AN: :collapses: I just realized that there has to be a sequel to this. But i'm not writing it tonight! Hugs and kisses and love to Wanda, to wee-me, to Anna McNarin, to mywickedlywierdnature, to Spiderjuice, and to Doormouse. You are the Juice.
Chapter 9: The Answer
When she woke, it was dark. Not just night, but completely dark. "Beej?" Silence greeted her, and she felt a nervous little trickle of fear lace through her bones. "Beej? Are you here?" And then she realized that she was no longer on the floor, but in her bed, which was still damp and smelled of burnt cotton. She wrinkled her nose and reached for her bedside lamp, but her hand grazed through air where it was supposed to be. On the little table she felt the remains of it, and remembered.
"She shattered every piece of glass within a hundred yards of this place. Streetlights, windshields… lighbulbs. All I could find was this." His voice was right next to her in the darkness, and after her heart slowed slightly she realized he was sitting on the edge of the bed. She heard the scraping of a match, and the flare of light made her squint as he lit a candle and brushed off a pile of shattered ceramic to place it on the little table.
"You had me scared there for a minute, Beej. I thought she came back." She lifted herself up on her elbows, and surveyed the damage. And then she tried to find something—anything that was undamaged. As she heaved a great sigh at the complete destruction of everything that she owned, Beetlejuice flopped down on the bed beside her and stretched out languidly, his arms crossed loosely over his chest. Lydia inspected him for goo, but he seemed clean enough. Not like it mattered at this point.
He had closed his eyes, and when he spoke his voice was gentle and gruff, matching the half-light glow of the candle. "Sorry. Had to go back and tell Juno the whole sordid story. She was wonderin' why Clara ended up on her desk in a little iron box. Came here first, o'course. But I wanted to let you sleep." He seemed a bit bashful at the end.
"Thank you." She paused, feeling a bit unsteady. "I need a new bed. Actually, I need a new everything."
He just snorted. "At least you don't need a new poltergeist."
She raised an eyebrow at him. "Who said I needed an old one?"
He rolled over and propped his head on his hand. "Is that the best you can do?" He gave her half of a sleepy grin, barely showing teeth, and she grinned back at him.
"Pretty pathetic, huh?"
"You've done better in your sleep."
Lydia swallowed, remembering the dream. "Was that really you?"
"All that mattered, Lyds." He sighed, and fell back against the bed. "You can separate the ghost and the machine, but a machine only works so well for a strange hand. And Clara… well, they don't come much stranger than her."
"So she did have all your energy… Beej, that was a terrible risk! Gods, to think she could blow everything up within a hundred yards when she had just gotten started… I think I'm gonna be sick." Exhaustion, spent fear, the damp, and the scorched ruin of her home all crept up on her at once. She burst into shuddering tears. Taken aback, Beetlejuice patted her shoulder awkwardly.
"Hey, it's okay! She's not coming back! Lyds, babe… shhh." Slowly, he gathered her up against him, and she clutched at his neck and squeezed him as hard as she could. "You were amazin', you know," he murmured. "To the bitter end, she believed you. And tellin' her about those tarot cards? Stroke of genius."
Lydia sniffed. "You told me about them."
"Maybe. But I couldn't make it work. That was all you." He sounded… proud. She grinned through her tears.
"You're just trying to distract me so I'll stop crying," she accused gently. He shook his head wryly at her.
"Ah, girlchild; when will you ever learn? Any excuse to hold you—I'm not picky."
"You're a rogue."
"An' a scoundrel. Tell me one I've not heard before."
She snorted delicately. "My life's not that long."
Lydia took a deep breath, feeling a bit stronger, and pulled away from him a bit. Her eye flicked to a dark brand in the shape of a circle that marred the pale, pearl-colored skin over his heart. That was new. She traced it with a finger, and he watched her in silence.
"What's this?"
He grunted. "Souvenir. Where the soul came through." A chill shivered down Lydia's spine.
"Which one? Yours or hers?"
He contemplated her for a moment, and then smiled slightly and grazed his finger over the tip of her ear again. This time it made her shiver. "She didn't have a soul, Lyds. It was mine you held on to."
His confession threatened to send her into tears again, or worse. It was too intimate, too close. She needed space, and didn't want it all at the same time. He watched her struggle, and kept his silence, until she finally spoke again.
"Right before… right before she took you, you asked me…" But she couldn't finish, remembering the despair in his voice.
"… to marry me?" His eyes sparkled in the dim light, and a smile was playing about his lips at her discomfort.
"Why?"
His mouth twitched wryly, and he released her, stretching out and leaning his head back on crossed wrists. "I expected an answer."
She swallowed, and frowned at him. "No."
"What? After all we've been through?" He sounded genuinely outraged. She rose to meet him.
"We? I bound you in a circle and you beat me bloody, and then Clara cut me open for your amusement, and after that you snuck into my shower—" He chuckled and she smacked him on the arm. "And after that, oh yeah, you were possessed by a crazy exorcised ghost and handed me your soul to hang on to, and then between the two of you, I'll never recoup the financial loss! None of that counts as quality time, Beej! Not to mention the fact that I'm still alive." She was fully beyond sorrow into exasperation now.
He shrugged. "Well, if that's all…"
"Beetlejuice…"
"Hey! No need to get nasty, Lyds!"
"Oh, you've not heard anything yet, Beej!"
"Hmm. You know, I think I left the coffee on! I'll just… hey!"
"You're not going anywhere until you clean up this mess, dammit—come back here! Beetlejuice!"
:fin: (for now…!)