My thanks to those who are continuing to review this story. I'm aware that it is not a typical Jareth and Sarah romance and ventures out a bit into unknown territory with the whole time travel plot, but my thanks to those who are sticking with it and have been kind enough to review.

The UC page has been updated once again with this chapter as well as the addition of more pictures.

http://www.geocities.com/jareth_sarah/uc/unexpected.html

Special thanks to my wonderful beta, Scattered Logic, who not only does a great job editing my work but helps to keep me inspired and focused. Also thanks is in order to The Hooded Crow and Lady Jamie for their unconditional support and comments. Thanks, Ladies!

Warning: This chapter is a little gruesome in parts not to mention very depressing. You might want to have a box of tissues handy.

Chapter 12: Escape

They are the victims of the night
Ride against the wind - born to lose the fight

And on a rainy night like this
Someone shuts the door - goodbye on their lips

Magnum-"How far Jerusalem"

Jareth held Sarah until she had fallen into a somewhat restful slumber against him. Careful not to awaken her, he lowered her gently to the bed and drew the blankets up over her. He sighed deeply and walked to his tent.

Jareth returned to Sarah before dawn and awakened her. She was extremely disoriented, not to mention sore. Jareth carefully wrapped her wrists with bandages and wished for the hundredth time that he had magic to help her. He took her trembling form into his arms and gazed at her for a long moment. How was it that this girl had managed to change his opinion about her so completely? He had once wanted revenge against her and now he wanted to help her, wanted her to be safe. Shaking his head, he attempted to help her to her feet.

Sarah clung to him and Jareth was forced to scoop her into his arms and carry her like he would a child. He brought her outside and watched her surprised expression at seeing two horses standing outside her tent, packed and ready to go. Then her eyes looked at his wild, unruly hair and the fact that he had shed his uniform and was dressed only in a white poet's shirt, tan breeches and black boots.

"What's going on?" she asked in confusion.

"It is not safe for you here. We are leaving." He didn't give her time to react and helped her into the saddle on one of the horses. Just as he was about to turn and move to his own horse, Jareth heard the clicking of a gun, already loaded and aimed directly at his back.

"Turn slowly."

Jareth did so and his eyes narrowed as he gazed upon Colonel Rochester. The Colonel looked as if he had just come out of the bath; though dressed in his uniform, his hair was damp and hung loosely around his face. He held a pistol in one hand and it was aimed directly at Jareth.

Rochester's eyes were full of amusement. "Now what could the General have been doing at the prisoner's tent so early in the morning?" Rochester gazed at Jareth, looking at his wild hair, his tired eyes, as well as the fact that he was dressed out of uniform in a white shirt and breeches. His gaze moved to Sarah who appeared worn-out, her dress was wrinkled and she looked as though someone had beaten the spirit out of her. A sly grin tugged at Rochester's lips as he looked over her form.

"Late night?" Rochester smirked as he turned his gaze to Jareth.

Jareth gritted his teeth. He was well aware of his appearance and Sarah's, not to mention what this must look like.

Rochester's eyes left Jareth's form and he glanced at the horse that Sarah sat upon, as well as the other. "Going somewhere, General?"

Jareth tilted his head, his expression cold and his appearance would have terrified anyone else, but Rochester merely grinned at him. "She has told me what information was necessary. Per our agreement she is to be escorted home." Jareth told him.

Rochester laughed. "Oh, the General now knows how to do his own laundry. What is this world coming to?" The Colonel smirked. "This early morning escapade doesn't have anything to do with your deception does it?" Rochester grinned and it widened as Jareth began to look uncomfortable. "You see, it's quite interesting that you're planning a little trip and the real General Thompson arrived just this morning. Wounded on the battle field and was recovering at the home of a loyalist all along."

Rochester smirked as Jareth grew increasingly uncomfortable. "Even if he hadn't shown up, I knew you were not who you claimed to be."

"Oh, did you now?" Jareth shot back.

"Yes," Rochester purred. "The signs were there all along." Rochester glanced at Sarah and then back at Jareth. The Colonel smiled wickedly. "Tell me, what was it like to see another man having his way with your woman? Were you insanely jealous? Or perhaps hurt because she enjoyed another's touch more than your own?"

