Okay. Disclaimer. Still doing that, huh? I know Beetlejuice isn't mine, but why the heck can't I pretend? Oh well, Beetlejuice, Lydia, the Maitlands, Prudence, Bertha, Claire, Prince Vince, Juno, the Neitherworld, other assorted characters... Nrggghhh.... Not mine.
For the love of mercy, isn't that bad enough? Don't sue, too!
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Okay, so I was corrected by a couple sharp eyed readers, the Ides of March is the fifteenth, not the fifth. I've changed the last chapter accordingly. Man, this chapter is long! And I'm really worried about the flow. I mean, more than usual. I'm afraid I sprang too much at once, especially after the last chapter. But gosh darn it, it ties in, tightly, to well, everything! All the fics! And I couldn't think of any better way to write it! I mean, remember how I said some things change, and some things stay the same, no matter what? It can be pretty hard, picking out which is which... But some things? They're more or less written in stone. Regardless of whether it's Lydia was Late, Lydia was Early, or A Simple Change of Fate. No, not Only to Her... That's off in another time zone of reality... so to speak.
Hmm... Tell me how this flows, okay? I feel like it's kind of jerky... But hey, I did my best. And like I said... It does tie in. Um, maybe you should forget this whole part up here, and just read the story. ^^;
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Lydia wasn't sure exactly what time she'd come home the night before… Mostly because after hours of exploring the castle, oddly without any interruptions, investigating the royal gardens, again, and riding through the neitherwoods for an eternity on end- She'd made a point of not looking at her clock when she'd gotten home.
It had all been great, after the first explosive part in his room, and Lydia had, admittedly, been feeling much better by the time she came back through her mirror… So why exactly had she been laying in her bed restlessly for the past hour, tossing and turning, occasionally looking up at her canopy for familiar symbols no longer there, when she should have long since been up and getting ready?
Maybe it was Beetlejuice… Or the pointed lack of him. After he'd vanished the day before, she'd expected him to poke his head in some time this morning, with his usual rude wake up call, impatient to start having fun. But so far, no sign of the trouble making poltergeist. No sign of Adam, or Barb, or anyone. No good morning offered at all. So she just sort of laid there, rolling her ring between thumb and forefinger, and wondered if maybe she'd gone too far, telling her foster parents to back off.
With a slow stretch, another half hour in, she abandoned her vigil, and rose quietly, oddly subdued after everything that had happened the day before. There was kind of a sense of not knowing what was going to happen now… Everything had just been kind of left in the air.
Today was going to be, a telling day.
Rubbing at her cheeks, where tiny imprints lingered, left by her pillow, she walked slowly to her wardrobe, and aimlessly pulled out something to wear. She made no effort at trying to look nice, or even dark, and ended up pulling on an odd baby blue top… Where she'd gotten that, she really had no idea. Probably Grandma Delia.
Turning towards her mirror, she was dealt with a small surprise, to see the dresser beneath it, absent. She wasn't sure how the mirror was even still hanging up there. A moment of thought though, brought her tantrum of the day before back to mind… And she turned towards her door, to see the heavy piece of furniture propped against it at an odd angle, the words in black lipstick scrawled directly above.
Well hell, no wonder the Maitlands hadn't come in. Though she had to wonder just how much power the words 'Stay Out' really had, written so carelessly… Even by a witch.
Was she really a witch? One more thing she'd put off thinking about… This was all going to catch up with her soon, she was sure of it.
Shaking her head, feeling suddenly foolish for her angry display, she edged herself in between the dresser and the door, put her shoulder down to the thick wood, and did her best to summon the strength she'd somehow managed to find the day before… Only to find herself really making no progress at all, against the thick carpet. How the hell had she done that in the first place?
Several efforts later had the dresser budged a good four feet, enough to reach the door, and with a grimace, wipe the ugly words off with her sleeve, ignoring the black smear this left across the soft sweater. Failing to do that, she at least managed to smudge the words beyond recognition… That should be good enough, right? She'd clean it up better, later.
Emerging into the quiet house felt, strange. Like everything was sort of eerily still. Lydia frowned, and tugged at a loose strand of her hair nervously, before tucking it behind her ear. She could only imagine there would be hell to pay for her performance the morning before… And that was if no one realized that she'd disappeared soon after, and been out most of the night.
Then again, how could they?
It remained that way, that sense of heavy aloneness as she strode down the stairs, expecting to see her parents at the bottom, maybe just where she'd left them. But there was no sign of Edmond or Olivia… And when she propped open the door of the kitchen, expectantly, no sign of either of the Maitlands either.
A dull sense of unease gripped at her stomach, as she walked through the empty kitchen. Utterly quiet. Not so much as a pot of coffee on, to tease her sense of smell. As if she were just the only one in the house. That was impossible of course… They were probably in the attic. She needed to go apologize… She must have upset them more than she meant to. Or at least, more than they deserved.
Delaying the awkward situation with a trip to the fridge, Lydia poured herself a tall cup of orange juice… And didn't actually drink any of it, putting it on the counter, and turning to make coffee instead. She knew how both Adam and Barb liked their coffee. She'd bring them some. Sort of a peace offering.
Soon the steady dripping and hissing of the coffee maker shattered the uncomfortable stillness of the kitchen, and Lydia considered, for a brief minute, trying to make breakfast for them too. At this point though, considering her cooking skills, that would really just be useless procrastinating… She smirked at her reflection in the toaster, shook her head, and turned her attention to finding two suitable cups instead.
Once she'd stirred the coffee up, Adam liked sugar, no cream, while Barb like cream, and two sugars, she was left with the sudden question of how she was going to carry all the drinks up. In the end, her lonely little orange juice was left on the counter, ignored, while Lydia set to go make up with the two people she loved most in this world…
Taking the stairs slowly, careful not to spill, Lydia took first one flight, then the other… Ending her at the attic door, and suddenly, gripping her with a new fear. What if they weren't there either? What if they were just, gone?
But, that wasn't possible, right?
