The night was eerily quiet, no insects chirped, no breeze rustled the spring trees; the clop clop clop of a horse was muted by the dusty road. It was late in the night to be travelling and with no moon and only star to guide, and it could be treacherous as well. But Jareth was unfazed. He sat straight upon his chestnut, sword sheathed to his left next to a pistol. Both were adorned with diamonds, rubies and pearls, for Jareth loved all things that sparkled.
Jareth stirred in the saddle and urged the horse forward at a little quicker pace. It would not do to be seen come daylight in this part of the country, but tonight he would brave it, and any other night that she desired.
The horse, attuned to its rider, moved into an easy canter and followed the dirt road to a small off path. The horse knew the way well, and without any coaxing turned down the way. Jareth smirked as the beast moved fast and surefooted down the winding path. Knows there is food and rest at the end, Jareth thought to himself. The chestnut stallion gave a soft call into the night and was answered by another horse. Jareth smiled. Bess never kept him waiting. He grew excited and his pants tightened as he made the final turn into the meadow.
Bess was already there, sitting on fur rugs she had piled on the ground. A few candles had lit as well and the candle light danced upon her. Jareth drank in the sight. Bess' clothes were tossed upon a few boulders; all she wore was her undergarments, still cinched tight to add wonderful curves to her body.
As the horse pulled into the meadow, Bess paused braiding her long black hair and flashed him a radiant smile. "Jareth."
He loved the sound of his name on her mouth, always so breathy and intense. With a returned smile, he dismounted the stallion and tied it next to Bess' grey mare. "Been here long, love?" Her eyes twinkled as she gave a small shake of the head. "Good." Rummaging through the saddlebags, Jareth produced two gilded, silver chalices and a bottle of wine from the mainland. "I have brought us a prize tonight," he said was he presented the wine with a flourish. Bess laughed and followed Jareth's every movement with those dark eyes. For a moment their eyes met and Jareth's breath left him. He abandoned the unopened bottle and pulled Bess to him, kissing her before she uttered any sound.
He felt her hands moving all over his body, pulling and tugging at lace and belts and string. His task was easier. With a few deft moves her laces came undone and the white cloth fell loosely around her body. He ached looking at her like that, desire burning strong in them both.
Those dark eyes burned brightest of all in the candle light as she lightly touched him, causing a shiver to run down his entire body. "Jareth," she said softly, enticing, as she pulled him down upon her.
The bed was hot, sweaty, and slightly sticky when Jareth opened his eyes. The fire had long since died, but the embers glowed red hot still. He glanced out the window; dawn was still a few hours away by the look and smell of the air. He shook his long blond hair out of his face and removed himself from his bed, grabbing a plain blue robe form a sitting chair in the process.
Warily he made his way to the window, bare feet making no sound on the stone floor. Looking out over the darkened Labyrinth usually brought him some comfort, but not tonight. He did not begrudge those dreams, but they were bittersweet and never left his mind as at ease as his body afterwards. He leaned on the sill and gazed out, his mismatched eyes searching the distance for something, anything. For a few minutes more he lingered there before turning away. The stone walls were suffocating him, he needed to get out. Instantly he was dressed in black riding leathers, and with a little magical assistance he was in the stables.
The goblins that cared for the horses were scattered and sleeping in the stalls with their charges. Jareth ignored them all and strolled silently to his favorite stallion. The chestnut whinnied softly as it caught Jareth's scent and kicked the paddock door lightly. Jareth opened the door and the stallion followed him out into clearing. Jareth mounted; he rode with no bridle and no saddle. There was no point. No horse could throw him, and no harm would be done should he fall. After a few prances in a circle, the stallion turned and galloped into the Labyrinth, helping Jareth to outrun dreams of a green eyed beauty.
Sarah looked at herself in the mirror, barely hoping the sight was true. Her hands were clutched tightly together, her green eyes were flashing back at her. It was finally happening! She was going to be married in only a week's time. She moved left and right in her white gown and watched as the folds of shimmering fabric swished with her. In a moment of child-like indulgence she bounced up and down with a giggle.
Two years ago she never would have dreamed of marrying Derrick Scott. She had been content being Sarah Williams, a small town drama teacher and occasional actress. It was at a small production where she first met the amiable (and wealthy) Derrick Scott. Before she really knew what had happened, he had swept her off her feet in a whirlwind romance. The next year he proposed.
