"I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow."

Sarah cringed. "I was hoping to make this more of a social call than anything. Are you sick of me yet?"

"Don't be stupid," Sadie said, ushering Sarah in. "Want something to drink?"

"Nah."

Sarah sat down as Sadie turned off the TV. "Where's Marley?"

"Sleeping in her crib." Sadie gestured to the baby monitor on the table next to her as she settled onto the couch. "Having you here during the day makes the evenings so much nicer. I almost feel like a real person again."

"When does Charles get back?"

"Not until late Friday night, same as usual. It'll be nice to see him. It'll be nicer when we can..." Sadie made a crude gesture with her index finger and fist.

Sarah smirked. "And how long will that be?"

"Do you mean to tell me that there's something about having a newborn that you don't already know?"

"Remind me to thank Karen for keeping some of these things a mystery," Sarah said with a grimace.

Sadie laughed. "Gotta get clearance from my doctor first. Six weeks, maybe?"

"Yikes."

"Don't 'yikes' me, sister. How long has it been for you?"

"Pfft."

"Exactly. And with that sweet little piece of British…"

Sarah groaned. "Please, I can't talk about him right now."

Why? What happened? Did he…?"

"No! No… no," Sarah assured Sadie. "It was so stupid."

Sadie's eyebrows rose as she waited for Sarah to elaborate.

"He bought me a gift."

"Aw! That's sweet!" Sadie relaxed back on the couch.

"Uh, no."

"No?"

"No."

"What was it?"

"Dogs playing poker."

Sadie waited half a second, then burst out laughing. "You mean like the painting?"

"I mean exactly the painting. It's been at Village Thrift forever - probably since the day it was painted. He must have spent every single cent he had on it."

"But why?!"

"He thought I'd like it?"

Sadie calmed long enough to ask, "How?" then started laughing again.

"Because he liked it. You should have heard him, Sadie. He basically gave me a college lecture on it. He thinks it's the neatest thing since sliced bread."

"Oh, to have been a fly on your wall… I'm just picturing him trying to decide the perfect place to hang it."

"That ain't happening. I already explained to him how gift giving should work."

"What do you mean you explained to him? Surely he knows how it works already. He is an adult."

Sarah began to feel uncomfortable. "I mean, I told him I didn't like it and that he should take my tastes into consideration next time he tries to get something for me."

Sadie grimaced and hissed through her teeth.

"What?" Sarah asked defensively.

"Point of order: were there strings attached to this gift?"

Sarah shrugged. "I don't think so. Maybe repayment for staying in the house. We didn't really get that far."

"Ok, then. Sarah, he did something nice for you and you rejected it. You know that's the second time you've done that to him, right?"

"But no one could possibly want what he's offering!" Sarah argued.

"That's not the point. And I think you know it. What would it have hurt for you to thank him for the painting and then, I don't know, hidden it somewhere? Or even put up with it until he moved out?"

"He needs to learn this stuff!"

"Does he, though?" Sadie asked. "Have you ever heard the phrase 'don't look a gift horse in the mouth?"

Sarah blushed. She liked the phrase less when it was directed at her. "Well, how is he supposed to learn?"

"By watching the faces of the people he gives terrible gifts to. The same way everyone else learns."

"He's always been terrible with gifts," Sarah mumbled, crossing her arms defensively across her chest.

"What was that?" Sadie asked, not quite hearing her.

"Nothing." Now there was a story she wasn't interested in telling.

"Ok. So, he gave you a gift and it didn't go over well. What happened next?"

"He locked himself in the bathroom and I came over here."

"He locked himself in the bathroom." Sadie repeated blankly. "Why the bathroom?"

"Where else was he going to go?"

"Uh, the bedroom maybe? Where normal people go to have a tantrum?"

Sarah sunk deeper into the couch.

"Sarah? Tell me you've put him up in one of the bedrooms."

Sarah grimaced, refusing to look Sadie in the eye.

Sadie deflated. "Oof. Love you, man, but that's fucked up."

"Language," Sarah reminded Sadie.

"The baby's asleep. Also, it's true."

The two sat in silence for several seconds.

"Sarah?" Sadie finally asked.

"Hmm?"

"Why won't you let him stay in the guest room?"

"Because I'm using it."

"And what about the master?"

"It's unusable right now."

"Because..?"

"You know why."

Sadie nodded, finally understanding. "I see." She sighed. "Well, this is a complicated situation, isn't it?"

"You have no idea."

