POSTING EARLY TODAY BECAUSE I WILL BE BUSY LATER TODAY & DON'T WANT TO END UP FORGETTING AFTERWARD.

1) It's 1996, we didn't have 'skinny jeans', we had 'stretch jeans.' Kinda the same thing, tbh, only stretch jeans had more give, because spandex (in '96, I was 18 going on 19 [rather literally, I'm a December baby, so I spend most of any given year 'going on' whatever age I'll be], so I have firsthand experience with the cultural/era touchstones that will make an appearance in this fic while Sarah's still in her own world).

2) In the Bestiary, the li'l guys who live under the walkway and flip the stones are Brick-Keepers, in the Novelization (as well as the Behind the Scenes Trivia on Labyrinth's IMdB page), they're Tile-Keepers. We're following the Bestiary here.

3) I apologize that this chapter may get draggy or feel too detailed in certain spots (i.e.: what Sarah's packed in her duffle, or her arrangements for October), I just needed to establish these things in a realistic way for my own peace of mind as the author before we can move on.

CHAPTER III

A HAND-ME-DOWN MENAGERIE

Robert Williams arched a suspicious brow, the warm smile that had lit his features when he'd opened the door for his daughter slipping a bit. She'd asked to come over to speak to them about this sudden vacation she was taking—to have some time alone with Toby to let him know herself that she was going away for a bit—and he suddenly remembered the other thing she'd asked when they'd spoken last night at the sight of the large, loosely closed box in her arms and the overstuffed bags from the nearby supermarket on the porch by her feet.

Remembered himself giving a mildly bewildered Ah, sure, yeah in response before hanging up.

"Hi, Dad!" she said brightly, after all, she had to give them the impression she was happy to be going on this trip. "Thank you so much for agreeing to take care of her while I'm away!"

He stepped back, making room for her to barrel across the threshold with the box. "When did you even get a cat?" Robert asked, mystified, as he grabbed the bags from the porch before shouldering the door closed and trailing behind her.

"Well," Sarah began with a nervous giggle as she came into the living room and set down the box. "Technically, I didn't."

She sat on the floor and flipped open the top, reaching in to lift October into her arms long enough to turn the box on its side, so the feline had the freedom to come and go from the comfort of the cardboard enclosure as she liked. With a few omissions—who her friends were and her 'spontaneous trip abroad' having absolutely zero to do with fun—she filled her father in on last night's panic-inducing events. Irene wandered in at some point during the story to drop a kiss on her stepdaughter's cheek before settling on the sofa.

Fortunately, after a fight to give the feline a bath that neither of them were particularly happy about afterward, Sarah had been able to find an animal clinic near her apartment that was willing to see October on short notice—she understood not every vet was equipped for emergency visits. The cat was somehow, blessedly, flea-free.

She'd done her packing first thing after waking up. An army duffle bag she'd purchased at a thrift shop a few summers back for the Ren Faire job she'd taken between roles had more than sufficed. She'd kept her food to things she could ration and wouldn't spoil—granola and cereal bars, some cans of soup and ravioli, she was already imagining explaining the can opener to Hoggle who was likely to get distracted by its shiny silverish sheen, a few bottles of water, some jell-o cups in case she needed something more sugary than, well, grainy. First aid kit, of course. Hair brush, her favorite scrunchie.

Then there were the, ahem, personal items. Given the amount of activity that had been involved last time when she'd been there for barely half a day's time and yet now would be unquestionably longer, deodorant was a must. She couldn't be sure what their washroom situation would be like, and so wet-naps, and though she doubted she'd be there long enough for her cycle to swing back around, feminine hygiene products.

Whatever might befall her this time though the Labyrinth, she wanted to be prepared. After the Brick-Keepers changing or hiding her marks, this time she was bringing a marble notebook, pencils, a sharpener, and few pens—just in case—to track the progress of their search.

She'd even stowed a little gift for the Fire Gang that she'd picked up during that summer job. Something she'd seen and couldn't help thinking reminded her of them.

It was in packing up a few changes of clothing that she came to an odd realization. Ever since her first adventure in the Labyrinth, her taste in wardrobe had changed. Even now she was dressed in a flowy, dark-purple peasant blouse, black stretch jeans, and knee-high sable grey suede boots.

An outfit the Goblin King himself would likely approve of greatly.