Her eyes dropped to see the multiple diamond ring on her finger, bring her back to the present. Oh! She was going to get married! A wide smile crossed her features, mirrored by her reflection. She was excited, and she couldn't wait to share it with her Labyrinth friends. The mirror showed her green eyes twinkling mischievously and Sarah quietly turned away and stuck her head out of the trying room door. No one was around; everyone was busy with other customers. With deft quickness she locked the door and spun back towards the mirror.
The Labyrinth was still her treasured secret. Year after year she called upon her friends. Though time left its mark upon her, Hoggle, Didymus, and Ludo barely changed. The last time she had called on Hoggle, he had made her promise to show her dress, and the perfect opportunity was at hand.
Sarah straightened her hair and pulled the strapless dress up an inch, took a deep breath and called out through the mirror, "Hoggle!" Instantly the glass began to ripple like raindrops on a still lake. Colors blurred and merged and then the mirror snapped back into focus, only instead of seeing her reflection, the dwarf Hoggle glanced back at her.
He fidgeted for a moment before setting down a scrubbing brush and bucket. "Err, now maint be the best time, Sarah…"
"Oh, but Hoggle! Look!" She turned a pretty circle, failing to see the urgency on her friend's wrinkled face. "I'm wearing my wedding gown!" She smiled brightly.
Before Hoggle could finish his sentence a new figure appeared behind him. It was someone that Sarah had not seen in nearly fifteen years. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened to a small wordless "Oh". The Goblin King, her mind screamed.
She briefly saw shock on his aristocratic features before his eyes narrowed. In one smooth motion a crystal appeared on is fingertips. He threw the crystal, the mirrors shattering. Sarah was left looking at fragmented glass and the memory of Hoggle's terrified face, and that of a very angry Goblin King.
Hoggle stood speechless as his monarch towered above him, fists clinched and shoulders visibly shaking. "Your Majesty…" Hoggle began, but with Jareth's whispered 'Silence' all other words left him.
Jareth was in turmoil. He stood clinching his fists and refusing to move. That girl! That was Sarah! He had not seen nor heard from her, had not wanted to, but seeing her before him, a woman grown, pulled at him. She looked like the woman in his dreams, and he was not prepared for the surge of feelings that accompanied seeing her. Through gritted teeth, he finally addressed Hoggle. "And what were you doing?"
Hoggle visibly swallowed. "Nothing, your Majesty. She calls to me sometimes. She, she's just wanting to show me her gown."
"Gown for what?" Jareth snapped.
Hoggle twisted his hands nervously. "She's… she's to be married soon." He involuntarily flinched, unsure what the king's reaction might be.
Jareth merely shook his head. "Get out of my sight, Hoghead." He watched Hoggle give a hasty bow before walking as quickly as his stubby legs would carry him. Before he reached the door, Jareth called out to him. "And Hoggle, if ever I find you using my mirrors again, a more horrible fate than the Bog will await you." Hoggle paled and he ran from the room.
Jareth sighed and tried to ease the tension from his shoulders. He straightened his back and took a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts. Sarah had left a stain on his memories, a stain on his pride. The words she spoke so long ago had shaped the game and shaped his role. She wanted a villain that loved her, and he had obliged. But he had never once during her run believed she would refuse him in the end. Never once did he think he would have pleaded with her to …what were the words… "Love me, fear me, do as I say," he shuddered at the memory.
Sarah defeated him, returned home with the child, and a small bit of his pride. That was the end of his involvement! He knew Hoggle occasionally spoke to her through the mirrors. Sometimes the little dwarf let spilt information that Jareth did not want.
But the dreams…the dreams of Bess had always been with him. Jareth began walking aimlessly through the stone corridors of the castle, the only sounds the clicking of his boots and sighs that escaped spontaneously. The girl in his dream, Bess, bore an uncanny resemblance to a Sarah grown. Time moved differently for Jareth, but he knew these dreams had plagued him for as long as he could remember. It was his way of remembering a past that was long gone, but…the resemblance between Sarah and Bess unnerved him.
A streak of light caught Jareth's eyes and he glanced around in slight wonderment. Sometime during his inner ramblings he found his way to the throne room. The goblins winged about indolently, sparing quick glances at their king. Jareth made his way to this stone throne, where a small goblin was sleeping, curled in a ball of fluffy fur. Jareth snatched the goblin up, hanging upside down and arched his brows. "What are you doing in my chair?"
