Ingeborg perched atop the Empire State Building, considering her options. She was feeling downcast and missing Crouch—Jeremiah—whatever he wanted to be called. She felt more than a little guilty for trapping him on her world once again, where, if he was still alive, he'd be hundreds of years older.

Then again, it would show him for all those times he had mocked her for becoming homesick for a family that had probably long since died. All to follow him on his fool's quest. She had been young when they first fled Hendermoor, hungry for adventure. She had always liked the unconventional men, and you couldn't get much more unconventional than a demon with a sexual ambiguity so bendable that it included inter-dimensional species.

But in the time they had been together she had grown older and wiser. She had begun to become fed up with his chase after pain and glory, tired of chaos and his ever-widening chasm of insanity and abuse.

So maybe he deserved his prison. And who knows, maybe he had found his way out again years later, after wooing another fellwit with portal-opening abilities.

She still felt a bit empty and purposeless without him. But, most of all, she felt free to make her own choices—which was intimidating enough on its own. She tried to count her friends on this world, and before Crouch had cursed her to role of the villain, she had found herself enjoying the company of Toby, Jareth, and the witches. As far as puny mortals went, they weren't all that bad, and they had never disrespected her.

She knew that there was much at stake, and it affected her as much as anyone else on this planet. Even if self-preservation weren't her only driving force, the only logical step was to join forces with Jareth's friends and help them bring order back to this world, so that the instability of the two dimensions at stake didn't pass to other worlds, including her own.

Fellwits understood the nature of dimensional planes more than most. The tiniest thread could easily unravel the fabric of all creation.

Before her musings had time to translate into flight, she perked her fine-tuned ears to a noise to the south. A sort of repetitive crunching, splashing sound the scale of, oh, an eighteen wheeler being repetitively dropped in the New York bay.

She took to the air and flew toward the sound, her vision still somewhat obscured by buildings. She could make out a distinct movement in the distance, a gray mass passing between the slivers where skyscrapers made the smallest opening toward a view. Flying higher still she finally caught sight of the source of the noise.

A barefoot, green, copper woman over one hundred feet high was trundling through the bay and heading for Broadway. She held a torch in one hand and a book in the other.

Ingeborg was no small being, so wasn't used to the feeling of size intimidation that passed over her. Still, this might be her chance to make a first contribution to the battle. She had no idea how a giant statue had come to life in the first place, but she wasn't going to question the potential fortune—or maybe destruction—or maybe both—the situation afforded.

She flew close to the woman, just far enough from arm's reach to stay safe.

"Hello down there! Hey, Lady, up here!"

The woman stopped in her tracks and looked up. She didn't seem to take offence to an interruption in her walk. If anything, her expression was one of general confusion.

"Well, hello... umm... What exactly are you?" she said in a heavy French accent.

"I'm a fellwit. My name is Ingeborg."

"Oh! Then you are an immigrant? Oh, how I love immigrants. I see lots of them, you know. This place wouldn't be so beautiful, if it weren't for all the foreign minds and hands that come to find refuge in my city and add their flavor to it."

She shook her head slowly, as if every movement was one involving the lifting of tremendous weight, which indeed it was. "Pardon me, I am going on a bit, aren't I? My name is Lady Liberty. Can I help you with something, Ingeborg?"

"As a matter of fact, Ms. Liberty,... Should I call you Ms. Liberty?"

"Call me Fifi."

"Fifi. I think, with a name like yours... well, your last name, at least... you are just the ... person to help with a situation that affects the people in your city."

"Oh dear, nothing is wrong, I hope?"

Ingeborg flew in closer and perched onto her shoulder. "I'm afraid to say there is. You see, there is a war being waged in Central Park as we speak. Two sides are fighting... One is destroying the city, in fact the entire world... Though that is not their intention, they are nonetheless doing so. And the other side is trying to stop the destruction." She rose into the air, in front of the giantess, and said, "Well, how about we go there, and I will tell you more on the way?"

As they traveled up the bay toward the light in the distance, Fifi stepped over boats and bridges on the way, politely attentive to Ingeborg's tale.

They were both so wrapped up in conversation, they did not see the dark clouds rolling in from the south at a very un-cloudlike pace.

