A/N: I apologize for the long delay—my old laptop died on me and took all my chapters with it. Add midterms and finals to the mix and you can probably tell I haven`t updated much of anything lately. Sorry about that. Now that it's the summer, though, you can expect to see the next few chapters sometimes soon (rather than two months later).

Title: The Unexpected (Chapter Twelve)

Fandom: Labyrinth

Spoilers: The movie

Rating: Pg-15 (-ish, since Toby has to deal with a bit of violence)

Disclaimer: I don't own the Labyrinth of anything related to it. I'm not making any money off this story.

Timeline: Takes place approximately twenty-two years from where the movie left off.

Summary: Toby's always lived his life by the natural laws—laws of science and reason. The sudden disappearance of his newborn nephew, however, brings to light a whole new meaning of reality...

Gossamer, despite the nature of her name, was not a fine thread or web found glittering on a cool lawn of grass during the calmer days of autumn. She was, of course, a goblin, short and a little stout, but not quite as beady eyed as Smorf and not half as ugly as the old folktales commonly described her people. She reminded Toby of a small white mouse, one which wore an apron sewn from several mismatched patches and carried a wooden spoon that was nearly half her size.

"You've killed him."

Toby wanted to point out that he was, in fact, far from dead but his adrenaline rush was waning now and the stab-wound above his heart hurt something fierce. He fell twice on the journey to her crooked little house and wouldn't have been able to make it there if not for the Hunter's assistance.

Poking her head outside the door, small red eyes darting quickly up and down the street, Gossamer slammed the door shut and locked the bolt. According to the Hunter, the city's citizens shut themselves up inside their homes for the day as the king's army hunted for Tearsa. If Toby was spotted, they were ordered to arrest him and keep him away from the castle.

"You're safe here," the Hunter said as he inspected Tearsa's jar. The house was small and a bit cluttered, but Toby couldn't ignore the fact that it still felt cozy and warm. A little cauldron bubbled merrily above a fire in the hearth and several dried herbs and flowers hung from the rafters above his head—Gossamer, he supposed, was a healer of sorts.

"Safer here than your mother's arms," Gossamer added, "And correct me if I'm wrong, but that wound wouldn't happen to be from Tearsa's switch?"

"...It is."

"You've been poisoned then," she muttered, tugging on his shirt sleeve until he knelt in front of her. Gossamer's fingers glided over the faint scar beneath his eye but she didn't look too concerned about it. Her concentration, for the most part, was focused on his chest, "No worries, dear. I'll have you fixed in a jiffy."

"I don't have time," he replied apologetically. The hunger pangs were returning and doubted he'd be able to get back on his feet again if he took a moment to rest. "The sun's going to set in a couple of hours."

"The city's on high alert, boy. You'll have to slip inside during the celebration."

"They'll recognize that I'm a human. I'm not exactly as short as most of you."

Smorf laughed, "The King's invited an assortment of guests, Tommy, tall and short alike. Let her fix you up and I'll find you a costume."

"In the meantime, I have to return this to the king," the Hunter added, shaking Tearsa's vial gently, "but I'll keep an eye out for you at the party, boy. You'll feel as good as new after Gossamer's done her magic."

Gossamer's mousy little face brightened at his words and she swatted at the air shyly before turning to inspect a shelf of bottles and jars. After a moment, she stole a tall, red bottle from the lowest sill. "This'll do, I think...Sit tight, my dear, while I draw up the bath."

"I..." Toby stopped himself short. A bath would ease the ache in his muscles, he supposed, and the smell of the Hunter's ointment was really starting to get to him...

Gossamer stole the cauldron off the fire with one hand and scurried into an adjacent room. Toby lifted the make-shift bag containing Elliott's piece and lowered it gently on to the table.

"...Is there any way I can fix him?"

"Stones get smaller, Tommy, not larger. If Elliott's still in there, he'll come to his senses when he's ready."

Of course, because a talking rock without a heartbeat or a pair of lungs couldn't exactly die...right?

Sighing, Toby watched as the Hunter tucked Tearsa's vial into one of his belt pouches and made for the door. "Thank you..." Toby called after his back, "for everything."

"The babe wasn't sent here out of contempt," the man replied, hand resting on the somewhat slanted doorknob, "and even though he's not your son, you'd break your back to save him. I think you are, quite possibly, one of the most selfless contestants this world has ever seen."

Toby wanted to thank him again but his throat felt alarmingly tight after the rare compliment. It sounded like something Sarah or his father would say.

