Pieces In A Pocket

By Wee-Me

Beetlejuice 100 Kisses Challenge

DISCLAIMER: I do not own His Ghostliness, his pockets, nor anyone associated with either. All Beetlejuice related items are the mind progeny of Tim Burton.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is a third response to the Beetlejuice 100 Kisses Challenge. Sorry it took so long between the second bit and this one, I was sick and had to kick myself off the computer for a while so I could sleep and keep up with my studies. sigh Stupid reality.

Chapter Title: Potential. . .

Used Items: 12. Waiting Room Numbers, 91. Spiders, 88. Rats, 90. Beetles, 96. Bug Wings,

97. Snake Skins

BEETLEJUICE'S POV

Our hero (doesn't that sound wrong?) sits in his den sipping coffee and picking waiting room numbers out of his hair and clothing to toss into the fire.

Little buggers never fail to get everywhere.

He is thinking about a young woman he cares deeply for, one Lydia Lenore Deetz. Our hero (that really doesn't sound right), one Betelgeuse, is desperately wracking his brain to come up with some sort of plan to get back to his Babes. One might wonder, what could have caused this strange infatuation when this poltergeist met this poor girl for an extremely brief amount of time when she was in her early teens? His answer is this: Hell if I know. It was an unplanned meeting of chance (in his unscrupulous past he has planned some "meetings of chance") and he'd adored her from the first time he'd laid eyes on her. It was love at first sight as a giant snake trying to kill her father.

Maybe she won't hold that against me. And maybe Juno will come give me a hug and her blessing. The hell am I gonna do?

He had desperately wanted her for his own, and had nearly gotten her when those lousy Maitlands interfered. If they'd just left him alone he would be happy somewhere with his beautiful wife living the good life topside and beyond the rules. By now he might even be able to sleep without her trying to run off or stab him in the neck. Her parents hadn't objected, simply huddled off to the side and never said a word.

Why didn't they do anything? I mean, they were right there, why did someone else have to "save" their kid? Didn't need savin' but still. . .

Leaving thoughts of his future in-laws alone for some other time when he is in a different mood, either more forgiving or more angry, he turns back to his thoughts of Lydia and what he thinks of as their impending nuptials. It is true that he must marry a mortal to get a permanent

pass to travel amongst the living without fear of Juno dragging him back, though she'd likely still try. He has known about this stipulation for decades at least and had many, many chances to snag himself a bride, willing or unwilling, before Lydia. Yet, he had said he would only marry once and he meant it and the young Miss Deetz caught his eye and kept it. And he would have her if it took the rest of his un-life to do it.

He regrets now that he was in "work mode", looking paunchy and dirty when he could have wooed her in his normal state: thin, adorable, and dirty. He changed to "work mode" when on jobs with couples or men, for the first he didn't want jealous husbands sending him back for seducing their wives and for the second he didn't need some chump thinking he wasn't scary or trying to show him up. Once he's chosen a form he can't really deviate from it much without tipping his hand and showing how truly powerful he has become and alerting the authorities to his presence.

Next time I'll show her how I really am, she'll never be able to resist me. All I have to do is get to her. That file of Juno's was no help, I can't believe she'd trick me like that. That's more like me than I'd like to give her credit for.

The file in question is one he viewed in Juno's office the previous day. Juno knew him a little too well for his liking because she had hidden Lydia's real file from him and left him a fake that had only a post-it reading "Leave her alone. She's not going to call you and she wants nothing to do with you. Bother someone else. -Juno". He held a grudging admiration for Juno's sneakiness, but it worried him that she might be right, that Lydia might not want to have anything to do with him.

Maybe I ought to send her a present, do a little romantic prep work. But what does a girl like Lyds want that I might have?

