Labyrinth 1. A Snowstorm

A/N: This story has gone through many evolutions in my head since high school and I think it is finally ready to put it to paper, so to speak. Of course the characters from the Labyrinth are not mine (Jareth, Sarah, etc.) but anyone else making their presence known has been born in my imagination. It will be updated as I find time, hopefully fairly frequently. That said, enjoy!

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An icy breeze stirred the curtains hanging in an open window, gently wafting the brown bangs of the young girl who lay sleeping on the bed inside. No older than six, her child-like mind was too far gone in dreams of bright colors and magical creatures to wake so easily. It had been hard enough for her to fall asleep in the first place- the fever raging inside her kept her in constant misery and the cold night air simply eased the burn of her skin. Because of these things she didn't so much as stir as the wind picked up its pace and blew her curtains fully into the room, along with a few snowflakes. When the shadow of a man slowly emerged across her small form on the bed, the girl did no more than stir slightly in her sleep. A faint amount of glitter fluttered on the child's pale cheek and a gloved hand reached out to wipe it off as a woman sat up in her bed, screaming.

Sarah Williams' heart pounded in her chest as she threw the heavy covers back and slid out of bed, not even bothering to put on her slippers. She ran across the cold, wooden floor and across the room to her opened door. Walking as gently as she could the brief distance down the hallway, she stopped outside the door nearest her own, momentarily paralyzed and unable to muster the courage to open it. Yet it had only been a dream, hadn't it? Surely there was nothing to fear, she rationalized to herself. Her thin hand grasped the brass doorknob and turned it till the door gave way. She pushed it open and peered inside, her heart pounding harder than ever and terrified of what she might or might not see.

There on the bed lay her soundly sleeping daughter, the window still shut and locked securely. No sign of glitter or the coming snowstorm anywhere in the room calmed her pounding heart and Sarah exhaled deeply in relief. Lately these dreams had been occurring more and more often, and they were beginning to run their toll on her. Her hours of sleep had dwindled from normal to little more than four or five hours a night and when she did sleep, she was plagued by the same nightmares over and over.

Thankfully Rhiannon seemed completely unaware of any problems and, apart from the seemingly endless bouts of illness, she was as happy as ever. Her conscience soothed from the knowledge of her daughter's safety, Sarah left and returned slowly back to her bedroom. It suddenly struck her just how cold it was in the house. She had completely forgotten that the heat had been turned off by the landlord that month. She hadn't been able to pay the rent again since all her money had gone to taking Rhiannon to the hospital, so instead the both of them had been forced to dress in layers. Yet for comfort reasons she usually wore nothing but a baggy sweater to bed and as she neared her own door, her bare feet and legs were hit with a sudden draft of cold air. She paused and looked to the end of the hallway where the window was wide open and being blown into the wall by the intensifying wind.

Sarah froze, staring at it. She remembered perfectly well that she had locked it before bed with all the others, and Rhiannon could not open the child locks. Another breeze hit her like a brick, sending her long brown hair flying behind her. The chill that went down her spine reawakened her limbs and she hurried forward, pulling it shut and locking it. Rubbing her arms briskly to get their circulation going again, her eyes roamed the tree line outside and for a brief moment, time came to a standstill.

For that one moment she could have sworn she saw the shape of a white bird flying across the night sky, barely hidden by the snowfall. The sight of any white bird had riled her emotions since she was a teenager, but she thought she should had overcome it by then. Her mouth moved but no sound come out and when she blinked again, the bird was gone. Chalking it up to the appearances in her nightmares and the general lack of sleep, Sarah forced herself to shrug it off and return to her bedroom.

As quickly as she could she hurried to the other side of her bed and pulled some sweat pants and socks from her dresser. She crawled into them, grateful to shield her goosebump-stricken skin from the chilled air of the house. Returning to the warmth of her bed, she snuggled under the covers and gazed blankly out of her window, watching as the thickening flecks of snow spiraled silently downwards.

She knew that it was just her mind playing tricks on her and yet...there was still a part of her- that small remnant of her adolescent self- that remained frightened. The dreams, the sight of the bird, none of it should have bothered her. After all, dreams were just dreams and the bird could have been anything. A dove, perhaps. For years she had held the belief that her therapy sessions had cured her of a very overactive imagination, and yet here she was fretting over a couple of very coincidental events. Most likely it was all due to lack of sleep, but still she felt the need for reassurance. The next day, she resolved, she would go see her therapist and figure out why she was apparently relapsing into madness.

Comforted in that thought Sarah drifted back into sleep, feeling very much older than the twenty four years that she was. Having fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep, she was completely unaware of the white owl that had just landed on the branch outside her daughter's window. There it sat unmoving all through the night, watching silently.

