Inspired by Drop Dead Fred. Partly based on the cartoon-verse, partly based on movie-verse in the sense that not everyone can see ghosts. I obviously don't own any of these characters (aside from a few supporting roles) I just love them to pieces. This is my first fic (so please go easy on me) and honestly probably my last, I just have read so many of these fics and none of them were exactly the way I wanted even though I greatly enjoyed the vast majority of them.
"Another, sweetheart." Beetlegeuse winked at the bartender. She pressed her lips in a tight smirk as she lay down another whiskey in front of him. He admired her as she turned away. Her short black hair was curly, stopping at her jaw line. It was a lovely contrast to the dark blues and purples of her scales. However more than anything, her ample figure is what held his eyes. Anissa was the overnight at Despondent Moan, one of the few bars in the Neitherworld that he hadn't been kicked out of yet. The bar itself was quiet aside from the low jazz playing from the jukebox. Beetlegeuse had become a fixture here most nights, preferring the dim lights and seedy patrons to the clubs brimming with loud music and the freshly dead.
"I don't suppose you can pay your tab for the past week." Anissa muttered as she wiped down the counter.
"I don't suppose we could work somethin' out?" He chuckled darkly and raised his eyebrows suggestively. Anissa shot him a sharp look and pulled the baseball bat out from under the bar. With an exaggerated sigh he reached into the inside pocket of the crumpled black and white pinstripe he often wore, producing a slightly damp wad of money.
"I played a few hands before you got in, with a couple of the regulars." Anissa only snorted and resumed her task. Beetlegeuse finished his drink, basking in the brief sensation of heat in his otherwise cold body before getting up to leave. Anissa looked up surprised.
"Already? It's only just past midnight." Often he stayed well passed three in the morning, sometimes passing out in the corner booth when the bar was empty.
"Yeah, I'm probably just gonna crash," He said stretching his arms behind him, "Unless you changed your mind?" His leering gaze made her nose wrinkle. She quickly scooped up the stack of cash on the bar.
"I think I'll pass." Beetlegeuse shrugged and trudged out of the bar.
The air outside tasted stale, not quite relieving him of the heavy scent of the bar. Cigar smoke so ingrained he imagined the walls weren't always that shade of yellow and… something acidic, perhaps very faintly of vomit. The dead had no need to breathe, but often did so out of habit. The result leaving the air rich in oxygen but stale nonetheless.
The street was still filled with ghosts, ghouls, and everything in between milling about the bars and late night restaurants so he did his best to pass through unnoticed. Just a few blocks before his own house, he stopped in front of her place. An eerie twist of the house it represented in the living world, the outside looked just the same with plain white siding and old windows reflecting the cracks and normal wear of its counterpart. However the inside only held one room. Hers. He sighed making his way up the steps and into the house.
How long had it been since he last saw her? Her face had begun to blur around the edges. He couldn't remember the exact sound of her voice. When he first realized something was wrong, he spent days in front of the mirror hoping and waiting. Only leaving after Ginger, Jacques, and The Monster Across the Street had intervened. Then he settled for coming by once or twice a day, just in case. Once a week, once a month, now it was every six months or so. Inside a vanity with a thin sheet covering it sat opposite him.
The floor had been swept and the broken liquor bottles had been cleared away reminding him that he wasn't the only one who felt her loss. Ginger, or maybe Jacques had come by to visit at some point and found his mess. Beetlegeuse felt slightly violated. He had come to regard this space his own as much as the roadhouse. He gritted his teeth at the thought that either of them had cleaned up after him out of pity.
Crossing the room in three strides, he reached out and grasped the sheet with the intention of yanking it away but hesitated. In a moment his anger had receded leaving a heavy pit in his stomach. He pulled the sheet aside gently, bracing himself against the sight of the empty room on the other side of the mirror. What he saw instead knocked the wind out of him.
Lydia.
Chapter two
Lydia held a lighter up to the bowl and quickly inhaled before passing it to her roomate. The smoke burned her throat in a way that wasn't entirely unpleasant. Her head buzzed slightly and she felt herself ease into a relaxed state. It was nearly the only time she was able to feel relaxed.
"It's cashed, your turn to pack it." She did her best to say through while coughing. Kaitlyn shook her head and emptied the contents into the ashtray.
"Nah, I'm good. You can smoke another if you want though." She sat it on the couch in between them and laid her head back. Lydia stashed the bowl, grinder and little bag of weed in one of the remaining boxes she would load in the morning when she left.
