Hello, readers! So this is just a short story because I wanted to do something for the holidays and I was impatient to write about Jareth (he hasn't made a physical appearance in my other stories just yet, and then he doesn't even appear in the first chapter of this one...grrr. Next one. Next one.).

Anyways, this story will have a daily update from now until the 26th and each chapter will take place on the day it is updated. It is a sweet story about an older Sarah and a heart broken Goblin King both wanting the same thing, nothing more.

Disclaimer: I don't own 'Labyrinth'.

The Eve of Christmas Eve

A sharp, insistent pounding brought her from her unconscious slumber. With a moan, she wiped a handover her face and pushed her long, tangled chestnut locks out of her vivid green eyes. She blinked sleepily and stared at the clock next to her bed. The red digits blared 6:16.

For Christ's sake, she thought, does she really have to be doing this so early in the day? And so near Christmas, too?

The woman flipped on her stomach and buried her head into her pillows, hoping that her neighbor would stop playing around with her newest boyfriend.

Another series of pounding shuddered the framework of her apartment bedroom. Apparently not.

The bleary-eyed woman looked up to her ceiling and yelled, "Keep it down up there! A private life is meant to be just that: private!"

Her angered words elicited a tinkling laugh from upstairs and several deep-throated comments on her personage, but they quieted down.

"Thank you," the woman whispered as she nestled her head back into her pillow. She pulled her sheets up to her chin, tightening the cocoon around her. She closed her eyes and tried to let sleep overcome her again, but her dreams were out of her reach now.

Her eyes flitted to either side of her form, and her heart sunk ever so slightly at the sight of no one next to her. She wasn't into one night stands like her upstairs neighbor, but that didn't mean she wasn't lonely for some companionship.

Lying in bed, the woman waited alone through the long hours until the sun began to peek through the window at the foot of her bed. The chestnut haired woman took a moment to enjoy the feeling of the warm, golden sun thawing her December chilled skin.

With a regretful sigh, she entangled her limbs from the confines of her pale blue sheets and set her feet on the cold floor. Shivers coursed through her body and the woman wrapped her arms tightly around herself as she ran to the bathroom. She bent over the tub into the shower and turned the hot water on. As warm steam began to shroud her bathroom, the woman risked peeling off her sleeping wear. Despite the warm air that surrounded her, goose bumps flowered up her legs and arms.

Once she had divulged herself of her clothing, she stepped into the shower and closed the curtain. The searing hot water cascaded down her body and hugged her curves. The woman took a deep breath and relaxed into the heat. She placed her head under the torrent of water and ran her fingers through her matted hair, trying to loosen the knots. After several minutes of failed attempts and rapidly cooling water, she gave up and quickly lathered shampoo in and rinsed it out the best she could, scrubbing her body off with the suds that fell from her hair.

As the water beating against her skin took on a cold edge, she shut the water out and threw the shower curtain open and stepped out of the shower into the foggy bathroom. She snatched a towel and quickly ran it over her body before bending at the waist, gathering her hair in the towel, twisting it and quickly standing back up, throwing it over her head. Leaving a small trail of water behind her, the woman padded her way to the small bathroom mirror.

Unable to see her reflection in it, the dripping wet woman ran an arm over the clouded mirror to create a small streak of visibility. She leaned forward and peered at her reflection. Her bright eyes sparkled vividly among the sea of pale skin that was her face and the barest traces of freckles danced across her nose and cheeks as if fairies had danced there and left their footprints behind. Most women were happy if they were able to outgrow freckles, but she was happy that she had grown into them. Since her young age of fifteen her eyes had brightened from that dull grass green color and the freckles had added some characteristic to her plain face. Now, she couldn't imagine her face without them. Her face without them wouldn't be the face of Sarah Williams at all.

With a grateful sigh at her changed appearance—not to mention the curves that had shortly began blossoming after her Run—Sarah unwrapped the towel from her hair, wrapped it around her naked body, and set to work with a brush at untangling her hair.

Her hair.

Her plain, pin-straight, chestnut hair. So many times throughout the past several years girls had gushed at how luscious it was, but she still couldn't see it. It tangled too easily. It was a simple color. And it had not character.

A harsh tug of her brush removed the last of the irritating tangles, and Sarah pulled her hair back into a ponytail, not wanting to worry about it. She couldn't get it to do anything. She couldn't get life into it. She couldn't get it to ever resemble how it was in—the crystal. With a shudder, Sarah pushed the unwanted memories into the furthest recesses of her mind and left the bathroom.

She walked to her dresser and pulled a draw open. She meandered through the contents, looking for something suitable to wear. She was going to visit her old college room-mate for the holidays since tomorrow and Christmas were already scheduled to be spent with her family. A smile tugged at the corner of Sarah's mouth in expectancy of seeing Toby soon.

