Thanks for the follows and favorites everyone! It really means a lot. Once again, a HUGE thank you to The Art of Suicide for correcting my many mistakes and for the extra creative flourish she gives to my descriptions. You're wonderful!
Disclaimer: I do not own Beetlejuice. I make no money off of this. It's just fun writing this!
Juno stood her ground among the caseworkers and watched the bar patiently as horrified screams sliced through the music. Despite her confident stance, internally she was shitting bricks.
What the flying fuck are you doing in there you blithering idiot?
Bartholomew was growing more excited with each passing moment. The screaming from inside the bar only confirmed for him that Betelgeuse was going to get what had been coming to him for so long; a demotion and chains. Certainly, he would be sent to the lower levels indefinitely this time. Chained to a desk for the rest of his sentence, or hopefully until judgment day, where he would most assuredly be deemed unworthy and sent straight to hell where he truly belonged.
When Betelgeuse and Lydia appeared hand in hand before him, Bartholomew couldn't keep his jubilant shouts at bay.
"I knew it! I knew it!" He laughed victoriously. He gave Vince a violent pat in the back. "Good work, son! This is a glorious day." An evil smile was aimed in Betelgeuse's direction. "A glorious day indeed," his whisper dripped gloatingly with triumph.
Betelgeuse gave him his own wicked smile in return as he waved innocently. "Hey, Bart! It is Bart, now, right? Long time no see, buddy."
No one noticed how he protectively stepped in front of Lydia, shielding her from the crowd.
Juno shook her head at the sight. His demeanor was lost on everyone but her. She was familiar with the look in his eye, the possessive body language.
He's attached. This is not good.
Betelgeuse looked at Vince and cracked his knuckles.
"Oh, Romeo. You made a big boo boo," he gritted through his teeth.
Vince had the good sense to look worried.
Lydia's hands shot forward and latched on to Betelgeuse's jacket. He flinched at the sudden contact but backed into her slightly, his only way of consoling her at the moment.
She felt completely helpless. Briefly, she wondered what she would do if she could manipulate things the way he did. Suddenly, it was like a lightbulb went off her in her brain.
Stupid, Lydia! You read the handbook!
It had been years since she read anything from the handbook. Still, she reasoned with herself.
I'm not dead. Maybe it's not the same. But maybe…
"Lydia Deetz," Bartholomew addressed her like the fugitive she was, "turn yourself in at once, name Betelgeuse as your kidnapper, and we can take you back to safety. No questions asked."
"That's a sweet deal, babe," Betelgeuse mused aloud, somewhat nervous despite his faith in her, "whadda ya say?" The cocky twist of his lips did nothing to belie his doubt.
"Fuck you, Bart!" She shouted resolutely over Betelgeuse's shoulder, releasing her grip on his jacket to mingle her fingers with his and hold his hand tight so that it was unquestionably clear to all in attendance where her loyalties lied.
Betelgeuse chuckled and his distrust faded away completely, only to be replaced by a well of affection that caught him off guard with its sheer depth and warmth. "Atta girl."
Juno rolled her eyes. Peas in a fucking pod.
Bartholomew fumed. Little wench!
Vince spoke up next. "Fair Lydia, please listen to reason! This scoundrel has deceived you. We only want to protect you."
It was Betelgeuse's turn to roll his eyes.
Lydia could no longer stand it.
"That's it! Listen up all of you! I left of my own free will. If I wait in sector eight, I won't make it!"
"There is no way of knowing that for sure," Vince pleaded.
"Lydia," Juno stepped forward, "you're positive?"
Lydia eyed the older ghost and nodded her head.
"The girl is a medium," Juno announced. Everyone gasped at the revelation. "She's felt her own death. If she says she'll die in there, then she will."
Murmuring erupted among the civil servants.
"That hardly matters!" Roared Bartholomew. "If that is her fate, then so be it. She cannot cheat her way out the process. She has no say in it!"
"It's my life! I just want to live!" She yelled back.