Nodding his goodbye, the Hunter unbolted the door and slipped outside. Smorf locked it behind him and, taking a small handkerchief from one of his pockets, used it to stuff a wide crack in one of the shuttered windows. Toby had no doubt the streets would return to life once Tearsa was handed over to the king. He couldn't risk being seen until he had his disguise.

"All ready!" Gossamer announced as she bounced back into the room. She replaced the small cauldron over the fire, which, much to Toby's surprise, startled bubbling again as though none of the water had been used. "Jump in while the water's still warm."

Toby looked at Smorf but the goblin managed to speak first, "I'll wash up at my own house, Tommy. I'll be back later with the costume."

"Thank you."

"No need—it's not every day you get to see one of our parties."

Indeed.

Slipping into the bathing room, he closed the door quietly behind him and stared at Gossamer's 'bath'. It was really a small pool of water built into the cold stone floor, a thin film of stream rising quietly from the bath. Stripping his clothes delicately, he took his time unravelling the gauze before stepping into the hot water. The cuts along his legs and feet smarted as soon as they were submerged but he manned up to the pain and took a deep breath before dunking his head under, resurfacing after a moment to begin the task of tenderly scrubbing the dirt and ointment from his body.

The water became murky; tinted red. He tried to maneuver carefully but his wounds began to burn and he felt somewhat nauseous.

Lifting himself a little out of the water, he craned his neck awkwardly to stare at his chest as Tearsa's wound began to hiss, a small trail of white smoke curling up toward the ceiling as though his flesh were on fire. Covering it with his hand, he waited a moment before rubbing it tenderly. When the pained eased up he examined it again to find a small ugly scar left in its place.

Gossamer's magic might've not healed him entirely, but it sure worked wonders. He'd have to thank her later.

After he had some clothes, of course.

-1-Jareth the Goblin King-1-

"You've become quite the djinn," Jareth muttered, "And after all I've done for you..."

Tearsa lifted her eyes to stare coldly at him from her place below the water's surface. The well was the only link he had to the woman (her body still trapped within the Hunter's vial) and there was no way for her to retaliate against him.

Not now or ever again.

Jareth examined her quietly for a moment. She could've chosen her human form—but here she was, a beast, just as feral as a rabid dog. Her distant red eyes studied his face with cool contempt. She was mad. Lost.

She'd been traveling a road to self destruction for quite some time now...

Tearsa, unlike many of the Labyrinth's other inhabitants, had become senescent over the years, letting herself grow old and cruel as she surrendered her humanity to the creature festering beneath her skin. She came to his kingdom looking for asylum, hiding from a world that was now just as cold and uncaring as she had allowed herself to become. He accepted her when he saw how fragile her thread of sanity was, a mistake he was certain never to make again.

Perhaps she was invidious of Toby's innocence. Jealous of the babe, too, he supposed. As delicate as her temper was, he hadn't seen her thirst for blood in years. After all, she behaved well enough when Sarah was here, not daring to show herself lest she be tempted to do something unforgiveable.

"This is hardly a peccadillo," he said with a sigh. "I think it's only fair that I leave the decision of your punishment to the young Williams."

"You know I'll only try to kill him," she growled.

"Indeed...But if he decides to return the favour, I might be tempted to look the other way. I spent a millennium ridding this place of the dybbuks and if you prove to be just as malevolent I'll have no choice but to bury your vial somewhere near the center of the earth." (1)

"The earth won't hold me."

"Death will," he warned, "and though I might be adverse to killing you myself, your safety will hardly be my responsibility if Hades sics one of its demons on you."

She growled again but the glow of her eyes had faded considerably after his threat. Jareth waited a moment (hoping) to see if she would regain her senses...but her image faltered and he was left with nothing but water.

Turning his back on the well, he traced a pattern on the damp wall of the dungeon cell with his finger and waited for a stray stone to move aside. Reaching within the damp space, he left Tearsa's vial there and waited for the stone to seal the gap again before heading up the stairs.

Toby was safe and so was the babe.

That's all that really mattered now.

-2-Toby Williams-2-

He stayed until the water cooled and the throbbing pain of Tearsa's wound faded to a dull ache. Part of him didn't want to move (just wanted to stay and soak in Gossamer's soothing remedy) but he heard the bustle of the Goblin City outside the shuttered windows and thought of Jonathon waiting patiently for him behind the castle walls. He was close now—closer than he ever could've hoped to achieve—and yet his mind wandered back to the missing piece of the puzzle and the loop hole Elliott told him about before his untimely demise. If this really wasn't a game (nothing more than a goblin trick) then all he needed to do was to find proof of his suspicions and call the king's bluff...