-----

Morning seemed to come all too quickly the next day and Sarah hit the snooze button on her alarm at least twice, groaning when she finally forced herself out of her soft, warm bed. Stretching her arms skyward, the early morning sunlight bathed her face in light and filled her with optimism. A fresh blanket of snow was strewn across the lawn and trees, and a few leftover flakes still fell occasionally from the sky. Whatever had happened last night it was not important enough to stress herself with. Humming softly to herself, Sarah slid into her slippers and padded across the hall and into the bathroom. She brushed her teeth and then took a quick shower, thoroughly grateful that they still had hot water.

Emerging some ten minutes later with a towel wrapped around her head, Sarah's mood was brightened even further by the sight of her daughter fixing breakfast in the kitchen.

She was a beautiful girl, with long, dark brown hair like her mother's and soft blue eyes that could be round as saucers when surprised or scared. Though rather thinner than Sarah would have liked, she never seemed to gain any weight no matter what she ate. Sarah had had to accept long ago that it wasn't neglect on her part but simply her daughter's biology that kept her looking small for her age. Sometimes she wondered if it was something that came from her father, but the idea would promptly fade from her mind as soon as it had come. She despised that man and wouldn't give him the pleasure of dwelling on him for anything.

Seeing her mother come in, Rhiannon smiled brightly and smeared butter on slightly burnt toast.

"G'morning, mom. I made breakfast today!"

"I see that. It looks absolutely delicious Anna, thank you." Sarah sat down at the counter and pulled one of the plates towards her, every bit as impressed as she let on. She had always known her daughter to be intelligent for her age, but a girl not even six making almost perfect bacon and toast? Sure the bacon was microwaveable but still she smiled in pride. "What happened to being sick, though?"

"I don't know, I just woke up this morning feeling better. Oh! Mom, it was so awesome, I opened my eyes this morning and guess what I saw?"

Sarah took a large bite of the toast and bacon, allowing a noncommittal "Mmm?" to escape her mouth as she expected a comment on herself being in Rhiannon's room that morning.

"A white owl. It was just sitting there outside my window and when I saw it it flew away but mom it was so pretty! For a second I thought it was just snow on the tree, it was so white."

At that moment a few things happened at the same time. Sarah choked on her food and beat her chest in an attempt to breathe, a loud knock on the front door sounded through the house, and Rhiannon dropped one of the glasses on the ground in shock and stepped on a piece, then cried out in pain.

Sarah jumped up and yelled "One minute!" over her shoulder, then picked up Rhiannon and set her on the counter, kissing her forehead and cheek. "It's okay Rhiannon, I'm just getting the door. Don't get down." She ran across the kitchen and to the front door (which wasn't a very far run as the house was a rather small one) and squinted into the peephole. Through it an eye was squinting back at her and Sarah laughed, unlocking the door.

"Come on in, Abby."

The door opened and a young woman walked in, her red hair sprinkled in snowflakes and her teeth chattering from the December cold. "Wh-what on earth was all the n-noise? And my God it's colder in here that outside!"

"Sorry Abby, Rhiannon dropped a glass and cut herself." Sarah went back into the kitchen and kissed her whimpering daughter on the forehead. "Let me get some tweezers."

Hurrying into the bathroom, Sarah heard Rhiannon squeal "Aunt Abby!", and the sound of over exaggerated kissing noises. She smiled to herself and looked up into the mirror, sighing. There were dark rings under her eyes and her face was looking paler than normal. "Maybe I should get some sleeping pills," she mused sarcastically to herself as she rummaged the medicine cabinet. Finally finding the tweezers hidden behind the band-aids which she also grabbed, she went back to the kitchen and sat in front of Rhiannon, setting her small foot onto her lap.

"Aunt Abby's going to stay with you today while I go to work, Rhiannon."

Rhiannon's face darkened. It was amazing how daunting she looked for a child, a notion that when it happened always left both women momentarily surprised. Then just as quickly as the hard look came, her young age took over and she crossed her arms, pouting. "Why do you have to work so much?"

Sarah sighed and set to work getting the tiny glass shard out of her daughter's foot. "You know we've been struggling to pay our bills, Rhiannon. I have to work on weekends in order for us to afford this house."

"But mom, why did we have to move? Uncle Toby could have watched me when you worked on weekends, or grandma-"

"Rhiannon, enough."

The warning in her mother's voice was indeed enough to quiet her and Rhiannon went silent but remained pouty. She stubbornly refused to so much as whimper when Sarah grasped the shard and pulled it out if her foot, instead chewing hard on her bottom lip. Once she had cleaned and bandaged the cut, Sarah stood up and kissed her daughter's cheek.

"I have to go soon. You and Aunt Abby can play games or go for a walk or whatever you wish, but please know that I don't want to leave you on weekends. It just has to happen for the time being, okay? It's part of growing up."

