Caveats And Cliches (A Labyrinth Fanfiction)

Chapter 1: Hindsight Is 20/20

Standing in front of the kitchen window of my flat, I scowl at the torrent of rain falling outside.

This is going to delay closing up the Reynolds case, I think to myself. Picking up my steaming cup of coffee, I squint at the sky, searching for some sign that the rain is lifting. It's hopeless. I had known this was coming, had seen the weather reports, felt the oppressive humidity. Still, I had hoped for a miracle. And a miracle it would have been, because when is there ever a doubt of rain in England?

Disgusted, I turn from the window and stomp over to my favorite chair. I flop onto the reading lounge and flick on the lamp next to it, giving the room a cozy glow. I used to live for days like this: obligatory time off when the weather was too inclement to pursue leads. But lately down time had been leading to a repugnant amount of introspection, and I wasn't thrilled with what my mind had been digging up. Snatching up the book lying next to my chair, I try to bury myself in the story. Ugh. Ten pages in and I already know who did it. A good mystery is hard to find. Before that overly analytical part of my brain can dredge up the thoughts that have been needling the back of my mind more and more frequently, I hop off the chair and flee to my bedroom.

My flat isn't huge, the kitchen and living room are basically one, separated only by a bar countertop and no room for a dining table. Which is fine for one person, especially since I'm not the entertaining type. But the bedroom is really special. It is double the size of the kitchen and living room with a combination closet and bathroom. It is the only place where I become girlie. Anyone visiting would have been able to see that this is my favorite room. Whereas the rest of the flat is a hodgepodge of comfort and functionality with no regard to theme or era; my bedroom is richly bedecked. An antique floor mirror, a vintage vanity table, two carved bookshelves, a window seat overflowing with pillows, an ornate dresser and a pair of sultry lamps all dominated by my enormous canopy bed, which stands in the middle of the room looking down on the rest of the furniture like a king peering out over his domain from atop his castle.

I shut the door to my room and lean against it, trying to decide where to focus my attention. It would be a good day to crawl back in bed and get some extra sleep, but there is no chance my brain is just going to turn off, especially after that massive cup of coffee I started the day with. I look toward my bathroom and get an idea. I put on some Ella Fitzgerald, because hey, it is a rainy day, and start experimenting with hairstyles. This feels productive, because in my line of work it's a good idea to change your appearance regularly to avoid detection. I start getting into what I'm doing, switch the music to something less depressing, and pull out my plethora of hats. I keep myself busy for about two hours doing my hair, trying outfits, and finally putting on makeup. I was just about finished with my lip gloss when a thought drifts into my mind almost as if it had been spoken. Still playing with toys and costumes...

Grrr. Alright. Fine! So, lately the Labyrinth has been on my mind. Like, a lot. Pretty much anytime I'm not super focused on work or something really intriguing, I'm constantly thinking about the Labyrinth. And now it seems that most of what I had assumed about my time in the Underground was wrong. I don't want to reason that way. It's easier to think that solving the Labyrinth was just a life lesson that taught me to value family, to know the difference between fantasy and reality, to help me grow up. It is nice to believe that I could just walk away from an experience like that with a new appreciation for what I had and never look back at what I left behind.

But the more I thought about it, the less I could believe those platitudes. Seventeen years of dealing with the "real world" had me nearly convinced that you could never really come back from an experience like that and be content with a normal life. So now when I thought of the Underground, it was with a measure of longing.