The goblin scrunched its narrow nose and gave a toothy grin, "Keeping it warm?" It offered helpfully. The room erupted into a choir of laughing, cackling, hooting goblins.
Jareth dropped the goblin, annoyed, and shouted over the din. "Out!" The goblins, very in tune with their monarch, stopped laughing and scurried quickly (albeit noisily) from the room. Shaking his head, Jareth moved toward the window and eased himself onto the ledge. The Labyrinth in all its vast glory sprawled before him, bathed in a warm red glow from the afternoon sun. Life was simple out in his maze. The creatures of the Underground moved endlessly forward. They slept, they ate, the loved, and all with the simple naiveté that tomorrow would continue on the same as yesterday. He bitterly envied them.
A shimmer in the air alerted Jareth to a visitor. He turned to see a red ball enlarge to the size of a person, and a woman stepped forward into focus. Dressed in flowing layers of crimsons, the woman stood smiling. Her hair was wild, dancing around her like flames, her bright amber eyes lit up the delicate features of her face, and a strong aura of magic radiated away from her. She leaned against the window sill, "Hello, Jareth."
With an elegant nod of the head, Jareth returned the smile. "Temanna, what a pleasant surprise."
She smirked and gestured to the empty room. "No court today, hmm?" Jareth tried to hide the frown that passed over his face, but Temanna saw and pounced on it like a cat. "What's wrong?"
Jareth sat still, not unwilling to answer, merely grasping for words. He avoided Temanna's eyes; instead, he continued to gaze out at his Labyrinth. "I believe Bess may have returned." The words started haltingly, but once he started the whole story flowed from him, about how he had met Sarah as a child, how he allowed her to win, how he saw her today. "Hoggle says Sarah will soon be married."
Temanna had listened to the tale with avid curiosity. "Sarah, hm? Well, how can you be sure she is the one? Maybe that resemblance is all they have in common, my friend."
A bitter smile graced Jareth's lips. "And how am I to discover if she is? Sarah and I did not exactly part on the best of terms."
With a deep breath, Temanna rocked back on her heels. "Jareth, do you think she knows?" He shook his head and she laid a hand on his shoulder. "Maybe telling her before her wedding would be advisable."
He laughed at her words, knowing them to be true. He truly needed to speak with Sarah, but he dreaded the confrontation almost as much as he longed for it. For if she was Bess…if she was…Jareth pushed the thought aside and conjured a crystal to his fingertips. He peered in and laughed again as he placed the orb down on the ledge before jumping lightly from the window. "I bid you adieu," was all he said before bowing and blinking out of the room.
Temanna crossed her arms and moved closer to the crystal so she could peer in its depths. Within, she saw a grand room full of people in elegant gowns and suits. Everyone was laughing, smiling, enjoying the company around them, but the crystal was focused on a raven-haired woman. Temanna picked up the crystal and gazed intently into the image of the green-eyed Sarah and chills went down her spine. What would her sisters think of this new development?
The large ballroom was spared no expense and was decorated in silver and gold, two things that were near and dear to Derrick Scott's heart. From the multiple columns surrounding the room layers of sheen fabric hung. Every corner was gleaming with candles that sat upon tall silver candelabras. Small round tables were set with exquisite care, all with white linen table and chair covers and a bouquet of white and gold roses in the center. A live orchestra played soft music and the entire hall was overflowing with people in period dress. Derrick had though Sarah would enjoy such a lavish party and informed all the guests that 17th century attire was necessary. Sure, he felt a little foolish in his custom made tights and his poet's shirt, but it was enough to see Sarah happy and radiant as the guest of honor.
When Jareth arrived, the party was in full swing. No one remained to welcome him in, so he just entered. And what an entrance he made. Before him were the most prominent people in town, dressed to the nines in custom, hand-made liveries that included silks, velvets, suede and leathers. But they all noticed Jareth in his gold silken tights and his silver and gold jacket that glistened in the candlelight with (could their eyes be deceiving them) genuine diamonds sewn into the frock. His boots and gloves were of a shining bleached white; his blond hair had shimmering of gold and silver. They all felt different in this man's presence, this man who moved stealthily through the crowd like a prowling cat, his lips turned up in a feral grin. The wealthiest of them all looked upon Jareth and felt shabby. The women followed him with envious eyes, but Jareth paid them little attention until a man with thinning hair, a good foot shorter than him, blocked his path. The man had an amiable face and shook Jareth's hand.