It wasn't actually the first time she'd noticed her altered preference. The victor always claimed a trophy from their defeated foe, and … this was just that, a metaphorical trophy. A reminder of her victory, she told herself. Even her choice of active footwear was different—simple black Keds slip-ons, nothing that would clash with her 'dramatic gothic bent' as her mother had put it, Linda's extensive time in the theater giving her plenty of experience with 'eclectic personal tastes.'

For a brief moment, she wondered where they would stay. Would they be camping out? Should she have packed her sleeping bag, just in case?

Oh, she felt like a terrible friend now! Sir Didymus lived in the Bog—God bless his defunct nasal passages—something she'd learned upon their first meeting, but she didn't know where Hoggle lived! Was it a cottage? A barn? A hollowed out old tree stump? She hadn't the faintest idea. It made little difference that she knew about Didymus by sheer happenstance whereas she'd never had the easy opportunity to learn the same detail about Hoggle's life.

She hadn't even asked!

Well, she considered, she was likely going to find out after today, and returned her attention to the present.

"So, they did some bloodwork this morning, but they're not going to give her any shots until the results come back, I gave them your number just until I'm home. They're pretty sure she was abandoned rather than being a life-long stray because she's been spayed …." She let it go unsaid that that revelation made the poor creature's situation all the sadder, though she supposed it made perfect sense why October shied away from most everyone and seemed to be the only stray cat in the area. She'd bet money there weren't any others because Mr. Hayes had called animal control before October had been left on her own.

Sarah chest ached at the idea that she was handing the cat off to someone else so soon, but she would stay a few hours, let October get comfortable and familiar with the house before slipping out.

It hurt to think about leaving her, the knowledge that someone had left her before hanging over Sarah's head, but she reminded herself just as quickly that she had to stop putting her feelings into those around her—a warm, loving home where the cat was safe was infinitely better than putting her back in the lot behind her building with no one to look out for her.

Sarah cleared her throat, realizing she'd trailed off. "I should only be gone maybe a week or two? But like I said, everything's been very last minute, so I might be longer or I might be back in two days." She sincerely doubted the latter half of her statement, but while she didn't believe this would take weeks, she didn't know how long it could take. Maybe Jareth was just hiding out in the Underground somewhere and they'd trip over him by accident and she'd be back home before she knew it.

"So …." Irene said in a sly voice, casting the young woman a sidelong glance as Robert went through the various bags, pulling out cans of cat food, catnip mice, a giant bag of litter and a simple plastic litter box with a matched scooper, and October poked her nose out of her carboard hideout to investigate the sounds, only to duck back into the darkness again. "Want to tell us anything about whomever it is who's taking you on this trip?"

Shrugging, Sarah shook her head, her expression clearly reading that she would've known what Irene was getting at even if she'd bothered trying to be subtle. One of the few things Irene and Linda Williams agreed on was their fervent wish that 'their daughter' would meet a decent man. That she'd get into a relationship that was longer than the few-months-at-a-time flings that seemed all Sarah's stubborn disposition and need for independence would tolerate.

It also didn't help that there was a huge chunk of her life she simply couldn't share with anyone—not and still expect them to believe her sane.

There was just always something that … wasn't quite what she wanted, something missing. If she was attracted to them, they did nothing for her mind. If she was intrigued by them, she didn't feel that spark of attraction. Sometimes it appeared she'd found both rolled into one package, only to realize there was nothing there emotionally.

She immediately stomped down on the image that threatened to float across her mind, attempting to remind her of the one time she could reliably say she'd been in the presence of someone who'd ticked all the boxes.

"Just some friends I've known since high school," Sarah said finally, offering her stepmother a wincing grin; at least that was the truth. She'd learned long ago that the interest she thought of as nosy was Irene's version of caring.

Her adventure in the Labyrinth hadn't simply strengthened Sarah's sisterly affection toward Toby, it had also given her an appreciation for her stepmother. And perhaps a small dose of humility as she realized she hadn't really given Irene a fair chance to be a mother to her, and—if anything—blamed Irene for not being Linda.

"Oh, well …." Irene looked thoughtful before nodding. Her manicured fingers delicately fluffed at her short, blonde hair and her wide blue eyes twinkled with a completely undisguised hopefulness. "Maybe you'll meet someone on your trip!"

Sarah only nodded back as she listened to her father pleading—in a tone of light, gently chiding exasperation—for his wife to give up her well-intended badgering.

