Shattered

 

Sarah rose, refreshed. The sun was peeking over the labyrinth walls, the music was wafting across the land on the wind, and she was…dressed in a fancy housecoat and barefoot.

"Okay, so things get weird here. Not like I didn't know that, but, honestly! Why the sex-kitten routine?" She spoke to Jareth, and he answered her. He was behind her. Again.

"Because it looks so delicious on you, sweetheart." The grin he gave her was toothy and wicked as he leaned over he shoulder and leered for a moment. Then he straightened and became much more businesslike. "Did you want a conversation, or were you just spouting off words to the air?"

Sarah shrugged, "Six of one, half-a-dozen of the other." She stood and stretched, a full-body stretch that made her robe cling to her. Jareth appreciated the view. "I didn't expect you to answer, but I knew that you might. What's up with this thing, anyway? Can I get a change of clothing?"

"Mm." Jareth studied her, enjoying how her mood shifted from mildly confused to irritated. "It is quite fetching, however not what you need today." He grinned at her. "And what do I get in exchange for a new wardrobe for you, my dear?"

Sarah snorted and said, "Well, I can safely say you don't get to cop a feel." When Jareth gave her a look of confusion, she shook her head. "Never mind." She thought for a long minute. "You get to…eat breakfast with me?"

A rich laugh spilled from Jareth's lips before he could stop it. "So you'd have me clothe you and feed you, too, with only the promise of dining with you? My dear, you are either a delightful tease or a delusional chit."

"I choose C, a little bit of both with a helping of 'she who's running the labyrinth and requires more than a housecoat and hunger to do so.'" Sarah's voice was teasing, but her words, Jareth knew, were not.

"Oh, very well," he said, waving his hand. "Breakfast first and then we'll discuss payment for services rendered."

Wisely, Sarah chose not to push the issue, but instead accepted that Jareth was being generous with his time and power, not help her, but to get her started on her way. Jareth produced a crystal and spun it across his hands. Sarah watched, entranced. She had practiced for hours a day, but the ease and delicacy with which he moved the crystal made her ache. For what, she wasn't quite willing to say-but she knew she wanted to be both hands and crystal at the same time.

When Jareth tossed the crystal, it flew a little ways from them and landed on the sweet green grass. A table laden with food and drink sprang from the heart of the crystal.

"Is it real?" Sarah breathed, no little of the enchantment reaching deep into her dreams of magic.

"As real as anything here," Jareth replied, extending a hand for hers. When she placed her hand on his, he led her to the table and bade her sit on the delicate chair that had come into existence with the table. Jareth took the stronger, more regal chair, and smiled as he watched her case the table. She looked ready to pounce on the meal, and he was more than willing to let her begin.

"The lady breaks bread first," he prompted, his voice light and teasing. "Or was that not covered in your classes?"

Sarah started and smiled at him when he finished speaking. "No, we didn't exactly have manners classes in school-etiquette, I think it's called. My mother and stepmother are both artists, so I'm more well-versed with the drama of the table, not the delicate ins and outs of it."

"Then this is your first lesson, my dear. When dining privately, the lady breaks bread first-and privately means in a familiar setting with people one considers close. During a state function, the King will break bread, followed by the men. When the Queen breaks bread, then the women will do so."

"A bit archaic," Sarah said after taking a sip of what looked and smelled and tasted like coffee.

"Perhaps, but the symbolism is important."

"So the King and the men provide the feast, therefore they get to eat first? Sounds more like a pack of animals than a state dinner." Sarah was eating quickly, and mostly neatly, but she was also taking enough time to actually converse with Jareth.

"Ah, but the Queen is the one who controls the comfort of the court. None--not even the King--may take a sip of any beverage or even a sauce until she does. To drink before the Queen can be a death sentence. To flavour the courses, even if the sauces and seasonings are provided, until the Queen permits such liberties, is a breech as well. The king may be the one to provide the feast, but it is the queen who provides the sustenance for the spirit and the pleasures of the flesh." He grinned when Sarah gave him a sharp look. "Not quite that literally, my dear."