Rhiannon sat perfectly still, her eyes on the floor. She didn't answer her mother and instead seemed quite interested in just how many tiles made up the kitchen surface. Sarah turned and hurried to her bedroom, not allowing herself the comfort of guilt. One day Rhiannon would understand how hard life had become for them but, until then, Sarah had to steel her heart against her daughter's sadness. Reaching in to her closet, Sarah pulled out the first pieces of cloth her hands reached- that day she didn't much care what she looked like.

When she left her room and walked down the small hallway into the living room that conjoined the kitchen, she saw Rhiannon still sitting where she had been on the counter. Abby was sweeping up the glass in silence, apparently not sure what to do about the awkwardness of the situation. When she looked up and saw Sarah's odd clothing selection, she smirked.

"Nice. Trying to impress someone at work, are we?"

Rolling her eyes, Sarah stopped in the kitchen and poured herself some coffee into a travel mug, then turned and gazed steadily at her daughter, who was avoiding her eyes.

"Be good, I'll be home as soon as I can."

"'Kay."

She reached over and kissed Rhiannon on the forehead again, then pulled on the heavy coat that was draped over one of the chairs in the kitchen. Picking up her mug and purse, she walked to the front door when she heard the plop, plop of feet running on a cold surface and then felt a pair of arms circling her waist, a face being buried into her back.

"I love you, mom," came Rhiannon's muffled voice from behind her.

Sarah smiled and turned around to hug her daughter as she opened the front door, the freezing morning air rushing in behind her. "I love you too, sweetie. More than anything in the world."

The smile that spread on Rhiannon's face made Sarah's spirits lift. The snow seemed less harsh and cold and more beautiful and pure, and the sun rays poking through the white-covered trees gave her a feeling of hope. As she descended the stairs on the front porch and searched her pockets for the keys to the car, she heard a delighted yell from behind her.

"Look mom, look! Isn't it pretty?"

The chaos of the night prior and morning had been enough to slow her reflexes and, for a second Sarah simply gazed at her daughter, nonplussed. Then, comprehension dawning, she slowly moved her eyes to follow where Rhiannon's finger was pointing. With a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach she saw the white bird from before- an owl, she now realized- soaring over the treetops and away from the house. Far from sharing in her daughter's delight, the snow suddenly became cold and unforgiving once more and the sun seemed to be drowning in a world of white. Sarah ran as quickly as she could in high heels to her car and sped out of the driveway. She wasn't headed for work just yet, but for a stop to her old therapist's office back home.


	2. Peculiar Dreams

Rhiannon stood on the front porch, watching with round, sad eyes as her mother sped away. She never seemed to do anything right no matter how hard she tried, and it worried her. Before they moved there everything had been great- at least compared to how it was presently. For a moment or two she lingered there thinking before Abby was behind her with a coat, gloves and hat.

"You'll freeze to death if you stand there much longer, you're skin and bones."

She wrapped the coat around Rhiannon's thin shoulders and pulled the cap onto her head. She was pulling on the mittens as Rhiannon merely gazed at her with the same big eyes, wondering if Abby was there just because her mother had begged her to.

"Aunt Abby, why do I make mom so mad?"

The young woman paused and looked down at the little brunette in front of her. It never ceased to amaze her how perceptive the child had become, and she knew that lying to her would be useless. She sighed and lowered herself to a squat, brushing the bangs from Rhiannon's pale forehead.

"Your mom loves you, Rhiannon. More than you could ever imagine. It's just that she has become really stressed from work and...Well to be honest I'm not sure why she freaked out just now, but I can guarantee you that it was nothing you did."

Rhiannon nodded, only half believing her words. She knew Abby was her mom's best friend and even she knew little, but she was still candycoating something. Yet, as she had no idea what it was, she could do no more than accept it without question for the time being. When Abby reached out for her hand, Rhiannon took it and followed her down the front steps and into the freshly snow-covered grass. The past few weeks had seen much of the two girls going on long walks, but they didn't make Rhiannon happy like they used to. All she could think about was her mother's sadness, and the strange dreams she had been having. Wondering whether she could mention it to Abby, she nervously began chewing on her lower lip, a habit she had had for as long as she could remember. Of course Abby noticed it and squeezed her hand gently, smiling.

"What's up?"

"Aunt Abby...I've been having weird dreams lately."

"Not of sharks again, are they?"

"No, I stopped dreaming of sharks when I was four." Her voice oozed with a 'duh, obviously' tone that brought a bemused grin to Abby's face, and she answered as such.

"What then?"

"Well, I wake up and my bed is facing a labyrinth. A voice tells me to go inside of it, that I will find my path within, and I see this man in the distance. He's watching me but I'm not afraid. I want to join him. He says I'm a princess."

"Do you want to be a princess?"

"No...Not exactly. It's just that he reminds me of something. It's like I know him somehow."

"Mmm," Abby squinted up at the bright sky, thinking. It didn't surprise her to hear of a young girl dreaming of her Prince Charming, but she secretly swore that such a dream could never reach Sarah's ears. If anyone was paranoid of their daughter dreaming of men, it was her. "Well Rhiannon, I must say that's interesting."

