon preparing for his first incision, only he meant to verbally slice her up rather than physically. To her, there wasn't much difference; the feeling it left her with was the same. "Mrs. Cale happened to overhear you, and she believes that you were encouraging the girl's fascination."
"All I did was tell her a story about unicorns. There's no harm in a little imagination." Anger caused color to rise from her chest up into her throat and cheeks.
Shytle sneered outright at her now. "Ms. Williams, a woman of your age shouldn't encourage impressionable minds to indulge in fantasies."
"That's what all this is about?" She breathed sharply through her nose, swallowing the scathing words she wished to lambast him with. Instead, she opted to defend herself in a more logical, toned down fashion. "What about Mrs. Cale or Mrs. Kennan, who witnessed the entire exchange and didn't do anything about it? Why aren't they being reprimanded for their lack of empathy towards a student? Why am I the one in trouble for telling an upset girl that it's okay to play with unicorns? That's ludicrous!"
"Watch your tone, Ms. Williams!" Shytle reprimanded her. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and patted his moist brow. Their exchange was having a physical effect on him as well. He cleared his throat before continuing. "This is not the only infraction against you."
Her jaw dropped. "'Infraction?' What are you insinuating—"
"You have no control over your class. In fact, you seem to encourage their wild behavior. The parents of several children have complained about your particular teaching style. Need I remind you that we are an educational facility, not a playhouse?"
"They're in kindergarten; of course they're going to be energetic and inventive. I don't see where you get the idea that they're out of control."
Principal Shytle ignored Sarah altogether. "On top of all this, Ms. McKenneley informs me that one of her students isn't doing well in his classes."
"Then why aren't you having this discussion with her?" she grumbled, letting some of her temper bleed into her tone.
"The student in question is young Aidan Anders." He put the handkerchief back in his suit pocket, watching as she flinched at the name. "The boy is a cheerful, obedient student, and his grades have always been excellent. However, they've slipped in the past few months, and Aidan himself has become withdrawn, causing Ms. McKenneley some concern."
Her temper cooled at the mention of this particular information. She locked her fingers in her lap, guilt washing over her. "I'm sorry to hear that. He's a good kid."
"You broke off your engagement with his father recently, didn't you? It seems that your—callousness—is affecting the boy."
"You can't seriously be blaming his grades and behavior on me!"
Shytle snorted. "You were the one involved with his father to begin with. Don't you have some degree of fault in this situation?"
"I'll remind you that Aidan was never my student!" She stood up indignantly.
"You know our policies on employees dating parents, Ms. Williams. It was only a matter of time before the school board and I found out," was the principal's reply.
Sarah shook her head in disgust. "I'm sorry that Aidan isn't doing well in school, but I'm not going to be held solely responsible for what's happening with him. I suggest you speak with Mr. Anders about his son."
During the breakup with Jacob, she'd met with Aidan and explained matters as gently as she could. She'd assured the eight-year-old that he'd done nothing wrong, that this was something between his father and her. When he'd cried, breaking her heart, she'd hugged the boy close and reminded him that she'd always be his friend.
She'd meant it at the time, had even entertained the idea of regular playdates with the boy, but things hadn't worked out so simply. Breakups, like most things in life, were complex and messy, especially with a persistent ex-fiancé and a young child involved. In the end, for everyone's sake, she'd thought it best to maintain her distance and had done so thus far.
"I see." She was startled out of her thoughts by Shytle's voice. He steepled his fingers over his belly, smugness roiling off of him like heat from a fireplace.
"If that's all, I have to get back to my students." Fuming, she spun on her heel and stomped to the door. Her hand just reached the round knob when the man spoke again, his next words halting her.
"One more thing, Ms. Williams." Shytle tugged his suit jacket back into place over his gut. "When you go back to your classroom, collect your personal items and leave this property. Security will escort you out, if necessary."
She caught her breath; her ears were ringing. Surely she hadn't heard correctly? A fine trembling encompassed her body. "Excuse me?"
"I'm putting you on suspension for two weeks while we review whether or not you remain an asset to this institution," he explained, his half-lidded gaze gleaming in catlike satisfaction. "You'll hear from the school board in a few days. Good afternoon, Ms. Williams."
"""""
It didn't take long for Sarah to collect her possessions in a cardboard box, conveniently provided by the cafeteria lunch lady, and exit the building. The other school staff watched her leave with mixed sympathy, superiority, and curiosity. Tossing the box angrily into her car's backseat, she drove away in a daze, barely paying attention to traffic lights and signs, until she arrived at the Williams' residence.
She stopped hard in front of her family's white Victorian house. The brakes squealed in protest, reminding her that the car needed new pads soon. She parked in the street, turned the engine off, and sat there with her hands still on the steering wheel. Bending forward, she rested her forehead against the rubbery cushion of the wheel. She should have at least an hour alone to mentally collect herself before everyone came home.
How ironic that the day she was unofficially fired fell on the night of her family's weekly dinner gathering. She hoped to find some sympathy here, but didn't really anticipate that happening. Practical realists like Robert and Irene Williams didn't soften the blows of their criticism just because of bad days, and they weren't exactly adept at sympathizing with the hardships of others.