##

The feeling of the wind in his hair was exhilarating as Jareth rode through the small valleys and dells of the park on his steed. It had been too long since Jareth had taken to horseback, and even longer since he had been part of the ground forces of a battle. While he indulged in no bloodshed—doing as Marlena and the others had planned and freezing his enemies (without need of the enchanted staff the others held)—and his enemies on the ground were no match for him, he still thrilled in the experience. One after the other he downed them with a bolt of energy, easy prey.

He rode to the crest of the great hill, leaving a body count in the form of statues along his way. He had so busily been fending off the enemy on his own turf that he had not realized that the enemy had been indulging in slaughter of the weaker of the forces in their camp. The dead were beginning to accumulate on the rocky shoal in the distance. He had been so caught up in the heat of things that he had not realized the measures to which Sarah's darker half had been willing to go to maintain her purchase on this world.

"Please let this all be a bad dream," he murmured to himself before telepathically guiding the horse to the fray.

As he rode, he thought of the relative regularity of the recently arriving troops, and wondered what surprises were in store for them around the bend. So far things had been too predictable for Jareth's comfort, which meant that something nastier was surely in store.

In the forest at the rim of the great hill, troops of both lines were at arms. The legions of light—as some were beginning to call them—were obvious to see, marked by their white armbands or silver armor. The dark forces stood out in their dark-colored leather and bronze armor, painted in colors ranging from rust to black.

A relatively large troll had bashed his way through the ranks and was proving difficult for the group of fighters to control. Larger creatures were hard to best at times, even with the use of magic. Jareth arrived with a blow of energy, just in time to save a human male—who was no more than twenty years of age—from having his brains bashed by the troll's mace.

The troll, who was a slobbery pockmarked fellow, turned angrily toward Jareth and lumbered toward him with purpose. Jareth sent another blast his way, but it was no use... He resisted the charm.

The group behind him had turned to other matters, as a number of enemy forces were pouring in from a battalion that had found its way down the hill as well. He shouted at the few remaining, "Quick! Gang up on him and try your staffs."

The troll obviously could understand his instructions, but before he could turn his attentions back to the melee, Jareth diverted his attention with another energy bolt, this one stronger than the last. As the creatures and humans alike descended upon the troll, he shrugged them off, though less easily than he had before.

Another cavalryman—or rather, cavalry-cat—rode close to Jareth, who looked at him and said, "They are somehow immune."

"Such nasty creatures," the cat sneered, then rode forward decisively, unsheathed a heretofore unused sword, and slit the troll's throat as he trotted past.

The troll reached for his neck, futilely trying to stop the blood loss. He sputtered to the ground, falling lifeless within moments.

Jareth nodded to the cat somberly. "Whatever needs done."

He turned his horse back towards the blockade at the cliff so he could warn the others of this new turn of events. It looked like it wouldn't just be the dark forces shedding blood today.

As much as he had grown accustomed to it over the course of his life, it was a bad omen, and gave him a very uncomfortable feeling.

##

Hoggle would be the first to admit that he wasn't a brave dwarf, so when it had been suggested that he join Leah and Justin on their quest to infiltrate the lower level of Sarah's castle, he had jumped at the opportunity. The details he had been given early on were few, as the time to prepare was short, and since they would have a journey ahead of them, it seemed smartest to relay details on the way.

At first it had been an enjoyable endeavor. Despite the war raging above ground, much of the city was still operating as usual, though there was definitely an unsettled sense about the inhabitants. It had taken some maneuvering to get through the ranks of enemy forces that surrounded the battlefield, but with the help of some enemy-matching armor and some short-lived spells of distraction, they had found their way to the enormous metal snakes that transported people throughout tunnels underneath the city (they called them 'subways'). When they first got onto the snake machines, Hoggle was startled by the swift pace at which it began to launch from the stop. However, he quickly got used to it, and would almost have called it fun, if the two gnomes hadn't chosen that moment to peek from the pack on Leah's back.

But the annoyance didn't end there. A few stops later they got off, sneaking past a goblin police officer and onto the narrow walkway that lined the tunnel, just outside of the station area. Hoggle nearly found himself de-toed and beheaded when his short legs found it difficult to run fast enough to get to the next carved out enclave that sheltered them from the fast-moving machines.