Tapping on the door softly with the toe of her foot, hesitantly, like she wasn't really ready to know the answer herself, she waited, for upwards of thirty seconds…
Adam swung open the door, saw his goddaughter on the other side, looking close to tears, two cups of coffee clenched in trembling hands, and made a soft sound of dismay. "Lydia…" He quickly scooped the cups from her, sending them into the air, and across the room, without so much as another thought for either of them, while the ghost man pulled the small girl into his arms. "Lydia, it's okay…"
"I'm so sorry…" She was whispering, asking for forgiveness now that it was given, tucking her face against his flannel shirt, and holding onto him with both fists. "God, I'm such a brat…"
"Lydia…" Barbara had been sweeping towards them this whole time, and now threw her arms around both, just holding tight to the goth girl and her husband, and bowing her head, soft eyes looking guilty, like she'd been the one to do something wrong. "Honey, that wasn't your fault. You just had a bad day. It's over now." Gently touching her chin, she tipped her daughter's face up, gently, meeting her eyes with a little smile. "We're not angry. I promise."
But it wasn't that simple. Lydia knew that. She'd used her power to keep them out… Used it against them. Power she shouldn't even have. Power she didn't understand… Power she was suddenly afraid she could have hurt them with. She just tightened her fingers more tightly on the soft cloth at Adam's chest, and swore silently to never, never risk the two of them again, no matter what.
"I love you." She whispered, words that were so simple and true when she said them to the two of them… But made no sense when she tried to match them to anyone else.
"We know honey. We love you too." Adam said gently, not trying yet to disentangle the girl from his shirt. "You're not the first teenage girl that has tried to shut her parents out of her life…" A little more sternly, he added, "Now don't let it happen again!"
Lydia laughed, softly, finally drawing away. Feeling better again. …Until it occurred to her to wonder where her other parents were. "Um…" She wiped her fingers across her eyes, smearing little trickles of black away, and resigning herself to the drama not being over quite yet, "Where are mom and dad?"
Immediately a tension fell over the two ghosts. Neither one answered right away, Adam fidgeting with his glasses, and Barbara looking like she wanted to talk about pretty much anything else. But it was Barbara who spoke. "Your parents are, talking." She said quietly, as if this were the most normal thing in the world. "Trying to figure some things out. They thought they should do it somewhere else."
Because of her. Well, damn it, fine. She could deal with that even later, then. "Right," She murmured aloud, determined this time not to let them see her reaction to the 'news,' "Guess it's just us then." Not that there was anything wrong with that, they were a hell of a lot easier to get along with than her so-called real parents.
"Right!" Barbara agreed, clearly already feeling better herself. "Now, who's up for some breakfast?"
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It was a chilly day, needlessly bright in her opinion, even if she usually loved sunny days… Not that she would ever admit it. The trees were filled with unfolding leaves, and new flowers, and the air was filled with sound… She walked along the street, feeling decidedly alone among the people who shared the road with her, and smiling, despite it. She didn't want to be unhappy anymore… It all didn't make much sense getting upset over anyway. She couldn't do a damn thing about her parents, and Vincent? Well hell, if he'd told her the truth from the beginning, she probably wouldn't even have cared.
'Tck-tcking' softly under her breath, she considered the people she passed, many she knew, many she didn't. Winter River was growing. She supposed that small towns did that. So many people, going about, living their lives… Neither knowing nor caring about the secrets she kept. She wasn't sure herself why she liked that.
A small stand filled with bright yellow flowers drew her attention, and despite herself she smiled, coming to a stop beside it. Black eyed susans… A heart of darkness, and an aura of warmth. Just about her favorite flowers in the world, beside purple irises. "How much?" She asked the woman behind the shaky looking wooden stand, who smiled at her, and asked for two dollars, looking more hurried and tired than she felt herself.
Lydia bought three bunches, wrapping them together with the rubber bands on the stems, until she had an armful of the bold things. She was late for her visit to the retirement home, but these should smooth over any laxness on her part… They'd make that dreary little place just a little more tolerable, and she was certain she'd get a few smiles in response. She could use a few extra smiles today.
Tucking her arms around them, carefully, she took her time, walking the rest of the way. The chill air felt good, it made her think of all the people she loved, and the adventures she'd yet to have in her own little secret playground. Spring was like fall… It just smelled, newer.
Pausing once the tall wooden building was in sight, Lydia curled her lip, involuntarily, in a grimace. It was so… falsely cheery. A perfect white, with a neat little fence, pink flowers, and the smell, or so she couldn't shake the notion, of stale baby powder, even lingering out here. Like some kindly grandmother's cottage… Only far too big, and lacking any of the warmth.
But she didn't come here for the decorations. She walked up to the door, a little hum on the curve of her lips, ready for a few rounds of jokes, and a few rounds of cards, and some friendly gossip that they had to make sure no one overheard. Oh, and cats. Lots of cats.
Knocking briskly on the door, making certain she'd be heard, she kicked absently at the ground, and buried her face in the green smelling daisy-things, wondering if there would be brownies. The brownies tasted like shit, but hell, chocolate was chocolate. And someone would always sneak her a handful of hard candies, after the residents had learned how she loved them…
The door creaked open, and a cold, distant face peered out, regarding the girl on the step with a frown, as if she was really the last person she felt like dealing with today. Lydia suppressed her surge of nausea, smiled, and held up the bouquet. "Flowers." She informed the woman lightly, like her dour self wouldn't recognize the things. "Am I late? Did anyone miss me?"
An extended moment of silence followed this, before grudgingly, the door swung open the rest of the way… But rather than standing aside, and letting her pass, the nurse took a step in her direction, filling the doorway. "Ms. Deetz." She murmured, managing the same fake little smile that she used with many of the patients. "I'm afraid we have a problem."
Lydia just stared at her, stomach lurching at the idea that any of her older friends might have had something bad happen to them… Even for a girl who knew death as well as she did, she couldn't quite suppress that initial reaction of, 'Oh god, what's wrong?'
"Problem?" She echoed weakly, trying to shake the sense of worry that gripped her heart. "Is someone hurt? Is everyone okay?"