They had reached the end of the long dirt driveway and Abby stopped, looking left and right. Rhiannon followed suit, mostly to mimic what her Aunt did as she knew what the question was going to be. After a few seconds Abby looked down at her and smiled.  
"The park or the lake today?"

"The park. It's way too cold for the lake."

"Agreed, let's go."

Without another word they set off to the left, each lost in their own realm of thought. Inwardly Rhiannon wondered whether her Aunt had taken her dream seriously or not. She doubted it- adults never took her seriously. It was probably for the best, though, as she knew her mom would have a nervous meltdown if she mentioned the man from her dreams again. The last time she had started to bring him up her mom had cut her off and forbid her to dwell on dreams.

"You okay Rhiannon?"

"Oh yeah, sorry. Just thinking. Aunt Abby?"

"Hmm?"

"Why do I call you Aunt if we aren't related?"

Abby laughed and shook her head, nudging Rhiannon with her elbow. "Because I've been your mom's friend since you were a little toddler and have changed your diapers, that's why."

"I must have been cute, huh?"

"Oh, most definitely. Especially that adorable little rash you used to get on your bum."  
"Hey, I did not have a rash!"

All thoughts of dreams and frustration temporarily forgotten, the two companions strode side by side down the dirt road and towards the park, laughing carelessly as fresh snowflakes fell from the sky and danced around them.

-----

The hour-long drive had calmed Sarah's nerves somewhat, but she remained tense as she steered off the main road and pulled onto the sidestreet where her old therapist's workplace used to be. She had only been away for four months and yet it was as awkward as if she had been away for a lifetime. Still, if she were to talk to someone it could only be Dr. Castillo, whom she thought of as more than just a professional counselor.

As she pulled around the bend she saw the large, tan building exactly as it had been when she had last been, at eighteen years old. It struck her as somewhat strange that she should remember almost fondly the horrible memories the place held for her. Regardless, she was a woman now and until recently she had dealt well with the stress compounding in her life. With that thought to nurse her slightly heightened self-consciousness, Sarah pulled into a free parking space and walked through the glass front doors. Almost reflexively she smoothed her navy pants and green turtleneck, suddenly aware of how strange her clothing selection that morning had been.

"Hello, do you have an appointment?"

A teenage girl with blonde hair that was pulled back into a super tight ponytail sat behind the desk, her eyes roaming Sarah and apparently mirroring her thoughts. One delicately shaped eyebrow was raised in no attempt to hide her amusement.

"No, I'm an old patient and friend. I'd like to see Dr. Castillo as quickly as possible, please. My name is Sarah Williams."

"I'll see if she's busy."

The girl- who's nameplate Sarah now saw read 'Leslie'- stood up and walked down the hallway with slow, pointedly marked steps. Her hips swaggered almost ridiculously wide and more than once she flung her ponytail over her shoulder with a flourish. Sarah rolled her eyes and sat on one of the waiting chairs, setting her purse on her lap and waiting. Her wide green eyes took in the familiarity of the cream-colored walls and the macintosh red upholstery. During two main phases of her life she had been forced to come here against her will, and it was only in recent years that she had realized just how much of a help it had truly been to her in the long run. How much of a help it had been to have someone listen to her, and believe her.

"Sarah? Sarah Williams?"

Sarah jolted back into the present, standing up so quickly her purse fell to the floor. There stood Dr. Castillo, looking as beautiful as ever for a woman well into her forties. Her slightly wrinkled face was pulled into an expression of utter surprise and delight, and she walked towards Sarah with open arms.

"My how beautiful you look, Sarah. To what do I owe this honor?"

Embracing her old mentor, Sarah felt it was worth it by far to make the long trip just to see her again. She felt secure with this woman in a way that no other person in her life could come close to. For the first time in weeks she felt as if her smile was coming from her heart and not from a desire to mask her real thoughts.

"Not the best news, unfortunately. I'm worried that I might be relapsing."

Dr. Castillo's delighted smile lessened into one of slight concern and she put her arm around Sarah, leading her down the hallway and into the office she had been in so many times before. She closed the door and motioned for Sarah to sit on the sofa, herself taking a recliner across from it. Sarah obliged and sat on the couch, examining the apparently refurbished interior. It was by far more welcoming than it had been when she was a teenager, with squishy furniture and lovely, calming paintings adorning the walls. Dr. Castillo noticed where her eyes were roaming and smiled, gazing around herself.

"Once Dr. Anderson retired I became the head psychologist here and was given free reign to decorate as I chose. Obviously I gave it a more feminine touch than he had originally used."

"Wow, congratulations Dr. Castillo-"

"Please, call me Laura. You are what, twenty three?"

"Twenty four, actually."