And then what? Do the whole thing over again?

No—well, not exactly the whole thing. First and foremost, he had to bargain for Jonathon's freedom. Everything else could wait until after his nephew was returned home safely.

Alright...and after that?

"Your friend's back!" Gossamer's muffled voice announced through the door. She knocked against the wood gently to make sure she had his attention and then added, "He found you an interesting the costume..."

Interesting, indeed...

"I look grim..." Toby murmured fifteen minutes later as he opened one of the shutters and peeked out at the people on the streets. They came in all shapes and sizes, some tall and lanky, others short and plump, all decorated in foreign fabrics of rich and exotic colours.

A bird-like creature, which reminded him very much of a crane, bent its neck in half to peck at something on the ground near its feet. Several blue gems glittered from the crown of its head and around its eyes. Like a mask.

Toby closed the window before it could spot him, but not before he caught a glimpse of the gold sash tied around its waist.

Glancing at his own mask, sitting idle on the table beside his new hat and one of Elliott's older chips, Toby took in its black simplicity and couldn't help but think of how much it truly suited him. In all honesty, Toby didn't expect to receive such a costume. He thought (hopefully) that Smorf would slip him inside discretely through the kitchens as a busboy or some sort of waiter...

"I think you look fine," Smorf squealed excitedly. His spear and armour had somehow been returned to him and he looked significantly cleaner since they entered the city. A small red scarf was wound around his neck, probably as an addition for the celebration.

Toby brushed off a piece of lint from his grey waistcoat and snatched the brocade frock coat from the back of Gossamer's easy chair, slipping into the comfortable fabric with silent appreciation for its seemingly perfect fit. It's cuffs were wide, the stand-up collar was short and stiff, and the jacket was trimmed with gold braiding to match its buttons. It was black, of course, to match the dark riding trousers and boots, and his hat would've completed the look if not for the small white feather tucked inside it's band.

"If you want, you can ditch the mask," Smorf added just as Toby lifted it to his face.

Hesitating for a moment, he eventually tied the string behind his head. "I think I have to, Smorf."

"The hat's enchanted."

That gave Toby reason to pause. "How—"

"I ran into the Hunter at the palace when I went to replace my armour," the goblin explained. "He helped me find most of the suit—said that no one can remember you so long as you wear it."

"...What do you mean?"

"People will see you, of course, but as long as you don't cause a ruckus they'll forget about you in the next twenty seconds...Except for the king," Smorf added as an afterthought, "I don't think he can find you outright in a crowd but as soon as he sees you he won't miss you again."

"That doesn't matter. As soon as we meet, this adventure will be over."

"...Really?"

Well...not quite, but Toby would breathe easier as soon as he knew Jonathon was safe at home with his mother and father.

Swiping the hat off the table—and bowing to kiss the back of Gossamer's hand thankfully—he settled it on his head and felt the magic settle around him like a second skin. The familiarity of its touch probably would've been more alarming had he not spent the last four days running around the Labyrinth.

The look that Smorf gave him, though, was a little disconcerting.

"I..."

Toby waited patiently for a moment, hoping desperately that there wasn't going to be another setback in his plans. "Yes?"

"It's just...I have a tidbit of information," the goblin revealed, "but it's not really important. I'll tell you later."

'Why later?'

As desperately as Toby wanted to hear it now, he trusted Smorf to tell him when the time was right (should that time ever come). He knew, between arguing with Elliott and facing the sudden perils of their journey, Smorf had been interrupted more than once when he had something that needed to be said.

"...Alright," Toby replied, "Shall we go?"

The goblin nodded, shifting the weight of his helmet on his head as Toby reached for Elliott's chip. The younger Williams dropped it inside one of his coat pockets and headed to the door.

Unlocking the bolt, Toby turned the crooked knob and stepped out into the streets. Together they followed the wave of misfits to the Goblin King's castle, the final destination in their long and weary journey...

Even if it they hadn't realized yet that it was only half over.

A/N: 1) a dybbuk is a type of demon (or lost soul) that can possess another living being. They are removed through exorcisms.

Alright—more action and whatnot in the next chapter. Old problems are solved and new ones arise...