An Absence of Stars

Chapter 4: How You Turned My World

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: We're pleased to be able to post this chapter sooner than expected. (Yay for schedules aligning!) As always, we would like to thank our reviewers from the last chapter: Marisa Riddoch Bowman, Selkiesong, WhatisWithin, BowieQueen and Loreley. Thank you so much for reading and encouraging us to continue. :) — Mystical_Grace and Meghanna Starsong

"""""

It took twenty minutes for Tracy to coax Sarah, who'd drifted off during the drive, out of the car. Hoisting the semi-conscious woman up onto her feet, Tracy steadied her when she staggered and mumbled something about "pretty owls.'' She looped one of Sarah's arms around her neck before looking up at the daunting cement stairwell that coiled above them. Setting her jaw, Tracy lugged her wobbly friend-who was heavier than she looked-and their purses up the two-story flights to her apartment. Though she was deceptively strong, Tracy still panted when they reached her doorstep. With some juggling, she unlocked the door and half-carried Sarah to the guestroom.

Tracy plopped her inebriated friend down onto a rarely used bed, the mattress coils squeaking from disuse. The room itself was mostly empty and smelt dusty, but the sheets were clean and the little furniture present was functional. Sarah collapsed onto the bed and dozed off again. Rolling her eyes, Tracy removed her shoes, put her purse and phone on a nearby nightstand, and turned on a bedside lamp before exiting the room. The best thing for Sarah now was sleep.

An hour later, Red arrived in his street clothes. His dark auburn hair feathered around his cheeks and over his ears in a wispy style. Dressed in a bright tunic and jeans, he thrusted two large cartons of ice cream at Tracy. "'I come bearing gifts,'" he quoted dramatically.

"My hero," Tracy replied as she invited him in.

"I selflessly offer up my stash of Rocky Road and Double Chocolate Fudge Ripple." He toed the door shut after him and left his overnight bag on Tracy's sectional, a thrift store steal still in good condition.

"You sure you don't want to crash for a bit?" Tracy asked as she headed into the kitchen, Red following her. She popped the ice cream into the freezer before taking in his slightly withered appearance. "You're looking a bit gray around the edges."

Red yawned but shook his head. "I'm fine, doll. I've had plenty of beauty rest these last weeks thanks to starfishing a bed meant for two. It's just been a long night between the salon, bar, and Drunk Sarah."

"Drunk Sarah would tire out anyone. She just made it to full-on Jello mode when we got here." Tracy smiled at the comment and shooed Red back into the living room. "Pick a movie, and I'll make some popcorn."

"With extra butter?" His eyes lit up.

"Of course. What do you think I am, a barbarian?"

He laughed and strolled back into the living room to the bookshelf housing her collection of movies. He traced his fingers over plastic DVD spines, sifting through titles until a romcom caught his eye. He popped the disc into the player and switched on Tracy's big box of a TV-another thrift store find-with the remote. As the movie began, he plopped down on the oversized gray sectional to watch it.

"How's Princess Sarah?" he called into the kitchen and crossed his legs at the knee.

"Sound asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow, the poor thing," Tracy replied, the tantalizing smell of butter wafting through the apartment and a microwave beeping.

"""""

Later that night, Sarah surfaced with difficulty from a deep, cocooning sleep. She lay on a flat surface, a bed. Her stomach must've woken her, because it felt like marbles were rolling around in it. The mattress below her seemed to crest and fall as if tossed by a restless sea. She managed to flop onto her side and gaze blearily around, noting the nearby lamp and the nightstand with her possessions on it. Through the slowly receding alcoholic stupor, she recognized Tracy's guestroom and was grateful her friends had gotten her somewhere safe.

Moaning, she reached for a bottle of water on the nightstand left by Tracy. With tremendous effort, she pushed herself up into a sitting position and sipped some of it. Her head pounded like someone playing the drum solo from Phil Collins' song, "In the Air Tonight." She cursed herself for having been so enthusiastic with the booze when she clearly couldn't handle it.

She needed some damn painkillers.

Sarah seized her purse off the nightstand and fumbled with the zipped pocket. After the zipper snagged and caught, she wretched it open, knocking the purse off her lap in her haste. It fell onto the floor with a muffled thump, spilling its contents including the bottle of aspirin. She bent over carefully to retrieve it when something else caught her eye. Sticking out of her bag was the corner of a leather-bound book.