"My how time flies, I feel so old! So Sarah, what has been happening in your life? The last I heard you and your parents had argued about your baby, and then you had up and moved."

Sarah chuckled half-heartedly, turning her eyes to wander outside the window.

"I didn't want to leave, nor did I want to give up my baby. I thought-", Sarah paused, unsure if she should finish her sentence. She hadn't spoken of any of this in so long that it stuck in her mouth and felt embarrassing to say. "I still had doubts of the child's paternity."

"I see. So you kept it?"  
"Yes, the best decision I ever made." Her expression softened and her eyes unfocused, lost in thoughts that filled her heart with tenderness. "It gave me the best gift I could ask for. My daughter Rhiannon, she'll be six soon."

"Do you have a picture?"  
"What?" Sarah's eyes came into focus and she turned her eyes back to the woman across from her. "Oh! Yes, many."

She rummaged in her purse and pulled out her wallet, opening it to a picture taken of Rhiannon in her Easter dress. She was in a lacy gown of cerulean blue that matched her eyes, and she had a ribbon tied around her hair. Her face was frozen in a moment of laughter- it seemed whoever had taken the picture had managed to pry a giggle from her. She held it out to Laura, who took it and smiled appreciatively.

"She's beautiful, Sarah. I can see she has your hair and skin."

"Yes," agreed Sarah as she took back the wallet and examined the picture. "Thankfully."

Laura leaned back, her face intent on Sarah's.

"Please continue."

"Well...I don't want to dwell on that much, so let's suffice it to say that a few months ago I took Rhiannon and moved out of my father's house."

"Why?"

"Various reasons. My stepmother had taken to punishing Rhiannon for the smallest of things, and my father just let it happen. Then there was Toby."

"How old is he now?"

"Eleven and as imaginative as I was as a child. He started to tell Rhiannon the old stories, and she was beginning to dream things."

"Things? What kind of things?"

Sarah chewed her bottom lip, not really wanting to answer the question. That was the subject that was upsetting her so much in recent times and she didn't think reliving it would help much, so she decided vagueness was the best approach.

"Of the Labyrinth. Of him."

"I see. The Goblin King, you mean?

"Yes."

"And you didn't like that?"  
"Of course not! After how messed up I became after creating the story myself?"

"That's understandable, Sarah. Certainly you wouldn't want your daughter to know of it. So you moved?"

"Yes. I had been attending college but had to drop out and find a job so that we could leave. About four months ago I finally had saved enough for a down payment on a little house about an hour away from here. I moved Rhiannon and myself in, and my friend Abigail came and moved nearby to help with Anna."

"How has Rhiannon liked it?"

Sighing, Sarah turned her eyes away from the picture and pushed her wallet back into her purse.

"Not much. I can't really blame her, especially since she doesn't understand why we had to move in the first place. She puts on a brave face for my sake but I know she gets upset that I work overtime so much. And...I've been having strange incidents happen around me lately."

"Such as?"

Until the words were about to escape her lips Sarah had no idea just how stupid they might sound to someone else. Really they would probably sound outright immature and desperate, and she looked up into her mentor's eyes, terrified she would find it ridiculous.

"Promise you won't laugh?"

Laura smiled and leaned forward, resting her hand gently on Sarah's knee. "Sarah, you know I would never laugh at you."

Sarah took a deep breath and cracked her neck, then stared at her fingers crossed on her lap. "I have seen a white owl two times now. I know that in itself is nothing, but I keep having nightmares of him taking Rhiannon away from me. Rhiannon herself says she sees a white owl outside of her window often."

The last sentence sounded almost pleading, as if Sarah was hoping beyond hope that it would justify her fear if her daughter saw what she saw. That maybe she wouldn't be losing her grip on reality after all. She could barely stand the sympathetic smile that spread on Laura's face and wondered miserably if she was about to be told she should sign up for regular appointments again.

"That is the most normal thing I have ever heard."

Sarah blinked once in surprise as her lips moved soundlessly, too stunned to respond.

"Sarah, you have been through so much in your young life. When you were a child and feeling replaced by your brother and abandoned by your mother, what did you turn to? When you were raped, what did you comfort yourself with? It's only natural that when you feel stressed beyond your normal capacity, you also deflect your frustration on that same image."

Sarah began chewing at her bottom lip again, glancing around the room at all the landscape portraits in an effort to appear nonchalant when really she felt her heart would burst from emotion.

"So you don't think I'm going crazy?"

Her laugh was warm and gentle as Laura rose to her feet, motioning for Sarah to do the same. She embraced her again, stroking her long, dark hair and rubbed her cheek with motherly affection.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you came out so I could see you, but these dreams and coincidences are just that. Rhiannon seeing the owl is probably just a result of hearing the stories from Toby that you told to him. All you need to do is spend some time with your daughter and with yourself. Try to relax, and everything will be fine."