"Hmph." The little sound of disapproval was entertaining. Jareth hoped to hear more, but she forestalled him. "And for you, who has no queen?"

"We do not have formal dinners at my castle, not often. In every court that has a queen, though, that is how the balance of power rests."

Sarah thought about this for a little bit, enjoying a long minute of drinking coffee and considering Jareth's words. Then she began to giggle. Jareth raised an eyebrow in question and she snickered, "Like the t-shirt says, if Mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy."

Jareth blinked, then began to chuckle. "An apt way of putting it."

A long moment passed and the conversation turned to other things, such as Sarah's enjoyment of the basket tree and the dream she had shared with him. She refused to play coy, but she was not thoughtless enough to let him take more liberties than he had, even if they were only verbal. When they had finished the repast, Sarah rose, Jareth a moment afterward. The table disappeared and Sarah was left with nothing between her and her goal except a red robe.

Jareth smiled wolfishly and took a step toward Sarah, only to be forestalled when she raised her hand and frowned.

"Jareth, is that all I will be in your court? The woman who provides pleasure and spirit to the castle and guests? Is that the prize at the end of this journey?"

Stepping forward, taking her in his arms, and gently brushing her hair from her temple, Jareth answered. "No, sweet Sarah. That is only one aspect of being my Queen."

"You can't say anything more because I'm supposed to figure it all out by the time I reach your castle," Sarah sighed and leaned her head against his shoulder. "Damn, I knew it was more than just 'solve the labyrinth, get the guy'. You should come with a warning label, Jareth." The last she grumbled, giving him a look that was not pleasant.

"Oh, but I do, sweetheart," he drawled, leaning down to whisper, "it's King."

"Silly of me," she breathed in return. The touch of his lips on her ear made her yearn for what had begun in the cottage. "Forgot that part."

Jareth's chuckle faded quickly as he captured her lips with his. The kiss went on and on, until Sarah's head spun and she was lightheaded with the desire to keep on going until the mysteries of man and woman were revealed. When Jareth lifted his lips from hers, she moaned softly, her head still tipped back, eyes closed and lips open.

Grudgingly, Sarah opened her eyes and sighed. She didn't say anything, but then she wasn't exactly coherent yet.

"Not even a thank you?" Jareth teased, his eyes filled with mischief.

"For the kiss?" Sarah managed, giving him a smoky smile.

"Mm, no," he replied. "If you keep looking at me like that, you're going to get much more than a kiss, Sarah."

"For breakfast?" she teased, humour coming back into her eyes, replacing some of the desire that lurked there.

"Again, no, and I'll only warn you once more, my dear, in all your time."

It was a warning Sarah knew she should heed. She couldn't think of what else to thank him for, so she stared at him blankly. Jareth sighed, stepped back, and gestured for her to look down.

Sarah blinked to see she was wearing a pair of black pants, not quite skin-tight, but certainly not loose, a pair of knee-high boots, and a white shirt with a black leather vest.

"Oh." She smiled at him and said sweetly, "Thank you, Jareth."

"You're welcome," he said, smiling in return. "Now, your next challenge is waiting, my dear."

"And time?" she asked, knowing his answer would not disappoint.

"Can do whatever the hell it wants--you've still got plenty of memories, realizations, and lessons left. For now."

Sarah nodded, understanding the warning in his last two words. She had not received help from him, simply gifts and some conversation--and she'd given him kisses in return. What's more, she knew better than to ask for more.

"Would you like to walk with me today, Jareth," she asked, nodding toward her route.

"I would; however, business of the kingdom will not wait for me today." He smiled and kissed her again. "Enjoy your day, Sarah."

When he vanished, Sarah sighed and began to walk to the next challenge, whatever that may be.

It wasn't far, actually. Before her, a smooth wooden floor stretched out. Sarah couldn't figure out what it was for, so she studied it a bit longer. There was something here to trap her, make her doubt or want to give up, but she could not figure out what it was.