"How do you know about what happened last night?" Jareth demanded. His eyes flashed with fury as he balled his fists by his side.

Rochester laughed. "Who do you think planned that?"

Jareth forced himself to act rationally. If he allowed his temper to explode, Sarah could be hurt or killed, not to mention that the same could happen to himself. He shrugged nonchalantly. "It matters little. The woman means nothing to me."

"Now that sounds more like General Thompson. While a compassionate man, and occasionally known to dabble with other women after his wife's death, Thompson never did care much for the women he slept with. Pacing fancies, or a means to end the need all men have to be temporarily satisfied, is what he called them." Rochester sneered at Sarah as he said this and then turned his attention back to Jareth. "Thompson would never care if one of his soldiers had some fun with a woman. In fact, he believed a little time off to indulge often helped his soldiers remain more focused when they returned to duty. Purge the need and focus returns." Rochester titled his head and continued.

"While he does like to act like a gentleman and expects the same behavior from his officers, Thompson was never above anyone having fun. It seems as though reading Thompson's journal didn't help you nearly as well as you had hoped."

Jareth narrowed his eyes.

"You had a wonderful time breaking up Lt. Braze's fun and killing him after you had pushed him around a bit. And all of that over a women you don't care for. Clearly you see that you revealed your own deception last night." Rochester grinned and looked rather pleased with himself.

Jareth could only glare at him.

"The penalty for posing as a British officer is death, as is murdering an officer before they've had a trial to defend themselves. Perhaps your companion would like to learn the error of your ways first hand?" Rochester aimed his pistol at Sarah.

"No!" Jareth cried out before thinking.

Rochester's brows raised. "No? Ah, I see. This woman does mean something to you despite what you've claimed. Your wife perhaps or maybe just a very prized whore."

Jareth started towards Rochester at the insulting words but the Colonel merely aimed his pistol at Jareth. The Goblin King stopped and gritted his teeth.

"Infiltrating a British camp also leads to death as does toying with me. You both must have been sent by the rebels. How pleased they will be to see you returned to them. Your bodies will make quite a nice display hanging at Lexington Green."

"The General would never allow that." The voice startled both Rochester and Jareth. Lt. Colonel Elbert emerged from the shadows, revealing his presence to the small group. "I was foolish to believe that you were a General. I should have seen that you were an imposter from the beginning," Elbert spat, gazing angrily at Jareth.

"Ah, the curse of youth." Rochester smiled. "You will grow out of it…eventually."

"I will enjoy seeing you both hang," Elbert told Sarah and Jareth as his eyes narrowed with anger.

"You shall enjoy witnessing their death right now, Lt. Colonel."

"If you kill them, General Thompson will have you stripped of your rank," Elbert warned the Colonel.

"I think not."

"The General is already angry enough with you."

While the two argued, Jareth glanced at his horse. He would never have enough time to make his way to the animal, leap on it and escape with Sarah. He only hoped that there was something he could try.

Concentrating, he formed a crystal sphere that wasn't even close to solid. It sunk in at places like a weak bubble, but it was something and more than he'd been able to produce for the past 2 weeks. The first bit of hope in a long time.

"What are you doing?" Rochester cried out. His eyes were drawn to the sphere in Jareth's hands. "What are you, some kind of a warlock?"

Jareth's eyes flashed with anger at the insult and he tossed the crystal. Rochester and Elbert leapt back and it was enough of a distraction for Jareth to leap up on the horse behind Sarah. He heard the crystal shatter on the ground at Rochester and Elbert's feet, but Jareth had already dug his heels into the horse's flanks and he and Sarah were moving away. The horse galloped towards the woods. In seconds, they would be free.

A shot rang out through the misty morning and a barely audible cry of pain followed. Sarah cried out as she felt Jareth slump against her. She shook her head, coming out of her trance…no…no. He could not have been shot…Yet he had fallen against her…she felt his hands reaching to hold her to keep himself steady. This couldn't be happening…

Jareth's ragged voice entered Sarah's ears. "Keep the horse moving for as long as you can…"

"Jareth…" Her voice was full of fear.