She slid the book all the way out and picked it up, her headache momentarily forgotten. The faded red cover was pockmarked by scratches, its pages yellowed and frayed with age. The corners of some had been folded down to mark passages much loved. The book spine had teeth marks where her old sheepdog, Merlin, had chewed on it before she'd rescued it. Scrawled across the book's front was The Labyrinth in writing which retained its vivid gold sheen.

Sarah gently traced the lettering, a small frown puckering her brow. She hadn't seen, much less thought of, this book in ages. "Where did you come from?" she wondered.

As she flipped to the first page, a piece of lined notebook paper fell out. She put aside the book and picked it up, recognizing her brother's rushed, disorderly handwriting.

"Sis, I went through some old stuff and I found this! I remember how you'd read it to me, and you'd always get this happy look on your face, especially during the parts about the Goblin King (weirdo). I know that you've been in a slump lately with your ex-jack-(I censored! With great effort!) and other stuff, so I thought this might make you smile! I meant to give this to you at the house, but things heated up pretty fast between us. Don't get mad that I stuffed it in your bag.

- Toby

P.S. Tell Red he owes me two packs of eyeliner."

Sarah sighed. That was such a Toby thing to do.

Her head throbbed in agreement.

Grimacing, she tucked the note into the back of the book and put it on the pillow. She took a couple of pain pills with some water before replacing the bottle and the rest of her things into her purse. From the other side of the bedroom door she heard Red and Tracy's muted voices along with the background music of a movie. She should let them know she was up and thank them for dealing with her drunk ass, but not quite yet.

She just needed to breathe a little, to have a moment of peace in an otherwise hellish day.

Sarah crawled back under Tracy's heavy, blue star-patterned quilt, burrowing into bed like she had when she was a kid. Reclining on her side, she returned once more to the book and inhaled the comforting scent of musty pages. Though dizzy, she forced herself to focus on the words; it got easier the longer she did it. She quietly read different passages to herself, and a sense of nostalgia swept over her.

Outside, a ghostly barn owl observed her through the room's sole window. Though there was no wind, the leaves of the tree he roosted in rustled and its branches swayed.

It was embarrassing to remember how much she'd liked the story growing up. The Goblin King had been a handsome, changeable villain. He'd both repelled and attracted the teenage Sarah with his fixation on the heroine, especially when she'd felt so ignored by her own family. Something about his obsession had been twistedly romantic in an adult fairy tale sort of way.

Of course, her grown up self knew now that there were healthier ways of getting someone's attention than by granting her the power to wish someone away. Even so, some part of her continued to be drawn to the Goblin King. Maybe she just had a thing for moody men.

She was so absorbed in the book that she didn't notice the air thickening, carrying with it whispers of uncanny things around the room.

"Listen!" they cried in high, enthralled tones. "She wants to make a wish!"

"Maybe the Goblin King should've given the heroine the option to wish herself away," Sarah mused aloud to herself.

Impatience and anticipation colored the unusually charged energy of the room. "Did she say it? Did she, did she?" a particularly excited creature asked.

"Ssssh!" hissed another. "She has t'use the right words!"

"If she had, no one else would've gotten hurt, and the girl could've had an adventure of her own," she continued, oblivious to the beings listening to her, "Though hopefully one not involving the Bog of Eternal Stench." She giggled at her nonsensical thoughts.

"Hey, I like that place," commented a rather fuzzy spectator.

A helmet-wearing neighbor bonked him on top of the head. "Shut it!"

"It's stupid, but if I could, that's what I'd wish for now. Just the chance to get away from everything." She turned onto her back, the book resting on her chest. Its weight was familiar, anchoring her to reality.

The owl tensed on its skeletal branch, preternaturally still. His golden eyes gleamed in the darkness, brighter than all the stars in the night sky. The very air stilled in anticipation of something important about to happen.

The aspirin had dulled Sarah's headache, but the remaining wine in her system tugged her back towards sleep. Deciding another nap was in order, she settled in to do just that and whispered, "Wish someone would take me away, to anywhere...right now." Her heavy eyelids fluttered closed.

The goblins held their collective breaths. Sarah drifted into a more relaxed state, unaware of the window mysteriously rising up and the owl swooping silently into the room through it. Distantly, she felt leather-covered fingers tenderly caress her cheek. She thought she heard a familiar voice, a silky purr she hadn't heard in so long, but she couldn't be sure. She sank into Morpheus' embrace, unable to resurface to find out if she were mistaken or not.

