Beetlejuice yawned, waking slowly as the room spun in front of his eyes. Ow. Magic was something like alcohol for dead people; it was addictive, you could get a buzz just off of the fumes, and if you over-indulged, there would be hell to pay the morning after. Ow, ow, ow...

Smacking his lips, relishing the stale morning breath, Beej threw his legs over the side of his coffin bed. Noticing he was wearing his black and white suit, although not exactly sure how, he rubbed his head gently and stood up.

"Eep..." He yelped, falling back onto his bed, feet recoiling from the stone cold floor. Growling, his brain now feeling like it had broken free of its moorings and was rolling around in his skull, he tried again, this time floating through into the bathroom. He never normally went in the bathroom, occasionally if he needed an emergency mirror or if he needed to throw up, but that was about it. But the bathroom held the Alka Helltzer, so to the medicine cabinet he went. As he dissolved the Alka Helltzer in a freshly 'juiced mug of coffee, and stirred in a couple of eggs and some splashes of Tabasco (he was never sure which hangover cure actually worked, so he had always just mixed them all together), he tried to remember the exact events of carnival night. Lydia turned up, they all went out, they had fun... he winced slightly, remembering something about an argument. He'd... argued with Lydia. That was going to cost him.

Taking his ultimate cure, he floated back through to his room. He remembered leaving her to go home on her own, being yelled at by Ginge, Jacques and the Monster for being mean to her... they said they hoped he got exactly what he'd asked for. Uh-oh, he grinned, absent-mindedly sipping at his utterly disgusting beverage. That would bite him. Ginger's voice, telling the old superstition, cut through his brain.

"All that you say on Carnival night, will be with you until you set it right."

What was it he'd said, exactly? Sure got everyone mad at him, whatever it was. And what had it been in response to?

He took another sip, stopping still in the middle of his room. He suddenly remembered Lydia, very clearly.

"Why do you need her... why not me... maybe I want to be like that!"

And, with creeping dread, his own words fell into his mind with all the weight and repercussion of a circus elephant falling off a highwire.

"And you need to GROW UP!"

"... you need to GROW UP!"

"... GROW UP!" Beetlejuice blurted, dropping his mug, not giving a damn as it fell to the floor, shattering into pieces and sending the hideous, goopy brown mixture everywhere. He covered the space between him and the mirror on his wall in two seconds flat, staring into it with anxious, darting eyes. "Come on, Lyds... babes, please just be ok... I swear to God, if she's the same as she was last night, even if she's royally pissed at me, I promise I'll never con again! Lyds! Lydia, come on!"

The room was empty, but the curtains were drawn open, and bright morning sunlight flooded the space. The four poster bed was empty, too, with covers in a mess, implying that it had been recently vacated. He heard the door open, sweat pooling on his brow. He gasped as a young woman he'd never seen before entered the room, wearing only a towel, her long, black hair hanging in wet ringlets down to her shoulder-blades. He was about to hide himself, when she turned, and caught his eye. Her eyes, so big and round, shining pools of melted chocolate brown, shone with joy.

"Beej!" She grinned, sitting down in front of the mirror.

Whut?

"You're back! Did Jacques move into his new apartment ok?"

Whut the hell?

"Listen, I know you've been looking forward to spending the week, but I've got a lot of work to do so you're going to have to promise me that you won't be too much of a distraction."

Make that a deep-fried whut the hell with a side order of bacon bits, please?

The young woman, who he guessed was in her early twenties, was smiling at him in a seductive, coquettish manner, her fairy-folk nose wrinkling and eyes sparkling cheekily to accentuate her impish grin. She had legs that never stopped, skin as smooth and pale as porcelain, and such subtle curves that would knock any man, alive or dead, for six. Hence the shocking conflict he experienced when he realised that her voice identified her, undeniably, irrefutably, as...

"Lydia?"

"Yeah?" She smiled again, although there was a hint of worry in her eyes. "You're quiet, Beej, is something wrong?"

"Uh... uh, no, no nothing's wrong... but, uh, have you still got that alarm clock that has the date on it."

"You know I do." She laughed, cocking her head to one side. "You complain about it going off every morning you're here."

"Could... could I just look at it for a bit?"

"Why?"

"Just... humour me."

A frankly adorable confused frown on her face, Lydia lifted the clock from her bedside table and brought it closer to the mirror. It was, according to the clock, twelve minutes past nine on the second of November. That much checked out. But it was, according to the clock, 2017.

"Yeah... Yeah, I'd thought so." He sighed, mentally kicking himself. Well, she grew up alright. And he got catapulted straight to the point in time that she had.

"You ok?"

"Hmm? Yeah, I just... you look more grown up than I remember."

"What, you think I'm getting wrinkles?" She smiled again, watching him carefully, leaning back to get a more summative view of him. The towel wrapped around her body pulled tighter, making BJ very aware of her chest.

"Hah... ha... wrinkles? You look... you're fine." He swallowed, hoping to God he wasn't blushing. He had often looked at Lydia, but never like this. He could feel certain parts of him stirring (some more literally than others) which his brain condemned instantly. So very inappropriate, for so many reasons, but damn if she hadn't become a gorgeous woman. He cleared his throat, turning his back. "I should, uh... probably let you get dressed." He mumbled, scratching his head awkwardly, before turning to leave.

"Beej!" Lydia put her hand up against the glass, her deep, dark eyes sparkling with concern, her brow furrowed, her lips drawn into a pout. "You're not still mad about that argument, are you?" He made the mistake of turning around and looking her in the eye. Oh god, he thought, that's a beauty that'll knock you out, bring you round and then do it all again.

"Mad? Babes, what would I be mad about?"