Jareth gripped her tighter. He was becoming dizzy and who knew how badly his condition would deteriorate as they rode on. He buried his face into Sarah's hair and clamped his eyes shut to keep the world from spinning around him. "Whatever happens…keep the horse moving…."

Sarah bit her lip and turned to look at Jareth. He was clutching her waist, his eyes squeezed shut, his expression one of anguish. Her eyes filled with tears. She didn't know where he had been shot or how serious the injury was. She feared the worst.

She glanced back at the camp and her eyes filled with angry hatred as she looked at Rochester. The pistol had fallen to his side, useless until he went through the somewhat tedious process of reloading it. The smoke from the pistol being fired still lingered around him. Sarah turned away from him gave the horse a hard kick to keep it moving.

Rochester watched as Jareth and Sarah disappeared into the woods.

"You shot him." Elbert paled. "It was a good shot from such a distance." He swallowed.

"Hardly. I was aiming for his heart." Rochester threw the pistol to the ground. "Fetch me my horse and tell the 5th dragoon to gather!" He called as he strode away. "I don't plan on letting them escape."

* * *

They had ridden for hours. The day had grown very warm, but Sarah hardly noticed the sweat that trailed down her face from the early May heat. All she was concerned about was getting Jareth to safety. She didn't care that the horse was lathered in sweat, she made it gallop on and on and on.

The sun was setting when she felt Jareth's grip on her loosen. Sarah heard him moan softly and then turned to watch in horror as he lost his balance and fell from the horse.

"Oh, god!" She cried out. She pulled hard on the reins, forcing the horse to skid to a stop by a stream and waterfall. She leapt from the animal and rushed to Jareth. He had rolled several times after hitting the ground and was covered in dirt. Sarah gasped when she saw the blood stain that covered his shoulder and most of his back. Her fear subsided slightly when she moved closer to him and saw that he had been shot in the shoulder. He could live with an injury like that. She'd seen movies where cops lived from injuries like this. Even in old western movies the men with similar injuries survived.

Jareth groaned. "Sarah…you…have to get it…out."

Sarah moved to him and tried to cradle him in her arms. "What are you talking about? Sssh, I know it hurts, but it's only your shoulder. This will heal; you'll be ok. I'll wrap it and it'll be better in no time." She tried to sound optimistic, but it wasn't working. She was shaking like a leaf.

"You must…take it…out…The iron…" He groaned.

Sarah paled. "You can't seriously expect me to take the bullet out!" she cried in horror. How had the bullet managed to remain within him in the first place?

"You must…or I'll…die…" He moaned.

Sarah shuddered violently. Die and Jareth were two words she didn't ever think of putting together in the same sentence.

"The iron…it's deadly…to my kind…" Jareth finished.

Sarah watched as speaking drained Jareth of his strength. He suddenly looked pale and sweat lined his brow.

Oh, shit…if iron was deadly to his kind… Sarah's jaw dropped at the revelation. "You're Fae."

Jareth nodded weakly.

"Then how can you survive in a world with so much iron? The canons, the guns, everything…it's all iron!" she exclaimed.

"My past can wait…for another…day. There's a knife…in the…bag."

Sarah's eyes widened in alarm. "Jareth, I…I can't! I can't take it out! I'm not a surgeon. I'll hurt you! And the knife will have iron in it. It will only make things worse!"

Jareth's expression was one of anguish. "I'll be dead by morning…if you don't remove it." He swallowed. "It might already be…too late."

"NO!" Sarah cried out. She shook her head. Jareth couldn't die. How would she get home? Who would restore the Labyrinth? Who would protect her in this strange world? Who would argue with her and then completely turn her world upside down when he showed concern for her welfare? She didn't want him to die!

Staggering to her feet, she rushed to the horse. She reached for the packs and the horse sidestepped.