Nodding so as to avoid having to speak, Sarah left the office and the building without noticing her surroundings. She only half heard the Leslie girl ask her for payment and Laura tell her it was on the house as she walked out the glass doors and into the bright sunlight. Blinking the sudden glare from her eyes, Sarah started and looked at her watch.

"Shit!"

Being late for work without notice when she was struggling to rise in the company was not the best way to do it, and she fell back into her normal state of panic as she rushed into her car and sped out of the parking lot. Foremost in her mind though was the doubt of whether or not things were as simple as Dr. Castillo made them seem to be. However thoroughly she tried to convince herself that none of those things in the Underground had ever happened, she couldn't help but wonder if her daughter was in some sort of danger.

Or if he was involved.

A foreboding shiver trickled down her spine as she turned on the radio to blasting, forcing herself not to think about it- or him- anymore. Instead she focused on the winterland outside of her windows for the rest of the drive to work, planning Christmas that year with Rhiannon in their first home.


	3. Dust in the Attic

"Right, well. Now that we've frolicked in a field shall we get back to the more serious matter of unpacking?"

Abby unlocked the front door and allowed Rhiannon to walk inside before her, brushing some snowflakes from the child's dark locks as she did so. They had just spent four hours playing and otherwise ignoring their responsibilities in the park and, despite many layers of clothing, were both chilled to the bone. For her part Rhiannon didn't seem to care so much about her numb extremities as she did about what they would eat for lunch and she instantly headed for the kitchen. When she began pulling out a large pot for soup, Abby came up behind her and took it, laughing.

"I think not, love. I'll make us some chicken and noodles if you go upstairs and start opening boxes, okay?"

"Okay, just don't forget to add lots of pep-"

"Pepper, yes yes I know. Let the master work."

As Abby set about warming up some gourmet Campbell's soup, Rhiannon pulled off her scarf and tossed it onto the sofa where many other garments lay strewn as well. Her mother hadn't gotten around to doing the laundry apparently. She sighed and began picking up all the clothes until her face was nearly completely hidden by the pile. She then waddled down the short hallway and into the laundry room where, with the skill of a seasoned professional, she sorted them into piles and placed the darks into the washing machine first. Pouring some detergent and fabric softener in, she clambered up onto the machine so that she could reach the buttons. Satisfied that she had remembered the proper settings and that her mother would be pleased that she had helped, she leaped back down and continued down the hallway to where the small set of stairs curved upwards. Upon reaching the base she stopped and stared up at it, apprehension washing over her. Reflexively she chewed her bottom lip.

In the few months that they had lived there Rhiannon had not been able to bring herself to go up the stairs. Not since she had first helped her mother bring the extra boxes up to the attic, anyway. At one point Sarah had gone back downstairs for more boxes and Rhiannon could have sworn she had heard something whisper in her ear. She couldn't distinguish any words but the tone had sent shivers down her spine, and she ran down the stairs and had yet to return. Her mother had been worried but she didn't tell her what had happened- it would just have upset her even more.

Needless to say it had taken a lot of convincing on Abby's part to get Rhiannon to agree to return to the attic; namely the promise of candy after dinner that night. With the prospect of a much-appreciated sugar rush as a reward, Rhiannon cracked her neck, took a deep breath and began her ascent as slowly as possible. Her small fingers plucked at the buttons on her cardigan and she shuddered as a gush of cold air rushed up her legs and under her pleated skirt. The window at the end of the hallway must have open again, she thought vaguely.

One step, two steps, she went higher and higher up the spiral, her heart thumping uncomfortably in her chest. When she finally reached the top her gloved hand reached out and grasped the rusted brass handle for a moment as she willed herself not to be afraid. Then in one quick movement she flung the door open and stepped inside.

Little clouds of dust rose and settled once more underneath her Mary Janes. Save for the one day upon first moving in, neither Rhiannon nor her mom had returned to the attic. The dust which had gathered swirled inside the sunrays pouring in from the windows on either side of the large room. There was a full size mirror propped against the wall nearest the northern window and a single desk on the wall to her right, but most of the space was taken up by the various boxes that littered the wooden floor in the center of the room.

With bright afternoon sunlight filling the room it seemed somehow less terrifying than it had been before. As she walked cautiously across the room to the boxes farthest in, Rhiannon began to wonder if she hadn't simply imagined the voice last time. After all she hadn't yet become accustomed to the creepy noises that come with living in an old house those many months ago, had she? By the time Abby came from downstairs with two mugs of steaming soup in her hands, Rhiannon had come to feel quite comfortable in the attic and was already halfway through opening the boxes.

"Nice job, Rhiannon. We might actually get a decent amount unpacked today at this rate."

"Thanks, I'm starving," moaned Rhiannon longingly, inhaling the aroma coming from her mug with relish.

They sat down together in front of the mirror, enjoying the warm sunlight on their faces in mutual silence as they sipped their chicken and noodles.

