The Hours Until Infinity, by A.B.V.

Disclaimer: Jareth, the Labyrinth, and all related entities are not mine and not used for profit. All others, including my version of Pan, a mythological character and therefore not copyright, belong to me. ;-)

Author's Note: I apologize for this taking so long, I've had finals and move-out, and I'm just catching my breath. Please continue to review me, I post faster with more feedback b/c I know you're reading! Thanks! =)

Chapter Four: Interludes

Beth moaned and rolled over, grabbing for her alarm and wincing as it dropped to the floor, knowing the other two were still set in case she decided to doze off again. Mary could hear them through the door, and Mary woke up three hours later than she did.

Rolling out from under the covers, Beth dropped to the floor to retrieve the all-purpose kitchen timer that interrupted sleep, thoughts and lives with an incredibly annoying little beep. That's strange, she thought. I don't remember what I did last night. Did I go home after work? Why can't I recollect anything after ten o'clock? How did I get home?

Beth kneeled on the floor, covering her nose with her arm to prevent sneezing from the dust. She glanced under the bed. Air cleaner, shoes, hairdryer, abused power strip...darn, I know it's down here...

"Aha!" she gave a cry of triumph, retrieving the alarm and stopping the shrill noise it emitted. Beth put her hands on the wooden floor to lift herself up.

Then she noticed her left hand.

No. Please, no.

It couldn't be. Yet there it was, the emerald ring, still wrapped around her fourth finger, still stuck tight, as bright as ever, shining fragments of heaven around the room as it hit the morning light.




"Well?"

Jareth was more impatient than ever before. The entire castle was clean and practically goblin-free, save for the few useful ones that showed sparks of intelligence once in a while. Now it was the turn of the hired help. Pan had disappeared to Heaven-knew-where, and his "volunteers" were incapable of interior decorating.

Luckily for them, the Goblin King proved lenient. He didn't kill them on the spot.

"Listen to me," he spoke with a deadly calm in his voice, "and listen well. The Ballroom and Throne Room sketches are on the table. If every detail isn't perfectly executed in manner that suits me, I will personally dip each and every one of your heads in the Bog of Eternal Stench and throw them into an oubliette with a Boink's detached members. You know what Boinks do in prisons, don't you?" He smiled, dropping the quivering elf to the floor. "Good. Have them done in two days."

Jareth transported himself to his bedroom and walked up to a gilded window, letting the glass panels swing open in the light breeze. He leaned out regally, surveying his view as a lion does its pride lands.

The land to the west grew in wilder, uncontrolled branches and vines, twisting and crippling the paths of the Labyrinth until it turned into the Dark Forest of Avalon, Kingdom of the Fae and the first of the two main kingdoms in the Underground. To the east, the maze faded away into a bleak, lifeless plain. Rumbling storm clouds were discernable in the distance.

The Goblin King sighed. So much energy wasted. She would have much work to do, many new places to create...

He smiled, satisfaction washing over his features as he fastened the locks on the window and spun around.

If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine her in the room with him, whispering warmly in his ear, embracing him so that he knew why he wanted her. Her touch, the taste of her mouth, her lips on his, the feel of her body pressed against him. Beneath him.

Jareth look at the richly decorated gold and black bed, touching it with one gloved hand. He knew exactly whom he wanted there, tumbling beneath the silk sheets, calling out for him. The whispers were always with him, growing quietly, driving him mad with waiting, making him feel as if he would explode with impatience if could not touch her, have her completely...

Beth...

The Goblin King grinned, putting a hand to his head. He needed a cold shower. There was time enough to live out everything he could imagine.

None of it mattered at all anymore. The transitory pleasures he took in other women, the bitterness of losing, the lifetimes of loneliness and illusions, the years of frustration, fifteen years of not knowing whether he would ever find her again- they were all gone, wiped away, forgotten forever. He laughed to himself. If only lust and revenge always came with complimentary gift-wrap.

She would lose. He would see to that. Then she would be his forever, to do with as he pleased.

Whether she wanted to or not.




Back and forth, back and forth...

The specific act was one that would have annoyed almost anybody, a restless motion of frantic thoughts, hurried planning and flourishes of exasperation as the figure tossed on idea into the air, letting it fall out of sight the next. His feet ran in tired circles, over and over again.

Only the two feet were in the air the entire time.

