The Hours Until Infinity, by A.B.V.
Disclaimer: see the prologue.

Author's note: Please review me! Oh, and did I mention that this was an Evil Jareth story? =).

Chapter One: Curiosity Killed the Cat

Beth speaks:

It was just a play-a trilogy of plays, actually. No more than an old, thick, leather bound book with a simple golden inscription on the cover:

Apeiros

I hadn't learned any Greek at the time, and considered asking my professor of Latin. The absent knowledge of a title was inconsequential; the contents were in English. Considering that I was right in the middle of a busy work shift and twenty minutes behind when I found it, the smart thing to do would have involved returning it to the manager and finishing my current task, which was daunting if not incredibly tedious.

Of course, I did otherwise. I actually had the stupidity to read them.

I never should have opened that book.

Can you hear me mentally bashing myself? It occurs quite often now ('Stupid idiot,' 'deserving moron' and 'delusional inquisitive head-case' all spring to mind). The price was far too high, but tell me, how was I to know? Books are the stuff of dreams, and we are all dreamers on occasion (or else we are very dull). Perhaps more important than even the book itself, however, was the building I found it in, the place where the dance of an interlude begins and ends...

The Present.

Most visitors and tourists thought it was the focal point of the university. Standing like an Ozymandian temple of stone amidst the crowded buildings of the city, the ancient monument of marble and glass sat regally on one side of the courtyard, opposite Memorial Church, whose foundations were probably even older.

It was the shrine to the most avid scholars of the times, the biggest of its sort in the world, with the smallest number of patrons admitted. A repository for the genius of ages, silent landmark to the immortal scholars among the elite who had long since passed on beyond this brief existence, so vast a collection of literature it would take a lifetime to read.

The girl, however, did not work at Widener Library for the prestige. She worked there to read.

She also craved the darkness as much as she loved the light.

Beth L'Esperance was another freshman, a wide-eyed sort of girl who surprised everyone with random bursts of sarcastic wit. It didn't help that she was dreamer as well as a perfectionist. The atmosphere of the university alone—the dim lights, long night hours—emphasized her makeup, pale skin, and brown-black hair. She was a china doll, walking around in an environment where the slightest emotional jarring would cause her to break and shatter into a thousand pieces. So people tread carefully.

"Hi, Johnny." She swept by her supervisor, signing in, careful to mark the numbers of minutes over that she was late—seven—and threw her bag down to rush into the stacks, the rickety eighty-six year-old elevator creaking shut behind her.

It was Thursday, one of the long evening shifts she always signed up for. No one came to the library then, there was barely ever any real work to do, and Beth could take as much time re-shelving books as she wanted. Simon always let her pick her job.

Simon was a senior, working as a supervisor in the stacks division. He was Sherlock Holmes, only blond and with glasses. If Beth ever had the time to sit around with him, he concocted the funniest conversations. The best were with Alice, an ex-supervisor with chestnut hair, a full figure and a big smile that was notoriously contagious. Noise complaints from the sixth floor reading carrels were frequent in conjunction with her appearances.

Neither was on duty yet. Beth looked at the quarter-full grouping shelves and the lone cart standing next to the clipboard, waiting for the next stacks employee to push it. Beth sighed. Wow, this is going to be a long night.

8:45. It was pitch black outside. Most of the lights were turned off in the stacks, except for the fifth floor, where Beth had been for almost an hour. She felt alone without any lights on.

Platforms of metal bookracks connected the walkways, row upon row, spanning ten floors in metal braces. Because of all the gaps of air space, she could hear people walking above or below her for several floors, footsteps thundering or beating quietly like the sound of a slow drum, increasing and then slowly fading away into nothingness.

She shuddered involuntarily.

Reaching up to place a copy of Poe's Collected Works on a top shelf, Beth noticed something stuck between the metal racks. Walking around to the other side, she managed to wrench it free, and brought the object up to her face for inspection.

A small red leather book, thick but surprisingly light, sat neatly between her two hands. The inscription on the front was indecipherable, but Beth turned opened the cover and easily translated the ancient words.

"Uni qui velit infinitas tenere ut vigiliam eorum sit." Her voice was a bemused murmur. "For the one who wishes to hold infinity in order that he might be the keeper of it."

"Your remarkable skill with the Latin tongue does not pass unnoticed."

Beth nearly screamed; the voice was so sudden. She spun around in the direction of the voice. Her eyes fixed upon the figure casually reclined across the windowsill.

