Falling - Ch 19 - Laby Fan Fiction

He plodded along, powered by momentum and an overwhelming desire to succeed. Numb from the waist down, Jareth suspected only unconsciousness would cease his legs; and while the heat had sapped his stamina faster than expected, he knew more strength remained untapped before his complete collapse. That thought both emboldened and terrified him. How long might he carry Sarah through the pounding heat and desolation before they both ended?

It doesn't matter. I'll walk until the world crumbles, he thought with teeth clenched so tight his jaw ached.

The setting sun brought the expected chill, relieving the draining boil of the day, and Sarah shivered in his arms, the cold affecting her faster than him. Injured, she continued to be claimed by sleep more often than not, and Jareth tried not to sigh too loudly at the heat's breaking, remembering the icy temperatures awaiting them at full dark.

The relief would be short-lived with his clothing soaked by sweat not yet evaporated, and as expected, it didn't take long for his body to cool as he trudged up the sharply sloping ground. His legs complained and cramped with each step. He held Sarah closer to his chest for both their sake's; any warmth retained might add minutes to their survival.

Through chattering teeth, Jareth asked Chet, "How much farther?"

"We're in the foothills," he said from Jareth's left. "If we keep moving, we should find shelter before dark."

"There's a small cave at the base of the mountains," Sam said from behind them.

Chet's head pivoted rapidly around while they walked. "How do you know that?"

"I've used it before."

"When?"

"Years ago." Sam's shrug was weighted with the extra bags, but still obvious. "Before you arrived at the compound."

"You've never talked 'bout it."

"So what. I've never told you my underwear size either."

Chet flushed; squeezing his lips so tight, they blanched and twitched. Giving Sam a slanted glare, he fish-gawked as if he wanted to say something more, but the words failed to arrive. Sam kept his head hung toward to the ground, shuffling with determined ignorance. Only their ponderous footfalls broke the oppressive air for several minutes.

If I weren't so exhausted, Jareth thought. I might care about their increasing arguments.

"You just focus on getting your hide and hers somewhere safe, boy."

Yes, Da.

Sam's terse voice interrupted Jareth's musings. "Just keep heading uphill toward the sunset. There's a rocky overhang marking the cave."

Jareth nodded, hoping his superior vision caught sight of the landmark in the deepening gloom. With the steepening of the land, he honestly feared the end of his stamina, felt its approach in the shuddering of his legs. He had foregone taking much water, directing the majority of his portion to Sarah whenever she woke. Chet had argued with him, but Sam had stayed strangely silent on the issue. Jareth understood Sam and Sarah's closeness; hence Sam would always support her, so he'd expected Sam to have some opinion, was surprised when he didn't. Now, just after sunset and with Sarah's condition worsening, Jareth was glad he had sacrificed because Sarah had begun muttering in delusion, twisting and turning in his arms.

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Sarah wakened to find the four of them camped in a small cave, Jareth collapsed—but awake—next to her. Sam and Chet stopped unpacking when she cracked open her eyes with a shock of consciousness, the rocky ground digging harsh edges into her back and bottom. Jareth tracked her sudden movement, exhaustion rimming his eyes with enflamed scarlet. Deeper crow's feet than she remembered framed his features.

Was it only a few hours ago that I last spoke with him? He lay on his side, one arm flaccidly pillowing his head. Parched and fissured, his lips were nearly bloody in tiny patches. She cringed, realizing how much he drained himself to spare her. Sitting up, discounting a short bout of dizziness, she asked him in a dry voice, "Are you okay?"

His smile stopped with a wince, then he nodded. "I'll live," he croaked. "For now."

For now? She considered asking what he meant, but it seemed too complicated a subject given her own fatigue. Instead, she managed a shaky smile, and even that weakened her. She thought to ask for water before she remembered they were out. Jareth wouldn't be in terrible condition if they weren't, nor would he be delaying offering her any.

As they stared at each other, the sounds of Chet and Sam organizing camp receding, the stinging and itching of her hands started. Sarah demanded the removal of the bandages before she chewed them off. Neither Chet nor Sam wanted to comply, stating her burns needed protection, but Jareth agreed in a dehydrated, gritty voice with a vehement scowl at the two men. She didn't understand why he sided with her so strongly, but his support strummed that chord deep inside her gut again. And she shared a quiet look with Jareth as he pushed himself upright with a groan.

So here they sat—Jareth holding her tightly to his side with one arm, Chet unwrapping her hands and Sam hovering like a deranged mother hen, pacing and cursing. Sarah watched, her eyes jumping and jittery, as the dingy gauze lengthened, forming a soft pile in her lap with Chet's slow un-spiraling.

"Can't you hurry?" she asked. "They really hurt!" She wanted to gnaw at the itching, dig her teeth into the irritation until she chewed it away.

"I don't want to risk damaging them more," Chet said, pausing to ram home his point.

"It's fine. Just get it off!"

"Fixer, let him do it right," Sam snapped, arms as crossed as his expression.

Sarah scoffed and fidgeted, nearly pulling her hands free of Chet's ministrations. A squeeze on her shoulder brought her head around to Jareth's silent but effective scolding. His piercing gaze did far more to quell her impatience than anything from the other men.

Shoulders slumping under Jareth's arm, she pouted. "Fine." She nibbled on her lower lip before dropping her eyes from his quiet rebuke. How does he do that? So distracted by his influence, she almost missed Chet and Sam's twin gasps as cold air hit the tender skin of her hands.