The fey was pacing, shaking the tangles of red hair out of his face, his green eyes an unusually somber tone, something akin to worry passing across his face briefly before he shoved it away again, then allowed it to return with a vengeance.

"Didn't sleep, cousin?"

At the imperious, calm tone of the voice, Pan ceased his restless movements, not bothering to turn around. He sighed. "Not much," he admitted, smiling wryly. He disappeared, only to materialize on a ledge near a large bay window. "You don't miss anything, do you, Adair?"

The other youth was sprawled across one of the many piles of luxurious cushions scattered around the great hall of Avalon Castle, home of the Fae Court. The figure seemed unfazed by his opulent surroundings, dwelling peacefully in the languor that surrounded him like a cloud. He was tall, his lithe form stretching with the tingling airs of boredom, perhaps weariness, face obscured by the hood of a long velvet cloak the color of the evening sky.

He shrugged. "Not much."

"Funny."

"It seems to be your answer to everything I ask these days. Why can't it be mine?"

"Fair enough," Pan admitted. "I have had a lot on my mind..."

"Really." The cloaked Adair casually rose to a sitting position. If his interest in the fairy of Mirth had increased significantly, he didn't show it.

Pan sighed inadvertently, tracing the woodwork beside him with his finger. "A long time ago, I lost a bet, a personal, binding gamble to the Goblin King. There was a loophole in the contract, and I ended up indebted to him...interminably, that is. I've helped him torment humans ever since."

"An added bonus to the job, naturally."

The redhead rolled his eyes. "Naturally. Not that I've ever had a problem with that particular diversion. Some assignments were less than pleasant, but who am I to question the motives?

"Low profile, high entertainment factor. No one could blame me if I got a little carried away and enjoyed myself. I helped him write history in his books by finding victims. They ran the Labyrinth. The rest of that nonsense is self-explanatory.

Pan clenched his fists together. "A short while ago, however, Jareth became obsessed, no, unhealthily obsessed with possessing this child, this girl. It was so disturbing that I reordered a few spells and gave her the gift of Illusion."

Adair nodded. "So what happened?"

The fey looked down at his hands. He had squeezed them so hard that they were turning white. "He never found her. If he had discovered what I had done, I would be finished. The girl stayed safe, though, thank goodness. She grew up, safe from harm. Unfortunately, Jareth had just had a bout with a rather impudent young woman at the time, and was very moody, insisting that he would always fail to make anyone love him, want to stay because he had found her. The child.

"I searched for her, albeit halfheartedly, ever since that day, at his command. She would find the book someday, he promised. The Goblin King had made sure of that. And there were only a few copies left. I had the girls who failed the test destroy the books, a painful but unavoidable precaution. The last time I checked, there was only one left."

"Where was it?"

Pan shook his head, amused. "At Harvard University, of all places. I wish you had been there, Adair, watching the place grow from a bunch of rotting log cabins that served as divinity schools into a monumental institution. I was never worried, though. No one there has the time or the desire to read fantasy, right?"

"Ha!"

"Exactly. The unthinkable happens. My final assignment, and I find her. She just puts the ring on, and Jareth can see her again. Heaven knows what will happen to her now."

Adair sighed. "Disturbing. That's fate, though."

Pan rubbed his eyes wearily. "She's doomed, and it's all my fault."

"Maybe. You were only doing your job. Time doesn't wait for them like it does for us. You have to forget about her and move on."

He threw his hands in the air. "As if I wouldn't if I could!" Pan exclaimed bitterly. "It's different this time. I cannot conquer the guilt that's tearing me apart, eating away at my soul. I didn't think I would care for anyone, any of them." He exhaled slowly, slumping slightly on the ledge. "But then, I never was a good judge of leanings of the heart..."

A smile crept out from under Adair's hood. "Could it be," the fey mused, rubbing his chin, "that the great, immortal Pan has finally grown a conscience?"

"You'd understand what I meant if you met her."

Adair's tone was thoughtful. "Perhaps I will. You need some form of assistance, or you're going to have some dreadful migraines in the near future."

Pan laughed, brightening considerably. "Thank you. So tell me, what in the name of Eden are you doing lounging around here, dressed like what I would call, "Little Red Riding Hood meets cross-dresser?"

"You always did spend too much time on earth," Adair mumbled, burying his face in a pillow. "Anonymity."

"Ah. Crowd control."

"Whatever."