The man's age would have been possible to tell if it weren't for the childlike features that adorned a wizened, mischievous face. His clothes reminded her of a pastoral shepherd; the loose olive tunic fell carelessly over his russet breeches, partially covering slender arms that stretched lazily behind his head. Emerald eyes shone from beneath strands of dangling auburn curls, threatening to escape the cage that held them and dance around the air in mirth, as if he could mock the very essence of time if the occasion arose.

White teeth flashed against the tan of his skin as he tossed her a grin. "I wouldn't read that, if I were you."

The color slowly returned to Beth's face. She started to utter something, looked at his leather boots, and stopped. Several moments of silence passed between them.

"Ignoring the fact that your attire is going to get you arrested by the campus police for popping a few too many," Beth enunciated slowly, "and that you just scared the living daylights out of me in an otherwise dead silent building…" she paused, lowering her voice, "Who are you, anyway? And what do you want?"

At this, he merely laughed, an echo like thousands of children gently assaulting her ears. "You may call me Peter," he finished, smiling enigmatically. "And I, Beth, am here to see you."

She started. "What for? Can I help you find anything?" She eyed him suspiciously when he didn't reply. "And how do you know my name? Are you even supposed to be in here? I need to see your ID." Her instincts rushed out in a burst of short sentences.

"I don't have one."

Beth began to get annoyed. "Please, don't make me call security. I don't want to bother. Frankly," she explained, "I'm tired, behind on my work, and you're creeping the hell out of me."

He smiled. "So why not relax? Why this job? Why a mundane existence, searching for meaning among the yellowing pages of the past when the present is passing you by?"

She threw her hands up in frustration. "Fine. Don't go. That's just fine." She shook her head and turned back to the book cart. "Just don't distract me."

"Distraction is only a point of view that we choose to make an amusement of. In your case," Peter jumped down and leaped —for that was the only word Beth could use to describe it— to the opposite end of the aisle, facing her again and leaning against the wall with a casual air of indifference, "I'd say that almost anything else would be more stimulating than this."

"A comedian." Beth rolled her eyes. "Terrific."

"Or perhaps memories are more to your taste," he said, retrieving a square black box from somewhere in the folds of his shirt, tossing it to and fro between his palms."

Beth leaned her head slowly forward until it touched cold metal, squeezing her eyes shut. "I can't believe this," she groaned. "Why me?"

He ignored her. "You know, I like you, Beth." Peter smirked, his eyes twinkling merrily. "You're funny."

She put a hand to her head. It's always the ones with tights and long hair…

"That's why I'm giving you a gift." He lay the box down in front of her feet.

She stared at it warily. "You open it."

He laughed. "I'm not the Unabomber, you know." Beth sighed and reached for the package, lifting off the black velvet top and reaching inside.

It was a puzzle box, with panels on the front of it. A slide puzzle. She turned to check behind her, listening to see if anyone was nearby. The library was as silent as a tomb. Beth relaxed, her dark hair falling slightly in her face, a smile creeping at the corners of her mouth as she pushed the first piece into place.

He stood there, quietly watching as she slowly moved the tiles into their rightful places. This is the last one. The headaches and the searching are over. One more, and I'm giving up, no matter what Jareth says. He let his gaze travel from her peasant shirt and jeans, to the Arthurian novels set aside on the bottom of the cart and back to resting on her face, the eyes wide and swimming with thoughts. They never understand, thank the heavens for that. They'll all stay safe, and I'll go home…

The little wooden box clicked. She opened it. And gasped.

"What?" Peter asked disinterestedly.

"Where did you find this? It looks exactly like— no, it is!" Beth let out a little cry, and fit the object onto her thumb.

It was a toy ring. Nothing fancy, simply a green ring made of hard, iridescent plastic, molded into the shape of a heart. Yet the reaction of both parties was nothing short of alarming. "I know this! It's the one I've had since I was little kid," she said, still astonished. "I know I left it at home, in a basket on my shelf. So how the heck did YOU end up with it?" Beth asked with an inquisitive stare.

Peter took a step back, trembling. In those few moments, his entire countenance had changed. His face was ashen, his eyes flickered nervously, and there was an expression on his face, a curious mixture of astonishment, confusion, and…fear. It can't be true… He finally found his voice. "You're not supposed to—" He tried again. "Where... where did you first see it?"