Jareth, the King of the Goblins, smiled down at Sarah's slumbering form in triumph. "You finally called for me, you precious thing."

"""""

In the living room, Tracy and Red emptied a giant bowl of popcorn and moved onto a second. The romcom had concluded with a predictable happy ending, leaving the onlookers feeling underwhelmed. They switched gears to a different kind of movie, a coming-of-age with puppets.

"No matter how many times I see it, this show never gets old," Red said as he sucked the salt and butter off his fingers. He plucked a leftover popcorn kernel out of the bowl in his lap, which he'd shamelessly hogged, before passing it to Tracy.

She nodded absently as she put the dirty bowl on the coffee table, its surface marred with old ring stains from drinks. "Whoever worked on the puppets did a pretty good job, even if you can see the puppeteers on occasion."

Red wiped his hands on a napkin and shrugged. "Regardless, what a world they've crafted. And good God, what a delicious male lead!" He whistled appreciatively when the silvery-haired actor pranced onto set, cloaked in a glitter-flecked, gaudy costume.

"You have strange taste in men. You do realize that, right?" Tracy wrinkled her nose at him.

"To each their own, honey." He pointed at the television screen. "I could pull off his wardrobe if nothing else."

"You'd bring more class to the outfit, at the very least."

"Aww, thanks!" Red preened. "For that comment, you get extra ice cream." He rose and stretched, waving her off as he headed to the kitchen. "I'll scoop it."

"My hero again...but in sparkly armor!" Tracy put the back of a hand across her forehead and feigned swooning onto her half of the sectional.

A cabinet banged shut in the kitchen and silverware in a drawer rattled. Red returned with two heaping ceramic bowls of ice cream. He nudged her shoulder with his hip. "If you're going to make a habit of passing out, you ought to invest in a fainting couch. That'd be more comfortable than this thing you're strewn across."

"Hey, it's a perfectly good couch. Don't knock my thrift store treasure," she groused.

"Oh, scooch over." He handed her a cold bowl and slid down beside her to partake of his own.

Tracy sat up and eagerly dug a spoon into her treat, returning her focus to the film. Her eyes narrowed in speculation. "I wonder who came up with this screenplay. It has an…interesting storyline."

"Dunno. I've always been partial to villainous heroes myself, though," Red admitted around a bite of Rocky Road. He chewed on a nut, watching the male lead warble a song and gyrate his hips in time to the rhythm.

"You and Sarah both," Tracy mumbled into her ice cream. "What's the actor's name again?"

"Daveth Bowen," he supplied eagerly.

"He can at least sing-" She cut herself off, frowning.

"Something wrong?" Red glanced sideways at Tracy. Though she was beside him, she seemed far away, like a reflection across water. He set his partially eaten bowl on the coffee table and touched her shoulder. She trembled beneath his hand. "Tracy?"

"Someone is making a wish." Her voice came out breathy, distracted. Her pupils dilated, and the artificial light from the television reflected eerily within them.

"Yeah, that's me wishing Daveth Bowen would confess his undying love to me," Red joked, hoping to dispel the intense mood and return them to lighter conversation.

"No…this isn't a casual wish." Her hair flared straight up with a poof as if she'd received a static shock.

"What the hell!" Red yelped and jumped off the sectional.

Her eyes greedily followed something only she could see until they landed on the door of her guestroom. "Coming from there."

"Why is your hair suddenly defying gravity?!" Red's voice was high-pitched with surprise.

"A wish… the guestroom…" The wolfish glint left her eyes and turned to horror. She bounded to her feet, uncaring as the bowl in her lap crashed to the floor and splattered everywhere, and rushed to the bedroom door. "It's Sarah!"

Red paused and then darted after her. "Hey! Are you going to answer me?"

"Sarah's making a wish that she's not ready for!" Tracy fumbled with the door knob. It refused to open. She cursed and wrestled with it.

"What're you talking about?" Red demanded behind her, beyond confused and quite worried by her erratic behavior.

"I don't have time to explain! For crapsake, Red,help me with this!" She kicked the bottom of the offending door.

"Er, can't you just turn the knob?"

"Does it look like I can?!" With a frustrated yell, Tracy threw herself against the door, her shoulder smarting. The hinges whined ominously but held.

