Jareth dried his hair in the mirror, still a little sick from the intensity of his last bout of hallucinations. He poked and prodded the skin around his face, the dark circles around his eyes taking away all the boyish charm his haircut had afforded. He inspected his left hand, where dried blood formed a gash across. He wasn't sure if he had done it in his madness, or if it had been done to him.

He walked nude to the big closet, having little to fear of being watched. He flipped the light switch and inspected the contents carefully, picking out a simple white shirt and a smart black jacket with a close, unadorned collar. He found a pair of tight black jeans, some boxers, and black socks and shoes.

He sat on the couch and dressed himself slowly, deliberately. He reminded himself with each movement that he had to keep his will to live, that he had to snap out of his darkness and keep aware for an opportunity to escape. It was easy to forget in his prison that a whole world depended on his success.

With a firm motion he stood up and jerked the jacket downward, slipped the spell out of his now torn town coat, and put it into the inner pocket of his new clothes. He stepped back into the bathroom to look at himself. It was a big improvement over the sweaty, bloody man who had entered only an hour ago.

He was exhausted, needing sleep badly, yet unable to slumber. He needed a loving caress, a bad joke, a piece of paper to draw on. Hell, he could even go for a little rock and roll about now.

All he got was his tired face staring back at him from the mirror.

Then the door creaked open in the living room.

He stepped slowly from the confines of the bathroom, dreading what he would find. Sarah gazed at him from the doorway, deep purple eyes digesting him hungrily. She was increasingly quiet and feral, a dark black cat holding darker mysteries.

He didn't say anything about her arrival, only met her silent gaze. The stillness echoed. He wasn't sure if her silence stemmed from fear over his potential behavior, or if she was waiting for him to give up and speak in some strange game for the upper hand in the encounter.

She broke the stalemate and stepped toward him. His eyes rested on a large, rough-hewn amethyst that hung from her neck. It looked like a piece from the original stone. It ebbed and flowed blackness within.

Sarah gently pulled his hand forward, turning it over to examine the gash that lived there. He looked down at her as she looked down at his hands, her large, white eyelids ending in long black lashes, framed by a neatly gathered coif. She looked up at him with entrancing purple eyes, a strange apology mirrored there. He felt lost in them, lost in the deep purple and black that swirled within them.

He stepped away from her, vulnerable. Could she hypnotize him?

She wouldn't let his hand go. "Come to dinner with me," she said softly. She turned her face down, ashamed. "No more drugged food."

He didn't understand what was happening, or why this incarnation of Sarah would be so desperate for his forgiveness. Her supplicating glances weakened his heart, though he knew she could not be trusted. This was not the Sarah he loved, but her brokenness spoke to him. It spoke to his own brokenness.

He followed her out of the room quietly, a step behind her in one of the carpeted hallways of her palace. His memory sparked at a time long ago, four years, when she had followed him in a similar fashion to the dining room in his own castle, frightened and unsure.

It felt different now. Like two broken people, walking wraiths, fast on the heels of a self-created doom they could not escape.

##

The pigeon didn't seem too happy about his predicament. "I've never had to do anything like this for bread. Just give it to me already!"

Scotty and Fred sat on his back, gripping his feathers tightly as the wind threatened to blow their tiny bodies aloft. On Scotty's back was a makeshift pack he had fashioned out of a handkerchief, and a few tiny holes revealed a very squished hunk of white bread. "Sorry, lad, it's flight or hunger."

"It's not even good bread," the bird muttered. "I know I should have stayed in the park today. The old lady would probably have been there. She throws out an excellent rye."

"No need complainin' about yer fate, bird. I dun wanna hear lip, er, beak from a fella who poops on everythin'." Scotty pulled his hat around his ears tightly as it threatened to disappear in a gust of wind. The motion nearly made him lose his balance and fly off the bird himself.

"Yeah, you better watch whose lifestyle you make fun of, cause I am in a strong position to completely rid you of yours," the bird admonished.

