The prompt from kaylashay was Mirror with the Sarah from Labyrinth. I suppose I could keep going with this, but I don't feel the inspiration to figure out if they're allowed to. Maybe some day I'll continue this. Hope you enjoy it all the same.
Word Count: 624
Summary: Sarah still loves stories, and so does Toby
Sarah sat before her vanity mirror and pulled Toby up into her lap.
“And what did she say to the mirror?” she asked him, both looking at their reflections.
“Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the fairest one of all?” Toby intoned, grinning gleefully as he carefully enunciated every word.
“Very good,” Sarah said, hugging her little brother tightly. “And the mirror replied that Snow White was the fairest in the land, and the queen was very unhappy.”
“Your mirror is better than the queen's,” he interrupted.
“Oh?” Sarah looked curiously at the toddler in her arms.
“Yours is a gateway too,” he explained, barely stumbling over his choice of words. “It talks and brings people through.”
“You like the people that come through my mirror?” she asked teasingly.
“Uh huh,” Toby said, nodding, his eyes wide with excitement. “Ludo brings me friends.” He tapped the small greenish rock he wore tied around his neck. Their parents didn't understand where it had come from but had learned quickly that it wasn't worth fighting with their son to get it away from him.
“Pretty friends,” Sarah agreed, looking at the collection of crystals and small, interestingly colored stones on her vanity that Ludo had brought to her.
“S'not fair though,” Toby said, sulking slightly.
“What's not?” Sarah asked gently, mussing his hair to make him smile.
“I can't call them. When you go to college I could never see them again.”
“I'll still come home for holidays,” she promised. “We can visit then.”
“But who am I going to talk to when you're gone?” he asked softly, cuddling up to her.
“You're starting preschool soon. You'll make lots of friends there,” Sarah suggested. “And you can talk to Dad and Karen.”
“They're boring,” Toby said dismissively. “Mom hates your stories and never believes me when I talk about the Labyrinth.”
“She doesn't understand,” she said sadly. “You have to go there to understand.”
“We could wish them away,” he suggested excitedly. “Then they'd understand.”
“Oh no,” Sarah said flatly. “What did I tell you about the risks? There's no promise we'd get them back. My success getting you back was a miracle.”
That was a realization that had come with maturity, and it had terrified her. Realizing just what a foolish, selfish child she had been had shaken her to the core. It had made her re-evaluate a lot of things, especially her relationships with her family. She and Toby were now as close as two siblings could be. Her parents ... well, she'd made progress with them. Nobody was perfect.
Toby looked properly chastened. “I just want them to understand,” he whined plaintively.
“I know,” she said, hugging him tightly. “I wish they did too.”
“Will the people at preschool understand?” he asked hopefully.
“Probably not,” she admitted apologetically.
“Then I won't have anyone to talk to,” he grumped.
“I'll call often,” she tempted.
“But you won't be here,” he protested, “and Mom'll listen in.”
“Probably,” she agreed.
“Wish I could call them.”
“Well, I can call them because they promised they'd always be there if I needed them,” Sarah said thoughtfully. “Maybe we can ask them if they can do the same for you.”
“Then I could call them when you're gone?” Toby asked excitedly.
“Maybe,” she hedged. “We have to ask. They might not be allowed.”
“Can we ask now?” he pleaded.
Sarah smiled and looked into the mirror. “Hoggle? Sir Didimus? Ludo? I need you.”