Before Red's shocked gaze, the door bulged out towards them in retaliation, the wood inexplicably gelatinous. It bubbled like rising dough in an oven. He pointed a shaking finger at it. "T-That's not n-normal..."

"Thank you for that stunning observation, Captain Obvious!" Tracy snapped.

He froze in disbelief as the surface of the door expanded further into the hallway, pushing the two of them back.

"Damnit! Sarah, don't say ANYTHING!" Tracy shouted and took a step back, bowed over, and charged the door. This time it gave in to her will, and returning to its normal state, it slammed against the bedroom wall and allowed the pair in.

Wasting no time, Tracy dove into the guestroom. Red, who still hadn't recovered from the oddness he was beholding, followed at a more cautious pace.

The small bedroom felt confining and oppressive, as if occupied by too many people. It was abnormally dark even for night with distorted shadows leaping and merging. The only illumination came from a sputtering Tiffany lamp on the nightstand which struggled valiantly to stay on. Yellow sparks flew from the lightbulb as something attempted to smother it. Peculiar, unformed things haunted the corners of the room, denser than the shadows and constantly shifting. Then, like a lens focusing, everything became whole and clear.

Paling, Red gawked around the bedroom. Many misshapen creatures skittered around the space, clothed in crude armor and scaled leather, some horned and others with warts. They vaulted out from under the bed, hung off the ceiling fan, and cackled incessantly. "What the fuck are those?!" he screeched.

"A desperate wish was made; the goblins answered," a velvety voice clarified near the bed.

Tracy knelt submissively beside the foot of the bed, where Sarah lay in repose, and stared up at a man of otherworldly beauty. "Your Highness."

Something squishy rolled over Red's foot, and he jerked away from it with a frightened squeal. He gazed at the striking figure hovering over Sarah and felt himself losing it. "Who the hell are you?!"

Prism-like light danced over the man, blanching his already pale features. On a moonless night, he emanated a keen, icy illumination, cutting an elegant figure in fine, silvery-white fabric and owl feathers. He ignored both Tracy and Red as he bent and picked Sarah up bridal style, his wing-like cloak rustling behind him. Despite his lean built, he was strong enough to hold Sarah without any difficulty.

"King Jareth, please reconsider." Though her expression hadn't changed from its respectful mien, a desperate note of pleading entered Tracy's voice.

The man arched a haughty eyebrow, the high planes of his cheekbones chiseled from shadow in the mottled lamplight. "What's said is said."

"She drank heavily tonight, sire. She's not in the right state of mind to understand the consequences of her wish."

"She understood her desires well enough to voice them." Red noticed the tops of the man's ears were pointed, almost like elf ears. Sarah shifted sleepily in his arms, and he tightened his hold around her. "A wish is a wish, and I choose to grant it."

"Please, my lord," Tracy persisted, "if you would just-"

"Are you defying the will of your king?" The question was delivered with scathing contempt and a promise of punishment.

Tracy flinched away from the oppressive energy roiling off him but ceased her begging. She returned his look with new defiance. "I will defend my friend, as you wished of me."

"How bold of you to challenge me," he sneered, his eyes turning the blue of an arctic sky. "But no matter. She has exercised her free will, and I will wait no longer to bring her back. By our very laws, you cannot interfere in this."

"Oh, for the love of rainbow sprinkles! Alright, Mr. Pushy, you better put Sarah down." After listening to the scene and mustering his courage, Red reentered the fray. He didn't understand much of what was happening, but he did get that some pervert had broken into Tracy's apartment and meant to kidnap Sarah. "And I mean now."

The man in the feathery getup snorted in reply.

Red sidled over to Tracy, sizing up their opponent as he did so. There was no telling how crazy the stranger was. "Come on. Just do it. You don't want to fight me."

"You're no more a warrior than I am a simpleton," the man scoffed.

"Wanna bet? I know, er, jiu jitsu," he bluffed.

"Not helping, Red!" Tracy snarled out of the corner of her mouth.

"I grow tired of you, mortal," the man drawled. He tucked Sarah more securely against his chest and took a step away from them.

"Let her go!" Red snatched up the nearest object, which was Sarah's hefty purse, and spun it around by the strap like it was nunchucks. "You don't want to piss me off!"

"No, Red, you don't want to piss him off!" Tracy placed herself squarely between them, her skin gleaming in the gloom.