"You make a good point. Just fly, ya flea-infested featherbag."

The bird scowled, but did as bid.

The tower suddenly came into view. Fred put his arms around Scotty and shivered in fear. "Dun wanna go," the man blurted with baited breath.

Scotty reeled from the smell. "Oy, ain't nuthin' more frightenin' then your breath, I assure you, Fred."

"There's nowhere to land," the pigeon complained.

Scotty pointed. "Over there, see where those gargoyles be?"

"What, you mean the stone dragons?!" the bird blurted. "I'm not landing on those, they look like they could become real at any second. And I am not going to be dragon dinner."

"No, ya git, the ones over there, sitting at that table."

"Oh, you mean the gargoyles that are alive. Yeah, much safer."

"Can you jest drop us on the balcony near them? They en't facing that one." Scotty pointed.

"What are they doing, anyway?" the pigeon asked.

"Pleyin' cards," Fred answered decisively.

"Ah, yup, so they are." The pigeon circled at a distance, then finally seemed satisfied. "Alright, I'll drop you on that corner. You better give me my payment quick, I do not want to stick around. You fellas are on your own up here."

"Fine, just stop yappin' and land already."

The bird quietly landed on a corner of the balcony, just behind a wall. Scotty hurriedly untied the makeshift knapsack and handed the bird the chunk of bread. "Thanks fer the ride."

"I don't see how you guys are gonna get in, you may be stuck up here."

"We'll figger somethin' out, we got means."

The bird nodded. "Well, your funeral." With that, he grabbed the bread in his beak and flew off.

Fred nodded as if his head were on a very loose spring. "Nice fella."

Scotty scowled at him and pulled his hat down over his brow. "Yeah, and I'm the King of England. Whad'I'do to get stuck wid such a dumb sod like you?"

Fred belched without reservation. Scotty motioned animatedly for him to quiet down. A gargoyle casually looked up from his hand of cards, but seemed to quickly dismiss the sound.

Scotty tip-toed out to observe the scene more closely. Fred stayed where he was for a moment before he hopped down from the balcony without any thought to whether he'd get caught. His eyes caught a glint of glass and he stumbled over to where a little bottle of something lay around the corner. Scotty suddenly noticed his companion had wandered out near the gargoyles' line of sight and started waving ferociously for Fred to return, as he'd surely get caught if he shouted. Fred was totally oblivious to the motion as he began to uncork the bottle with great excitement.

Unfortunately, it was Scotty's vigorous waving that caught the attention of one of the gargoyles. "Hey, you!" The gargoyle pointed, and the other three gargoyles turned to look. The first gargoyle took that opportunity to take a peek at their hands. The gargoyle closest to Scotty lumbered over to the gnome to grab him. Scotty looked over the edge of the balcony and, suddenly overcome by vertigo, could do nothing to outmaneuver the stone giant. Soon he was being firmly squeezed in the winged creature's fist.

"What is it, Morris?" one of them asked.

"It's a little man."

Another gargoyle put down his cards and plucked Scotty's hat off his head. "What was he doin' spying on us?"

Morris shrugged. "I dunno."

Scotty wiggled uncomfortably, dropping a casual eye on Fred, who remained unobserved by the stone creatures. He was sitting quietly in the corner, sniffing the contents of the glass flask. Scotty rolled his eyes and looked at the gargoyle who had grabbed his hat. "First things, that be my hat, and you'd better return it. Secondly, I be right'ere, you could talk to me, I en't deaf'n'dumb. Thirdmost, I be a leprechaun, you ugly sod, and don' you ferget it!"

The gargoyle immediately to the right of Morris was the first to respond, looking to the gargoyle across from him. "Well, I'll be, Lawrence, we got ourselves a leprechaun here."

"Let's eat him, Clarence," Lawrence responded with a smile.

"Don't be a fool. Leprechauns don't taste that good, anyway."

Lawrence seemed mesmerized by the little man's hat, and the fourth gargoyle took another closer peek at his card hand. Clarence slapped him loudly against the ear. "Bill, cut it out! I'm tired of your cheating!"