He begins fishing through his pockets for something suitable, he might love her but he still doesn't want to shop if he can avoid it. Contrary to popular belief he has more than just spiders, snakes, rats, beetles, and that ilk in his coat. He has to carry gross things for work, part of the job after all, and he can't exactly carry a briefcase- briefcases are only scary for lawyers. He actually has just one pocket filled with various disgusting articles, but many tiny "wormholes" to get to it so that he didn't have creatures running lose in his clothes with him. If he didn't keep it all contained and magically preserved he'd be left with an empty pocket full of droppings, snake skins, bug wings, and other detritus when he needed to pull off a good scare and he would end up looking like a rookie. It would ruin his rep and he'd have to hunt the little buggers out of his house.

His third go at haunting once he'd been banished had yielded just such a problem. He had been fresh out of the office and willing to do any work so when a recently dead business man called him to keep a group of nuns from turning his former offices into an orphanage he had readily agreed. He had scared the living daylights out of them and was reaching into his jacket to release a storm of locusts maybe a snake or two for good measure as his big finish when he had fished out only lint and wings. It had so thrown him off his game that the group of women had laughed hysterically and he had looked so at a loss that one of them had even attempted to comfort him. That was the day he started storing his props in stasis and one of the few jobs he had given up and admitted defeat. That was also when he decided that his true, sexy self was sometimes dangerous leading to the birth of the paunchy work mode look.

Never been felt up by a nun before, and it's not happening again if I can help it. Guh!

Other than the gross out gags, he has many other things to line his pockets most of which he has liberated from their previous owners, both from active thieving and the unconscious pull of his gravitational field. He has jewels, shiny doodads, bits of paper, tons of garbage, valuable artifacts, and a certain red bouquet that had fallen down the sand worm hole after him.

Wonder if she still has the dress? Good color for her. Well I can just make her a new one. She's prolly grown some anyhow. Bet she's still gorgeous though. Maybe if I just peek she won't notice me, and I can get some idea what she wants. And more important Juno and the higher ups won't come bust me for it and break my mirrors.

It is well known in the Netherworld amongst the spirits that mirrors work as doorways. These doors lead to the living world, around the Netherworld, and into supernatural places that few living or dead can fathom, although these places have often been a temporary home for Betelgeuse. He knows better than anyone, at least in his own mind, how to travel the silvered surfaces and see through them like a window and avoid being seen, at least for a while. He has used this little trick to pass himself off as a mark's deceased relative on multiple occasions to get himself called out, and it is the perfect trick to use now.

If he watched her he'd have more of an edge on how to woo her, what to give her, and how to get to her, plus he'd take any excuse to see her.

Why didn't I think of this sooner? Shoulda done this right off. Crap!

With a mixture of frustration and barely contained glee he poofs himself to his bedroom, too excited for the stairs, and nearly rips the velvet covering in half trying to reveal his silver standing mirror. The mirror is old, a hundred or more years old, the stand is made of solid silver covered in intricate designs and the mirror itself is old and showing its age. He preens in the full length surface for only a moment before wrapping his hands around the edges and leaning in for a look.

If I could just see a little further, c'mon, c'mon, wait . . .There!

And indeed, there stands his little flower in her now expanded room gaping like a fish at her surroundings. She seems pale even for herself and at a total loss as to what is going on around her.

What's going on? She can't see me, I know she can't. Has something happened?!?

He has paled, no easy feat, and is fully prepared to break every rule in the book to get to her and protect her from whatever. And then she speaks.

"Wha'? Wha'? What did she do to my room? I leave for a few months and she covers my room in mirrors? How does that even remotely seem like something I'd like? Barbara!"

He is aware now that she is correct, there are mirrors covering all of her walls and even the ceiling, he has simply connected with the oldest one there which is over the head of her four post bed directly across from the door.

Now I can see her from all angles, this has potential. And here's the bumpkin ghost herself. Why does she look so guilty? Did she do this? What's goin' on?

Barbara has entered the room, but only to the edge of the door, and is staring at her shoes as she nervously toes the floor and wringing her hands. She looks as if she has just kicked a puppy, or maybe like she is a kicked puppy.

"Barbara, what is this? Mirrors? I thought you were going to keep Delia out of my room."

"Sweetie this was the lesser of the evils, I promise. At least you can cover up mirrors. And I made sure they all had dark, scary frames so they wouldn't clash with your other stuff. I tried, I really did."