"What the hell, Tracy?!" He stopped twirling the purse to gape at her fluctuating skin.

"You have no idea who you're dealing with!" Turning back to the stranger, Tracy tried again. "Sire, Jareth. I know you've waited a long time, but surely-"

"Enough!" The man gestured sharply at Tracy, and her lips snapped together as if sewn shut. Noises of protest escaped her throat as she clawed at her mouth, but no words came. "I salute your loyalty, little cousin-and even your bravery, mortal, tiresome as it is-but she comes with me."

With that, Sarah and the man began to blur and altogether fade, their colors running into the background like diluted paint.

Red gasped as their outlines became faint. Recovering enough to act, he swung the purse at the man's head, but it went completely through him into the wall. In a last effort to stop them, he hurled himself at the dissolving man and somehow seized a handful of cloak. He clung stubbornly to the slippery material as it whipped back and forth, refusing to let go. "You're not taking her!"

"A valiant effort, but one which is ultimately useless." The man's voice echoed hollowly around the room. He lifted an elbow and his cloak rippled. The fabric undulated fluidly down the cloak, a wave growing in intensity until it reached Red. It hovered ominously for a moment over him before crashing down, lifting him off his feet and throwing him backwards.

There was a rip, and Red toppled onto the floor. Several furred and fanged monstrosities poured out of the closet and latched onto his limbs, pinning him down. He flailed and slapped at the nearest one. "Ew! Gross! Gross! Get off me!"

"I am in a generous mood, human. Today you live. Be grateful." The stranger smiled, but it was as frigid as a wind from Antarctica. To Tracy he said just as coolly, "Your services are not required for the time being, so do take your time returning to the Labyrinth. If your companion can keep his courage, you may bring him as well. He may prove diverting. Until next we meet."

The air around the man shimmered like a heat mirage, and then he vanished completely with Sarah. There was only empty space where they'd once stood. The disturbing little creatures howled and bounced off the walls before they, too, disappeared, leaving only soap bubbles behind. The ones on Red's limbs sniggered and stuck out their tongues before poofing away, adding insult to the unbelievability of the situation.

A guttural noise built behind Tracy's teeth. When she finally wrenched her lips apart, she released a keening wail that sent shivers down Red's spine.

"So, um...that happened." Stunned and spread-eagled, he scrambled sluggishly to his feet. "What were those things? Where's Sarah?"

"One question at a time," Tracy groaned, rubbing her neck with a queasy look. "You okay?"

"Gee, am I okay? Let's see: some crackpot just stole our friend; I watched a door defy the laws of physics; and I was ambushed by horrible little creatures that smelled like sweaty old socks." He shuddered, remembering the hot, grubby paws he'd fought against. "So, no. No, I'm not okay."

"Yeah, stupid question." A sigh erupted from Tracy as she staggered to the bed and all but fell onto it. "What a mess. It wasn't supposed to happen like this."

"Let's pull ourselves together." Red put a reassuring hand on Tracy's shoulder. Even spooked and white beneath his freckles, he still found himself acting to calm the situation. "Give me the abridged version of what's going on, and then we decide what to do next."

Words tumbled from Tracy's mouth in an unbridled stream, grateful to finally share the story with somebody. She told Red how the strange man was named Jareth, that he was the ruler of another realm, and that he had been watching Sarah for a very, very long time. She spoke of the weird beings, called goblins, and how Sarah had ventured into their kingdom as a teenager to alter a selfish wish. Sarah had beaten Jareth at his own game, saving her half-brother and returning them to Earth. Doing so, however, had made the Goblin King all the more infatuated with her, something Tracy relayed with obvious worry in her voice.

"I know what I'm telling you is difficult to believe; that it's a lot to take in, but it's the truth." Tracy kept her eyes glued to the floor during her tale and fisted the sheets between unsteady hands.

"I can't deny a part of me wants to pretend it was all a drunk dream." Red paced from the bed to the door, which was its usual boring self, and back again. He glanced down at the jagged piece of fabric that he'd ripped from the man's cloak. "I can almost convince myself that it was, except there's this and Sarah is missing."

Tracy remained hunched over for a minute, engaged in some kind of internal struggle. Making up her mind, she suddenly surged to her feet. "I'm bringing her back."

"Just how are you going to do that? Do you even know where they went?" Tracy avoided his gaze, and Red pointed an accusing finger at her. "You do know something!"

