#also if you're sensitive to complex family dynamics and allllllll that entails this may not be the fic for you

[ladyofstardust]

The Mother Thing

Word Count: 2.7k

Rating: T

Summary: In which sometimes the way forward isn’t the way back.

Notes: Apartment-verse fic.  Directly follows Goblin Waltz no.2.  I’m also posting them over at Ao3 in order if you’d prefer to read that way.

There was a moment, Sarah realized upon reflection, that the definition of impossible stopped seeming to matter. That when you’d built your life on impossible things, they start to become probable. Becoming the things you cherish most, helping to carry you from one side to the other.

She didn't credit the moment she first saw the Goblin King, all booming terror and and intimidation in her parent's bedroom.  Becoming her own kind of impossible in the process, the kind that befriends monsters, rescues babies, and overthrows monarchies in just a few short hours. If anything that was the moment she decided she would not make this easy for him.

He would inform her later, that nothing about her had ever been easy, and a part of her would be pleased.  

She also didn't credit the moment years later, standing in her kitchen clutching a glass of wine like it was her tether to reality, when she saw him again.  She had thought he might kiss her.  She was prepared for that.  Not well prepared - her plan had basically amounted to throwing wine in the face of an otherwordly powerful being, generally not the best choice, but you know, better than nothing.  But he didn’t kiss her, instead she kissed him.

She remembered what Sir Didymus had said once, about Jareth never trying for anyone.  But that he always tried for her. Though later, as she swept up the remains of too much glitter, she decided that wasn't enough.  Trying was fine, listening was better.  Until Jareth was ready to listen to her and respect her as an equal partner, their future was impossible.

Except then he did that.  

Except then, without reason or agenda he showed up to her mother's funeral.  He quietly followed behind her and came dressed in his best human black.  He’d kept his eyes the same just for her.  She hadn’t even told him her mother had died. But then again, she hadn’t told anyone.

A sort of paralysis took over after the phone call. Another moment she thought was impossible until it arrived. That Linda Williams’ lifestyle of ‘too much’ had finally become just that. Sarah felt like she was back in that broken Escher room. Except this time she didn’t have any magic words, and years of crying and begging had made no difference. A dead person is just dead.

She didn't ask him to come and she didn't ask him to leave.  She just looked at him, not crying or screaming because what was the point anymore?  Instead without saying anything, he slipped his ungloved hand into hers.

He let go when she went to speak to her family but stayed close at her side.  He introduced himself as a friend but made himself easily forgotten.  He didn't say the things everyone else said.  Things like better place, at peace, or any garbage about God's will.  He didn't even say the perfunctory but perfectly acceptable "I'm sorry for your loss."  Which was exhausting after about the 50th time she'd heard it.  He took her home, he made sure her laundry was done.  He sent Sir Didymus, Hoggle, and Ludo to check on her.  He left food in her kitchen still warm, and when she wouldn't touch it, he learned how to make boxed mac and cheese, the only thing her mother ever made her, something that she had mentioned once in passing.  He listened, he remembered, he was there.  

She asked him to leave, he didn't listen.  He talked all the time but he never spoke about her mother. Instead he talked about events in his kingdom, what was happening with the various councils, and something about the winter borders, Sarah had no idea, she wasn’t paying much attention. But one evening while she was sitting in her living room picking at some leftovers he came and sat down on the couch beside her.  

"Sarah, you are clearly stuck on this; tell me what I can do to help you," he said quietly.

Stuck, it was the right word for what she was.  She was stuck in the abyss between devastated and accepting she just wasn't going to feel anything ever again.  She didn't know how to get to the other side.  The side that the rest of the world seemed to be on.  Those unmarred by personal tragedy who could talk happily about weekend plans or what was on tv that week without feeling like they were reading from a script about how to be a human.  

“Have you called your father this week? What about Toby? Your other friends?” he replied. “If you won’t talk to me at least talk to one of them.”

“I already spoke to my dad,” she said coldly, recalling their conversation from earlier that week.

Her father had come to the funeral of course, he’d stood there and said the right things, shook the right hands, and hugged the right people. He looked and acted just the way you’d expect the ex-husband of a dead woman to. Sarah wanted to scream, and shake him and tell him to get out. She’d thought she was past that anger, it was never his fault. Nothing was ever his fault.