"Oh come on, Beej. I was being unfair." She sniffed, crossing her hands in her lap and hunching her shoulders, not making eye contact. "You were within your rights to be angry at me, leading you on like that."

"Leading me on?" Beetlejuice was slightly confused by this idea. "She, the beautiful young girl, was messing with me, the older poltergeist? Lydia, what have you become?"

"It was wrong of me to flirt with you and then expect you to wait while I went out on a date." She continued, risking a glance at him. Her big, dark eyes shone as she smiled, and he found it very hard to concentrate on what she was saying, rather than on silently reprimanding the growing pressure in his trousers.

"Well..." He began.

"The date was awful, as well. I hated him. He reeked of aftershave and cheap soap."

"That's... too bad..."

"I think I prefer my men just... reeking." Her eyes flashed as a half-hopeful, half-flirty smile fluttered across her face, making Beej's stomach do backflips. No! He reminded himself. Control! Control! You need to get out of here and figure out how to set things right!

"Beetlejuice..." She was practically purring, leaning as close to the mirror as possible.
"No, babes, I, uh... I have stuff to do."

"Beetlejuice..."

"I really shouldn't... I mean, maybe a quick cup of coffee, but then I gotta..."

"Beetlejuice!"

He appeared in the middle of the room with a crack and a flash of light, looking slightly shocked. "...split." He finished meekly, as Lydia stood.

"Beej, you said you loved me."

"I... whut?" In his absence, this timeline's version of "him" seemed to have been saying and doing a lot of things which, for one, Beej found rather confusing and hard to deal with when he was rapidly losing blood flow to the brain, but for another, he would have liked a quick summary from whatever Neitherworldly force had dumped him here. Just a brief synopsis would have been nice, but for now he was just going to have to play it by ear. He could try to explain to her that he wasn't the "him" she thought he was, but then he doubted even he would believe him...

Reeling at the amount of poorly placed pronouns wheeling through his head, Beetlejuice was slightly startled when he realised Lydia had crept up on him.

"I know you might not want me now, after what I did, but... Beej, I love you. So much." She ran her long, slender fingers over his chest, staring him in the eyes. Beej said nothing. He was pretty sure if he did open his mouth right now, he'd at most manage a whimper. She had grown into hi perfect woman. She looked like a glamour girl, but from the time when they actually were glamorous... He remembered those days well enough.

"You're going to need to answer me, at some point." She laughed, but he could see he was making her nervous. He cleared his throat, before moving away and sitting on the bed, leaning his elbows on his knees.

"Uh... Look, Lyds, I'm kinda torn here. I mean... you're a Babe, babes!" He looked up at her, grinning, as she relaxed slightly, holding her towel in place. "Uh, in fact, you'd be helping me out if you covered up a bit... You know me and will power." Lydia, looking slightly chastised, grabbed a bath robe from the back of the door and pulled it tight, shooting him a wry smile.

"Better?"

"Well, I can think clearer, if that's what you mean. Look..." He patted the bed next to him, and she sat down, leaning against one of the four poster columns. "You've become a smokin' hot beauty of a young woman. And any man would be lucky to have you. And... I kinda want that man to be me. But..." He waved his hands about, vaguely, still only taking occasional glances at her, knowing that he probably couldn't stay strong if he looked for longer. "I'm a ghost. Forget the fact that I'm way older than you, Lydia, I'm dead!"
"You said that didn't matter before." Lydia wasn't looking at him, and was pouting in such a way that she looked like a naughty schoolchild, which didn't help Beej's confusion.

"Oh, yeah... I did..." He growled. If he ever met the him from this timeline, he swore he'd punch him in the face. Or... something... damn pronouns. "It... it doesn't matter, but it's something we've got to consider. Plus, I mean... You're a grown up, now, I can see that... I can... really see that, Lyds, robe." She blushed slightly, pulling the lapels of her robe tighter. "Thanks... but... uh... heh, lost my thread." With a flash of light, he turned into a ball of black and white string, floating a foot or so off the ground. Lydia laughed, resting him on the bed again. "Uh, little help?"

"I'm an adult." Lydia smiled a warm, caring smile that made Beej's heart flutter. She'd always had that smile. That smile that told you she cared about everyone and everything. But this smile was just for him, and he found himself struggling with something much more than the want to physically possess. He changed back to his normal self, and smiled back at her, his eyes suddenly very sad.

"You are." He agreed. "But I don't know if I could stop seeing you as my little Lyds. I've watched you grow up, kid. It's kind of hard to stop seeing you that way."

"Beej... I want this." She rested her hand on his, leaning forward. "I know we've had this conversation before, but... I've been to college. I've got a job. I've seen other men, been with other men... and none of them have made me feel anywhere near as happy as I am when I'm with you. We're practically a couple anyway, you said it yourself." Beej made another mental note to punch this-timeline-him in the face, but didn't particularly mind it. Right now, he found he couldn't stop staring at Lydia's eyes. "So what's the harm in going from being "practically a couple" to being an actual couple?" She rested her other hand on top of his, meaning that, short of separating himself from his hand, he couldn't really move. Not that he wanted to.

"I just... I want to be with you. I want you, Beej. Do you want me?"

"I..." He found his lips were suddenly very dry, and his heart was pounding. "I don't know... I know I want to kiss you." She leant in, sealing her mouth over his, pushing her weight down on his hand. Yes, he thought. This felt so right, as their tongues gently caressed each other, exploring the cavities of each other's mouths. He pulled his hand from under hers, whipping her around onto his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he gripped her waist, the soft cotton of the robe brushing against his dry, grey skin.

"I love you, Beej..." She whispered, parting from him just for those four words, which was as much as she could bear.

"I want you, Lyds..." he whispered back, as he rolled her back onto the bed, and she pulled him down with her.