"I can't believe you're leaving me tomorrow." Kaitlyn peeked her eye at Lydia. "You realize you're condemning me to a life of ramen and hot pockets." Lydia snickered and took a sip of her drink. To celebrate their last night together, Kaitlyn had ordered pizza and cupcakes while Lydia made strawberry margaritas with black food coloring. Much had changed over the years but it was still her favorite color.
"It's time for you to evolve. Take a class, buy a cookbook, or if all else fails, bang a chef." Kaitlyn groaned and smiled brightly at Lydia.
"If a throw you a little ass, will you stay?" Lydia choked on her drink and both girls erupted in laughter.
"I'm actually kind of excited to go back. Delia isn't there anymore so I'll be able to enjoy it in peace." Her father, Charles, had passed away two month prior from a heart attack. The old house in Peaceful Pines had been left to her since her father and Delia had divorced a year previous. "I think I'll turn their room into a dark room. It will be great to flex this photography degree, maybe I'll even find some work out there. The place will be empty otherwise. Hard to imagine I haven't been there since I was fifthteen." She mused.
"That's when they sent you to that boarding school right? Wait, not even to visit your dad?" Kaitlyn vaguely remembered Lydia talking about some big fight with her parents that ended up in her being shipped away. Lydia inspected her nails. Kaitlyn had painted them a week before. Black glitter with purple and blue curves. It was supposed to look like little galaxies but Kaitlyn hadn't quite capture the effect she was aiming for.
"Yeah, they always came to see me. I don't really blame them anymore though. I was a pretty messed up kid. I was constantly fighting with them, I was obsessed with death, and bullied all the time at school, I was so lonely I even made up a bunch of imaginary friends. Who knows how fucked up I would be now if they hadn't put an end to it." Kaitlyn got up to grab another slice of pizza and shot Lydia a questioning look, wordlessly offering to bring her a slice. Lydia shook her head.
"I don't remember you mentioning you had imaginary friends, I had a pet rock when I was ten. Brought it everywhere with me, drove my grandma crazy." Lydia sighed. It had been about eleven years since she lived in the big white house. She had pulled some prank on her dad and when he ended up breaking his leg, that was the last straw. They drove her out to a boarding school in upstate New York where she was diagnosed with schizophrenia. After years of therapy and heavy medication, some of it being recreational, she finally felt as if she was getting better. Though to this day puns put her ill at ease.
"Helloooo?" Lydia's head snapped up to see her friend looking at her expectantly.
"Are you sure it's ok for you to go back there? You don't think it will trigger a break or something? Lydia considered it briefly before shaking her head.
"I'm pretty sure as long as I take my meds I'll be fine." Kaitlyn didn't look convinced but nodded.
"If you feel like something's not right with you, call me. You know I've always got you."
She leaned her head on Kaitlyn's shoulder and nodded.
Chapter Three
The further away she drove from New York, the more anxious Lydia felt. Away from her parents, she carved out a niche for herself and when she thought about her time in Peaceful Pines, it was like looking at herself through a fun house mirror. Nothing made sense, just a jumble of images she had worked hard to sift through and determine what was reality. She reasoned with herself that unless she was able to handle being back in this town, she would never know if she truly was better and stronger. The possibility that she would spiral into an episode was a daunting prospect that she prepared herself to handle. Maybe if she did well she wouldn't have to take much medication.
These days Lydia often found smoking a couple bowls was enough to steady her thoughts. On days it got real bad, days she thought about him, she would take the meds again. The sun had started to go down, leaving just a line of pink on the horizon. The radio did little to settle her nerves so when she came upon the outskirts out town, she stopped for a bite at little bar that wasn't there when she had left.
It wasn't too busy, just a couple handfuls of customers. A waitress waved around indicating she could sit wherever she liked. She picked a booth in the back and another waitress came up to the table.
"Hi! I'm Claire! What can I get… Lydia?" Before her stood Claire Brewster, still blond and skinny and beautiful. Fuck. Lydia felt like a deer caught in headlights. Before she could respond however, Claire slid into her booth trapping her there.
"Lydia, I am so so so sorry for all the shit I put you though when we were younger." Well, that was unexpected. Claire's face was the picture of sincerity, though Lydia was having difficulty believing it.