"So good to see you! So good for you to come. Are you one of Sarah's friends?"
Jareth laughed aloud, knowing full well Sarah would never call him such a thing. "Yes, an old friend," he managed to say as he retrieved his hand.
"Good!" The man continued. His cheeks were rosy and he held a champagne flute in a free hand. "Don't meet many of her friends, my Sarah. She's a private one." The last he whispered in a conspiracy.
The man was near drunk and slurring his words, but Jareth did not miss the possessive he attached to Sarah's name. "Indeed," was all he replied before plastering a wide and fake smile on his face. "And where can I find the lady of honor? I wish to pay my respects."
The man paused and thought. "Last I saw, she was handing out drinks. I told her she'd have to stop that. No wife of Derrick Scot was going to serve guests, but she just laughed."
Jareth's mismatched eyes narrowed and Derrick paused before saying anymore. And when Jareth made a polite exit, Derrick was left wondering at his thoughts. Those odd eyes had frightened him badly, and Derrick Scott was not one to be frightened. He swallowed nervously, glancing at his empty glass.
Jareth moved through the room until he came to a small ante-chamber. Many guests were standing and talking in this room. Two large bay doors were opened to a dimly lit garden. And up against a wall, handing out pre-poured flutes, he finally saw Sarah. She was radiant and unlike everyone else, Sarah belonged in her silver and gold gown. A corset kept the strapless dress tight to her body, her hair was messily piled up in curls and she handed out flutes with unreserved joy. He found himself before her, but she did not look up. She only asked, "What can I get you?"
He smiled devilishly, "Such an open-ended question."
Sarah's blood turned cold, her breath caught in her chest and for a moment she contemplated not looking up, not acknowledging that crisp, accented voice. But from somewhere deep inside her, she found courage and snapped her eyes up to meet her old foe. "What are you doing here?" She hissed.
Jareth visibly paused before answering, and it unnerved her. A brief open look crossed his features, but was replaced with a cocky grin. "My dear, I doubt you would believe me."
Her eyes widened and her mouth fell slack. Then her green eyes focused and she flew around the table. It wasn't lost on her that she and the Goblin King were now eye to eye. "What? That's not good enough!" Her voice was rising and guests began to glance in their direction.
Jareth frowned and grabbed Sarah by the forearm, "You're making a scene," he chided as he guided them outside to the garden. Too stunned by his actions, Sarah allowed herself to be led into the dimly lit garden, but the cool night air brought her back to her senses and she jerked free. Jareth gave her an annoyed look.
Sarah shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest. "Ok. What do you want? You didn't hurt Hoggle did you? I tried to call back, but the mirrors…" her voice trailed off as she watched Jareth's amused expression. She sighed, confused. There was no reason for the Goblin King to be standing before her, no jeering, no teasing, no demanding. Any of those actions she would know how to handle, but this calm silence was maddening. And why was he staring at her! In exasperation she dropped her hands to her sides and sighed, "Jareth…"
Before she said another word a fire lit behind Jareth's eyes and he closed the small gap between them, claiming her mouth with his. Shock kept her still as she felt him pull her closer, and then strange feelings washed over her. Feelings of belonging, of rightness, of emotions so overwhelming she began returning the kiss, her hands moving up his chest of their own volition. Then the shock wore off and was replaced with horror, then anger. She pulled back from him, breathless and red-faced, scowling. "What in the world…" she cut through the air with a sharp gesture, "Strike that. What in both worlds do you think you're doing?" She was amazed her voice sounded so calm, she wasn't even shouting, and yet Jareth flinched just an inch.
The truth was, he hadn't been thinking. He hadn't had any warning of his actions, it was just her eyes. Her eyes and the way Sarah had sighed his name brought back memories and emotions long since buried. And now, Sarah stood before him, eyes flashing in righteous anger and there was nothing he could say. Nothing he could grasp except that for a moment it felt like Bess, his Bess, was kissing and holding him. And when Sarah pulled away it left a hollow feeling that also left him speechless.
"I'm waiting," she reminded him impatiently.
"We should speak alone, Sarah. There is something I wish to discuss with you." His honesty surprised and intrigued her, but Jareth noted a deep suspicion in her eyes.