"Toby's reading up in his room," Dad tacked on in a whisper as Irene launched into another of her arguments about how it was simply worrying the way Sarah 'insisted on being alone when she had so much to offer!'

Nodding once more, Sarah climbed to her feet, dropping a kiss on her father's cheek, and then on Irene's—Irene who graciously accepted the kiss despite continuing her subdued version of a tirade, her gaze fixed on Robert all the while—before disappearing from the living room.

With a glance back over her shoulder as she reached the foot of the staircase, Sarah pulled the folded cloth from her back pocket. Opening it across her palm, she traced over it as she had last night, and again this morning before she'd started making all her preparations.

True Sir Didymus had suggested she consult it only if she witnessed another 'moment that should not be', but she'd been rather distracted this morning. She didn't want to put too much faith into her own observational skills on a day like today.

Exhaling a sigh of relief—there was no darkness encroaching on the colorful splotches of the Labyrinth, though she could swear the Stone Corridor was wider in the drawing than it had been the last time she checked—she delicately refolded it and put it away again before jogging up the steps.

Just another reminder of Jareth's troubling condition, but no sign of nightmares sweeping in.

—

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

—

"You're going back there, aren't you?"

Sarah snapped her head up from where her gaze had been locked on her fingers twisting in her lap to meet her half-brother's wide blue eyes. He'd been thrilled about the cat, even if he only got to keep her temporarily, but no sooner had she explained needing them to watch October than had Toby's weirdly-wise-for-an-11-year-old face clouded over in thought.

With an awkward laugh, she shook her head, her brow furrowing. Around the room, all the memories of her own childhood stared back at her. A hand-me-down menagerie. It had started with Lance-a-lot after their triumphant return from the Labyrinth and ended with her Goblin King statue, passed lovingly into Toby's hands the day she'd left for the dorms of Julliard.

"Going back where?"

Giving his sister a very serious look, Toby stood from the chair at his reading table and crossed the room. Grabbing something off of his overloaded bookshelves, he turned so that it was hidden behind his back. He crossed the room to stand before her and then revealed the item, holding it out to her.

Sarah blinked a few times, a jagged bolt rocking through her chest as her fingers closed around the cool, painted ceramic of the Goblin King. Smiling sadly, she examined the statue for a few silent moments.

"You … remember?" she asked slowly. He'd been so young, though! How could he … ? Her shoulders slumped and her face fell. The stories.

She'd never told him everything, of course. No, her adventure had been broken up in bits and pieces. The Princess and the Oubliette, The Princess and the Hedge Maze, The Princess and the Gang of Firey Forest.

The Princess and the King of Goblins ….

He answered with a shrug, popping himself onto the bed to sit beside her—his next words confirmed her thinking. "Sometimes it's like it was a dream, but then I remember when you told me those bedtime stories. They matched; you can't match things when you don't know a thing is a thing." Though she was perfectly aware anyone else would've been confused by his wording, Sarah knew exactly what Toby meant.

He'd never mentioned any such dreams to her, so how could she have tailored her stories to match unless it was all based in some truth? Not that he'd actually borne witness to her travels in the Labyrinth, but she'd described Jareth's castle, the throne room, the Escher staircases ….

Those details of the places he had seen had helped him make the connection.

His voice then took on a quality that reminded her how young he truly was, despite his often too mature—if bewildering—way of speaking and carrying himself, "I don't know what really happened, but I know something did."

With a nod, she set the King on Toby's bedside table and turned to face her brother more fully. She wasn't going to do either of them any good by denying it.

She'd never had anyone to confide in, never had anyone in this world whom she'd known would believe what she'd experienced. It would've been nice to have someone who knew it all to be true.

Someone who wouldn't think her crazy.

And she would be that someone she'd never had for her brother.

"What do you actually remember?"

Casting a glance about his room, Toby shrugged again. "Mostly just feelings."

Sarah reached out, taking one of her brother's hands in her own. "Like what?"

"I remember not being scared." He shook his head. "Like … I feel like I was supposed to be, but when I remember it, I just wasn't. And I remember music. I don't know what the words were, or anything, but sometimes I just kind of hear this … song."

She had often tried to forget the music she'd heard that day. To forget Jareth's penchant for bursting into song—his ability to control the Labyrinth conjuring up musical accompaniment out of literally nowhere had only lent to the feeling of it all having been dream. Of none of it having been possible.

It never worked, of course. Sometimes Sarah awoke out of a sound sleep with the memory of that dulcet, melodious voice ringing through her mind.