"No. There's no way I could. But if I can help… If I can make it better… just say the word."

"Honestly, just hearing you say that is all I really need."

Sadie smiled and hugged her friend.

Jareth heard the door close and then the sound of Sarah's car starting and pulling out of the driveway. Only then did he leave the bathroom. His gift was a failure and he was still deeply in Sarah's debt. He walked down to the hall closet and shoved the painting as far back as it would go. She might not want to look at it, but he thought he might want it when he finally moved out.

Moving out. Having his own place. Decorating the way he liked. Doing what he wanted. Eating what he craved. The thought appealed.

The thought of doing it all alone was less appealing.

But Sarah was not the only woman in the world. He thought of the strips of paper a few of the customers had slipped him as he played at Granny's. Even Travis had given him his number and an invitation to grab a beer sometime. Jareth had options.

But Sarah would always be the one who had reached out to him first and he would not be at peace until he paid his debt to her.

He examined the broken door jamb. It had split cleanly. Some wood glue and a few nails would patch it right up. He turned to the closet behind him and pulled out the small toolbox he'd seen when he first arrived. It contained a hammer as well as several screwdrivers and wrenches, but no nails and no wood glue.

Well, he could just run to the hardware store and buy…

No. He'd spent nearly all his money on the painting.

Damnit. Sarah may have had a point after all. He absentmindedly stuck his hand in his pocket and jangled the meager change he found.

But if this were his house, he'd have these items. He'd keep them…

He looked at the duct taped door.

…in the garage.

Well, only one way to check. He carefully began peeling the duct tape away from the door, trying to keep from damaging the woodwork as much as possible. She'd put extra tape around the latch and the moment he peeled it away, the door swung open.

Ah. That's why it was taped shut.

He inspected the door. It was an easy fix. Just pull out the pin, bend it a little, push it back in, and voila. No more swinging door. He'd tackle that next, and maybe that would put him back in Sarah's good graces.

He stepped into the garage and turned on the light. Jareth had expected it to be disorganized and full to bursting. But it wasn't. It was clean-swept and small items were neatly arranged on shelves installed along the wall nearest the house. In the center of the garage was a yellow two-door sports car with the letters IROC-Z emblazoned on its side.

Jareth stared in disbelief. It was gaudy. It was ostentatious. It was impractical.

He loved it instantly.

His fingers itched to touch it. He circled the car, learning that it was a Chevrolet Camaro and that it had been well cared for. The only problem he could detect was the layer of dust covering it. He admired for another minute, then reluctantly turned away, intent on finishing the project he'd started.

It took only a minute to find the wood glue and nails on the well-organized shelves.

Before returning to the bedroom, he detoured to the living room, turned on the stereo and cranked the volume, then walked back down the hallway and began reassembling the jamb. He glued the broken pieces back into place, but found they slipped unless he held them in place. Another inspection of the garage shelves yielded some small clamps. Perfect.

With the clamps firmly in place, he nailed the pieces into place using the finishing nails. When it was complete, he sat back and admired his handiwork. Once it was dry, a coat of paint would make the repair invisible. Then the door could be closed and it would be as if his horrible mistake had never happened.

"Hello?" he heard Sarah shout over the music. He looked up just as she came around the corner, unbuttoning her coat. "What are you doing?" she asked, clearly puzzled to see him kneeling on the floor.

He swallowed the hurt he'd been feeling since she'd rejected his gift and hoped that repairing the door would lift his spirits as much as his earlier apology had.

"I want to apologize for…,"

Sarah rushed over to the garage door. "Why the hell would you take off the tape!?"

"Because…"

"I had it like that for a reason, Jareth! Why are you always messing with things? Why can't you just leave everything alone?!"

Jareth stood, dazed. Hurt and offense warred inside him, and he wondered dimly if he had ever felt these emotions before.

She pulled open the closet door and found a roll of silver duct tape. She closed the door to the garage, holding it with her foot while she pulled long pieces off the roll.

"If you'd just let me…"

"No, Jareth! I'm not interested in explanations. I told you I have things the way they are for a reason and you keep trying to change everything! This is not your house! How could you be so selfish?"

The stereo stopped playing with a pop, but Jareth didn't notice. His tongue hurt and he tasted blood. He needed to leave. Now.

He turned on his heel, leaving Sarah to her ranting and her tape, and walked out the front door, leaving it open behind him.

Sarah didn't realize she was alone until she felt the cold air against her ankles.