"Sorry, Lawrence, but Lawrence is just so dumb."

Lawrence seemed to agree, nodding shortly. "Yeah, but not as dumb as Morris, you know."

Morris nearly squeezed the life out of Scotty in his anger.

"Watch it!" Bill said with a look of great concern. "You might hurt him."

"Aww, what a softie," Lawrence answered mockingly.

"What kinda game you fellas playin'?" Scotty managed to groan.

"Deuces wild," Clarence answered smartly.

"Got room for another player?" The words barely came out loud enough for them to hear as Scotty struggled in Morris' grasp.

Clarence laughed heartily. "Sure, there's plenty of room for you, but why would we want to play with you?"
"Yeah, I think we should at least drop him over the edge and see if he makes a noise when he hits bottom," Lawrence added.

"Ooh," Morris grunted, "they say that if you drop a dime down it could kill someone, go right through their skull… Wonder what a leprechaun would do?"

"It's just a rumor," Clarence said with a wave of his hand. "Besides, the worst he'd probably do is excrete a rainbow in his fear."

The other gargoyles seemed heartily amused by this image, and again Scotty was nearly crushed by the brute holding him. "Well, you know, I could always put my pot of gold on the bettin' table!"

They all went silent as they observed him. "Put him down, Morris," Clarence instructed. Morris did as bid, and Scotty worked to smooth out the wrinkles in his suit as he took a deep breath. Bill snatched the tiny hat Lawrence had procured and gently placed in on the man's head.

"Thanks, lad," Scotty said with a nod.

"Talk," Clarence instructed. "Tell us how we can be sure that we will get your pot of gold if we win. I mean, I don't see any rainbows around here."

Scotty shook his head. "En't like they say. We leprechauns keep a wee portal with us all th'time. It just takes our secret word to open it and git our gold."

"How do we know you'll actually give it to us?" Bill inquired.

"Well, you dun already described in great detail how you might dispose of me should'I choose not t'comply." The gnome scowled at the indignity.

"Alright," Clarence said. "I don't know how you got up here, but you're about to play cards. I suppose you won't be able to deal, so I will do it in your stead."

"I'm sure y'be an upstanding fella, go right ahead."

Scotty looked out of the corner of his eye and could no longer see Fred. He furrowed his brow in frustration, wondering what the other gnome could be up to. What he didn't know was that Fred had befriended a rat who had taken residence in the walls of the great palace and was currently enjoying wine and cakes in the rat's abode.

What he did know was that he was a lousy card player, and that his pot of gold was not exactly as it seemed.

After Scotty had lost several hands, Clarence finally asked him, "So how much gold is in that pot of yours? I suspect by now you've run dry. And I promise, you don't want to owe us money."

Scotty was starting to sweat a bit. "Ahh, you be right, lad. I'm tapped out."

"So, let's see this pot of gold," Lawrence said excitedly.

"Wait!" Morris exclaimed. "Before he does, I wanna know my share. You guys cheated me last time."

Clarence seemed to think about it. "How about one tenth of twenty percent?"

Morris mulled a bit. "But, how much is that?"

Bill nodded to him with mock assurance. "Oh, like, really a lot."

"Okay, sounds good," Morris answered. "Show us the gold."

Scotty swallowed firmly and pulled a tiny four-leaf clover cast in resin out of his inside pocket. "Alrighty, I guess you lads won fair'n'square," he mumbled nervously.

Clarence watched him carefully. "Well, are you gonna say the word, or what?"

"Gimme a minute, it's secret. You can have the pot'o'gold, but I didn't promise I'd tell ya the secret word."

Clarence nodded. "Fair enough. Hurry up, though."

Scotty rubbed his hands together with purpose, put the charm down on the table, bent over it and muttered something quietly close to its surface. He quickly ran to the edge of the table and asked the gargoyles to lean back. The charm began to shimmer and sparkle, then a huge black pot manifested on its surface, the rim towering over the sitting gargoyles. Their eyes enlarged in excitement.