"My God…" they said.

"What?" she asked, braving a peek. Her palms shone red and puckered, blotches of furious blisters threatening to break. She cautiously flexed and curled her fingers inward, scrunching and bunching her tender palms. The damaged skin stung, itched and pulled, but before she could think of how to relieve the pain, a pair of large sun-reddened hands covered hers.

Jareth's arms crisscrossed through hers from next to her. An awkward position made easier by his comforting presence; the side of his body added a warm, masculine weight against her. Sarah suppressed a sudden urge to sigh as leaned into him, his palms pressed to hers. Looking straight ahead, Jareth seemingly ignored her reaction.

After the first bite of pain, a tingle infused her hands, radiating up her arms before it spread to her entire body. It made her lightheaded and warm, and she felt she might detether from the ground and drift like a soap bubble—fragile and free. How wonderful…

Abruptly, the feeling ceased and she crashed. The warmth and floating yanked away like a bad magician pulling a tablecloth out from under fancy place settings, the accompanying smashes and clatters echoing throughout her body. But the pain and itching disappeared too, replaced by the sensation of normal skin. She slowly blinked once, twice, rotating her hands up and around after Jareth released his grip and pulled his arms from her. Bereft and arctic, her emotions swirled in confusion.

"How'd you do that?" she asked, pivoting in place toward him.

"I didn't," he said.

"Bullshit! We all saw you!" Chet and Sam's responses mixed together.

"No." One corner of Jareth's mouth curled down with his furrowed brow. "I mean ... I didn't do it alone."

Sarah clutched her hands together, holding them to her chest. She ignored Chet and Sam's exclamations of shock, their voices fading as she tunneled onto Jareth's earnest eyes. "You helped me fix myself?" she asked, tentative.

He cocked his head, hair fluttering over his shoulders and his mouth pursing. He nodded once, sharply. "Yes. I suppose so."

"How? I've never been able to heal people, especially myself." She leaned closer to him, the buzz of the other men's voices telescoping farther away behind her. Only she and Jareth existed in the dimness of the cave, the hardness of its ground.

"Sarah," he shrugged, "I don't understand what I did or how, only that I … it felt … right."

She smiled. "I did feel right, didn't it?" She reached out with one hand, healed, palm up. He accepted it, cupping it with one while running fingers lightly along the surface with the other, teasing, until she shivered. The new skin blossomed with brilliant perception, each faint brush of his fingertips sent jolts from her hand to that magnificent new chord low in her belly. The new frigidity vanished at his touch, her emotions returning in full force the longer he stroked her palm.

How can this feel so good? He's barely touching me. But it did and a faint smile curled as she allowed him to continue.

"I cannot believe this shit!" Chet said, breaking their illusionary privacy. Sarah and Jareth jerked their hands and bodies apart, blushing and ducking uncomfortably. Both looked anywhere but at one another. Neither noticed Chet walking to the cave's entrance.

"Chet, don't leave!" Sam said, yanking on his arm.

Chet pulled free. "We're out of water! They're busy cozying up after god knows what just happened!" Chet pointed at a red-faced Jareth and Sarah currently shifting even farther away from each other. "And you want to what? Sit here? Wait? For what?" Chet's arms flayed wildly.

"We need to rest—"

"You rest! I'm scavenging for water." Chet stomped off, calling over his shoulder as he flicked on a flashlight he'd pulled from his rucksack. "I'll be back before dawn," he added in a grumble.

Watching him leave, Sam wilted where he stood, arms dangling loose by his sides. "Crap."

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Sarah didn't remember falling asleep again after Chet left. Considering how much she'd already slept, it surprised her. But she didn't think about that until much later because at the time of her second awakening in the cave there wasn't time to think about anything but survival.

A hand smashed over her mouth woke her the second time while simultaneously dredging up old fears of THAT DAY. For a short, heart-soaring moment (which she also thought about much later) Sarah hoped the man-shaped shadow leaning over her, as she squinted in the dark, eyes adjusting, was Jareth.

Not Jareth.

Or Sam.

Or even Chet.

A rugged, scraggly long-haired face hung above her, his body weight pressed her into the hard ground as he easily cut off her ability to scream, making breathing difficult around his meaty palm. Panic—clawing at her lungs and throat—finished the job as inhaling became an Olympic event. Sparkles pranced in her vision, brightening the darkness and increasing her terror.

Vulture! she screamed in her in mind, and tried to twist her way out of his grip. Her power to Un-fix filtered up, sizzling beneath her sternum and begging for release. If she could touch him with her hands, she could unravel the sweater of his consciousness. Just a single pluck… She inched her arms from the weight of his legs, crawling her fingers closer.

He flicked a lighter as he shook his head slowly, leisurely, as if he had eons to waste. The small flame illuminated his macabre necklace of dissected human bits rattling to and fro. That detail nearly finished her sanity, nearly pulled her loose—so close—as she worked her hands free. Somehow he had anticipated her action and head-butted her hard enough to daze her into a mild stupor. She caught a whiff of fusty alcohol and sour body odor a split second before impact. How was it they all smelled the same? Moaning, Sarah rolled to a fetal position as soon as he released her, standing up to tower. But before she could spare a vain hope for her freedom (or wonder about Jareth, Sam or Chet) the Vulture struck her head again with something much harder and blackness followed.

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