Justin led them through a door and down an iron staircase, into a dark cavern filled with water.

Before Justin had a chance to turn on his electric torch, Hoggle groaned audibly. More troublesome than the gnomes, more harrowing than the near death experience in the tunnel, more uncomfortable than the wet pool of liquid in which he was now submerged, was the smell. It was the Bog of Eternal Stench all over again.

"Gawwwwwwwd!" He pinched his nose between his forefingers, and complained in a distorted, nasal tone. "It's always Hoggle! Hoggle gets stuck with the stink! Go with Leah, Hoggle, it will be safe! they says. You'll be outta harms way, Hoggle! But they neglects to mention the smell. It's all a joke at Hoggle's expense!" He threw a tantrum, but the thrashing just splashed more sewage on his pants and vest. Scotty, who was sitting on his shoulder, covered his face with his hat just in time to avoid a spatter of the vile liquid.

"Watch it, dwarf!"

"You be quiet, you en't Hoggle's friend anyhow, I don't know why I gotta be carryin' you around."

Leah turned to face Hoggle, putting a finger to her lips. "Hoggle, I don't like it anymore than you. Let's just try to get through this as quickly, and quietly, as possible."

Justin winked at him. "It's a secret mission, you know."

"And everything's a secret to Hoggle," he grumped, crossing his arms as he trudged through the slime behind them.

Finally they arrived at a gate at the end of the tunnel. Hoggle threw up his hands in frustration. "Can you believe this? All through that vile sludge, and look where it got us!"

What he failed to notice was a small ledge next to the gate, where a black rat was sitting. "Who goes there?" asked the rat.

Scotty bounced from shoulder to shoulder until stopping finally on Justin, who was closest to the rat. He tipped his stained hat to the creature. "Good day, Mr. Rat, I think you have been expecting us."

The rat squinted at him. "Do I know you?"

Fred peaked out from over Justin's pack drunkenly, joining the ranks of the awake for the first time since the ride in the subway. "Aye, Mr. Rat, tis your good friend Fred!"

The rat's eyes lit up. "Fred! It is good to see you! Yes, the groundhogs told us to expect you." He ran into the hole behind his perch, and when he returned, the gate began to sink into the ground. "It's an absolute delight to have a fine fellow such as yourself visiting our little city." He nodded to the rest. "And your friends are of course welcome, too."

They walked through the opening and were led into a dome-shaped cavern where millions of little red eyes peered from holes, crevices, and rusty pipes in the walls. A battered, muddy disco ball sat in the center of the ceiling, lit dully by a couple of red maintenance lights that flickered on opposite walls. A number of structures were scattered about the perimeter, composed of discarded old tires, milk crates, metal scraps, and computer parts. There was a sense of order to the placement of them, like buildings, with chains of Christmas lights weaving through them.

At the opposite end of the cavern was a large door. Mr. Rat followed them along a wide ledge built into the perimeter of the wall, then pointed his nose in the direction of the door. "I believe that's what you're lookin' for. We never go through it, bein' that we don't have opposable thumbs to turn the knob, but I 'spect it won't be any trouble for you."

How it was they had managed to drag a whole rat city into the cavern and couldn't open a door was beyond Hoggle. He was too annoyed to argue about it.

"Thank you, Mr. Rat," Justin answered, approaching the door. Scotty tipped his hat as they passed.

"Oh, wait!" Mr. Rat once again disappeared into a hole, and when he emerged, he held the long neck of a small glass bottle between his teeth. He nodded to Fred, whose eyes lit up with alcoholic joy as he ran to retrieve it. "A little something for the road," the rat winked.

As Justin walked through the door, Scotty reached for the bottle, which Fred promptly jerked out of his reach. He swayed a bit as he chided, "Mr. Rat is myeeee friend, and that bein' the case, non'a this bev'rage be for yooooou." He emphasized the statement with a belch, then disappeared back into Justin's bag.

Scotty crossed his arms and turned away, muttering, "Didn't want none anyhow, unlike some people, I be off the bottle. That stuff turns perfectly good gnomes into no-good gimps, I tell ya."