She stayed quiet as she went through her apartment, closing window blinds and switching off electronics. Red tailed her mercilessly, peppering her with questions that she ultimately ignored. When she pulled on her shoes, he did too, unwilling to be left behind should she leave. He cornered her in the kitchen while she rummaged through a drawer, the silvery shred of cloth clenched in his hand.

"Come on, Tracy, explain yourself." He crossed his arms as she tossed a spatula and then a ladle over her shoulder. Many other items also littered the kitchen linoleum.

"I don't have the time. Just trust me when I say I'll take care of everything." She gave a triumphant cry and held up a battered butter knife. "Found it!"

"That Jareth guy called you 'cousin.'" Red purposely stepped in front of her. Although slim, he was taller than Tracy and wedged her into the kitchen doorway.

Tracy poked him in the gut with the blunt knife. "Let me through! Sarah's in danger, and you're slowing me down."

"Wait, are you threatening me...with a butter knife?" He blinked twice in utter disbelief.

"If I was threatening you, you wouldn't have to ask. Oh, just move! Look, you can stay here at my place if you want. Sleep, eat, do whatever. I'll be back as soon as I can, hopefully with Sarah." She ducked beneath his arm and scurried off towards the guestroom. She added in passing, "Just check on Nimue. You know how Sarah worries about her."

Red trailed after her into the bedroom, the piece of cloth catching the lamplight as he stuffed it into his jeans pocket. "I'm coming with you, and you're going to come clean about what's going on with you."

"No, you're not!" Tracy almost snarled in her haste. Knife in hand, she stomped over to the guestroom closet and yanked open the door. It brimmed with a clutter of random clothing, everything from a holy trench coat, a broken umbrella, to a plaid peasant skirt. She flicked on the light switch, slammed the door shut, and knocked three times on it. "And that's final."

"You can't stop me." Red put his hands on his hips.

"Yes, I can."

"Nope. I'm bigger."

"I'm faster."

"What're you going to do, butter me into submission with that antique?" Red nodded snidely towards her knife.

"Cute." Tracy peeked her head into the closet and growled when she saw the inside hadn't changed. She closed it again and rapped on the wood three more times with great deliberation. "Red, this isn't like going to another city; this is another world. Everything there, from the rules to the inhabitants, is different. It's too dangerous for you."

"And it's not for you?" he said irritatedly.

"Of course it'll be dangerous for me. But unlike you, I actually know what I'm getting into," she replied tartly.

"I'm not going to stay behind while my friend's in the clutches of some elfin psychopath." To prove he wasn't, Red drew up side by side with her.

"Don't ever let Jareth hear you call him an elf; I'm not brave enough to save you from that stupidity. Besides, he'd never hurt Sarah." She winced and then conceded, "Okay, he likes to toy with her, but he'd never truly allow anything to harm her."

"I find that really, really doubtful. Every bit of him screams, 'Creep.'"

"He's not human; obsessing over things and people that fascinate him is part of his nature."

Red checked his fingers for chipped nails casually. "Sounds pretty human to me."

"Trust me, it's very different for us."

"There it is again. Us." He glowered down at Tracy.

"Forget it. Look, Sarah's safe enough with him. Besides," she continued in a more subdued tone, "there are worse things in the realms than coming across as a 'creep.'"

Red shrugged and gestured at the closet. "Fine. So, how do we get to this goblin place? Fly on a broomstick? Borrow some fairy dust and sprinkle it on us?"

Her lips quirked. "Not exactly. And you're not coming."

"Duh. I am."

She opened her mouth to protest against him going again, but seeing his unwavering resolve, she closed it. "Jareth did say to bring you along. Screw it. We're wasting time. Let's go."

For a third time she inspected the closet's interior, revealing the random, messy wardrobe inside. She snagged a straw hat from off a top shelf and chucked it aside in disgust. "It's not working," she muttered. "Why isn't it working?"

"Is this where you keep all the embarrassing stuff?" Red wrinkled his nose in distaste. "If I see one more piece of plaid, I'm going to puke."

Tracy hunched over to inspect the door from front to back, even scowling at the hinges, before relatching it. "This hasn't happened before. What in all the realms?"

"Let me guess: there's a reason for all the knocking," he observed dryly.

"They should've answered by now." She pressed an ear to the white plywood and listened for a moment. She closed her eyes in relief. "Ah, there they are. We're going through here."