Again that small, patronizing smile. "It's about your visits, actually. It seems some complaints have been made about your behavior during your little volunteer sessions… Worries about getting the seniors, overexcited. Breaking of rules. Improper displays." A small pause, then, with just a touch of vindication, "There really is quite a list."
This had to be some kind of put on… Right? "We were just having fun." Lydia frowned, trying to peer past the nurse, her grip now so tight on her surprise gift that some of the stems broke under her hand. "Why is that a bad thing? They're old, not dead!" And of course, some of the most fun people she knew were dead anyway…
"Too much fun can be a dangerous thing, once you reach a certain age." The woman informed her wisely, not giving an inch. "I'm afraid the complaints have been taken seriously." A small, brief pause, filled with false sympathy. "I'm afraid your little visits will no longer be allowed. Perhaps when you have relatives of your own to visit…"
"Like I'd ever put anyone I love in this hellhole." Lydia muttered, baring her teeth just a little, in a purely animalistic reaction, the flowers now hanging unnoticed by her side, as she added, in a slightly louder voice, "So what, do I at least get to say goodbye?"
The woman smiled, clearly the sort of woman who had no place in this line of work, and had never liked the goth girl from the beginning. And that smile made Lydia want to tear it off her smug little face. "I'll relay your regrets myself." She offered with sickening sweetness, before stepping back, and moving to close the door in her face-
And failing, largely because a tall woman with a blue bouffant was holding the doorway open with one hand, urging Lydia to come in with the other. "Kiddo! We were just talking about you! You know it's not a good game, 'til you get here…"
Lydia smiled, bitterly, wryly. "She won't even let me say goodbye." She rasped, angry, and not above getting this last little bit of revenge. "What the fuck, right?"
The look in the older woman's eyes changed slowly to steel, and an unpleasant smile crossed her lips. "Is that so?" She purred, curling her fingers around the edge of the doorframe, and leaning through, through, the woman currently stopping Lydia from entering, as she murmured in a low, conspiratorial tone, "We'll just see about that, won't we, dear?"
And drawing back, she gave a low, decidedly nasty laugh, and vanished from sight, every bit the sight of a vengeful spirit. Her last words, lingering softly on the air, "You just come back here again next week, my dear. We'll see if I can't change this little prude's mind by then!"
Lydia smiled, genuinely, and gave the unpleasant nurse a look of sheer ice… The combination was almost certainly, downright unsettling. "Enjoy my absence." She murmured, feeling decidedly evil at the moment, and more than willing to let this trifling annoyance bear the brunt of everything that had been going wrong lately. "A few letters, a few complaints, I'll be back. That being said…" She shoved the oversized bouquet into the woman's chest, hard, finishing softly with, "I doubt you'll have to worry about me again."
With that, she left her there, feeling a bristling of anger and revulsion down her spine, out of place smile still very much in place, until the building behind her was long out of sight… Only then did her angry pace slow, and her expression dissolve into one of disgust. Damn it, nothing could just stay the way it was supposed to, could it?
Well fuck, clearly her life didn't know who it was dealing with. Letters. That was a start. To family members of the residents, who'd all seemed to like her. Complaints, to the administrators of the building. City hall, for fuck's sake. There had to be a rule. A loophole. Beetlejuice had taught her that. She was tired of life running rampant over her spirit… This? This was going to be easy. And she had little doubt that by the time she came back, any trouble-making leeches like that little annoyance back there, would be long since history. They should have arranged that a long time ago.
In fact, maybe she could talk to Beetlejuice…
She stopped, abruptly, in front of a store display window, and frowned at the reflection she saw there. She looked about ready to kill someone… Better be careful with that, neitherworld changing me the way it is. This look could stick. The thought, bizarrely, made her feel better.
So what to do now? She had a whole Sunday to herself, no plans, nobody waiting for her, nothing that needed to get done. She could almost convince herself it was just a day off, if she really believed she'd be back with her friends within another week.
And of course, the best person to spend time with, whenever she had a day off, was the ghost with the most… It was just a matter of finding him. Oh yeah, and she still had a little reaming him out to do, didn't she? Her heart wasn't really in it anymore, but she should probably give him at least a mild verbal lashing, just to feel like she'd gotten some vindication…
"Now where the hell are you, Beej?" She muttered under her breath, her hand unconsciously going to her chest… Not to his ring, but where the little spark of his energy still twisted, inside her. She should be able to use that to find him, she'd done it before. Closing her eyes, she tried to let her current surroundings slip away, sucking in a deep breath through her teeth, and listened… She didn't know what else to call it, just listening. For the echo of the energy that still tingled at her chest.
There it was. Slowly, Lydia opened her eyes again, fixing them in the direction the little pull came from, and frowned. A very little pull. Beetlejuice wasn't in Winter River… Which meant, since he could be anywhere from New York to Paris, that she couldn't track him down. And it was really starting to piss her off, not being able to call on him, pretty much ever.
"The guy definitely needs a cell phone." She muttered under her breath, starting to turn to go on her way again… And pausing, as something caught her sight in the window again. Or rather, not in its reflection, but beyond it.
Lydia stopped in her tracks, forgetting the poltergeist abruptly as she leaned forward, and pressed her fingertips against the glass, using her own shadow to try to get a better look inside. Cuff-links… Little nothing-fancy, oblong shaped, uninspiring cufflinks. Not worth shit. But it did remind her… She'd promised Vincent a birthday present. Owed him a few, really. But what the hell was she supposed to get a prince for his birthday?
"I've never been able to get him anything nice…" She grumbled under her breath, turning away from the display window, and winding her way absently down the sidewalk, now checking every window.
A scarf she'd knitted herself, that year she'd tried knitting her presents… His being the only thing she'd actually finished. Which turned out like shit. And she'd given it to him anyway, because she knew he'd love it, just because it was from her… Drawings. Photographs. Never anything decent… And not for the first time, this ate at her.
What did you get a dead guy, who already had all the coolest stuff in the neitherworld at his beck and call? The neitherworld having much better junk than anything she'd found yet in the living world… Though, maybe that was just because the novelty hadn't worn off yet.