"Come back here, you stupid animal!" she yelled. She managed to snatch the rope that held the packs onto the saddle as the horse moved about. To Sarah's horror, the horse tossed its head and with a little buck, tore off into the woods. She fell onto the ground with a thud. "No! No! Come back! Please come back!" she cried after it.

The horse ignored her and galloped off into the darkening night, dumping a trail of supplies as it went. Sarah stood and kicked a tree, hardly noticing the pain that moved up her leg. Jareth had been shot, he was dying and the horse, their only transportation, had just run away with the supplies she needed to save Jareth.

Sarah fell to her knees in the darkness and angrily pounded the earth with her fist. Tears filled her eyes, but she forced herself not to cry. It had grown dark so quickly; she could hardly see a thing. She crawled on her hands and knees and began searching blindly for supplies that had fallen to the ground. She found a broken cup, a spoon, a bar of soap. Hope began to fade away as she moved on and did not find the knife. She was about to give up when she placed her hand down and quickly pulled it back to her body as something sharp cut her. Something sharp, like a knife.

Carefully, she searched the ground and her hand grazed the ivory hilt of a knife. She grabbed it and quickly rushed to Jareth.

He had propped his good shoulder against a nearby rock. Sarah sank to her knees; the knife glinting in the dim moonlight that filtered through the trees. Jareth turned slightly so she could face the injury.

Sarah took a deep breath. "This is going to hurt…" she told him.

Jareth raised his head and nodded. Sarah was trembling so badly that she lost her grip on the knife. The ivory handle with intricate carvings of a ship and the small narrow blade slipped through her fingers and fell to the ground between herself and Jareth.

Jareth turned himself to face Sarah and his hands cupped her face.

"You can do this…I trust you…" he told her. Tears formed in her eyes and streamed down her cheeks at his words. Jareth smoothed the tears away and stroked her face for a moment. Slowly, he leaned forward. Sarah instinctively closed her eyes as his face neared her own…dear god…he was going to kiss her…The Goblin King was going to kiss her.

She jumped when she felt cool leather brush her flesh and the knife found its way back into her trembling hand. Her eyes shot open and she watched as Jareth regarded her coldly. He straightened his posture, despite the hurt it caused him and turned slightly from her.

Sarah swallowed. He was preparing himself for the pain… She stared at Jareth's blood stained shoulder and then glanced at his face that was slightly turned away from her. His blond hair fell in long strands and was nearly white in the moonlight. Despite the situation, Sarah found herself admiring his other worldly features.

Jareth turned his head just slightly and their eyes met for a brief moment. There was no love in his eyes as she had hoped to see, only cold indifference.

Sarah bitterly turned her head away. She bit back the disappointment she felt because he had not kissed her. She closed her eyes for a moment and shook the feeling. What had she expected? For Jareth to suddenly admit that he loved her and he always had, like this was some sort of fairytale? The thoughts angered and hurt her all at once but helped prepare her for what she was about to do.

Finally, she lifted the knife and first used it to cut away Jareth's shirt. The wound was ugly and still bleeding despite that it had been inflicted hours ago. She sucked in a deep breath and then slipped the knife into the wound. She felt Jareth move as the blade went deeper, watched him grit his teeth and clamp his eyes shut as the pain filled his body.

"Jareth, I…I can't!" she sobbed suddenly. She pulled the knife away from him and nearly dropped it again.

"Do it!" Jareth yelled loudly at her. He watched as Sarah shrank back in fear. She was afraid and he hated that he had to do this, but there was no other way.

She lifted the knife and hesitated.

"Do it, Sarah, unless you wish to see me die!" Jareth pushed harshly. "Who would send you home if I am gone?" Some part of Jareth regretted manipulating her like this, especially as tears began to roll down her cheeks, but he knew that there really was no other way.

Sarah trembled but forced herself to take the bullet out. Jareth turned his head completely this time so she wouldn't see his reactions. He forced himself to keep from crying out at the pain that touched every fiber of his being.

She dug carefully into the flesh, horrified at finding it blackened the deeper she dug.