So far, she had not confronted anything serious. In her book, the heroine had already defeated two extremely physical obstacles and was the target of unhappy rivals and a few of Jareth's subjects were working against her.

"Yeah, and my book didn't have bushes that thought their twigs and berries were for more than producing dinner for me!" She paused. "Then again, my book didn't have bushes that thought at all!" Shaking her head, she knew she would face something here, but what could a simple wooden floor do to her?

Taking a breath, Sarah strode forward. The instant her foot touched the floor she felt it. An audience. The stares of an unfriendly, bored, heckling audience. The urge to throw up nearly overwhelmed her. She forced herself to take another step. Mirrors appeared around the floor, and within those shining walls were mocking faces. Jeering faces that she knew well. The boys she was too busy writing to date, the girls she was too busy studying to gossip with, the teachers she was too busy learning to listen to. Hundreds of faces, some young, some old.

Falling to her knees, Sarah moaned. She saw herself in the mirror, dressed for the horrid school play that she had been forced to take part in her senior year. These memories were too near the surface to ignore. Sarah shuddered as the entire event began playing out again.

The lead actress, a vicious little witch who was dating the center for the basketball team, was convinced Sarah was trying to horn in on her relationship with the popular jock. Sarah was tutoring him in English because he was dyslexic, but other than that, they were simply polite to each other in the way of high school students. Sarah played a blind girl in a production written by the Creative Writing IV class, and she was utterly humiliated on stage. The furniture had been moved, and Sarah's costume, a rather skimpy set of rags, had been improperly laced by one of the girl's friends. When her top had come undone, Sarah hadn't been able to catch it--she was trying to catch herself after tripping over the furniture.

And here she was, replaying the entire event in front of the entire town, exactly as it had happened originally. Everyone was there, from her parents to the neighbour's dog--literally, he was part of the play--and she had managed to choke out her lines after order, and her costume, were restored.

As she had on that night, Sarah removed her blindfold--it was only in the mirror--and looked for familiar faces in the crowd. When she found them, Karen and her father, they wore looks that were sneering with the rest of the audience. It was the taunting from Karen that snapped Sarah into moving.

"Clumsy girl! Not a shred of grace in her! Look-flat as a board, too!"

"NO!" Sarah snarled, standing. It took effort. "I will not be humiliated like this again." Sarah drew her head back and stood tall. In the mirror, her half-naked image did the same. Bravado could be showy, but it wasn't deep enough to move her more than a few steps.

The sound of Karen's voice came to her again, this time in a much different tone.

"When everything goes haywire, and it will on stage, just suck it up and go on like you mean to do it. YOU are the queen of the boards, and nobody and nothing is going to take that from you. Fake it until you make it--that's the way to get through the rough patches when everybody's eyes are on you and you know you're screwing it up!" Karen had grinned at her with a wicked look. "And if you're showing the goods at the same time, well, it'll spice up the dance!"

Sarah had been shocked, had shrieked, "KAREN!" but had laughed along with her, beginning to understand why Karen's audacity had not quite made the transfer to wife-and-mother successfully. She was, however, a strong and graceful woman when things went wrong.

Standing still, Sarah strained to hear the music from the castle--it seemed there was always music coming from there--and listened for the rhythm on the wind. There. Ghosting through the laughter, teasing the swirls of wind that made Sarah shiver with cold, even though the real Sarah was completely clothed. The mirror-girl was cold because she was clutching her dress to cover her, and Sarah groaned when she discovered that she was feeling everything that girl in the mirror did.

Slowly, standing still, Sarah was able to tune out the sounds of the crowd and pick out the music from the air. She began to hum in little snatches of song, then to make up longer sections of the song. Between the little bit that she could hear and the larger parts she made up, it was a tune similar to one Karen loved. Sarah had danced to it before, with Karen, and the thought of dancing with her stepmother now made the crowd fade away. Sarah knew how to dance. Over the past two years, she and Karen had bonded over books, Toby, shopping, cooking, and dancing. Sarah wasn't hopeless, but Karen was a goddess.