"Look at that thing!" Morris shouted. "It's huge! We're rich!"

Clarence wasn't so quick to assume. He stood up from his seat and peered over the edge. Scotty gulped.

The gargoyle reached inside and pulled out one halfpence.

"This is all?" He looked down at Scotty disdainfully, who was already crawling down the table and backing up toward the wall.

"Heh, well, fellas, you didn't ask how much was in my pot. Y'know how'tis. Women are wretched. My ex-wife took't'all in alimony, left me dry. Y'know how'tis."

"I'd be inclined to laugh at how you've pulled a fast one on us, little man, except I really got my hopes up on that pot of gold. I can't tell you how disappointed I am."

"Oh, no one understands more'n me. It can be disappointin'. Life's full'a disappointment." Scotty started feeling around the wall, desperately looking for escape, wondering how he was going to find Fred and get out of this mess.

"I liked you, leprechaun," Bill added in mock sadness.

"Erm, you know, I'm only half-leprechaun anyhow." They glowered at him. "Er, actually, only one quarter." Clarence started to lumber toward him with purpose.
"Y'can't blame me!" Scotty yelped. "It's in me genes. M'mudder was a sneaky'n too."

"You should be ashamed of yourself for blaming your mother," Morris said, shaking his head.

"Mmm, guess yer right," the gnome said, nodding somberly. "C'mon, lads, can't you jest let this little thing pass?"

They didn't answer. Scotty looked around frantically for an escape. Suddenly he saw Fred's head peek out from a nook in the wall, drunkenly surveying the scene. "There y'be, Scotty!" Fred said, following with a burp.

"What in hellfire y'doin'?" Scotty shouted.

"Havin' cake. Mr. Rat is a nice feller. Nicer'n the bird. N'they sed pigeons was just flyin' rats. No-how, this rat is a gendleman." He nodded his head firmly, rapt in drunken blabbering.

"Shuddup n'get outta me way!" Scotty ran over to the opening and shoved Fred aside as he lunged in. Then he thought better of it, stuck his head out of the hole to face the surprised gargoyles and shouted, "Come back, me little green friend!" The pot disappeared and the charm reappeared in his right hand. "Thanks fer the game, fellas, no hard feelin's, eh?"

Clarence frowned at him as the gnome disappeared back into the hole.

"He wasn't so bad," Bill said peeking at Morris' cards. "Can't fault a man for his nature."

Clarence slapped Bill across the ear. "Yes you can."

##

In the hole, Scotty thwacked Fred atop the head. Fred shouted in complaint.

"You ass, I can't believe you dun left me with them while you had cake!"

"Sorry, Scotty, seemed you was havin' a nice time. Didn't wanna spoil yer fun."

"I swear, Fred, you're dumber than those rocks out there. Now introduce me to this rat and get me some cake. All that card playin' left me with a rumble in my stomach."

Fred crawled in front of him and led the way. "Tis good cake."

##

The dinner wasn't quite what Jareth had been expecting. A large feast had been laid out on a long, stretched dining table, which was decorated by the presence of many beautiful people. Sarah and Jareth's seats were, contrary to usual protocol, not at the end of the table, but in the center. Across from them Kaleb sat, arm in arm with some inhumanly lovely woman with large curling horns. Empty laughter filled Jareth's ears from the partygoers while he somberly consumed his fare.

Halfway into the second course, Kaleb addressed Jareth. "So, how are you liking your stay?" The collar still decorated his neck, but he was in such a fine spirit that one would think he didn't expect to be wearing it long. "Nice place that Sarah has conjured for us," he continued with a sly wink at his benefactress.

She merely glowered at him as she reached for her chalice of wine. As she brought it to her lips, Kaleb watched her carefully then smiled to Jareth, whose expression spoke daggers. "Never thought things would turn out quite like this, did you?" he said with smug grin.