Slowly, she turned this thought over in her head, pursing her lips in a thoughtful little moue. Novelty, huh? So, maybe she'd give him something so utterly living world, that he'd never seen anything like it. Would that do it?
Great. Now how the hell did she do that? She had no idea what he liked… Well, other than her. Her mind turned back to his empty bedroom, so bereft of anything fancy, so devoid of any sign that someone even called it home. Perfectly clean. No clue the sort of things he enjoyed. Her bedroom on the other hand, was cluttered day in and day out, with half mended clothes, piles of drawings, favorite books, old toys she'd kept around for the hell of it…
Old toys. She stopped in front of the current store, looking at a row of crummily put together dolls, cheap plastic this and that's, and piles of dusty board games. She wondered briefly if Vincent had any old toys… He'd been a kid for a really long time, but hadn't ever really struck her as the kind of guy who played with them.
Everyone needed a few toys in their lives… Or afterlives…
Pushing the door open, she was hit by a blast of warm, fragrant air, smelling of incense and potpourri, and oddly, eggnog. Beyond the first little knick knacks in the window, the store offered what looked like a vast collection of antique dolls, elaborate puzzles made of metal rings, and miniatures carved painstakingly from tiny bits of wood, spread out more or less everywhere.
Lydia walked past the row of stuffed unicorns without pause, lingered briefly at pewter statues of gryffions, and regarded with some small interest, old action figures she swore she remembered from when she was just a little girl. It was an odd collection, to be sure… She wondered how many times she'd passed this place, never thinking to go in, because it was too normal.
Gingerly she lifted a tiny plastic prince charming, no longer than her finger, and grinned, a little foolishly. Looking around, and finding a similarly small girl, in simple clothes, and setting them together. It was probably the silliest thing she'd done in years… But it cheered her up, immensely. Something here would be right for him. She was sure of it. And lord knew she'd enjoy looking… She hadn't been in a proper toy-store in years.
"Can I help you?"
Lydia didn't even look up at the woman speaking, just shaking her head with a soft sound of negation, and walking down the long aisle, her fingertips dragging over the time-worn corner of the shelf. Whoever it was that had spoken, seemed content to leave her alone after this, which was fine with Lydia. She'd never been one to be pressured into buying anything… She'd rather take her time, see everything…
Nearly an hour later left her having the explored most of the store, and put her right back in front of the shelves of ring puzzles and wooden squares with odd shaped pegs, begging to be taken apart, and placed together again… If possible. She'd come back to this shelf again and again, drawn by the oddly colored hidden pictures, the tumbling blocks held by twine, the silly plastic puzzles… It was one of these that she lingered by longest in fact, with its brightly colored sides, segmented sections, and boldly printed challenge on lined paper beneath it, to try solving the thing.
Lydia smirked, not sure which would be more fun, giving the guy an everyday present he'd never seen before, or watching him trying to solve it. I'm supposed to be getting him something he'll enjoy, not me, she mused to herself, finally picking the light cube up, and inspecting it with as detached an eye as she could give a toy, before her features split in a grin. Damn it, now she really wanted to see if he could solve the thing… She was sure it would drive him crazy if he couldn't.
Giving it a few, exploratory spins, Lydia was finally satisfied that the toy was as tricky as she remembered, and set it back down, grabbing one still in its package, and heading for the front of the store. She was lucky she still had some money left over after those flowers she'd wasted… But Vincent would be fascinated by the little puzzle, she was certain of it.
And since she couldn't wait to see the look on his face, she supposed she'd just go home now, and see what the ghost prince was up to… Maybe she could have some fun on this day off after all.
No thanks to some dead guys, who apparently had better things to do…
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Nothing in his afterlife ever went as planned… Never for more than a few hours at a time, anyway. Caught up in a miserable, fermenting bog of politics, age old prejudices, and meaningless traditions, it was amazing he ever managed to find any time for himself… Much less the woman he loved.
And Lydia of course, she could never have any idea the lengths he went to, to prepare for a question she was long from ready to hear…
She can't even say she loves me… Did I ever fool myself into believing it would be so simple? That such a creature with such will and spirit would simply fall for a destiny-binded fool such as me? He scowled, running his fingers across his lips, and cast a scathing glare at 'his' new advisor… Willing to spare no more patience on his father's miserable hand-me-down than necessary.
"Suggestion, then." He muttered aloud, dismissing the chamberlain's concerns with a twitch of his fingers… More than enough to make the other man look nervous, less and less certain about his new master's willingness to call on long unused powers every day. Only the disinherited fool spun spells now more often than the heir-prince… "Suggestion that, if I am not willing to forcibly silence the tongue of the press, as it is given freedom… There are many other ways I can make those who trouble my princess, very sorry they did not catch me in good mood."
Princess, he called her already. As if she already wore his ring, and sat by his side. Let them get used to the idea now… Crossing her, meant crossing him. His parents, his councilors, his subjects… Down to the last damned stable boy, let them get the point now.
"Understood." The chamberlain murmured, eyeing the contender to the throne nervously. The prince was given ever more and more to shows of temper… All very carefully. And increasingly, gaining the support of members of his family who had rested, 'in the wings,' so to speak, for generations. All but forgotten, save for a meaningless title, and a few drops of blood. "I can almost guarantee, there will not be another display, such as upset the lady in her previous visit."
Almost guarantee. Vincent frowned, ignoring this, for now. It was the best that could be asked for… In fact, literally. There would be a challenge, of course. There had to be. It couldn't be left as an idle threat, his willingness to back his words with action must be made clear…
He touched his temple, fleetingly, weary of catering to men such as the one before him, so set on image and tradition. Things were changing. The neitherworld seemed determined to resist it. And fools such as the chamberlain only made this more apparent day by day, even if the man refused to challenge him directly anymore himself.
Yet the fact that he still stood there, rather than carrying out Prince Vince's orders immediately, indicated that something else still troubled the man. "And what is it now?" Vincent asked flatly, already unimpressed by whatever triviality delayed his new servant in obeying his orders. "Was there something I needed to clarify?"