"Yer jest jealous!" Fred belched from below. His breath smelled distinctly like one hundred proof whiskey.

"Shhh, be quiet you stupid gnomes!" Hoggle whispered. "We're gettin' close, and I ain't gonna end up a stinky corpse thanks to the likes of you."

They passed through one last tunnel and finally arrived to an iron ladder going up. Justin pulled out his torch and looked at his map. He nodded to them. "I think this is it."

One by one they crawled up the ladder and onto the ledge at the top.

They were rewarded with a view of the lake that the gnomes had described, where the shadow of the castle in Sunset City was reflected.

Leah looked around, then turned to Scotty. "So, introduce us to this dryad friend of yours."

##

Originally Ling was charged to assist Marlena at a tent of magicks, where she would create talismans and charms at the request of commanders in search of solutions to specific battle problems, but soon it became apparent that something needed to be done about the statues in the park that had come to life, and were causing havoc with the progress of the battle. Being the resident history buff—a result of too many hours in front of her television and its extensive cable library—put her forth as the best person to deal with the multitude of now-mobile historical figures who were adding a healthy dose of madness to the current battle chaos.

The most notable of annoyances had proven thus far to be Christopher Columbus, who had already tried to claim the coastline of the Jaqueline Kennedy-Onassis Reservoir in the name of Spain. Before that he had somehow managed to commandeer a few ships (most notably with the help of a variety of political and adventure-seeking literary figures, and the Pilgrim at his side) and launched a highly distracting mini-naval battle. It took the naval forces forty-five minutes to discover it wasn't being initiated by the true enemy, which was unfortunate, because a half hour of the way through the enemy had started an attack on the northeast shore, and it took twenty minutes for them to realize that it had nothing to do with Columbus.

When they captured him he seemed like he might be willfully contained, but when another group of enemy fighters invaded the camp where he was being held, he escaped. It was said that he was last seen chasing the Indian Hunter and demanding that he hand over his freshly-killed game as well as his acres of property, to which the Indian replied by unleashing his dog on the frightened conquistador. Witnesses confirmed that Christopher Columbus ran away like a scared little girl, and it was suspected that he had run into one of the wooded areas to make camp with the Pilgrim, where they were sharing many a stretched tale of dealing with natives.

The Bear statues were also running loose, causing frightened mayhem amongst both sides of the battle, while King Jagiello was stopping everyone who passed, asking for directions back to Poland.

Because their living status was inexorably tied with the spell that was allowing them to turn the enemy to stone in the first place, there would be no undoing the effects on an individual basis. Diplomacy was unfortunately the only course.

Currently Ling was having a conversation with Samuel Morse, begging him not to send dirty limericks to the troops waiting for messages at the blockade. She had caught him in the act just as she had first approached. Though he was just a bust of the inventor, he had managed to get a device placed upon his shoulder, where he was busily tapping away at it with his chin. Whenever she tried to take it away from him, he tried to bite her.

She decided to try a different tactic.

"Look, I'm not saying you can't help us, Mr. Morse... In fact, your help would be most appreciated, but I just can't see how... poetry about old men and loose women will help us."

He grumbled at the idea. "A good limerick is always a morale booster, young lady. Though I can see how that might not be obvious to a proper lady such as yourself."

"I can't deny that morale would be welcome in our endeavor, but you are tying up the line with your bawdy entertainment, a line that, while pretty much unneeded thanks to our access to magical devices and modern technology, becomes a shot in the foot when our ranks are guffawing away instead of watching their posts as they should. God knows how a morse code device got there in the first place."

"Well, that's simple, young lady, I had one installed only two hours ago. Those fiery gents are awfully accommodating, if a little strange looking."

"Look, just watch the battlefield, and keep us abreast of developments. No limericks!"

"Very well, Madam, I suppose I can see the sense of your request. I will keep my eyes peeled for enemy activity."

"Thank you."

She pulled out a small checklist and put a tick next to "Morse."

Next up was Simon Bolivar. She just hoped she could remember enough Spanish to convince him to forget all about the South American fight for independence and help them with their own.

##

While everyone else seemed to be in the midst of more dire circumstances, Ashley had found herself in the relatively comfortable position of managing a small-scale skirmish within the confines of the Marionette Theater, in command of a variety of Muppets and other fuzzy television characters.