"You want to talk to me?" When he nodded, her brows rose in arches. "Why now? Why after all this time?"
Voices from inside began calling Sarah's name and Jareth turned his head in annoyance. "Perhaps that can wait until later." He turned back to her and caught her eyes in his gaze. "Meet me tomorrow. Anywhere. Call and I will appear."
At first, Sarah was prepared to tell him to go to hell, but the urgent look in his eyes forced her to hold her tongue. How often did an other-worldly creature seek out her presence? It was more than just curiosity that allowed her to nod to his request, but agree she did. And when a genuine smile crossed the Goblin King's face her breath stopped. Sarah had forgotten how devastatingly beautiful that face could be. He gave an elegant bow, straightened and began walking away. As an after-thought he called over his shoulder, "You look radiant," before he faded away.
It was too much. Sarah's strength faded away much as the king and her knees began to shake. Hysteria was bubbling just under the surface and a nervous giggle escaped her lips. What was she thinking? What was she doing? She blindly began walking back inside, the party, the people seeming so far away. How had she agreed to meet him? And why was she so excited at the thought? Knees shaking, she settled herself into a chair and looked down at her folded hands afraid someone would see her flushed face and suspect something. A small part of her knew she should feel ashamed at having kissed Jareth, but another part of her wondered where all that passion had come from. Resolutely, she vowed to find out.
"Sarah!" Derrick Scott was smiling and leading a strange woman over to meet her.
Immediately, Sarah knew this woman belonged Underground. Maybe it was the sharp angles of her face, prominent cheekbones, and the slanted eyes that shone such a bright green they made her own eyes seem blue. Maybe it was the volume of blond curls that fell around her curvy body that was accented by a green sparkling form fitting gown. Maybe it was the way her cherry red lips were formed in a half-smile. But mostly, it was the way she moved through the crowd, so smooth, so elegant. The woman made everyone seem dull and drab compared to her brilliance, and in Sarah's limited experience, only people from the Underground could accomplish such a feat.
Derrick brought her over with a drunken grin. "I found another one of your friends. Me and…" He grasped for a name.
The woman smiled and supplied graciously, "Heryah," and extended a slender, well-manicured hand to Sarah. "And actually," she continued shaking hands, "Sarah and I have never had the pleasure. But we have a common acquaintance."
Derrick lightly slapped his forehead, "Heryah! That's right. Said she was looking for that dashing fellow."
Sarah stood and goose bumps crawled up and down her arms as Heryah inspected her. "I'm sorry, but it seems you've just missed Jareth."
"Indeed?" Heryah kept a smile on her face, but all warmth left her green eyes. "How unfortunate. But it was such a pleasure to meet you."
Sarah forced a smile. "Likewise." Wrapping an arm through Derrick's arm, Sarah began moving away from the intimidating woman, false sorrow on her face. "Excuse us." Heryah nodded and Derrick rambled on about nothing as Sarah steered him away.
Once Sarah and Derrick were out of sight, Heryah allowed her lips to fall to a frown and clinched her hands into tight fists, leaving small crescent moon imprints. It wasn't fair. She had tried so hard to garner the attention of the Goblin King; it just wasn't fair that this mortal girl could grab his attention so easily. Jealousy so strong and powerful overwhelmed her senses and for a brief moment she saw red. It wasn't fair at all. With a flip of her blond hair, Heryah turned and left the party, disappearing as soon as she crossed the door.
In her hurry she failed to see a woman dressed in shades of blue with rich brown hair standing in the shadows. This woman watched Heryah's movements with quiet intensity, blue eyes suspicious and curious. As Heryah exited, so too did this woman prepare to leave, but a dancing figure caught her attention. Without leaving the shadows, she watched with amazement as she saw familiar green eyes, dark hair, and she bit her lips. If Heryah saw…if Heryah knew…the woman in blue became alarmed and vanished from the room.
By the time the party was done Sarah and Derrick returned to their condo, her feet were sore and her eyelids were heavy. Derrick wobbled to their bed and barely had energy to remove the heavy leather vest and boots. The poet's shirt came off and he lowered himself into bed, breathing deeply as soon as his head hit the pillows with a smile, Sarah adjusted him so he lay under the covers. Then she yanked on the laces that held her dress on and shimmied out of the heavy gown, carefully laying it on a lounge. The house was very still and quiet. Only the tick-tick-tick of the old grandfather clock broke the silence. Sarah yawned, slipped into a nightgown and readied herself for bed, her mind too tired to really think anything other than, "I'll deal with it all tomorrow."