The man hedged, just a little, suddenly unwilling to voice his concern. "Well, highness, you see… There is the concern of your lady's company… Beetlejuice." A trace of loathing to the name. "That an interest of the crown should fraternize with one of his loathed standing… It doesn't reflect well on you, you see." The prince's frown deepened, just marginally. "Might not his highness suggest a bit more, discretion, on his lady's part?"
Beetlejuice. Again. The prince knew damn well that Lydia would never surrender her hold on the other poltergeist, not without more reason than he could give… And in all honesty, he had no grudge against the man. After all, he'd done what Vincent himself had wanted to do for centuries… Flew in the face of the whole damned royal monarchy, and left this unwelcome burden behind him for good.
Albeit at a price… One Vince would pay himself in a second, if he had the choice.
Oh. He's still waiting for an answer. Prince Vince offered a flat, unimpressed glance towards the man. "My Lydia's choice of companion is her concern, and her concern alone. Keep in mind now… She is the only one in this neitherworld that I do not intend having to answer to me. As for, Beetlejuice…" A pause, as he admitted, privately of course, that his advisor was right in his estimation, regardless of whether or not he could do anything about it… Regardless of whether or not he even wanted to…
"The poltergeist is responsible for himself." He finished, simply. "As he has always been. He has caused the neitherworld difficulty for longer than I have been dead, and I do not expect this to change. However, I will not have my Lydia laid with the burden now, simply because she keeps his company." Another pause, deliberate. "The two are separate entities, you see. I want that understood… And it is for Lydia, that my hand is swayed. Not Beetlejuice."
A moment's silence seemed to allow this to sink in, even to the stubborn advisor's mind. "Then… You do not extend the crown's protection to your cousin?"
He could of course, object to Beetlejuice being called this… Most in his family did, but he saw no reason to argue the point. There were more important matters at hand. "I assure you, that is one creature who neither needs, nor desires the protection of this family." He noted, just a trace of humor to his tone, which only served to unsettle the ghost he was speaking to more. "Furthermore…"
"Vincent?" The living girl's voice cut through Prince Vince's bad mood like an unexpected spear of light, and instantly the man abandoned his current line of thought, his expression changing dramatically as he turned to see where her voice was coming from… For one instant, letting his guard down, and looking utterly human.
Just as quickly, realizing he'd lowered his guard, he spun back with renewed fury on the chamberlain, who had not taken the hint to go. "Leave us!" He growled, looking truly animalistic in those moments. "At once!" The poor man almost fell over his feet in an attempt to retreat…
But he did leave them alone. Vincent turned back to the silver plaque on the wall, tinted ever so vaguely with the reflection of the woman he loved. "If this is a bad time…" He heard her mutter, sounding slighted… She'd thought he was talking to her! How could she believe he'd speak to her that way?
"Not at all." With a wave of his hand, the plaque was elsewhere, replaced by a polished mirror that captured the prince's image briefly, from the waist up, before it gave way again to the living girl's image once more. His heart was in his throat, suddenly a very different man than he'd been only moments before, as he attempted an apologetic smile. "I was dismissing someone else, my Lydia… Know that I would never use such a tone with you."
Lydia considered her, a small frown still turning down the edges of her soft mouth… Before it gave way to an excited little grin, like she was just so happy to see him. "Hold on…" She murmured, vanishing for an instant, before reappearing again, the chair he'd given her years before, firmly in grasp. "Okay." She turned it, and sat down, propping her elbows on the dresser, and her chin on her wrists, making soft black locks tumble down her arms, her eyes dancing as she watched him. "Guess what?"
Guess? "You're pleased to see me?" He prompted, a subtle tease to the words, as he carefully projected his power outward, making certain the two of them wouldn't be disturbed. "Certainly I am pleased to see you, my Lydia… I didn't expect such pleasant respite again so soon."
The slight girl smirked, tilting her head in such a way that inky black locks fell across one eye, before with a careless swipe, she brushed it back away, making his stomach do wonderful little flips. "That too." She agreed, not sounding unpleased. "But I meant something else… Since I know when your birthday is now, I got you a present. Even if it is late."
Vincent's gaze softened, and he touched the cool mirror lightly with his fingertips… A frail barrier that could not keep him from her, if he didn't allow it, but now, a smooth cool surface between them, not quite letting them touch. "That was not necessary, my Lydia… Your favor is a far greater gift than any you could obtain for me."
"Don't ruin the moment." She chided, the pleased little glint to her eyes showing her tease. "I never get to get you anything nice, and I took over an hour to pick this out for you." Her hand drew from her chin, and vanished beneath the mirror's sight for an instant, followed by, when this initial search failed, his love's head, as she searched for something beneath her dresser. "Damn it, I dropped it right here…"
A brief pause, where she vanished from sight completely, only to reappear a moment later, triumphant, a multicolored box clasped firmly in her hand, her pale lips stretched in a grin. "It's a puzzle!" She informed him, looking pleased with herself. "I wasn't sure if you had anything like it in the neitherworld, so…" She hesitated, suddenly looking briefly nervous, in that shy way she only occasionally showed, before reaching her hand through the mirror, with as little effort as thought, and offering the small cube to him. "Go on. Take it."
Prince Vince took the oddly bright present, letting the fingers of his opposite hand linger briefly on her wrist, as he gave her a small, genuinely pleased smile. It didn't really matter what it was, just that she had gone to such effort to find something she thought he'd like…
Grinning, she drew her hand back away, and crossed her arms across the dresser, watching him with a hopeful, expectant look. Dutifully, Vincent turned his attention to the garish little thing… Only to be absolutely dumbfounded by what it was. For a box, it didn't seem likely to open… Maybe that was the puzzle? "I admit," He said slowly, lifting his eyes to her again in amusement, "I have no idea what to do now."
Lydia sat back slowly, still smiling, and her eyes lidded a little, giving her a mysterious air. "Twist it." Was all she offered, as if that was in fact, the puzzle's only true purpose. Curious, the prince did as she asked, spinning the segmented sides until two colors faced off opposingly, no longer matching. "More…" She murmured, a bit impatiently this time. "This is the most fun I've had all day Vincent, I want to see if you can do it!"