Bartholomew gave her a sad smile, "My dear, so does everyone else here."
Lydia had no response to that. She knew she was losing and just hoped that Betelgeuse had an escape plan. Scared and nervous, her grip on his hand tightened.
"I think it's time to make like a prom dress and take off," she muttered anxiously.
Betelgeuse cackled at her perverted pun. "You got some timin', babes!" Fuck. I think I'm in love. "Let's get this show on the road!"
Juno already knew what to expect. Silently, she had backed away from the group and shrouded herself in darkness.
Still holding Lydia's hands, Betelgeuse raised his arms the to the sky and with a grunt brought them down fast.
Green lighting struck the ground amidst the souls before them. After recovering from the blast, most ran away or disappeared altogether. Bartholomew staggered to his feet, temporarily stunned. He had faced Betelgeuse before, but the kind of power he was manipulating now was far more advanced than anything he had ever seen. Quickly, he understood that his time spent in subjugation had clearly not gone to waste.
No matter. I've learned a few tricks of my own.
As fast as he could, Bartholomew pulled his arm up as if holding a bow and arrow and let loose. At once, sharp branches from the surrounding trees hurled themselves at the fleeing couple.
Betelgeuse looked over his shoulder just in time to push Lydia to the ground and shield her, unnaturally stretching himself around her.
Before Bartholomew could let loose another barrage, a blackened Vince grabbed him by the arm.
"What are you doing?! You could kill her!"
Bart tried to shake Vince off as Betelgeuse shrank back to his normal size and collapsed into Lydia's arms.
His energy was quickly depleting as his form tried to expel the splintered spears and patch itself up. Pain seared through him. All he could hear was screaming and it felt like it was ripping him apart. It was Lydia. She was screaming bloody murder. It was high pitched and so incredibly loud that everyone nearby had collapsed.
Juno covered her ears in agony and dropped to her knees. She saw Bart trying to get back up on his feet to attack again. Growing another set of arms, Juno slammed her second pair of fists to the ground. A crack in the earth went straight for Lydia, who was still holding onto her protector and opened up underneath. They dropped through right as Bart sent another shower of spears their way.
The blunt arrows went straight through the bar's walls and more screaming erupted from inside.
Bart ran as fast as he could and peered over the hole in the ground where the couple had fallen. They were gone.
Bart roared in anger as he spun around, following the crack right to Juno who was still on all sixes. When their eyes met, Juno knew he was out for blood. She closed her eyes and braced herself for whatever was coming.
Then, all was dead silent. Juno opened her eyes to find everything in sight frozen in place. Bart was mid-air with a flaming spear in his hands. Even Juno couldn't move.
From out of the swamp, came the dead. Skeletons marched on and circled the perimeter. Bart fell to the ground and was apprehended immediately.
"No! You don't understand! They've escaped! She helped them!" He pointed a blaming finger at Juno.
He was silenced and bound. Juno and the others were rounded up.
"Are you all right?" Asked a concerned Vince.
"No thanks to you," She grumbled.
"I'm so sorry. Had I known that she was…" he had no more words.
"Yeah, that's right. Just shut up. Hope this serves as a lesson to you to stop acting like you're some kind of authority around here keep your goddamn nose outta people's business."
Vince hung his head in shame and said no more.
A skeleton soldier walked up to Juno and pointed to the bar. It said nothing, but she understood.
"I'll take care of it," she assured it. "Everyone who's still able, get in there and tend to the wounded. I'll start the fucking paperwork."
It was dark. Lydia could hear her own breathing, but nothing else. The weight in her arms told her that Betelgeuse was still with her.
Waiting to be captured or killed, she remained utterly still. She didn't know what to expect anymore. For several minutes she strained her eyes and ears, just waiting. When it became clear that nothing was coming, she whispered into the dark.
"Hello?" She waited. Again, nothing stirred. Betelgeuse should have said something snarky by now, but he was silent. She shook him and was terrified when he was still motionless.