Sarah hummed and began to sway with the music in her mind. The mirror girl began to hum with her, not quite ready to forget the crowd. As Sarah swayed and hummed, the girl began to get stronger. Soon, they were moving together.

Sarah began to sing in a low, husky voice that matched the pain of her predicament. The though that Jareth could see her and may well be watching her, no matter what he said about the kingdom, made her almost lose her confidence.

"I see so many golden women;

When they walk their feet don't touch the ground."

She moved lightly in a few steps to the left, letting her hands and head trail back to the right, the reluctant admission from one stepping aside to let a more beautiful woman pass.

"How I want, how I want to deserve you."

Her arms went out as she leaned forward, the supplicant.

"But me, I'm always out of rhythm."

Sarah dropped her arms, her voice gaining confidence and volume as she turned and began to make full steps back, then around in a turn. Sarah felt "her" costume slipping, but made no move to correct it. She heard the faint strains of music around her, but figured she was deep in her own mind, dancing her way through the pain.

"My needs too demanding, too proud."

She drew herself up in a chin-up, shoulders-back pose. Her costume slid dangerously close to slipping off her as she stepped forward and the suddenly whipped her arms around herself, bending low at the waist.

"How I want, how I want to deserve you."

The music sped up in her mind, the strength of the cry came through in her movements. Hands gripping the costume, she pulled it up and away from her, revealing her own skin and falling to her knees.

"I didn't want you to see me like this.

The light of the dawn can be cruel."

From her knees she reached up, even as she pushed forward with her feet. Moving was becoming easier, and she was lost in the song.

"How I want, how I want to deserve you."

Again, she drew in, only to explode upward in the next moment, voice and body crying out in the next lines,

"And if I could be granted a wish,

I'd shine in your eye like a jewel.

How I want to deserve you."

From wide, aching, flitting moves that sparkled even as they drew out the pain of being unworthy, she bent, her face in her hands, looking up slowly. She was nude from the waist up, and, despite the cold air tormenting her reflection, Sarah didn't care. She had more important things to do--like get through this stronger than she had gone into it.

"I would die for you.

Could you ever love me that much? "

She reached out, this time, lifting the material of her skirt in her hands.

"How I want, how I want to deserve you."

Keeping the material of the skirt in her hands, she danced on.

"Yes, you tell me this,

And I want to believe that it's true.

Aah, how I want, how I want to deserve you.

I didn't want you to see me like this."

Her movements and fingers had loosened the skirt until it was dangerously low on her hips.

"I'm weak and I fight like a fool.

How I want, how I want to deserve you.

And if I could be granted a wish,

I'd shine in your eye like a jewel.

How I want to deserve you."

She was clutching the discarded costume to her. She swung it around her shoulders and spread her arms wide, the material forming multicoloured wings behind her. She suited her dance to the words that seemed to consume her now, the beat that would not let her rest until she had won, or danced herself to death.

"If I could be your angel

I'd trade in my arms for some wings

To keep you close to me.

And if I could trade my voice

For the silence I know that you need.

Aaaah, how I want, how I want to deserve you."

The aching in the last line was now reflected by only her body, for she flung the costume away from her as she rose, heedless of anything but the music.

"I didn't want you to see me like this.

So frightened of losing so soon.

How I want, how I want to deserve you.

And if I've caught love in a grip,

Just tell me and I'll shake it loose.

How I want to deserve you.

Oh, na na na na na.

Oh, ohhhhh.

How I want to deserve you.

Na na na na na na na.

Whoa, ohhhhh."

Sarah reached the end of the long, wide, wooden floor and stood, shaking from exertion, but proud as a queen. The music faded slowly as she stood and panted, staring at the Sarah in the mirror, never noticing the man who had joined the crowd in the mirror, hungry eyes following every impassioned movement of her body.  The song played on in her mind, the words whispering through the music she heard.

"How I want to deserve you.