Once she had pushed the contents of her drawers around for several minutes she finally settled for simple straight-legged, blacked jeans and a loose, white turtle-neck. She could always add a red belt if she wanted to be festive. After grabbing the necessary undergarments, she dropped the towel on the floor and quickly slipped her clothes of choice onto her personage. Sarah grabbed a pair of black socks and her towel off the floor. Stashing the towel back in the bathroom to dry, she emerged into her quaint living room and plopped down on the old, tan leather sofa. She crossed her legs one at a time and slipped on her socks.

Errrrr—ruuuup

Sarah bit her lip and rubbed a hand across her stomach. "I know," she scolded it. "You might have to wait though; I don't know what I have."

She was loathed to admit it to herself, to Toby, to her father, and—heaven's sake—her stepmother but things weren't going so well for her financially. She was lucky that she was managing to keep this small apartment. No, she corrected herself, I'm lucky the landowners are so sweet. She wasn't one to take charity, but the old couple who owned the apartment complex had convinced her to rent an apartment for half the requested price. They claimed that the money she wasn't paying went to insurance for the apartment, and they felt comfortable with her living there and had no need to pay insurance, but Sarah knew that they just didn't want her without a roof over her head.

Sarah sat back and rubbed her temples in attempt to impede the migraine she felt fast upon her.

Coffee will do me good, she realized. She stood up and made her way to the cramped kitchen. She opened the coffee can and saw the half a scoop that resided at the bottom of the tin. With a sigh, Sarah closed the lid and opened her coffee maker, hoping she hadn't emptied the filter last time she made coffee. She hadn't. Thank goodness.

Hoping that weak coffee was better than no coffee, Sarah filled the coffee maker with a cup of water and turned it on. As the warm, rich scent began to permeate the kitchen, she took a deep breath and leaned her back against the counter, placing her hands behind her.

Hopefully I can get a job after Christmas, she wished quietly to herself. She had learned her lesson and stopped wishing out loud several years ago.

She hadn't been able to hold a steady job down, since she graduated college. Apparently, a major in Folklore and Mythology—even if from Harvard—wasn't a real winner with most employers. She had moved closer to home in an attempt to start anew and have a safety net just in case, but her father was hitting some rough patches as well, and Sarah couldn't bring it on herself to ask for help. She just told him she had missed home, and wanted to be back.

It was true. She had missed her father and Toby, even the ever controlling Karen—her strictness and structure had become a life preserve for Sarah during desperate times. It was nice being back home. The only downside was that a small down that had declining tourist numbers wasn't in desperate need of any workers. She had managed to be a performer in a local Theatre Troupe when they performed in the park on the open grounds, and she loved every moment working with them. The problem resided in the fact that they were volunteer based and no profit was made.

As the stream of brown brew ceased to pour into the coffee pot, Sarah switched the coffee maker off and blindly went through the motions of making herself her cup of coffee. She was now working as a sub here and there at the local elementary school. Some of the parents had questioned into her situation and as a result, she would get the odd babysitting job here and there with a decent pay. She was enjoying the imagination that the kids possessed and she was thinking about going back to college to get a degree—after she earned money to do so.

With the warm mug in her hands, Sarah wandered back into her living room. She made her way to the couch and was about to settled into when the beat up piano sitting against the far wall caught her attention. She adjusted her destination and moved her feet towards it. Releasing one hand from the mug, Sarah ran a hand absentmindedly over the keys of the old piano. She couldn't play, but she had taken pity on the old thing. She had found it almost a year ago sitting on a curb, broken and abandoned. She had tried her best to fix it, but when the man came in with crumpled clothes, greasy hair and sly grin and then demanded three times the amount it should've cost with his capability of being able to do only half the needed work, she had declined. She had contented herself with polishing the delicate instrument and ensuring its last days were spent in relative comfort.

As her fingers grazed the keys, she hit one too hard and a jarring chord hissed from its insides. Her heart clenched in sadness. The poor thing.

"What a pity," she whispered.

Brrriiiiiing.

Sarah jumped and let out a small yelp of surprise.

Brrriiiiiing. Brrriiiiiing.

Sarah gently set her coffee down on the top of the piano with a quick apology and dashed to the phone. A flittering hope fluttered against her chest. Maybe someone was calling back for a job interview. Lord knew she had applied to enough and had yet to hear any word back from a single one. She picked it up and set it next to her ear.

"Hello. Sarah Williams here."

"Ah, Sarah," her father's voice washed over her. "We were beginning to worry. I called earlier and you didn't answer."

"Sorry," she sighed, "I recently got up and immediately went to the shower."

"Ah, okay," she heard the chuckle in his voice before a volte-face. He nervously cleared his throat and said, "Sarah, we need to talk."

The fluttering hope morphed into a flailing fear. "Is everyone alright?" She questioned, trying to keep her voice light and airy.

"What? Oh—oh, yes of course they are!" He exclaimed, the humor entering his voice once again.

A small wave of relief washed over Sarah.

"It's just that Karen's boss called with a last minute party tomorrow night that requires her presence and she can't make it to the Christmas Eve Gala at the Harrison Hotel. I was wondering if you wished to be my date."