"Looks like you've come out smashingly," Jareth snarled, pointing to his own neck in mockery of the collar. The table of minions broke out into uproarious laughter.

"Oh, come now, being trapped here comes with its perks." Kaleb smirked and wiggled his cut hand before Jareth tauntingly.

Jareth clenched his own injured fist beneath the table in anger. "You should have finished the job."

Kaleb bent over the table and grinned at Jareth obnoxiously. "You'd love that, wouldn't you?" He turned his gaze to the table of spectators and pointed an accusing finger at Jareth. "He's a little miffed that I've spoiled all his parties for... oh, four hundred years now, is that right?" His lower lip twitched in delight.

"You're short twelve years and fourteen days," Jareth mumbled as he began to devour the cod a servant had just set in front of him.

Sarah was distant, almost unaware of the verbal struggle that took place next to her. She moved to take another gulp of her wine, but stopped midway to eye it suspiciously. It was swirling strange colors, purple and black in the candlelight.

The woman sitting next to her put a coaxing hand on her wrist. "Must have got a bit of cork in it," she concluded.

Sarah swallowed the deep brew thirstily, and motioned for the servant to refill her glass.

"Jareth never could cope with the fact that he knew I was better than him," Kaleb continued. "I was what made him what he was. I made him stronger. When he first fell across my path, he was a weak little teenager, struggling for identity and power." He sneered as he drank his own wine fitfully, and raised an unimpressed brow at his counterpart. "Well, I mean, see for yourself what he's really like. Pitiful."

Sarah downed the second glass quickly. "More wine," she mumbled drunkenly to the servant, whose back was turned to her at the moment and could not hear.

Jareth grit his teeth at Kaleb's speech and set down his fork.

"He's lost all his powers, and now look at him, dressed like an Abovegrounder in his black jeans and designer jacket. He never would have dressed like that with me around," Kaleb surmised cruelly. Jareth's eyes were simmering. "And what in hell's name did you do to your hair? It looks like you chopped it off with a steak knife."

That had been the last straw. Jareth lunged across the table with such a force that he sent Kaleb's chair reeling to the ground, and both of their bodies with it. Everyone rushed from their chairs to observe the scuffle delightedly.

After a brief skirmish, Jareth had the leash firmly in his grip and Kaleb under his knee. He pulled tightly at it and spat in his face through bared teeth. "Since I arrived here, I've wanted nothing more than to die," he breathed purposefully. "Thank you for being here. Now, as they say, I can kill two birds with one stone."

Kaleb gasped for air futiley, only able to free one hand to feebly reach out against Jareth. As the man strangled, Jareth fought the urge to collapse under his own loss of oxygen. Kaleb smiled at him through his pain. Jareth didn't notice in the scuffle as Kaleb carefully reached inside of his jacket and placed something there.

Before Jareth could kill them both, Sarah shot up from her chair and slammed her chalice on the table, smashing it into pieces. "I SAID MORE WINE!" she bellowed before turning her head away from the scene and vomiting on the floor.

Jareth forgot what he was doing instantly, rushing to her aid as quickly as his winded body would allow. He jumped over the table and grabbed her cheeks.

"What is it?" he asked, rushed and worried.

"More wine," she moaned pitifully, fluid dripping down the side of her mouth as she let it hang and roll from side to side.

He grabbed a napkin and wiped her face, while in the background Kaleb's choking turned into a raspy laugh. "Sarah, I do believe you are becoming a lush." Jareth ignored Kaleb. "Come now, tell me where your chambers are," Jareth said to her forcefully. "We have to get you to bed."

She rolled her head back drunkenly and smiled at him. "Always the gentleman."

He lifted her up carefully while a minion led the way out of the room.

"You're a fool!" Kaleb shouted, his voice trailing behind them as they made their hurried way down the hall. "She's going to break you into a million little pieces, Jareth!"

After they had left, Kaleb patted his breast pocket in satisfaction and mumbled to himself. "The switch. It's such an old trick."