It was dark and quiet in the dream. The darkness was like a suffocating blanket, trapping all her anxiety and fear around her. The silence made every breath a scream, every heart beat a pounding drum in her ears. A single beam of moonlight broke through the clouds and dread, the deepest dread came over her. For through her window and across the moor, lit by the moon was the road he would ride. Cold sweat began dripping down her back. She had to warn him! There were Red Coats at the inn!
She tried to move, but could not. Looking down, the dream came into focus. The barrel of a musket was pressed into her breast, the cold metal seeping through her nightclothes. Her hands were tied to her sides, binding her to the bed post with rough rope.
"Post men at every window and door, weapons at the ready. If he shows his face, take the shot," said a calm, cool voice from downstairs.
Her mind cried out in terror. His voice came unbidden from her memories, "Wait for me, I'm after a prize tonight. Watch for me by the moonlight." Oh the moonlight, the traitorous moonlight that lit the world. There had to be a way to warn him. She dropped her head, tears falling freely as she twisted and turned her wrists. The rough hemp burned and tore at her skin, but still she struggled against the bonds.
A sound in the distance caught her attention and she held very still. Please, please let that be any other sound, she prayed silently. But her prayers went unanswered as the soft c'lot-c'lot of horses hooves cantered down the road. Panic set in and she pulled harder at the ropes, her fingertips moist with sweat and blood, but still she pulled, choking back her sobs and praying the soldiers hadn't heard the hooves. How couldn't they! It was all she could hear: c'lot-c'lot-c'lot.
The bindings finally gave just an inch, and she was able to free a hand. Despair clung to her though, her neck, arms, chest and legs and feet were still tied with unrelenting knots. There was no time. She could save him. Her green eyes focused on the road before her with grim determination. Without hesitation her fingers found and pulled the trigger, the resounding shot shattering the dark and quiet of the night.
Sarah awoke screaming and clutching her chest, her black hair sweaty and clingy; her breath coming in gasping sobs. The light clicked on and Derrick rubbed confused eyes. "Jesus Christ, Sarah!" He was more angry than concerned, the alcohol making him slow to grasp the situation, but once he saw her pale face, shaking body and wild panicked eyes, he came to his senses. His Sarah was obviously distraught. He reached for her trying to offer comfort, but paused when the movement caused her to look at him. The usual green of her eyes were hidden by enlarged pupils, creating an odd blackness that startled him. But more alarming was the utter lack of recognition in those pools of black. "Sarah?" Derrick tried to reach for her, but she flung herself backwards, like a startled bird.
Sarah was confused as she stood staring at a man with brown eyes and brown hair. It was wrong! There was someone else she was looking for, she was sure. But who? Before coherent thought reclaim her, she ran to the large window and slid it open. The burst of cool air sent shivers through her, but she ignored it, searching in the night for someone. An image of piercing blue eyes came to mind, and flowing blond hair as wild as a lion's mane.
Derrick slowly made way to Sarah, one careful step at a time. He was afraid of what any sudden movement might do. Never had he seen Sarah act so strange, something had obviously frightened her, and badly. "Sarah," he tried again with outstretched arms, "Sarah…"
Sarah. Her name was Sarah. With a few deep breaths her head cleared and she turned towards Derrick. There was no hesitation and she ran into his open arms. He was making hushing sounds against her hair as he held her tight and she took another deep breath.
After a few moments, Derrick pulled away and peered at her face, "Bad dreams?" He asked kindly leading them back to bed.
Heat rushed to her face, and suddenly Sarah felt very foolish. Dreams were just dreams, right? There was no reason at all for her to be so affected. She laughed, though it sounded flat and weak. "It must have been." Together they climbed back under the covers. Derrick turned off the light and pulled Sarah to him, her back pushed against his chest. Only minutes went by before Derrick slept again. Derrick Scott was a simple man. In his mind he had encountered a situation, confronted it, and dealt with it. There was no need to evaluate and he moved on, clear of conscious. Sarah envied him. The dream was fading back into a haze and it was hard to remember what had frightened her so. She was able to settle back into sleep, but the rest of her dreams involved a velvety voice calling to her, "Watch for me by the moonlight."