Shaking her head, she focused on Toby, deliberately ignoring the mention of music. "That's because you … you weren't scared." Her fingers tightened gently around his. "When I finally found you, you were laughing. Smiling. … Playing." Come to think of it, she'd never really questioned the source of his calm demeanor in those final moments.

Was it as simple as not being aware of the situation because he was so very young, or …. She put aside a wonder if it had been possible Jareth had been nice to the baby.

With a strange moment of clarity, she muttered, "You weren't scared because you knew you were safe." She recalled the way Toby had toddled and crawled along the Escher stairs—his movements along the steps and pathways defying gravity.

Sarah caught herself wondering if that safety was Jareth's doing, or if it were something that was simpler yet infinitely more complicated. Had Toby been safe because he hadn't the capacity for understanding gravity?

One of the most basic laws of the physical world, and yet he had no awareness of it. Would she have been able to easily traverse the staircases as well if she'd only been able to ignore gravity?

In a world built of dreams, of course that was possible, wasn't it?*

Toby lowered his eyes, unwittingly bringing her back to the conversation as he asked, "What really happened?"

Darting her attention toward the door, securely closed as it was, she sighed. She didn't want to tell him; she couldn't bear to remember how selfish and unreasonable she'd been. She could tell herself all she liked that she'd never have said the words if she'd known what was going to happen, but that didn't take away from how angry she'd been when she'd said them.

It didn't change how much that foolish 16-year-old version of herself had sincerely meant it when she'd spoken her wish.

She couldn't bear to tell Toby that yet. Not until he was a bit older and he could understand all the feelings crowding inside her that had led to how angry she'd been as she'd made that foolish decision.

Not until he could understand how his own sister could've been so hateful toward him, even if it had only been for a fleeting moment.

The truth of it was she was ashamed. She loved her little brother, but she was disappointed in herself that it had taken such an extreme to make her realize it.

Scooting a bit closer to him, she put her arms around him and hugged him tight. "Not yet," she said, still knocked for a loop at the revelation that he remembered any of it. "But I promise I will."

After a quiet moment, she pulled away enough to meet his gaze. "How did you know I was going back there?"

He frowned, reaching up to delicately tug at the ends of her dark hair—he'd always been fascinated that their hair contrasted each other's so very much. "It's a feeling. Something weird happened yesterday, and it made me remember those other feelings."

"Being a dream realm, these … tests bleed through from our world to yours in glimpses," Sir Didymus had said. "Flashes of things that should not be, but—being connected to our world as you are—you're the only one able to recognize when it happens."

Toby must share that connection, too, she realized with a dull dread.

"You heard a bird, didn't you?" she asked, uncertain if he'd recognize the caw of a crow—if he'd recognized the way it hadn't sounded right, as she had.

He nodded and then jutted his chin in the direction of the window. "The sky got real dark for a few minutes, like it was going to rain, or something. Mom and Dad didn't even notice. Is that why you have to go?"

Sarah nodded, a sad smile curving her mouth. "Yeah. I wish I could explain more, but …. Hey, why don't we go downstairs so you can meet October?"

Despite the depth of their conversation and whatever inner turmoil it might've invoked for each of them, Toby Williams proved himself a true 11-year-old, forgetting entirely about what they'd just discussed at the reminder of their furry houseguest.

Hopping to his feet, he was out the door in a blink with a huge smile on his face. "C'mon, Sarah!" he called over his shoulder as he raced down the hall toward the stairs.

Laughing at how purely innocent her brother still was, she nodded and stood. Yet as she made her way to the door, she couldn't help one last glance back into the room.

One last look at the ceramic Goblin King returning her stare her through sightless, painted eyes from atop Toby's nightstand.

She scolded herself silently as she followed her brother back downstairs. How silly she was being! Like a teenage girl all over again, her thoughts all wrapped up in someone she really didn't even know—regardless of how well they'd seemed to understand one another.

Someone who ….

Sarah ignored that it hurt a little to complete that thought, but she pushed herself to do it anyway. Pushed herself to acknowledge that a dose of reality might help.

Someone who … probably hasn't thought of me once in the last ten years.

*There is a reason the Escher staircases function the way they do, and though it's not what Sarah thinks, if she had been aware of how they work, she could've traversed them as easily as Jareth and Toby. (at the end of this chapter in its A03 post is the pic I used as the basis for Sarah's cloth map)