"I really mean it, I was awful to you. After you left, alot happened. First my mom practically bankrupted us with all her credit card debt but don't worry, Dad recovered for the most part even though SHE STILL keeps spending TONS of money," Claire was babbling. "And then in high school, I met Zeke and Daddy HATES him so he pretty much disowned me when Zeke got me pregnant, but don't worry we got married and now he's a mechanic and I'm here and we had another one last year and LOOK at my BABIES!" Claire thrust her phone in Lydia's face to show her a little girl that looked like a much happier version of her mother at that age, probably about eight or nine standing next to a baby boy also with blond hair.
"They're great Claire. Congratulations." She smiled meekly, weary of the stranger wearing the face of her biggest bully growing up. Claire, caught up in her own bubble as always, didn't notice Lydia's lack of enthusiasm.
"Oh my God, I can't believe you're back! I mean of course everyone heard about what happened to your dad, I'm so sorry by the way that is so sad. But you're here! Are you staying or just passing through? We definitely HAVE to hang out sometime! So many people moved away, you wouldn't BELIEVE it uuugh." Lydia gave a polite laugh and nodded.
"Ok! So what do you want to eat? Everything here is SO good, oh my god I swear I gained like ten pounds when I started. You know what? I get off in like ten minutes. I'll have the cook whip us up something and I'll eat with you!"
"Uh, ok. Sounds cool." Claire's eyes lit up and she hurried away to finish up. Dinner with Claire Brewster. She tried hard not to think about what he would say about all this. She inhaled sharply and walked up to the bar.
"Whiskey is strongest." The bartender nodded, returning shortly with her drink. She pulled out her wallet but the guy shook his head.
"Claire said you weren't allowed to pay for anything. Old friends, I hear?" Lydia was a bit uncomfortable at this but free booze was free booze.
"Oh, um well we go way back. Thank you." She returned to her booth and grabbed her pill bottle from in her purse. Better take it now before the other dose started to wear off.
"What's that?" Claire was back already.
"Oh, I get really bad cramps so my doctor prescribed it." She rattled off the old excuse she used whenever anyone asked. It wouldn't hurt to take it later she thought as she slipped the bottle back in her purse. Claire nodded sympathetically. In front of her, Claire had placed some kind of green burrito.
"It's a spinach and mushroom wrap. It's got quinoa, squash, asparagus and like lemon aioli in it, it's SO good." Not entirely trusting Claire but hoping she wasn't willing to lose her job over screwing with her, she took a bite. Surprisingly delicious. Claire did most of that talking, excitedly filling Lydia in on everything she missed without skipping over any trivial details. The only input Lydia needed were nods, the occasional gasp of horror, and sometimes "Oh, really?" as needed. A few drinks later Lydia thanked Claire for her hospitality but still needed to get settled in. Claire smiled and refused to let hr leave without her phone number and a promise to get together soon.
As soon as all the boxes were inside, Lydia collapsed on her old bed exhausted. Being alone in this house late at night she found the silence unnerving and plugged up her stereo. Harry Belafonte's Jump in the Line echoed through the house. The room seemed a bit less intimidating. She pulled a box towards her and started pulling things out, finding a home for each of her books and knick knacks. Packing a bowl, she leaned back against the headboard and took a sizable hit. Her pocket vibrated.
Lydia pulled out the phone and glanced down at it. 11:47pm Missed Call Kate. Lydia smiled at the three texts she missed, and indication that someone out there cared about her. She got up and turned the volume down a few notches and called Kaitlyn back.
"Jeez, I was about to release the search parties. What the fuck dude? You should have been there hours ago!" Lydia chuckled.
"I'm sorry Mom, I ran into someone I knew and we grabbed a bite to eat. I didn't realize my phone was on silent." Kaitlyn grunted.
"Oh, I see. You leave for one day and you already have my replacement lined up." The conversation went back and forth like this while Lydia smoked on her bed. Across the room from her a voice in the vanity roared for her attention. Unaware it's pleads fell on deaf ears.
Beetlegeuse couldn't believe it. How could he? A decade had gone by. He furiously rubbed the dust from the glass to make sure he was seeing her properly. No, there she was laughing away at something somebody said to here on the other side of the line.
"LYDIA! LYDIA LOOK AT ME!" He was overjoyed! He was heartbroken! WHY wouldn't she look at him? He was in shock. Couldn't she hear him?
"Alright well I'm gonna finish this bowl and pass out, I am exhausted." Lydia grinned, meeting her own eyes in the vanity only long enough to note the tired dark circles.