"Jareth?" she called. She dropped the roll of tape on the floor, then walked down the hall to the living room. "Jareth?"

She noticed two things that were wrong. First, the front door was open, letting out the warm air and letting in the cold. Second, a small wisp of black smoke rose from the back of the stereo. She'd noticed when the music had stopped, but had assumed Jareth had stopped it himself. Clearly, that hadn't been the case. Cursing, she ran to the outlet and unplugged the appliance.

Pacing the room, she looked back down the hallway to the door she'd just taped closed, seeing it was fresh eyes. It wasn't the kind of thing normal people did. It looked crazy. She could see that now, but she still didn't understand why he'd removed the tape. It wasn't his to mess with.

Then she saw the bedroom door was open. In her blind rage about the garage door, she'd completely failed to notice he'd been in the master bedroom. She felt her anger grow again. After everything, why would he dare go back in there? She moved down the hallway to close the door and noticed for the first time the clamps, hammer, and finishing nails that Jareth had not yet put away. Then she saw that the jamb was whole. She ran her fingers over the repair and felt the tacky glue. She closed her eyes. She was certain the glue and the clamps had been stored in the garage.

Damnit.

And now he was out in the late October night without a coat.

Double damnit.

She buttoned her jacket again and ran outside. She saw nothing as she peered down her street in both directions. She shouted his name. The only response was the barking of her neighbors' dogs. She was in her car in seconds, driving toward Main Street hoping he was taking a familiar route to walk off some of his anger.

She drove for hours, never seeing any sign of him, and when the sun rose over the horizon and she could no longer keep her eyes open, she returned to the house, hoping to find him there. But her house was cold and empty when she arrived. She considered calling the police, but quickly decided against it. That would only invite trouble; both for her and for Jareth.

She curled up on her couch, and waited.

"Fuck man… you look about how I feel. Trouble with the missus?" Derek tried to mimic Jareth's accent, and though he failed, he looked pleased with himself before sneezing messily and wiping his nose on his sleeve.

Jareth threw a look at Derek, but was too tired to school it into a real expression.

"He has no 'missus,' Derek," Travis answered for Jareth. "But yeah. He called me from a pay phone and ended up crashing at my place last night. Hasn't said what happened, though."

Travis and Derek looked at Jareth expectantly. Jareth lifted his chin and stared back, unwilling to discuss the events of the previous evening.

"Gotta give it to him," Travis said, "He can clam up when he wants to, that's for sure."

Derek sniffled wetly.

"What's wrong with you?" Travis asked Derek as he moved behind the counter, dug underneath for a moment, and came up with a box of tissues.

"I think I'm getting a cold. I feel like shit."

"Go wash your hands, and if I catch you wiping your nose on your sleeve again, I'm sending you home."

Derek looked hopeful.

"Permanently," Travis added.

"Yeah, yeah."

Jareth wasn't sure why, but he felt infinitely more exhausted after a night on Travis's couch than he did after a night on Sarah's. He was still living off the good will of strangers, but something about Sarah's place soothed him, despite its obvious shortcomings. He felt like a guest in Travis's home. Sarah's home felt like… well, it felt like home.

All the more reason to be angry, he thought.

"I don't have my guitar today," Jareth said. "What do you want me to do instead?"

Travis grimaced. "Uh… well… I don't have a whole lot, actually. Derek took care of stocking yesterday. How about you just take it easy. Listen to some albums. If Derek goes home for the day, maybe you can help a customer or two if they come in and you're feeling up to it. I can give you a small commission on that since I can't pay you for playing today."

Jareth nodded. Actually, a day sitting in the back of the store listening to the store's expansive collection appealed to him a great deal. He pulled a stool up next to the listening station, put the headphones on, and typed in the code for the first album.

He only made it through two songs before Derek nudged him. Jareth pulled the headphones off.

"Sarah called. Said she was looking for you. I didn't say you were here. Just said you'd call her when you got in. That ok?"

Jareth nodded, but the look on Derek's face alarmed him. It was pained, as if he had something else to say, but wasn't quite sure how to say it. Jareth hadn't known Derek long, but in their short acquaintance, he had never been at a loss for words. Travis stood a few steps behind him wearing a similar expression.

"Was there something else?" Jareth prompted.

"Uh, yeah… so, weird question, but your roommate? Sarah?"

"Yes," Jareth confirmed.

"That's not Sarah Williams, is it?"

"Yes," he replied a little more slowly and hesitantly.