For awhile Rhiannon gazed at her companion, admiring just how pretty she really was. Her hair was a beautiful, bright orange and skin was splashed with freckles. As blue as her own eyes were, Abby's were a forest green and tended to disappear when she smiled or laughed. Then there were her clothes, which were always as elegant as the people who she saw on the magazines at the supermarket with her mom. Abby couldn't have been much older than her mother, but Rhiannon had never heard much about how they met. It seemed a good time to- yet again- ask her.

"Aunt Abby? How did you meet my mom?"

For a minute it seemed that Abby didn't hear her. She seemed to be quite enthralled by the flecks of dust and dirt floating in the sunlight and didn't answer her for a long while. To Rhiannon it seemed like she was fighting some internal struggle and, not wanting to discourage an answer, she sat patiently and waited.

"Well... I met your mother at a doctor's office we went to as teenagers. We had both been hurt and our doctor put me to the task of helping your mother, as I had gotten somewhat better. I've been with her ever since, helping her."

"How old was I? I don't remember mom ever being to a hospital."

"She was pregnant with you, actually."

"Oh."

Rhiannon sipped her soup absentmindedly, wondering if she dared ask the question that had crept into her mind for the millionth time. Finally deciding she was brave enough, she posed her inquiry as innocently as she dared.

"Did you meet my dad, too?"

"No."

The answer was firm, almost harsh. In one word Abby had successfully closed the conversation and they both returned to mutual silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Rhiannon was bitterly disappointed. She knew that Abby had to know something about her past that she wasn't letting on about but she didn't dare press the subject just yet. She'd have to bring it up later, when Abby was back to her cheerful self.

"Well, let's keep going. We need to get at least something done before your mom gets home."

Obediently Rhiannon set her empty mug down and began helping Abby unload items from the boxes and putting them in a large pile for sorting, saying nothing as she did so. She was disheartened, wondering why exactly her mom and Abby always got so mad when she asked anything about her history. It was like there was something they didn't want her to know, and this lack of knowledge made her all the more curious to find out.

"Oh! Here are those movies your mom was looking for. I'll go bring them downstairs, you go ahead and open another box."

"Okay."

A large, rectangular box in her arms, Abby slowly descended the stairs, leaving Rhiannon alone in the attic once more. Frustrated, Rhiannon kicked one of the boxes as hard as she could. It toppled over, spilling some of its contents onto the dirty wood floor. Bending on one knee to put them back in, something in its' depths caught her eye. She reached inside and pulled out the object, examining it.

It was a statue of a man with wild hair and dark clothes. He seemed mystical and somehow familiar to her, though how she wasn't quite sure. His face was exquisite and reminded her of someone she once knew but couldn't recall. Someone that both comforted and terrified her. Intrigued, she pulled off one glove and traced her finger along its length, admiring the smoothness of the porcelain. As she did so a breeze stirred her hair, and a voice whispered into her ear. She shivered, grasping the statue and jumping to her feet to look around the room.

She was quite alone as before, and the window was locked securely. Figuring if it was just her imagination acting up as usual, she knelt on the floor again and continued to gaze at the statue. Whoever he was she couldn't bring herself to stop admiring him. Again the hair stirred on her shoulders and a voice whispered into her ear and, though she couldn't understand what it said, she impulsively reached into the box and her hand hit something dense and smooth. She pulled it out and realized it was a small book with a chocolate brown leather cover. There, in gold print, read the title.

"The Labyrinth," she whispered, running her fingers across it's pitted surface. A thrill shot through her and, as if someone were watching and preparing to take it away, she shoved it inside her cardigan and placed the statue securely inside the box again. She was too afraid to see what else the box might hold and she refolded the lid and backed away, her heart racing. Something- maybe instinct- told her that she wasn't supposed to know the contents of that box. She feared what she might find if she dug deeper.

When Abby returned the breeze and whispering ceased abruptly, leaving a resounding silence in its wake. Rhiannon feigned normalcy the rest of the night, all the while feeling the book pressed against her beating heart. She couldn't wait to return to her bedroom so that she could find out for herself what lay within this Labyrinth, no matter what Abby or her mother thought.

-----

It was late when Sarah finally left her workplace, thoroughly annoyed and shaken. She didn't mind so much being a secretary as she liked people and helping them, but she could only take so much of her boss's annoying flirtations before she felt like screaming. No matter how severe they got she didn't dare say anything for fear of losing her job and as it was the best paying one she could find, she was desperate to keep it.

Her backside still ached from the particularly hard pinch Mr. Nolan had given her before she left, which made sitting for the fifteen minute drive back home far more difficult that normal. However she was highly anticipating seeing Rhiannon and Abby, perhaps watching a movie with them before going to bed. Her talk with Dr. Castillo had, though not fully erased her fears, at least eased them and she felt light-hearted despite her sore buttocks.