Suffering his gaze to travel out the window and over the forests that lay beyond, Pan asked cautiously, "I hope this doesn't have anything to do with The Night of Ten Thousand Joys..." he paused, receiving no answer. "Adair?"

A nonchalant reply. "It might."

The earth fairy threw his hands up in frustration. "For Luna's sake, just pick someone already! I've never seen someone so indecisive about choosing a girl." He ticked off a bunch of fingers on one hand. "You have to do this, for certain reasons obvious to both you and me. One. You need someone else to carry half of the burden your parents so generously bestowed on your head. Two. It's going to happen at some point, so that point might as well be now. Three. You have no excuse of a shortage, and even if you did, you could always steal from Jareth's collection." The other snorted. "Five. In all honesty, you really don't have a choice. Do it now, or have your aunt do it for you. And might I add, if you know Aunt Demeter half as well as I do, you'll understand the logic in acting now."

Adair sighed. "I suppose I could make the rounds again...but helping you sounds far more exciting and distracting to me."

"Oh, I almost forgot," Pan added gleefully. "You're always lonely and moping about. Not to mention a dark, brooding grouch."

He ducked just in time to escape the pillow.




The day passed by in a blur. Beth couldn't concentrate. All she wanted to do during the entire Latin lecture on partitive genitives and datives of purpose was to go home and cry.

Lunch was worse. They had barbecue beef tips and tater-tots, one of the few decent meal combinations encountered in upperclassmen menus, and she couldn't eat. Beth looked out the big glass windows of the Lowell House dining hall, watching a couple play Frisbee. Do the thirteen days start today if I haven't had any clues?

"Beth!" Mary whispered loudly. "What's wrong? Eat! It's food! Pretend it's like the Last Supper or something. I've looked at the printout schedule, and believe me, the meats all go downhill from here."

Beth almost smiled. Just then, their friend Jory, the knight-in-shining-armor who lived next door, sat down with them. "Hey, girls," he smiled. "Up for a good time tonight?"

"Huh?" Mary asked.

"Clubbing. It's Friday! You know, Hell Night at ManRay. We usually don't get a group this big. You both should come."

Beth desperately needed a distraction. Clubbing was a decent, if merely temporary, solution. "I don't have anything to wear," she said as an afterthought, pouting at the thought of her Goth-less wardrobe. While Jory was heavily into wearing black and "expressing himself artistically," as Mary liked to put it, Goth clubbing was an alternative lifestyle for a night that Beth accepted but never took seriously.

"Shopping trip!" Mary squealed. "That's it. We absolutely have to go to Hubba-Hubba and get you an outfit. It's not open for discussion."

Jory looked at Beth apologetically. She shrugged and smiled.

A quick ride on the T and the girls were at the doors of the shop. Most of the outfits involved leather, shiny material or the color black. "You know," Mary quipped as they tried on dresses in adjacent fitting rooms, "My ex bought me my red dress here. I still can't get over that thing."

"And I've been jealous of you from the start," Beth retorted. "I'm coming out, so you'd better be ready to rate me."

They both stepped out of the cubicles. Mary gasped. "I don't think I've ever seen you exposing that much skin before," she finally said in a quiet voice.

The dress was black with a red rose-patterned bodice that fit snuggly around her waist. The skirt stretched sown to the floor, revealing long slits in the sides. But it was the low-cut top that caught most of the attention, highlighting curves and extending off the shoulders to the draped, slit sleeves.

Beth cringed. "Does it look bad?"

"No."

Mary spent a good half an hour trying on outfits and finally deciding that her old one was as good as any. Beth paid for the outfit while Mary was occupied with the interesting devices they sold at the counter.

"Come on, Mer!" Beth tugged at her friend's sleeve, rolling her eyes. "Shop for sex toys on your lunch breaks. We have to get back."

"Be that way," Mary smirked. "Oh, I almost forgot to ask you. Where 'd you get the ring?"


Far away, the image of the girls walking down the street, deep in conversation, floated eerily in the distorted space of a crystal ball. Jareth turned the image back and forth. "Watch out, Beth," he warned, smiling wickedly. "You've wandered right into the palm of my hand."



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**Hope you enjoyed that. If you want to know what a Boink is, either read the Goblin Companion by Brian Froud / Terry Jones, or email me, although you probably got the gist of it right anyway (heh heh heh)...**