Obligingly, the prince set to twisting the 'puzzle' in as many directions as possible, until each face of the box sported a complete disarray of colors… Seeming to offer no purpose at all. "There," He offered, satisfied, as he lifted the device for her to observe, and give her approval of. He really wasn't sure what this was, or why it seemed to fascinate her so… There was so much of the living world he didn't understand, even now…
"Okay." Lydia's smirk returned, and her fingers curled, just a little, before she settled her chin on her arms, eyes dancing as she watched him. "Now put it back."
For a moment, Vincent just stared at her, uncomprehending… Then slowly, turned his gaze to the jumbled mess of colors in his outstretched hand, and wondered briefly how in the neitherworld she expected him to do that. "Wouldn't it have been simpler to not mix the colors in the first place?" He frowned, trying to find a pattern, any sort of pattern, with his eyes… And failing.
"But then there wouldn't be any challenge." Lydia pointed out, looking oddly satisfied. "I could never solve one of those damn things, but there's supposed to be a way you can do it. I figured you might want to see if you could."
Obviously it was capable of being solved… It had been solved, only moments before… Despite himself, his curiosity was intrigued. It was a challenge, then. Some puzzle that even those who'd created it had difficulty solving? Interesting. Maybe he could…
A soft laugh escaped his lips, making Lydia blink, then grin, looking absolutely delighted with herself. It made him reflect, briefly, on how seldom he laughed… She seemed to enjoy the sound, however unnatural it felt for him. He should try to laugh more often. "I like it." He said simply, surprised himself by the fact that it was true… And not simply because it was a gift from her. "Thank you, Lydia. I shall see how well I can turn my hand at solving it."
When he had some time he wasn't already devoting to securing his kingdom, that was. Or more importantly, his princess…
Lydia straightened slowly, and sighed, suddenly looking tired. He knew she'd had a long few days, even knew that there were more than likely a few problems that she hadn't even shared, and wondered briefly if that really would be the highlight of her day. Giving him a little colored box. "I confess to being a bit surprised," He prompted, after a moment's thought, "After our time together yesterday, I was almost certain that Beetlejuice would claim any you had free today."
Looking briefly surprised, Lydia's expression fell into one of patient humor, and she shook her head, smiling. "There's no telling what that ghost's up to." She denied, matter-of-factly. "The last time I saw him, he seemed like he was in a hurry to be somewhere else…" With a wry twist of his lips, she added, "The position of best friend, and/or gatekeeper, doesn't seem to include the privilege of actually knowing the hell's going through the guy's thick head, you know?"
Not really surprising, from what Prince Vince knew of the other poltergeist… Before he could say as much though, Lydia reached through the mirror again, surprising him into momentary silence, and took firm grasp of his hand, suddenly looking like she needed him to say, something. He didn't know what. "Do you think it gets easier when we get older?" She asked softly, managing a small smile. "That when all this teen angst bullshit gets over, maybe things will make more sense?"
"I hope so." Vincent answered honestly, after a moment's pause. "But I may not be the one to ask. My years as a teenager have been… excruciatingly long." When she giggled, he took the corner of her cheek gently into his hand, and leaned through the mirror, lightly kissing her between the eyes. "I will certainly try to make it easier for you, if I am able…"
He was about to say more, when a blur of movement off to one side caught his eye, and he turned, in surprise more than anything, to see what it was… And paused, uncertain exactly what he was looking at. "What is that?" He asked softly, unable to prevent just a tiny thrill of dread from creeping up into his chest. The black and white creature, which had come to an abrupt stop at earning his attention, now watched him with angry, wild green eyes. Vincent's grip tightened on her hand. "Lydia," He asked again, just a little more urgently, "What is that creature?"
Lydia followed his line of sight, frowned, and turned back to him, looking at the prince like she was worried he might be losing his mind. "That's just Loki." She said slowly, clearly not sure why he was staring at the thing like some creature of hell. "He's my cat." A small pause. "You knew I had a cat, right?" Another pause. "You know, like the things at the retirement home? I know there aren't many in the neitherworld…"
A cat. He tried to listen to her words after this, but it all kept coming back to those two words. A cat. The problem was, Prince Vince had seen a fair number of cats in his years, living and otherwise. He'd been around for some number of years after all, even if they weren't common beasts in the neitherworld. Cats were in fact, very nearly the only creatures that could come and go from that world of the dead as they pleased, once they reached a certain point in their lives…
So he'd seen a few. Both living, and dead. The problem was that the creature he was looking at right now, fur raised angrily along its back, bottle brush tail swishing furiously as it realized it was caught, was neither. Baring its fangs, the 'cat' snarled under its breath, a sound that had no place in a common house-pet, and left Lydia looking after him in startlement as he stalked away, clearly not certain she'd heard right. All she said though, was "Huh." Like it just didn't seem that strange to her at all.
Vincent looked after the place the animal had vanished, worried as he considered what such a creature's presence in his Lydia's life might mean. "A cat," He said softly, just as if he were not questioning it, "I have never seen one with such, unusual markings." He turned back to her, his eyes searching hers, for some sign that she knew her pet was more than he appeared… Nothing. She was still puzzling over his sudden outburst. "Loki, you said his name was?"
"Yeah…" She was frowning as she turned back to him, like she knew herself something odd had just happened, she just wasn't certain what. Unfortunately, neither did he… "I like trouble-makers. You know, like the trickster."
He in fact, did not know, nor really care. "Perhaps you should rest for a while." He murmured, turning over this recent turn of events in his mind. "I suspect simply from the time I've spent in your company of late, that you've not been getting enough sleep."
"Yeah…" Lydia gave a little half smile, seeming to decide it was best to forget the whole thing, and leaned through the glass, until she seemed in danger of falling through. He steadied her, gently, and she dropped a light kiss on his cheek, feather soft, and warm. "I'll see you soon, okay? Everything's so crazy lately… I need something in my life that makes sense."
"I will always try to… make your life make sense." He assured her slowly, not certain he was saying this right. What he meant to say was that he would be her shelter, her protected cove, her place to hide, and her sense of safety… But none of that had managed to come out right. Oh well.