She had just prevented the entry of a small goblin guard through the window with a conveniently cooling pie when she heard Miss Piggy calling her in a battle cry down the hall.

"Ashleeeeeey!"

Ashely closed the windows and spun about to see the pig running toward her at high speed, wearing a simplified version of a Xena costume. She was being chased by a group of six waist-high goblins with hatchets, and Kermit was chasing them. "Miss Piggy! I'm coming, Piggy!"

Ashley looked around and discovered a number of sandbags hanging from the rafters of the theater, right on cue. She followed the ropes to where they were tied against the wall, undid the knot, and sent the bags speeding toward the group with the help of gravity.

"Watch out, guys!" she shouted to her comrades-in-arms.

Miss Piggy jumped out of the way in the nick of time. Five of the goblins were downed and groaning, leaving only one mobile. Miss Piggy pulled out a smaller version of Xena's trademark circular boomerang and aimed for his belt buckle. When his trousers fell, the goblin was so embarrassed that he went running the other way.

Miss Piggy nodded in excitement. "Take that you ugly numbskull!"

"Good job, Pig!" shouted Rizzo the rat from his position on the rafters.

Suddenly the back stage curtains shot open, revealing Rowlf playing the piano excitedly, and a sea of Muppets fighting goblins in rows two through thirty.

Ashley gawked at the site a few moments, then thought of something. She walked over to a pedestal near the side of the stage and picked up a pen lying on the edge. "Excuse me!" she shouted in her loudest kindergarten teacher voice.

The battle stopped instantly as everyone turned to face her.

"Have you all forgotten? It's time to begin our musical number!" She tapped on the pedestal with her pen. "Instruments and positions, everyone!"

Amazingly, everyone did as bid. Some ran to the small music pit in front of the seats, while others took positions on stage. Those who remained made a more organized procession among the theater seats, awaiting orders from sundry dramatic poses.

Ashley tapped one more time and thrust the pen forward, indicating that the piece was to begin. Soon the battle raged on, with musical accompaniment, humorous lyrics, and lovely choreography.

Rowlf nodded his approval. "Good work, Ashley!"

It wasn't exactly what Ashley had been going for, but at least it was much more orderly than it had been before.

##

Jareth stopped his horse in the middle of a quiet glade and pulled a crystal from the air, summoning an image of Sarah. The feeling of elation that came over him as he did it reminded him of the days in his youth when he'd ask for a maiden to dance with him at the summer ball. Yet she was his, and they had already danced.

Her face appeared, eyes sparkling like new Christmas lights. "Jareth."

"Tell me, Love, how are we doing? Are your brave troops winning the day with their heroics?" As he spoke, his smile made an amazing journey from softly sincere to catlike.

"Things are going remarkably well. We've lost some..." her eyes trailed off sadly for a moment, "but overall we are winning this. I'd say a large fraction of her troops have been turned to stone, very few of which have been killed. So far we seem to have the upper hand."

He watched her carefully. Though she seemed happy to see him, there was something troubling her that she wasn't sharing. "If we are winning, then why do you look as if the world has fallen down around you?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. Something is bugging me. It's..."

"It's too easy, isn't it?"

"Yes."

He felt inclined to agree with her, but desperately wanted to give her comfort, to help her forget all woes. "Perhaps the inhabitants of this world have chosen their path, and that is what brings things to closure so soon."

She smirked at him. "False comfort doesn't suit you."

"You'll have to forgive me, this loving concern is quite an alien concept to me. I will have to do better to practice my white lies."

"I should hope you never have need to lie to me," Sarah said through half-opened eyes.

He returned her gaze without flinching. "Lies do not become us, my love."

Suddenly he heard much commotion in the distance. Sarah turned to look at her map. "Oh dear. It looks like they are making a final stand at Sheep Meadow. She's diverted almost all of her troops to that location." She turned back to face him. "I'll tell Ashley to move forward with the guinea pigs and the others, can you—"

"I'll tell Granen and Sage to spread the word."

Just as he began to close the connection, she stopped him. "Jareth?"

"Yes?"

"You look stunning."

He gave her a wry smile, as if to say, Yes, I know.