The poor specter looks close to tears, her curls bouncing as she takes in miserable shuddery breaths, and Lydia rushes to reassure her with a hug.

I never got a hug and we were engaged. I was robbed! I demand compensation.

"It's not so bad. I overreacted and I'm sorry I snapped at you. I was just really surprised to see so many me-s when I walked in. For a minute I thought Delia had done hundreds of paintings of me. Eww. Come on, don't cry, I'm sure you did your best and I appreciate it. At least it isn't pink or full of her artwork. Now that would be worth crying over."

She gives a delicate shudder and Barbara giggles, drying up her tears.

"She was going to do pink. Pink walls with pink animals. Like pink flamingoes, elephants, and I think shrimp were mentioned a few times. I had to talk her down to mirrors, or she would have done sculpture for you. I knew you wouldn't want that junk cluttering up your workspace so I got her to do as little as possible, and this was it. And I made sure she didn't touch anything. We wouldn't want another INCIDENT."

They share an exasperated look, then Lydia turns to survey the room looking a little lost in thought.

The hell? C'mon, share the joke.

"Hmm. Maybe I can make it a wall collage type thing, a little antique-y, a little gothic. Maybe old keys, lockets, and stuff. And lace. Oh, and dried flowers. Yeah, it has potential."

I coulda told ya that.

"But I'll have to put my canopy back over the bed and keep it drawn when I sleep."

No, no, no. Keep it open, you can wear a sleep mask or somethin'. Maybe a nightie to go with it. Just don't close the curtains.

"Yeah, I'm glad she left the hook up there, I can rehang it pretty easily. I'd hate to wake up with all those mirrors looking at me, all those faces, I'd feel like I was being watched. Ick."

Hey! No ick. You oughta be glad someone's watchin' out for ya. And you're killing my fun. Don't hang the canopy, c'mon, I'll be good. Ish. Maybe.

Barbara finally interrupts Lydia'smusings as she peers across the room at his mirror.

"Hey Lydia?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you see something on that mirror? It kind of looks like a face?"

"Where?"

He realizes that he has stayed too long, even moving mirror to mirror, and has become somewhat visible so he cuts the connection before he can be caught. It is not what he had intended, but for a first "visit" it would have to do. It had yielded some information that would aid him in his cause. He knows now about her artistic interests from her workspace and a look around, and her conversation has given him several gift ideas.

Antique-y collage, huh? I might just have some stuff to fit that bill.

Most important however is that he has gotten a look at Lydia herself, and it was even better than he had been imagining. She is still tiny, hardly an armful, and on the short side. Slender, slight, still pale as moonlight and lovely all the way around. Her eyes are a deep blue, like the ocean, and wide like a child. She has kept up the dark queen look, still Poe's daughter even after all this time, but much less flamboyant or ridiculous now. Black pants and a matching top covered her completely, embroidered here and there with tiny skulls, fitting both her body and personality snugly. It was by no means revealing, but it still managed to show off that she has indeed transformed into a curvy young woman.

Her inky hair is longer now, but wrapped in a bun held with black chopsticks and only a few thick pieces escaping to frame her face, it fits much better with her new adult look. Most amusing to him were the brilliantly scarlet toe socks peeking from under her pants legs, a bit of playfulness that would have been covered up all day by her now discarded boots, an amusing secret for herself when she had to go out and at least pretend to be a responsible adult. All in all she is still his dark bride, and even more perfect with the passage of time.

With a final wistful glance at the mirror he leaves his bedroom behind, heading to his den for a little strategy session at his writing desk, a list and a plan of action are just what he needs, then she won't stand a chance. He cackles, full of hope, energy, and schemes. And somewhere, on the other side of the mirror, a young woman shivers for no apparent reason, a strange mixture of dread and anticipation gathering in the pit of her stomach.

AUTHOR'S NOTE 2: Lydia's POV for this chapter will follow soon. This is dedicated to Llewlyn, welcome back, I've missed you a bunch. Everyone go read her stories, they're fantabulous.