Once she was gone, a grim expression settled across the prince's features, and he reached out, grasping the edge of the mirror firmly, and pulled it away from the wall… Revealing a tunnel behind it, that had not existed, only a few moments before. Green vapor spilled out of the narrow entranceway, along with the smell of the newly dead, and the stagnation of time being distorted beyond the confines of its walls…
Without hesitation, he plunged into the swirling fog, yanking the mirror shut behind him. A moment later, it shrank, and disappeared, leaving nothing but the silver plaque that had been there in the beginning… And leaving him no obvious way back out.
For once, Vincent did not knock on the door at the far end of his roughly hewn tunnel, throwing it open with a force that swept into the room like a wind with a mind of its own, twisting at papers and bending wood, leaving the entire office a slightly bent version of its former self.
Juno looked up at him, an angry snap on her tongue… Only to die unuttered, as she saw the dangerous set to the crown prince's mouth. "Get out." He uttered quietly to the man currently demanding the case worker's attention. "We have business to discuss."
"Hold on now…" The man managed to mutter, oddly without benefit of a bottom jaw, "I took my number and waited with the rest of them! You can't come in here, and…!"
Vincent turned to the man, with eyes that he'd inherited through many generations of men who were not used to being disobeyed. "I can, and I have." He informed the other icily, little sparks of energy flaring to life, and snapping with a sharp, brief crackling around him. "And unless you wish me to relocate your mandatory haunting years to the receiving bin of a sewage plant, for an additional seven hundred years, with what remains of your broken corpse hanging around your neck by your tongue, YOU WILL LEAVE NOW!"
To his credit, Juno's client never stopped to question whether or not the prince could actually do that, he in fact could, choosing instead to leave the case worker's office as fastly as inhumanly possible, and almost leaving his foot behind in the process.
Only when the door was closed between them, and the rest of the world beyond it, did Prince Vince turn back to the elderly ghost woman, currently watching him through wary eyes. He had no doubt that she knew fully well how dangerous he was at the moment… If she hadn't known first hand just how powerful the royal family was before he entered his little growth spurt, she was intimately aware of the position he himself possessed now.
"What is that creature in my Lydia's possession?" He demanded, closing his fingers on the edge of her desk, and looming the much smaller woman into his shadow… Not that it was hard, considering that she was still sitting down.
Juno considered him, for upwards of a minute, before grinding out her cigarette grudgingly, well aware he didn't like them. "It's called a cat." She informed him, matter-of-factly. "They're all over the living world. You should look into it sometime."
Prickling anger rose up his spine, but before he could summon words worthy of such a summery dismissal, she looked back up at him, and continued, asking, "I assume that what you're referring to however, is the fact that the cat in question has currently exceeded its thirteenth life." A twist of her hand. "Surpassed the boundaries of life and death. All that. For all effects and purposes, 'moved on.'"
"Yes." Vincent agreed, slowly, already doing his best to gather his temper back beneath him… Too much anger was a weakness, as dangerous as any other. He had to be in control. The very fact that Juno was in control of her emotions, and he wasn't, was enough to warn him that he needed to calm down. "I assume it was assigned to her by, certain, powers-that-be."
"Who else could send one of those types back down to the mortal realm, much less to put up with a breather like that one?" A pause, then, "Mind you, those are usually the types his kind prefer…"
"Because of my involvement with her, then?" He demanded, not really calmer now, but far, far quieter. "Because these precious powers-that-be disapprove of my interaction with the woman I love, merely because she's living?"
For one moment, he swore Juno looked amused, even if she banished the betraying expression so quickly, he couldn't be sure. "Got your sight set on the throne of the neitherworld," She noted, far more collectedly than the situation called for, like she'd been expecting this conversation for some time now, "And a living girl too, breaking every tradition in your family. Flying against the face of everything you've been raised to know… You really must think this is about you, don't you?"
Her words left him, briefly, without anything sensible to offer. Of course it was about him. If not him, then who? Beetlejuice? Certainly it couldn't be… "This is about, Lydia herself, then?" He asked quietly, suddenly finding the need to sit down. "Because, she is a living witch…?"
Juno dismissed this with an absent little twist of her hand. "Rare," She acknowledged, like this was nothing at all, "But nothing worth that kind of effort. No, this has nothing to do with the Deetz girl… Or rather, it does, indirectly." A pause, as Juno seemed to reconsider what she was offering him, studying the prince with a long, careful gaze, before she admitted, grudgingly, "This is about the girl's daughter."
"Lydia's, daughter." Vincent echoed, certain there must be some mistake. "I believe I would have noticed, had she had a daughter."
"Well, not yet, of course!" Juno growled, looking impatient. "Look, if I'm going to explain this to you, you can at least try to keep up!" She snapped her fingers, and abruptly, a sizeable folder dropped onto the desk in front of her… Oddly enough, chained shut, and held by an elaborate clasp. "Do you know what this is?" She demanded, shortly. He could only shake his head. "Neither the hell do I!" Another snap of her fingers, and the folder was gone.
Slowly, the case worker leaned forward, folding her hands across the desk, and looking as serious as the young man had ever seen her. "You see kiddo, there are possible futures, and there are definite futures. Sort of like we don't know the road we'll be taking, but we know where we'll end up when we get there. That was a whole helping of possibles. Are you following?" This time, Vince nodded. "Good. See, you and the girl, that's a possible future…"
"Now let me tell you a definite future." Another wave of her hand, and a much smaller folder appeared before her, this one lacking any type of closure. "Lydia Deetz will one day be a mother. She'll have a large family." A lift of an eyebrow. "She ever tell you she wanted a large family?" Again, Vincent shook his head, starting to feel like his answers weren't really necessary at all in her little explanation. "Well she does. And she'll have one. The cat… Is interested in one in particular."
The folder closed, and as if this was all there was to her explanation, Juno leaned back in her chair, smiled like she really didn't give a damn what he thought of what she was about to say, and noted, almost vindictively, "One of that little breather's daughters is going to grow up to be queen of the neitherworld. And she's going to have a hell of a lot more power than even you could ever dream."