"Yeah, I feel ya, I'll call you tomorrow sweets. Love ya." Lydia said goodbye and plugged up her phone. She resumed pulling a few things out of boxes, clothes mostly while taking the occasional hit. She realized she had left her purse in the car. Lydia groaned and regarded the mirror wearily. No ghosts, only her, as it had always been. She shrugged. It couldn't hurt to just take her meds in the morning.
Most of her clothes were unpacked, she figured the rest could wait until tomorrow. Digging through the clothes, she found an old ripped black t-shirt and red short shorts she often wore as pjs. She looked around and rolled her eyes. No one is here idiot. She chastised herself but couldn't help but shoot another glance at the mirror before stripping down to just her underwear.
Beetlegeuse was confused more than anything. That was definitely Lydia. Her long raven black hair fell in waves well past her shoulders. Her oaky colored eyes shown radiant as ever, unmistakable. He'd know those eyes anywhere. Her voice lilted through the veil between their worlds, almost nothing between them. He pounded his fists against the barrier, it may as well be a mile thick for all his efforts availed.
For the moment it seemed he would have to settle with just being able to see her. He supposed that since she left without so much as a goodbye, maybe a small part of him had thought she died and moved on without regrets. To know she was alive, that he could have been with her all this time, filled him with bitter anger. Why couldn't she see him? She glanced at the mirror from time to time, giving no indication that she knew he was there. The way she looked through him as if he didn't exist tore through him.
She was beautiful. She had grown up considerably since he last laid eyes on her. Lydia's pants fell to the ground exposing more of her skin than he'd ever seen. Her long legs were exquisite, he was mesmerized at the sight. Until she pulled her shirt over her head and unlatched her bra. Beetlegeuse felt his jaw hit the floor. He knew he should look away but the thought that she'd disappear after so long terrified him. Her skin looked like creamy white satin. He took in all of her curves like a starving man in the dessert.
That's what his life had become without her. An endless dessert. Existing and not existing. For so long hearing her name brought him nothing but anguish and maybe this was a starving man's dream. Maybe he would wake up and he'd spend the next month in a state of raw agony but for tonight at least, he'd drink in every last drop.
Chapter Four
A month had passed since Lydia had returned to Peaceful Pines. She had adjusted without issue, easily finding a job at a local studio as well as a part time at the coroner's office as an assistant. It was mostly cleaning and sanitizing but she didn't mind. Claire wasn't the least bit interested in coming to see her here and that suited Lydia just fine. She still couldn't quite grasp this unlikely friendship she'd been roped into. Kaitlyn made plans to come see her and Lydia couldn't wait to three more days until she was there. While she didn't feel as if she would sink into an episode, it would still be nice to enjoy the support of her friend.
Coming home she dropped off her mail and keys by the front door and made her way upstairs. While she had unpacked everything, she was still sifting through the leftover contents of the house. In the attic she had arranged three piles: keep, trash, and unsorted. Making her way over to the last box she had opened, Lydia began pulling out the contents. It appeared to be filled with Delia's old jewelry. Most of it was over the top. Very much like Delia. Pulling out her phone she called her former step-mother.
"Lydia! What do need dear?" She sounded disinterested.
"I'm cleaning out the old house and found some of your jewelry. Did you want me to send it up?" She fingered a delicate gold chain that was tangled with at least three other necklaces.
"Mmm no, I took anything I wanted with me when I left. Keep it, give it to charity." The gold chain pulled easily enough away from the tangled web revealing a small silver ring she immediately recognized. Immediately she dropped the necklace, releasing a startled sound from her mouth.
"Are you alright?" Delia seemed more annoyed than worried. Lydia's throat felt like there was a rock settled in it and she tried her best to clear it. Closing the box, she carried it down to the living room and set it on the table.
"Yeah, fine. Fine. I just thought I saw a rat." She knew her voice was a bit shaky but doubted Delia would notice. She would take the box to donations in the morning. Delia tsked.
"All the more reason I'm glad I'm back in New York and not saddled with that place. Alright dear, if that's all I'm going to let you go. I'm in the middle of this piece and hopefully I can get back in the zone and really feel what this clay is telling me. Kiss kiss." She promptly hung up before Lydia could reply. Lydia felt light-headed and poured herself a glass of whiskey. She let it mull around her mouth a moment before she swallowed, focusing her thoughts on the way her mouth burned. Slight notes of honey filled her nose and the sickly sweet scent steadied her. Pouring another glass, she trudged up to her room. The pharmacy didn't carry the specific off brand of medication that her insurance would cover, so she'd have to make it through a couple days until they got it in.