Toby was the only one in her family who might be able to relate to her. Well, at least as much as a teenager could empathize with an adult. They'd always shared a close bond and been supportive of each other. Maybe I'll just keep my mouth shut about the whole ordeal today. I can't handle Dad lecturing me again about responsibility or Irene's silent, disappointed judgment.
Grabbing her purse and keys, Sarah trotted up the gray sidewalk to the three-story house. The open front porch looked beautiful with vibrant flowers in orderly rows and meticulously cut hedges framing the steps. Someone had repainted the trim and railings recently. She had to give Irene credit; she did a good job with the upkeep of the old house.
Inserting the key into the front door, she let herself into the living room, recently updated by Irene with more "modern" furniture, and threw her purse onto the loveseat. Her lightweight jacket followed soon after. A floorboard squeaked as she tromped into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water. She'd just finished downing it when she heard a noise coming from upstairs.
Strange. No one was supposed to be home.
Then she heard the strains of a guitar from some moody rock song and instantly had a suspicion. She snuck up the twisting staircase, avoiding the steps that she remembered creaked, and padded down the carpeted hall. The door to Toby's room was slightly ajar, exposing a wedge of a wall covered in Japanese cartoons, clippings of song lyrics, and posters of gothic-looking bands. A light flickered and more music poured full blast out the door.
With a nudge of her foot, she opened the door to reveal her brother hunched over his boxy desktop computer, his fingers frantically pecking away at the keyboard. "What're you doing home, Toby?" Sarah demanded loudly over the music, crossing her arms.
Toby jumped in surprise, toppling his chair as he spun around to see who'd caught him. He sprawled on the floor in black jeans and a t-shirt that'd been washed too many times. When he saw who it was, his eyes, rimmed in equally dark eyeliner, widened. "Sis! Hey! I-I'm...er, sick."
The male vocalist in the rock song wailed, and she clapped her hands over her ears. "Listening to this music is making me sick too. Turn it down!"
He scowled at her, stood, and picked up his chair. "It's not just music; it's visual kei. Like, the most creative rock music of all time. Better yet, it's from Japan. Hyde, Gackt! Don't you know anything?"
"Find a Jekyll to your Hyde, and spare my eardrums already!" She winced.
"You're so lame," he muttered but turned the CD player down. "Wait, why're you here? You had work today yourself."
With the music as mere background noise now, she sighed and plopped down onto Toby's unmade bed. The tangled sheets were—of course—black. "Oh, I did. At least until Principal Shytle decided to suspend me."
"What?! Why?! You're, like, the best teacher he has!"
"It's a pretty long story." She gave him a self-pitying smile.
"That bad, huh?" Toby quickly typed something, his hands flying over the keyboard, and shut down the computer. He switched off the monitor and joined her on the bed. A mischievous look crossed his face. "Hey, can I egg his car? No, wait—can I egg his HOUSE?"
Sarah arched an eyebrow at him. "No, you may not."
"Come on! I can get my friends to help. Some of them had Shytle in elementary and have old scores to settle." His gleeful look turned wicked. "We could keep it up for weeks! He'd never see it coming!"
She couldn't help but be amused and a little envious of Toby's fearlessness. The kid was so unapologetically himself. So fierce. Everything about him was, from his fashion sense to his taste in music. It didn't matter if he was alone in his interests or if some of the kids in high school gave him crap about them. He remained himself.
"I appreciate the offer, but no." She softened and affectionately bumped her shoulder into his. "You're so protective. I thought that was my job as the big sister."
Toby grinned and nudged her back. "Yeah, but I'm the kid brother. It's my job to fight shitty rules."
She launched into a summary of what happened at work. When she was through, Toby scowled indignantly. "Fucking Shytle. What a dick! What's so wrong with a bit of make believe?"
"As a private institution with a prestigious reputation, they're more concerned about grooming children into perfect little drones than encouraging them to be inquisitive, imaginative individuals." Sarah shrugged helplessly. "Either way, it's not good for me. I'm one step away from being fired. Dad and Irene are going to just love hearing that."
He bit his lip. "Is that really so bad?" he asked quietly. "Not that I want you to get fired, but you haven't been happy there."
"I'm an adult, Toby. I need money to pay bills, my rent, my student loans. It's not like I can ask for help from Dad and Irene," she retorted, her cheeks flushing.
"Why not? You know they'd try to do something for you."
"No way! They're still putting money away for your college fund and paying off this house."
"What about your mother then, the hotshot actress?"
"The last time I heard from her was months ago. It's not like she makes a habit of checking on my wellbeing." Sarah put her face in her hands and moaned. "I don't have a lot of savings right now either after fixing my car two weeks ago."
He poked her side with an index finger. "Those sound suspiciously like excuses and pride talking, but I'll let you get away with it."
"Yeah, yeah."
"Why not make this an opportunity to do what you really want?"
"What're you getting at?" she mumbled through her hands.