Later, after everyone had started leaving and beginning the forgetting part of death, her father had walked up to her and put his hand on her shoulder. She’d thought he might hug her.

“When you become a parent, you think your children will exemplify your best qualities. You think they will have the benefit of all your experiences to learn from, and they will succeed where you failed and become a better version of yourself. But instead they take on your greatest weaknesses, and everything you’ve struggled with is reflected back at you. I think she always struggled with that Sarah…you’ve always been the spitting image of Linda,” he said quietly, removing his hand from her shoulder. “It was difficult for all of us.” he said as he turned to walk away.

“She was 23 when she had me,” she said to Jareth. “I used to think that was old, but having now seen the backend of 23, I can’t imagine having a kid now let alone then. It’s not about the house or the money thing either, I just wouldn’t be able. I’m too selfish. I want too many things, and I hate compromising. But you know that already, what was it you said? Spoiled, manipulative, cruel? Yes, all of the above, thanks for playing and please collect your prize on the way out.”

“I’m not particularly interested in hearing you tear yourself down all in the name of Linda Williams. She’s not worth that,” he argued.

“Well maybe she’s worth that to me!” Sarah shouted. “And nobody asked you to be here! You’re the one that’s refusing to leave.”

“I’m refusing to leave because you need help Sarah - why must you insist on fighting me every step of the way!” he argued.

“Because I don’t want your help!” she shouted again. “I don’t need help, I just need to be left alone because what does it even matter? What does any of it matter! Here’s a nice spoiler alert about human life for you Jareth. Everyone deep down is just all the shit of their parents scraped together, just continuing one long cycle where nobody’s happy. Then they get to die and you get to hang around and try and figure out how to make sense of the fact that the woman who threw soup cans at you once, screaming at you to get out of her sight, is the same woman who braided your hair before bed and taught you how to tie your shoes. All while everyone says you look just like her. So every time you look in the mirror you get to remember just where you came from and just where you’re going.”

“Sarah, I’ve always said that you’re nothing like her.” he started.

“I could take away my permission,” she said quickly, cutting him off. Purposely not looking at him. She didn’t know why he wouldn’t just leave her alone.

“You could,” he said evenly.

“I could,” she said, daring to glance at his expression, it was deadly calm. “Will you leave?”

“No.”

“You’re breaking the only rule I ever asked you to follow you know,” she said, reminding him. “How does that factor into your little scoreboard?”

“All rules must have exceptions love, you know that better than anyone,” he said examining his gloves.

“Don’t call me love we’re fighting,” she snapped.

“No,” he said, suddenly serious again. “I’m not leaving.”

Sarah glared at him and stood up, “Thank you for turning my living room into a hostile space, I’m going to bed.” she said, before marching off to slam the door of her bedroom.

It took two hours.  Two hours of Sarah pacing her bedroom in a rage. Ranting to herself about how wrong Jareth was.  How mad she was at him and daring to tell her about her own feelings or her relationship with her mom - what did he know about any of it.  She'd never talked about her mom with him.  She never talked about her mom with anyone specifically because it was no one's business but hers.  

Two hours and she couldn't sleep.  This wasn't particularly unusual, she hadn't been able to sleep properly since the phone call.  Sitting in bed, she grabbed her old battered copy of Persuasion and found it was still bookmarked from the last time it had been opened.  When he'd read to her.

Half agony, half hope.

And suddenly Sarah started to cry.  

She cried until her whole body shook.  She cried until she couldn't breathe and her head was pounding.  She cried until she thought she was going to be sick.  Why couldn't things ever be fair?  Just once, just for one tiny moment in her entire life all she wanted was for things to be fair. But worst of all, why did it have to be him?  She hated that.  

She grabbed her robe and walked back out into her living room. There, sitting on the couch where she left him, was her Goblin King. He’d been flipping through the television channels and had started picking at her mac and cheese. She watched him there for a moment and smiled slightly to herself. Sarah walked up behind him and put her hand on his shoulder. He turned around abruptly, as if surprised to see her there.

