Disclaimer: I don't own it. Would like to own it. But don't.

Domino

Chapter One - Check Opera, Check Phantom

Life sucks.

The end.

Bravo.

Goodbye.

Or this, at least, happened to be the opinion of one Sarah Williams one stormy July night. She was sitting in a front row seat at the Met with her loving, doting boyfriend John.

Who she loved. Well… liked. But maybe, just maybe, if she told him she loved him enough, it might come true. Right…

This was one of the things Sarah couldn't figure out, why she could not love John, and why, when surrounded by happiness and listening to the opening arias of Madame Butterfly, she couldn't truly soak it all up. She speculated, no, she knew it all had something to do with a little trip she took as a teenager. Goblins and their silly king.

She couldn't forget. Never. And every time she thought she'd made progress, she'd see someone strutting down the sidewalk with pants much too tight to be decent, or a man on an elevator with an unruly shock of blonde hair. Even a particularly fuzzy dog would set her off. The situation had reached critical level.

Mayday.

Sarah knew it was unhealthy to dwell in the past, but what if you couldn't escape.

What if memories shackled you to a basement radiator and refused to let you go.

"Honey, what's wrong? Are you okay? Should we go home," John Dover rattled off his list of concerns.

Sarah looked down in her lap, only to find the once-whole program in bits and pieces.

"Great," she said.

"You sure?"

"Yep."

"Peachy then?"

Sarah cringed. Damn was that radiator hot.

"Nice face," John laughed.

"I'm fine. Just fine." And that's who she was most days – just fine Sarah, with no sanity issues to speak of. But when the memories attacked… eesh.

And stupid peaches, especially those of the magically spiked variety, that induced haunting dreams she still harbored today, and all thanks to a selfish warped King, whom, even when separated by dimensions, wouldn't seem to leave her alone. But hey – who's complaining, right?

The pieces of the program were microscopic now.

"Sarah…" John started.

"Yeah," she unintentionally snapped.

"Erm…." He gestured to the mutilated program.

"I'm so happy," Sarah whispered, "I felt the need to make confetti."

John chortled. An old lady in spectacles behind him made a shushing noise.

"Sorry," he hissed, slouching down in his seat.

A small smile touched Sarah's lips.

She attempted to rip the program even further when the melodies started sounding eerily familiar, but found that particular activity impossible.

When intermission rolled around, John walked her to the ladies room and waited outside like a gentleman. She should be elated. Thrilled even! To have a boyfriend like him.

He even paid for these tickets to this opera he had paid attention to her enough to know she liked, and then escorted her there in a tux and a limo. Not only that, but it was on their six month anniversary nonetheless, which he remembered. Linda called him a 'keeper'.

But Sarah didn't know how much longer she could tolerate keeping him, or why exactly she couldn't tolerate him to begin with.

Glancing at herself in the mirror, she tucked a stray tendril of dark hair behind her ear, and then quickly stepped away. She blamed on her overactive imagination the flash of color detected by her peripheral vision.

She met up with John outside, where he linked elbows with her and proceeded back into the theater.

"Thanks for these tickets," she said.

"If you say that one more time…"

In truth, that was all she could say really, without admitting that she honestly didn't want to be here. With him. Now, if he elected to morph into a glam-rocker king with an ego problem…No! She scolded herself for thinking like that (again).

He escorted her back to her seat. She thought it funny, as she sat down, that there was a blonde head directly in front of her. She hadn't noticed him before, and he was so tall! She couldn't see a thing.

Sarah craned her head to the left and right, but found the same result. His wild hairdo completely blocked the stage. He almost looked like… Lights dimmed. Murmurs hushed.

John tapped the blonde man on the shoulder. "Excuse me, but would you mind switching seats with the woman beside you," he whispered.

The man's head arched back to peer at John, then, to Sarah's surprise, at her.

"Is there a problem?" Jareth asked John. His focus turned to her. "Sarah. Fancy meeting you here."

Sarah's mouth fell open, and her stomach plummeted to her toes. She hadn't at all imagined their meeting to be like this. Maybe a stormy night. A moment of desperation. Something dramatic, enticing, and oh so glittery. But here? Like this? Just a normal, plain jane coincidence? Never.

"This is a small world," he said.

She didn't miss the substitution.

"You two know each other?" John asked her.

She narrowed her eyes. "Long story."

"Not so much actually," chimed Jareth, in his drawling accent. "It condenses into about thirty-five pages or so."

The group was collectively hushed by several voices.

"Stop disturbing the audience," was the last thing Jareth told Sarah before he turned around.

A/N: Jareth. Coincidence, or plan? Good intentions or not? Kind or evil? Lover? Ruthless? You decide! Bwahahaha. I finally found my writing style and am taking another crack at labby ff. There is a reason Jareth foregos the poppycock to stroll into her life. Just so you know.