"That sounds wonderful, Dad." She'd always heard tell of the dance that her father's work arranged every Christmas Eve from her mother and then her stepmother. It had always sounded so wonderful, and since she was five she had always had the desire to go. "But what about Toby? And I don't know if I have the dress for such an occasion."

"Aunt Shelly arrived a couple hours ago. She'll gladly watch Toby," he resolutely declared, as if settling the matter.

The plain haired woman allowed herself a small laugh. "Great, Dad, but that still leaves the issue of my wardrobe."

"Sarah, dear, you look beautiful in anything. You can wear those old jeans of yours and that poet shirt and vest, and I'd proudly walk into that reception room with you on my arm."

Sarah felt a light blush spread across her cheeks. "Thanks, Dad, but I think I can find something better than that to wear."

His laughter was cut short by Karen yelling in the background. Her father let out a groan. "I've got to go. Last minute issues. I'll pick you up at seven tomorrow night, Sarah."

"Alright, Dad. See ya then."

With final "I love you"s, Sarah and her father hung up. The woman slumped against the counter and rested her forehead on the cool surface.

Where am I going to find something to wear in such short notice?

Then it hit her. Debbie was the same size as her, and she was already going over for a visit. Debbie could always be counted on to have the right clothing for every occasion.

With renewed vigor, Sarah jumped up and jogged over to the piano. She grabbed her lukewarm coffee and chugged it in three gulps. Placing it in the sink, she snatched her purse off the counter and headed out the door with a new determination towards her former roommate's house.

The under-clothed woman arrived at her friend's house with a numb face and stiff hands. She had walked two blocks before she had realized her lack of coat and gloves, but had decided to brave the last three blocks without their protection instead of going back.

She reached out a chapped hand and rang the doorbell rapidly, not giving her friend time to doubt she heard anything. The frozen woman only stopped when she heard a slew of curses floating through the door.

The door was roughly thrown open allowing a wave of warm air to wash of Sarah's cold form. She smiled at the brief relief and turned her eyes to meet the scrunched up face of Debbie.

Debbie's scowl melted from her face and mirth seeped into her warm brown eyes. "Sarah!" she exclaimed, wiping her floured hands off on a red apron that adorned the front of her over a pair of tattered jeans and sweater.

"Hey, Debs," Sarah replied meekly.

Debbie laughed and stepped out of her house, wrapping Sarah up into a tight hug. "Sorry, for those choice phrases there. I was in the middle of making my pie, and I wasn't expecting you for at least another hour!"

The floured woman pulled back and looked at her friend closely. A frown line creased in-between her eyes. She rubbed Sarah's arms and said, "You must be freezing. Come inside and have a nice cup of tea. Then you can tell me all about what newest event has you so worried."

Sarah laughed at her friend's ability to read her so easily. "Sounds wonderful, but I can't go in with you in my way."

Her former roommate stepped away from her open door with a large flourish and ushered Sarah in.

Sarah gratefully wrapped her frozen and stiff fingers around the warm mug of tea her friend had made her and let the warm seep into her body. Hopefully there was enough heat in its contents to restore her body temperature back to a bearable degree. Carefully, she brought the steaming liquid to her lips and let the bitter liquid glide over her tongue and down her throat, leaving a trail of warmth. She preferred sweetening her tea, but her friend insisted that it was sacrilegious to put anything into good tea.

Her vivid green eyes glanced over at her friend who was tentatively laying a piece of dough over the top of her apple pie. With a skilled hand, she cut the excess off and pinched the remains into a perfectly symmetrical crust. Her head bent in concentration, a few stray curls of amber hair fell from the sloppy bun that rested on top of her head.

Finally satisfied with her work, Debbie blew the stray strands out of her eyes and stood up. She picked up the pie and made her way to the oven. Flipping it open, she stuffed the pie in before sealing it away. With a light flush on her cheeks, she set the timer and sat down across from Sarah, taking a sip from her own mug.

"Now," she started, pulling her legs up on the chair and resting her elbow on her knee, "tell me what's going on."

Sarah trailed a finger along the rim of the mug and whispered, "I need a dress."

"What was that?" her friend questioned playfully. "I couldn't hear you."

"I need a dress," Sarah bit out with a glare at her friend who just shoved it off.

After taking another sip of the scalding liquid, she asked, "Why don't you buy one?"

With a groan the green-eyed girl set her head in her hands. "I can't. I can't even afford a gift for Toby, do you think I'd get a dress for myself."

"But, Sarah, you said—"

"I know what I said," she mumbled, "and I embellished it a bit."

A mug clunked against the table and a strong hand wrapped around Sarah's shoulder. "Sarah," her friend implored, "you should've told me you were having difficulty making ends meet. I might not have a lot, but I could help somehow."

Bright green eyes appeared through pale fingers and were followed by a small smile. "Thanks, Debs, but I don't want charity." She ran a shaky hand through the hair massed in her ponytail. "I just need a dress for the Christmas Eve Gala. Karen can't make it, so Dad asked me to go."

An impish grin curled across her friend's face and she stated, "Mmm, yes. I think I have just the dress for you."