"Shit… you never said her name before…"

"Go back to work, Derek. It's not our business."

"Fuck man… you gotta tell him. If you don't, I will."

"It's not our business," Travis repeated more forcefully.

"The hell it ain't!"

"Tell me or don't tell me," Jareth interrupted. "But do not talk about me as if I am not here."

"Shit…" Derek turned away, but quickly completed the circle, unable to leave.

"Look man…," Travis started, "What do you know about your roommate? What do you know about Sarah Williams?"

"I know that she helped me when no one else offered." He heard the hint of defensiveness in his voice and tried to keep his expression neutral.

"Is that all?" Travis asked.

"There was a tragedy," Jareth said. "She has made it clear that it's not my business, and, as you yourself have said, it isn't yours, either."

Travis and Derek exchanged looks and Jareth watched them with interest. He'd never seen them in sync before. Under other circumstances, he would have found their interchange fascinating.

"Is that all she said? That there was a tragedy?"

Jareth had no answer.

"I don't know how to tell you this, but your roommate...Sarah… I've known her for a long time, right? Went to school with her. She was always… kind of strange…"

"Which is a fucking shame, right?" Derek interrupted. "I mean, you've seen the ass on her! And the…" He lifted both his hands to his chest, but a hard cough forced him to drop the gesture.

"Derek go in the back and find something to do or…"

"No fuckin' way. Not this time."

Travis scowled at Derek, but held back the usual threat.

"In what way was she strange?" Jareth asked.

Travis looked unsure where to start, as if there were too many stories to choose from. "She'd talk to herself, right? In public. Didn't matter who else was around. She'd just recite these weird stories to no one. Or sometimes to her dog, which wasn't any better. And she did this until… well, she did it until after I graduated. But this is a small town, and people talk, so I know she did it for a while after that, too. And then it stopped and she started acting normal. Made some friends. Actually got kind of popular, which isn't surprising because Derek is a jackass, but he also isn't wrong."

Derek let out a sharp, unamused laugh that quickly shifted into a coughing fit.

Travis tossed him the tissue box and a scowl.

"Sarah Williams is beautiful," he continued. "And people will tolerate a lot of bullshit from a woman that attractive."

It was the first time Jareth had heard Travis curse and he tried to hide his surprise. "She is quite beautiful," he agreed.

"So she started dating this guy, Jason."

"You knew this man?"

"Small town," Travis reminded Jareth. "Everyone knows everyone. But if you're asking if we were close? No. Jason was…" Travis searched for the words. "Jason was the town golden boy. Football star. Basketball star. I mean, only locally, of course. No way he'd make any college teams, but around here, he was like a god among men. A real big fish, small pond scenario. Handsome, talented, and actually a pretty decent human being, which was surprising considering the entire town bent over backwards for him. Normally that warps a person and makes them completely insufferable. But not Jason. He could have had anyone he wanted, but he only had eyes for Sarah. They got together while they were both in high school. Did the whole Prom King and Queen thing. The whole town knew he'd do anything for her. We all figured they'd be married by the time they were twenty. They stayed together all through college, and after they graduated, they decided they were going to start buying up old houses, fix them up, and turn them into rentals. The same thing Sarah's dad does."

Travis paused. "Have you met Robert Williams?"

Jareth shook his head.

"Town bigwig. Nice enough, but don't piss him off. He owns half the town."

"Yeah, and you know who owns the other half?" Derek interjected. "Jason's family. "

Travis nodded. "All lawyers. Some even went into politics. Big money there."

"Walkin' around town like they were fuckin' royalty," Derek said bitterly.

"Because they kind of were," Travis said with a shrug.

"Sarah doesn't seem to be the type to repair old houses," Jareth said.

"Yeah, I'd be surprised if she were. But Jason was. And if he could make money with his hands rather than stay in school to finish up a law degree? That's what he was going to do. He wasn't exactly the scholarly type."

"Ah."

"So you see where I'm going?"

Jareth was unsure. "They purchased a house and intended to repair it and rent it out to others, but Jason died and now Sarah lives on her own. It is indeed a sad tale, but I do not see what it has to do with me."

Travis rocked backward. "So you know he died."

"I've been living in her house for two weeks. Of course I know he died. She doesn't like to discuss it, but she told me about him."

"Did she tell you how he died?"

"She didn't," he said after a brief hesitation, "And I didn't want to pry."

"Well, that's why we're telling you this. Jason didn't just die."

Jareth waited.

"She killed him."