"Beej?" She whimpered quietly. When there was still no response she yelled. "Betelgeuse! Wake up!" She shook him harder. "You better not be fucking with me, you sick bastard!"
Panic flooded her entire being. Keeping one arm around him she fumbled in the dark around her. She felt dirt first, then her hand hit something. It sounded like glass rolling on the floor. Then she felt something else. She followed it up and around and realized it had some kind of fabric and springing cushion.
A couch? I'm in somebody's living room? Or is this some kind of holding area where they keep lawbreakers until a trial? Are there trials down here? Am I going to jail? I'm going to jail.
She took a deep breath and tried to remember the handbook. I can do this. I can make shit happen.
"Light! Let there be light!" She yelled. She shook her head at her own stupidity. If Betelgeuse had been awake he would have laughed at her. She was sure if it. His silence was eating away at her.
She began her exploration anew.
"If there's a couch, there's gotta be a lamp here somewhere." She scooted closer, never letting go of the unconscious ghost. Her arm crashed into something hard. She felt around.
"Coffee table!" In her excitement at discovering another familiar object, she knocked over something that had been on it. She knew she needed both hands so, carefully, she settled the unconscious Betelgeuse on the ground. Then, she crawled toward the table, making sure to leave one foot touching him at all times.
Cautiously, she moved her hands on the table and grabbed at something that felt somewhat pliable. Inspecting further, she deduced it was a candle.
"Yes! Now, how the hell do I turn it on?"
Okay. Betelgeuse lights cigarettes outta nowhere all the time. What does he do?
She tried to remember all of the instances where he had magically just made things happen.
"Blinked. He's blinked. He's snapped his fingers. He's nodded. Flicked his wrists. Always does something…" she was speaking fast trying to make sense of it all.
"Okay! Fire needs friction so… I'll snap my fingers!"
She touched the wick of the candle and snapped her fingers. There was a small burst of blue and the wick came to life with a small flame at its end.
"Ah! Holy shit I did it!" She grabbed the candle and brought it to the ground. She was relieved to finally see him but something about his face gave her pause. She brought the candle closer and realized his face looked different.
The one candle wasn't really enough to get a good look at him altogether, but she could tell he was not as white, the moss and mold were nowhere to be found, and the dark circles around his eyes were not as prominent. His hair, still a matted mess, even looked blonder now.
She scrutinized his every feature, noting that although he most certainly looked more alive than she was used to seeing him, he looked very sick.
"Is this you, Betelgeuse?" She whispered and found herself wondering once more how he died. Then, she wondered when he died. The same questions she'd been asking herself for years flooded her brain and she quickly realized that despite their time together, she still knew absolutely nothing about him. He obviously knew more about her than she did him. She had never spoken to him about school or photography but he was still able to correctly guess what she was going to school for.
She took the candle and looked for anything else on the table that might help her. All she found were more candles and an oil lamp. After they were all lit, she glanced around at her now glowing surroundings.
It was a mess. Bottles, cans, cigarette butts, newspapers, insects, all manner of junk littered the place. Then it hit her. With a tsk, she returned her eyes to the indisposed ghost.
"You're such a dude, Beej." She wanted him to react, to laugh, or even to tell her to fuck off. Suddenly, she noticed he was littered with holes and gasped.
"You're dead, aren't you?" She sobbed. "Dead, Dead, deadski."
She bent down next to him and inspected one of the holes in his chest and was astounded to find that it was slowly closing itself from the inside out. Some still had pieces of wood in them. Immediately, she went to work on removing his jacket and unbuttoning his shirt. When he awoke, she would see about getting to know him properly.
Yes, when he wakes up.
Gently, she placed her hands on his exposed chest and just felt him for a moment. The right words for what she was feeling escaped her for the hundredth time since she first woke in the coma ward.
It wasn't like skin. She was merely feeling contact. Some kind of pressure letting her know that she was touching something. Her mind was able to clearly understand what she was touching, but nothing felt like she remembered it should.