"I'm sorry, I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice catching.  "You weren't right, but I'm still so sorry."

He stood up and wrapped Ludo’s blanket around her, guiding her down to sit beside him on the couch. She didn't even care that all she was wearing under her robe was an old pair of underwear.

“I’m not sad," she said, lying there curled up in his lap.  “All evidence to the contrary, I’m not sad that she’s dead. I’m sad because I’m … relieved. It feels like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders and the guilt I feel over that relief is almost numbing by itself. But more than that even there is the overwhelming feeling that I failed. That I failed her, and now I have to figure out how to live with myself."

"What do you mean?" he said, confused.

"It's like, imagine loving someone who you know loves you back.  Who you know would burn the world for you if they knew how to strike a match.  My mom didn't even know where you'd find a match.  She wasn't broken, she was just herself.  But that person was a bad mom and she failed me over and over again.  It took me eighteen years to learn that loving someone and hating someone aren't mutually exclusive.  I stopped trying, I stopped begging her to change so I stopped believing she would.  But now she's dead and I have to accept that I gave up on her.  I know I can't or couldn't make her into something she wasn't, which was a good mom or even a decent person. But that doesn't mean I don't feel guilty.”

"You cannot save everyone Sarah," he said.  

"I know, but I'm always going to try.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he said, giving her a slight smile.

“Your parents, they’re supposed to be the people you can rely on to love you no matter what. My mom loved herself more than she loved me, and my dad loves me but there’s conditions on that love. They both love me, I’ve just never been the person they love most. Which I suppose means I’ve never been anyone’s most, and that’s what’s different now. I’ve started to understand what that kind of love might look like, it’s changed how I feel about this stuff. It’s hard for me to talk about it still but…it’s different now.”

He didn’t press her any further and she didn’t say anything else. Instead she let herself drift in and out of sleep for a while. The second time she woke up she wasn’t in his arms anymore. She looked around the room for him, and found him, sitting quietly on the ledge of the large window overlooking the street below. The sun was rising, and he was dancing a single crystal absently between fingers. Sarah wrapped the blanket around herself, and came up to lean on the other side of the window frame.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said quietly.

“Yeah,” she exhaled. “I know.”

She led him back to her bed where he counted the freckles on her shoulders.  He traced the tips of his fingers from her ankle to her collarbone.  He twirled strands of her hair around his thumb and kissed her on her cheek.  He whispered that her kingdom was as great and for the first time, she believed him.

"Why did you believe?" he asked her much later.  Over a cup of coffee for her, and a cup of tea for him, sitting in her breakfast nook.

"I dunno," she'd shrugged while frying up some eggs.  Scrambled for her, sunny side up for him.

“It’s a fairly unusual choice," he informed her while pretending to read the newspaper.  

"I mean," Sarah said with a shrug.  "It just always seemed better than not believing."

"I suppose that's enough," he'd replied lightly.  Her reading glasses perched on his nose.  She'd been telling him for years that he needed glasses but he insisted he could have his eyes adjusted at any time magically but was choosing not to.  Sarah assumed he was choosing not to in order to continue borrowing her glasses.  She was also choosing not to mind, as she smiled every time she saw him wearing them.  "But you do have to keep believing it you know," he said peering sternly over the glasses at her.  

It wouldn’t be the last they spoke of it.  But now, when he was lying in bed next to her, his arms wrapped around her while she slept some more, she'd asked him.  What was she was supposed to do now?  

"I think," he said, considering.  "You learn to live with it, and you ask for help when the burden is too heavy."

"I suppose that's enough," she answered with an exhausted sigh.  

"Sometimes it's more than enough," he said, kissing her temple.  She hadn't believed that, but she believed in him.  Just like she always had, just like she would continue to.  

That was the moment, she decided that there was no way out except forward. Believing in something kinder and something safer. Or some other impossible probables she found somewhere between a mirror and old red book.

#my ownsome #labyrinth #labyrinth has ruined me #sarah williams #minor character death #also if you're sensitive to complex family dynamics and allllllll that entails this may not be the fic for you #fanfiction #I actually had the hardest time of nearly everything I've written trying to get this one right but I'm really happy where it ended up #Apartmentverse