Oh, I want to deserve you.

Na na na na na na . . ."

"I will deserve you, Jareth," she whispered, her voice defiant and proud. She moved her eyes from her own proud, nude figure to the crowd that was now silent and still. She saw the correlation to what she would need to have as Jareth's Queen. Closing her eyes, she let the next realization come to her. She lifted the book from her pocket, not in the least surprised to see that she, the real Sarah, was fully clothed. With her reflection standing proud and strong, Sarah tallied up two memories and one realization.

"I must always be the Queen, and eyes will always be watching me. Even when I am alone, there will be an audience. I can never show my humiliation, no matter the cause or the circumstances. As Jareth's Queen, I will be unshakable." She looked down at the paper and shook her head. "That's close, but not quite there. When everyone is watching, every move is deliberate, even when it's not. Conversely, when no one is watching, even moments of…of…abandon must be deliberated." Sarah snorted. "Now I can see several situations where that just won't pan out, Jareth. Somehow, I doubt that sex is going to be staged like a movie set."

As the boards faded from under her feet and the mirrors slowly shattered, the voice of the devil's advocate whispered to her in that so--familiar rasp, "What ever would make you think that, dearest?"

Sarah opened her mouth to answer, then thought the better of it. After what she'd just seen her reflection do, well, Jareth might just decide to demonstrate. Sweaty and still recovering from the effects of memory, dance, and the refusal to back down that somehow overwhelmed her in this place, Sarah began to walk again, this time next to a little forest stream.

"Was that, um, dance a wall or a challenge?" Sarah called out after several miles of following a river path.

"A wall," said a voice from the left side of the path. "And quite an enjoyable one, too."

Sarah turned and saw Jareth in all his glory. She smiled and walked over to him. "So, you liked that, huh?" She couldn't quite keep from blushing. When he gave her a hot look, she couldn't resist adding, "You should see the stripteases Karen showed me."

Jareth blinked. "Your…stepmother showed you how to dance a striptease?"

Laughing, Sarah clarified. "It's an old record we had called 'How to Strip for Your Husband'. Dad was with Toby all day while Karen had classes. We were at the studio, and there was a horrible storm. It was so bad that nobody showed up for class, so Karen decided I'd get the benefit of all her experience onstage. We were in leotards and she showed me the movements with a scarf." Sarah grinned. "No stripping involved." Sarah sighed, thinking of Karen's talent. "I also got a private recital. Karen may say she's an old lady now, but she can still dance when she wants to. She even played Broadway and was in some videos made for some of the most famous productions-Cats, Gypsy, Phantom of the Opera, A Chorus Line…" Sarah's voice faded out.

"She sounds like a remarkable woman," Jareth added, knowing those productions because of his love of music. Several of the songs had a good beat, even if the lyrics weren't all to his taste.

"It took me a long time to admit it, but, yeah," Sarah nodded, "she is."

They walked in silence until they saw a large rock in the path.

"It is here I must leave you, sweet Sarah." He paused. "Do let me know if you're going to lose any part of your outfit for this."

Before Sarah could object to his ever-so-male expression, Jareth had vanished.

=-+=-+=-+=-+=-+

DOCUMENTATION: Song "To Deserve You" from the album Bette of Roses by Bette Midler.  I did not write, do not own, and make no profit from the lyrics.  (Even though I did get a copy of the CD...so technically I do it...*snickers*  I know.  Wishes and horses.)  The lyrics did not include the cruel comments or dance moves, so those are my own.  And yes, the album How to Strip for Your Husband is real, includes instructions, and is in my vinyl library. ;-}

And yes, I know titles aren't supposed to be capitalized unless they're next to or in place of a name; however, the reason I capitalize Queen in reference to Jareth and the place Sarah is working to prove worthy of is to emphasize the title in relationship to Jareth and his kingdom. I'm using the end-run for the capitalization rules, the ones that govern caps use in poetry & older writings…importance is denoted by the size of the letter used. In this case, the Queen part is pretty darned important.