Beth turned the trinket over and over again in her fingers, thinking hard. "I was four. It was a summer birthday party… I was at someone else's house, near the woods. We were dancing in a circle in the garden." She shook her head with a laugh. "It seems so silly, so trivial…

"I never won any party games that I played. Ever. Everyone else always won something." Beth spoke quietly, lost in her thoughts, traveling back. "So I wished as we danced, harder than ever before, that I would win. Win a prize at the next game we played. The group went indoors to play "Duck, Duck, Goose," or "Musical Chairs," or something else like that. And I won. I won my ring."

She turned back to Peter. "I remember, if only because it was one of the few times that I ever impressed my friends as a kid. I didn't win much at anything." Beth paused. "Why are you asking me this?"

He was visibly shaking now. "Do you remember anything else about that day?" he asked urgently. "About people in particular. Did you meet anyone that day?" Beth just looked at him, confused. She doesn't understand! He suddenly reached out, grabbing her shoulders forcefully.

"Ouch! You're hurting me!"

"Listen to me!" Peter cried. "This is important, Beth! Tell me if you met someone strange, someone different that day!"

"Please let go—"

"Tell me!"

"I don't know! No one! Nobody! The clown who did tricks for us!" she spat out, desperately supplying an answer.

"And?" Peter urged her. "What did he look like? Did he say anything to you?"

"I don't remember!" she wailed, tugging at his vice-like grip. Her shoulders were beginning to ache. "I have no idea what he said. I…I liked his hair. It was long and blond and puffy, with glitter in it. I think he wore some makeup, but mostly on his eyes, and gloves. I do recall that he wore black gloves. But honest to God," she pleaded with him, "that's all I remember!"

His heart plummeted. "Oh, no," he whispered.

"What? What is it? Could you please let me go?"

Peter released her, staggering backwards, sitting down heavily on the windowsill, his head in his hands, groaning softly. "Oh, no."

She rushed over to him. "What's wrong? What did I say?"

He lifted his face and gazed at her. She was bright, innocent, and upset.

And now he had doomed her to fate.

He rubbed at his temples. Suddenly that old headache wasn't so far away after all. If only I had quit early, I never would have returned here, he thought miserably. She never would have had to suffer. She is wonderful, and I've destroyed her. And Jareth never would have known…

Peter cleared his. Throat. "Only," he whispered, "that I wish it didn't have to be you."

"I don't understand."

He rubbed at his temples. "Never mind." He ran a hand through his hair distractedly. "What time is it?"

"About nine. Ack! I have to get back to work!' Beth scrambled to her feet, picking up the discarded book.

"No!" Peter reached out, knocking the book to the floor. "You shouldn't read that book. You have to burn it."

"Are you crazy?" Beth protested. "I'm not going to burn this! It must be at least a hundred years old. Besides," she admonished, "it's a library book, for crying out loud!"

"Please Beth." he entreated. "You have no idea what you're already in for. Don't add insult to injury."

Beth folded her arms. "I'm NOT burning any books. Especially ones that are worth a fortune and belong to someone else."

"So be it." Peter sighed, clenching his fists in frustration. "Then there are things I must explain. Tell me, Beth, are you familiar with the story of Persephone?"

Just then the bells began to ring outside, slowly echoing over the courtyard. "I have to go," he realized out loud. "Now." Fumbling in his pocket, he drew out a long chain, with a single metal skeleton key on it. He extended his arm towards Beth, holding out the second mysterious object. "Take it. Wear it around your neck."

Looking at him like he was absolutely insane, she obeyed, slipping the cool material over her hair. "What does this do?"

He smiled wanly. "Opens doors." He clasped Beth's hand holding it tightly, and simply looked at her without speaking. There was an immense feeling of sadness and regret in the gesture; it emanated from his eyes. Beth started to speak.

The sound of another cart rolling down the hall startled her, and the girl whipped around to straighten up her mess. When she looked up again, Peter was gone. "What…"

She shook her head, not wanting to think about it. Sitting down on the floor after the cart passed by, Beth opened the red leather book once more. The pages in the first third of the book were a play of some sort, but the rest were…

Blank. Empty. Except for a single page after the end of the play. It was a picture, an etching of a tall, regal building, with columns… She squinted to see what the words below the picture said. As the bells rang out their last hollow chord, the lights seemed to darken, and if one were to listen carefully in the silence that followed, a person could almost make out the sound of distant laughter.