"Do something you actually like for a change." She felt the mattress dip as her brother rummaged beneath the bed, and then something landed in her lap. She moved her hands aside to see a faded spiral notebook riddled with ink marks and sticky notes. "Why not take this to a publisher? You love writing, and your stories are fun and original, especially the ones about the goblins."
Sarah gawked at him. "Where'd you get this? I left it—"
"—buried deep in the closet of your old room. Lucky for you, I conveniently 'found' it." He gave her a sly half-smile.
"You had no right to go through my things, Tobias Williams!" She rose to her feet in anger.
Toby at least had the grace to look sheepish. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that. But these are so good! Why'd you hide them, anyway?"
She balled up the tattered notebook, scowling. "They're just stupid things I wrote when I was in college. They're nothing."
"But, Sis, I wanted to show you this too!" He trotted over to a messy bookshelf, shoved a few art books and drawing pads aside before selecting a leather-bound sketchbook. He leafed through it and then shoved it persistently under her nose. "I was reading your stories, and...well, look!"
Humoring him, she leaned over and inspected the ink and charcoal sketches. Her lips parted in wonder as she flipped through pages of detailed renderings, some so lifelike they could be mistaken for black and white photos. . "You did these? They're amazing. You've got real talent."
Toby blushed, looking pleased, and ran a hand through his spiky, dirty blond hair. "Thanks, but your stories gave me a lot to work with." He gestured to a specific drawing. "I really liked this particular scene you wrote about with the fairy and goblin. It was hilarious!"
"It was?" She blinked in disbelief.
"For real!" He paused and took a breath. "You know, if you go to a publisher, maybe...maybe I can illustrate for you?"
Sarah winced. "It's a nice idea, but no. I've put those aspirations behind me. I haven't written anything in years. Dad was right; I need to be in a stable career. Teaching is at least that."
"Until recently," he snarkily added.
"True.."
"Dad also thinks you should've stayed with Jacob for stability, but you didn't." Toby testily picked at the chipped black nail polish on his pinky finger.
"Those are two completely different subjects." She stiffened. Why did everyone have to bring up that failed relationship today?
"If you say so." He plucked the notebook out of her hands and tossed it onto his desk. He slumped into his chair, staring moodily at his blank monitor.
Sarah exhaled, willing her temper to cool. She hated fighting with her brother. Intending to restore some of their earlier comradery, she changed the subject. "What I'd like to know is why you're home when you're obviously not sick. Is there something happening at school?"
Toby rolled his eyes. "Sports day." He said it as if it were an offensive word. "Wasn't feeling up to it," he answered in an off-handed tone.
"I can't imagine Dad and Irene let you skip school just because you didn't feel like working up a sweat."
He shrugged. "Faked it. Wasn't hard. Put a heated blanket in my bed to make me sweat and got my hands clammy from an ice pack. Mom freaked and insisted I stay home."
She stared incredulously at her brother. "You mean to tell me that you pulled a Ferris Bueller? That's terrible!"
"It worked, didn't it? No big deal." He leaned back in his chair and nonchalantly propped his legs up on the desk, careful to avoid the notebook.
"That is so juvenile! You shouldn't take advantage of your mother like that. Don't you feel ashamed?"
Toby scoffed at her, his chin jutting out defiantly. "Seriously? It's sports day. There's nothing going on other than jocks showing off."
Once she started lecturing, Sarah couldn't stop herself from continuing to do so. "You're sixteen, almost an adult. Don't you think it's about time that you started acting like one?"
"Now you sound like Dad."
"That's not a bad thing," she replied defensively.
Toby blew out a frustrated breath. "Look, I've got good grades, and I have good attendance. Cut me some slack, teach."
She bristled at the mocking remark. "I'm just worried about you."
"Maybe you should worry about yourself instead, Debbie Downer."
"That's not fair!" She pointed a reprimanding finger at him. "Stop being a little shit! I've had a bad enough day!"
Toby threw his arms up in exasperation. "Then stop picking a fight with me! That's what you always do. When you're frustrated or feel backed into a corner, you lash out at everybody else."
"I'm not!"
"Aren't you?"
"This is ridiculous!"
"You know what? Fuck it!"
Downstairs the front door opened with a bang. There came a shuffle of feet and a rustle of grocery bags. The voices of Robert and Irene Williams drifted up to the siblings, interrupting their bickering.
"Sarah, are you here?" their father bellowed up the stairs.
Sarah and Toby locked eyes, both of them acknowledging this was the end of their privacy but not the end of their fight.
"Yeah!" she shouted back from the entrance of Toby's doorway. "I'm here!"
"We're having meatloaf for dinner, and Irene bought an apple pie from the grocery store for dessert. How's that sound?"
"Great, Dad." She took a step out into the hall.
After a pause, Robert called up again, "How're you feeling, Toby?"
Toby forced a cough, grinning as Sarah pursed her lips. "Better! Guess it was just a bug."
"That's good to hear, sport. The two of you come down and help with dinner."
"We'll be right there," Sarah assured him.
Brother and sister exchanged rude gestures before descending the steps, silently agreeing to a temporary truce.
"""""
To Be Continued