"I…I see it!" she called out suddenly. There was the bullet, nestled between muscle and bone. The muscle had taken on a green-blackish appearance as if diseased. No doubt a side effect of iron being in the body of a creature of magic. Using the tip of the knife, she brought the metal ball to the surface. She could feel Jareth trembling beneath her as she moved it. "I…I have it!" She told Jareth as she pulled it from his wound and into her fingers. Jareth's reaction was silent as he fell forward onto the rock. Sarah grabbed his injured arm without thinking as he fell and he didn't respond.

"Jareth!…No!" She turned Jareth in her arms, tears streaming down her face. No, he couldn't be dead! But then she saw the slight rising and falling of his chest…he was unconscious, but alive. Glancing at the bloodied bullet in her hand, she tossed it as far away from her as she could.

Blood was gushing from Jareth's wound and Sarah knew that she had to stop the bleeding. She reached for her skirt and began to tear strips from the fabric of her underskirt. She rushed to the stream and dipped a few pieces in the cold water. Returning to Jareth, she did her best to clean his wound. The sight of so much blood made her sick to her stomach, but Sarah forced herself to ignore the nausea and cleaned and bandaged Jareth's shoulder.

"Jareth?" she called and shook him gently.

Her response was a howl that seemed to echo through the woods. Sarah trembled. She had forgotten about wild animals. It had been almost 2 weeks since she and Jareth had braved the woods. Far off in the distance, a gunshot was heard. She shivered and then realized that a fire was out of the question. The rising smoke would alert people of their whereabouts. The rushing of the waterfall less than 20 yards away, normally would have soothed her, but instead it only made her uneasy. The roaring rapids would make it hard to hear anyone or anything approaching them.

Sarah twined her hands together fearfully and realized that they were slick with blood. She rushed to the stream and plunged them into the cold water. She began to sob as she watched Jareth's blood pool and then drift downstream. Jareth couldn't die, she needed him! She…cared about him.

But he had abandoned her. He had left her alone for a week in that horrible camp, making her feel as though she was truly alone in this world. Yet, he had saved her from the soldier and he had put himself in incredible danger by leaping up behind her on the horse. He had protected her at great cost to himself.

Fresh tears streamed down her face as she staggered toward Jareth's still form. The moon had risen higher now and she could see the trail of supplies left by the horse. She suddenly remembered the sight of the two horses as Jareth had carried her from the tent. The horses had been overloaded with supplies. It must have taken Jareth days to gather what he had. Days…which meant that he had made plans to escape after all. He had not abandoned her.

Sarah fell to her knees beside Jareth, as the tears rushed from her eyes. She wrapped her arms around herself, rocking back and forth while loud, ugly sobs emanated from her. A gunshot echoed in the distance and she jumped. What if the British found them or the colonists? No place was safe…

She raised her head and through blurry, tear filled eyes, looked at Jareth. He was still resting against the rock where she had left him. Her brows furrowed as she gazed at his wild hair, his lithe form. She realized that she was alone in the woods during the revolutionary war with a member of the Fae. The fact that Jareth was Fae shouldn't have surprised her, yet it did. He was a being of magic, loved tricks and games, loved glamour. How foolish had she been to think that he was human like herself?

Fae and he'd been shot with iron, the one thing that was extremely deadly to the immortal race. She had read about his kind in books and plays and she remembered that those who had come in contact with iron were vulnerable and those injured by it rarely survived. There was a very good chance that Jareth was going to die. Sarah choked on her tears at the thought.

Looking more carefully at Jareth, she could see that he looked paler than normal and sweat trickled down his face. His eyes were closed and he was still unconscious. Looking at him, one might believe that he was sleeping, but Sarah knew better. The pain had hurt him so badly that he had passed out and although he could not feel the pain right now, the iron was eating away at him, destroying him…killing him…and he had no magic to fend it off.

Sarah took a deep shuddering breath and forced herself to gaze lower. The rise and fall of Jareth's chest as he took each breath was a small comfort to her. He was still alive, but for how long? How much longer until the iron killed him?

Sarah trembled and shook her head. As the waterfall rushed, as animals howled and gunshots echoed in the distance, Sarah let out a hopeless sob and buried her face into her arms, crying her heart out into the night…