Red arched his plucked eyebrows. "You know, I wasn't expecting to come out of the closet in my teens only to be getting back into one in my thirties."

She gave him a sharp toothed grin. "Surprise."

Giving her an amused look, he nudged her aside and placed his own hand on the door knob. It opened with a groan as he turned to Tracy. "Now what? Kick it? Maybe try something else?"

"Very rude, it is, burstin' through a door without knockin'," a tinny voice grouched loudly from the depths of the closet.

Startled, Red sprang back, his arms going up automatically to protect himself. Tracy chortled, something about her was lighter, wilder. The regular closet door was ajar, waxy and ordinary in every way. Rather than concealing a messy closet, it now masked another door, this one huge, gothic, and made from real dark wood. A large, grotesque knocker sized them up with beady brass eyes. A ring circled its head, the ends of it embedded in its pointed ears.

"What's the matter, Red?" teased Tracy. "Surely you're not afraid of a little talking Knocker."

"Bloody hell," he said and wiped the sweat off his brow with a tunic sleeve.

"Finally decided t'come back, didya?" The animated Knocker stuck its pug nose up higher in the air. "Can't say I'm surprised."

"I see your attitude hasn't improved any while I've been gone," Tracy shot back.

"Mumble mumble. Another movin' conversationalist," it huffed snootily.

Red tiptoed over and poked the Knocker's cheek. It felt like polished metal, smooth and unyielding, but was somehow warmer. "T-This is real?"

"Ouch! Keep yer hands to yerself!" it howled, working its jaw back and forth.

"Holy shit," Red whispered.

"Hmph. Not every day I see mugs ugly as yers, that's fer sure," snarked the Knocker.

His jaw dropped, and he waved a fist at the sculpture. "I refuse to be insulted by a bad example of tin art!"

"Behave, both of you!" Tracy reprimanded them and cast a stern look at the Knocker. "We need to go to the Goblin City."

"Oh hoh, I see what's what!" The Knocker chuckled, the sound like metal grating over metal. "Ya don't come t'me unless ya need passage, ungrateful wretch. Well, ya can go polish yer knob!"

"I swear I'll have you melted down into bolts if you don't open up!" she hissed at it, brandishing her butter knife.

"No use threatenin' me, dearie," the Knocker sniffed haughtily. "Can't hear ya."

"This is ridiculous! If all you have to do is knock-" Red snatched the Knocker's ring and pounded it repeatedly against the door, the loop straining in the creature's ears.

The Knocker howled in misery. "Oy, stop! Aaaaah! Me ears! Aaaaah! I've an infection!"

Tracy tugged on Red's arm. "Stop! This isn't helping."

"I'm deaf! I'm deaf! Curse ya both, stupid halflin' and ya ugly troll!" moaned the Knocker, its eyes closed and face screwed up in agony.

Tracy's eyes hardened. "Never mind. I'll do it myself."

She pushed Red out of the way, firmly grasped the handle, and hammered out a now familiar pattern. The Knocker keened and garbled insults at her. There came a click and the massive door swung inwards, plumes of translucent mist questing through the crack in the threshold. Some unknown animal hooted from within.

"Are we going through there?" Red indicated the door, his countenance pinched and skeptical.

"Unless you've been hiding any other magical doors that are more cooperative, then yes," Tracy snarkily confirmed, her patience worn thin. She kicked the door for emphasis, the Knocker complaining, and paused in the threshold, one foot in the mist. "Still coming?"

"Back into the closet I go. With a rude talking Knocker." He shook his head and hurried after her. "Sarah better appreciate this."

Rusty tears slid down the knocker's cheeks, and it hurled more abuse at them in passing. "Ya stupid mumblin' frogs! Buncha thickheaded bloomin' blobbies! The Bog smells better'n ya! Hope them Fieries juggle yer heads and shat on 'em!"

Tracy allowed Red to go ahead of her before pinching the knocker's nose. "Get oiled, you knucklehead."

Red's voice came haltingly from the closet back into the human world. "Hey, ah, doll, why's it so dark in here? Aren't we...AAAAHHHH!"

Grimacing, Tracy ran into the murky closet towards Red's voice, the magic door sealing itself behind her and cutting off her own astonished scream. Oblivious to their peril, the offended Knocker sniveled and spewed more obscenities before giving way to the sunrise.

"""""

To Be Continued