When she pulled into the driveway she noticed the light in the attic was on and smiled to herself.

"Looks like Abby put Rhiannon to work today."

She walked up onto the porch and unlocked the front door, kicking her heels off gratefully the moment she was inside. Stretching her arms upwards, she moaned luxuriously and let her coat slide off of her shoulders and onto the back of the sofa. She blinked, momentarily confused as to where the clothes laying there had gone. Tossing her purse and keys onto the recliner by the door, she walked into the laundry room and saw the piles of clothes on the floor and opened the lid of the washer. Sarah's eyes widened in horror and then closed. She willed herself to maintain her calm.

Whoever had done the darks had for some reason put in bleach rather than fabric softener. There were pale spots on every single piece of clothing inside. Try as she might to rationalize that it must have been Rhiannon wanting nothing more than to help, anger bubbled inside the pit of Sarah's stomach. There went most of her work clothes and she certainly couldn't afford to replace them. Forcing a blank expression onto her upset features, she filled a basket with the ruined clothes and made her way upstairs to the attic.

When she entered Abby looked up and smiled, though it quickly turned into a questioning frown.

"What happened?"

Sarah held up a pair of work pants that had once been black but were since spotted gray. Abby groaned and rubbed her forehead, closing the box she had been unpacking.

"Anna must have done laundry when I wasn't noticing or I'd have watched what she did. I'm so sorry, Sarah. You can borrow my clothes if you like."

"Where is she?"

"She asked if she could go to bed early. She said she was tired."

Sarah turned and marched back downstairs, anger turning into slight annoyance at having to search the house after a long day of work to find her daughter. Approaching her daughter's room, she relaxed her face and opened the door, but was not prepared for what she saw. The basket fell from her arms and emptied onto the floor, forgotten.

There, opened on the bed, was her book and reading it was Rhiannon, her face caught up in rapt attention. She didn't even notice the door having been opened until the thump of the clothes, which made her jolt. She turned her eyes away from the book, wide in horror.

"What are you doing?"

The alarm and anger in Sarah's tone was unmistakable and Rhiannon jumped up from the bed, looking very much like a deer in headlights.

"I, I was just- it's just that I found this and I-"

"Give it here, now."

Sarah held out a shaking hand and Rhiannon hesitated. The last thing she wanted to do was to turn over what was turning out to be a very interesting read, but when her mother's eyes began to water she obeyed and placed it in Sarah's hand.

Struggling to find the words to say, Sarah's voice caught in her throat. Her eyes shone from angry tears and she maintained a steady gaze into her daughter's terrified ones.

"Never, ever try to read this book again. I don't know how you found it but if I ever catch you reading it I will have to punish you."

Rhiannon's lip trembled but she maintained a stony face as she burst out in emotion.

"I just want to know more about my past! Who is my dad? Why don't you let me meet him? Why did you take me away from Uncle Toby? Why does this book mention all of them by name-"

"Enough! You're never to mention your father again, do you understand me?"

"Just a name, just something about him, please-"

"No! Rhiannon Williams, you don't have a father and your uncle Toby was a bad influence on you. Shielding you from them is for your own good whether you like it or not."

Rhiannon chewed on her lip so hard a trickle of blood ran down her chin. Finally, in an explosion of anger, she shouted "I hate you!", then flung herself onto her bed. Her back shook from the sobs she stubbornly refused to shed in her mothers' presence.

Sarah's head reeled. She couldn't bear to see her daughter so upset but there was no way she could tell her about their past. It would hurt them both far too much and with no positive consequence. Though she knew her daughter didn't mean what she said, it still stung and Sarah couldn't hold back her tears. Running past a nonplussed Abby in the hallway, Sarah rushed into her bedroom and locked the door. She lay on her bed fully clothed and clutched the book to her chest, wondering how far Rhiannon had gotten into it.

It would have been obvious it was about her, Sarah, and the mentioning of Rhiannon's grandparents and uncle would have raised her curiosity as well, no doubt. Had she gotten to the parts about him? Did she realize the scope of what she had held in her small hands?

Clutching it to her heart both from the horror of its exposure and the pain at seeing it again after so many years, Sarah wept soundlessly into her pillow. That night both of the Williams girls cried themselves to sleep. Both wondered when things would finally go from worse to better; they wondered if they ever would.

Far away in a completely different world, a handsome man sat on his darkened throne and watched his crystals with a weary heart. He couldn't bear to see them suffer but it was a necessary pain. Crystals in hand, he walked to the moonlit balcony overlooking his kingdom and closed his eyes, whispering gentle words into their shimmering surface. With a graceful wave of his hand they vanished into the night air and he turned his back to the balcony, retreating into darkness once more.

Back in the Williams home both girls fell into a peaceful sleep, their dreams soothed by gentle whispers and the surreal visages of dancing fae and lights.


End file.