Silence followed this… Vincent wasn't sure what to think. Lydia's daughter would grow up to be queen of the neitherworld? That would make her, his daughter too, right? Then, this was good news… Lydia would be his wife. However these powers knew what they knew…
"No." Juno interrupted, ripping him from the pleasant train of thought his mind had been following. He looked back at her, baffled. "See now, I could tell what you were thinking just then. That the kid growing up to be queen means that it must be yours… But see, that's not how it works. The kid's gonna rule the neitherworld, with or without your little addition to her bloodline."
"That's what I meant by possible futures, and definite futures. Your chance with Lydia is just possible. Her kid getting the throne? That's gonna happen no matter what we do." A vague gesture with her hand. "You, me, anyone. You can see why the higher-ups want to send in someone to make sure everything happens as smoothly as possible. There's just too many possibilities up in the air right now."
"Who, precisely, are these higher ups?" Vincent asked flatly, after an extended moment proved that Juno wasn't going to say anything more.
"Hell if I know, kid." Juno admitted, not making any attempt to pretend she did. "The neitherworld? It's just one of a whole lot of places the dead can end up. You don't figure there's a few people working behind the scenes, to make sure everything runs the way it's supposed to? I don't ask questions. Even if they got answered, all it would mean is more paperwork for me. God knows I have enough of that… I just deal with my little end of it, same as any of us."
"And how is Lydia's daughter to claim the crown, if she isn't mine?" He demanded, starting to feel some of his anger returning, and rising from his seat again, in a need to vent it. "What you're claiming makes no sense…!"
"Doesn't it?" Juno met his eyes flatly, emotionlessly. "Look, I don't know. Maybe Lydia hooks up with one of your descendants. Maybe her kid hooks up with one of your descendants. Maybe her kid hooks up with you. Hell, what's one more generation?" Now, oddly, anger seemed to finally build up in her own voice. "Maybe the girl incites a rebellion, and overthrows the whole damn royal family! I told you, I don't ask! I deal with right now, and I'll deal with the future when it happens, not before!"
The prince stared, silently. It took longer than it should have, for the woman's words to sink in… and when they did, he really only focused on one part of what she'd been saying. "So then, you've no way to be certain what role I am to play in this child's life." He repeated at last, a little tightly. "Am I not to be concerned with the fact that this future queen of the neitherworld you speak of, is equally likely to be my daughter, or my wife?
Juno gave a grim little smile, amused, and seemingly unimpressed with the prince's own personal problems with the situation. "Personally, I'm more concerned with how the hell little choice we have in the matter. Doesn't matter who the father is, doesn't matter which world the kid's raised in, doesn't matter what you or I do to get in the way, the girl is gonna be queen." She opened her top drawer, and started fishing around in it for something, muttering under her breath, So much for that fucking free will they're always going on about…
"Daughter, or wife!" Vincent repeated, just a little more loudly, grabbing hold of the desk in front of her, like he might shake it to get her attention.
"Only two of the possibilities I've stated thus far." Juno pointed out, still searching, and finally coming up with a stick of gum. "I'm sure there's several others that neither one of us has thought of yet. I'm actually more curious as to why it has to be this particular breather's daughter. Lydia Deetz. Doesn't matter if her father's a breather too, she's still gonna inherit your crown. Can't be changed." She unwrapped it, gave it a dirty look, and popped the pale blue-green thing in her mouth… grimacing.
"But there's no point asking questions, because neither one of us are going to get any answers." She went on a moment later, not waiting for him to collect his thoughts again. "So, do you have any questions that I maybe can answer? No? I didn't think so." She waved at him dismissively, giving the impression that this was a long old annoyance to her, and she didn't get why he was getting so upset about it now. "Now if you'll excuse me, I do have other clients waiting… Which technically, you're not one of to begin with. Kindly get out."
He didn't get out. He just continued to stand there, now looking down at the warped wood, and for the first time in a long time, feeling utterly, completely helpless. He'd done all he could now, for years, to prove to himself that he had some measure of control over his life… Only to be informed, in the most dismissive way possible, that his life was more or less a bookmark, in a story that might not even include him at all.
When he didn't immediately leave, Juno's expression, first a frown, grew a little uneasy, clearly not liking the younger man's shifted mood. "Look," She offered at last, clearly just hoping he'd pull himself up and get back to afterlife as usual, but not above offering a little final advice, "For what it's worth, it seems like the Deetz girl is pretty taken with you. I figure the two of you will be very happy together, and the kid will be yours, problem solved. The only thing I see getting in the way at this point…"
She broke off, a little sharply, like maybe she shouldn't have said anything at al, and gave him a pointed look. "Well, do I have to spell it out for you?
No. No, she didn't. He shook his head slowly, back to answering without a word. Beetlejuice. The one person who could compete for his love's affection. Never mind that she'd never shown any such interest in him before… Or for that matter, that he'd never shown any such interest in her. Because suddenly, nothing felt certain.
"Good." She mumbled, already spitting out her gum, and reaching for another cigarette. "Always knew you were a smart kid. A little slow, but you get there in the end." Pointing at him with the slender stick of white, she cautioned, pointedly, "Just don't push your luck with the girl, you'll be fine. Get your very own happily ever after."
A pause, then, in a no-nonsense tone, just as if she hadn't just made him question everything he believed about his life, and his future, she muttered flatly, "Now get the hell out of my office."
Don't push her. Don't push her, and maybe he could hold onto her… Except that he was running out of time. In one week, she'd be sixteen. In another year, seventeen. After that, she would be beyond his reach. And he was a man who knew very well how quickly time could sneak up on a person. One year to win her heart, to make her his princess… And he had to be careful not to push her too quickly.
Powers that be… He muttered to himself, his eyes slowly growing hard. Gods or devils, I don't care either way. I will not lose her. He didn't understand the rest, it was true, but maybe Juno had the right idea. Take it all as it came. See what the future led to. And make certain it led to the future he intended… Whatever the cost to him.
As long as it didn't cost him the woman he loved, he didn't care.
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