After some more struggling, she managed to pull his shirt off when something else caught her eye. She adjusted his arm so she could look underneath and found lumps. She was by no means a doctor, but it was clear they were swollen lymph nodes. Just to make sure, she ran her fingers behind his ear feeling around until she found a lump there too.
She continued to let her fingers graze over him when she started to feel… anxious. There it was again. The feeling of need. Of wanting something. Of wanting him.
She laughed a moment as she considered what he might do if their roles were reversed.
Instead of giving into her filthy little mind, she started pulling out splinters and making sure the holes were not obstructed.
This could've been me.
"Thanks," she whispered, knowing she'd have to repeat it when he awoke.
Yes, when.
Betelgeuse was in pain, that much he knew. He tried to remember what had happened. Slowly, he opened his eyes and was greeted by a dirt ceiling.
No.
He knew that ceiling. Knew every crack, every hole, every root, every piece of moss, every mound of dirt on that ceiling.
No-no-no-no-no-no-no-no-no-no-no-no.
He was back.
I'm gonna cry.
He would have, too. His bottom lip was already quivering. However, the sound of rustling made him freeze. He turned his head slightly and relief washed over him.
Lydia was lying on the floor face down, resting her chin on her hand, reading a book, bathed in candlelight.
He almost spoke but decided to watch her instead. There were many instances in their time together that gave him pause. Often, he found himself wanting to reflect on her and how she made him feel, but everything had been batshit crazy from the moment he ripped the veil and he was never given the chance. Until now.
It was peaceful. She was so engrossed in whatever she was reading that it made him smile. He remembered seeing her for the first time in much the same way; peacefully bent over the handbook in the attic.
From the moment he first saw her, he knew she was a medium. Fellow mediums always recognized their own. It's what saved her from his antics when he haunted her family. It's the reason he'd decided on finding a way of getting her to set him free.
Can't marry the living if they won't see ya.
Three months of her little visits to the attic told him everything he needed to know about her. She was smart, talented, and a big ol' softy. All the black in the world could never hide her kind nature. It didn't hurt that she was a pretty little thing too.
She was still little, hadn't grown an inch since then, and still pretty. Very pretty. Her baby face had vanished, though. Now, she was a woman. That had been made abundantly clear to him when he dressed her in that skimpy outfit back at the bar. It was proven again when he watched her dance like a goddamn sex goddess from on high, all for him.
The memory of her sensual promenade sent a wave of longing straight through him. He almost moaned aloud but bit his upper lip instead. Hard.
He wanted her. That didn't surprise him, but there was a reason memories of Rhoslyn were haunting him now. Feelings he thought himself no longer capable of experiencing had surfaced in the short time he spent with Lydia.
On top of the pain he was feeling from his wounded form, there was now a deeper, internal ache. The kind of ache he felt when something he wanted was just out of reach. Status forbade him from claiming the woman he loved in life. It the was the shittiest kind of irony that status was now also responsible for keeping him from the woman he loved in death.
His mind didn't even try to retaliate. He was in love and he had known it from the moment she kicked him in the balls at the bar. At the time, he fought it but all the telltale signs were there.
You've gone done it now, shithead. Nice job.
He only felt the slightest twinge of shame from hoping that they were trapped in his grave together, if only because he knew first hand what horrible, tedious existence that was. Then, she would be forced to stay and, surely, he would win her over. No one would be able to get in the way. Eventually, curiosity at the very least would take hold of her and lead to doin' the nasty all over the fucking place. He would have her crazy over him for sure, then. Suddenly, the pit of crushing claustrophobia that was his grave felt like heaven. He closed his eyes and extended his aura to see if they were really imprisoned. Tragically, he sensed nothing keeping them there.
Dammit.
He opened his eyes, looked himself over to find that he was covered with a ragged blanket. Painfully, he lifted the blanket and—
"Why am I naked?" He croaked.
Lydia must have jumped three feet in the air.
"You're awake!" She scrambled to her feet and stared, wide-eyed with shock.
He raised an eyebrow at her, waiting for an answer. Her eyes only grew wider and started looking everywhere but in his direction.
"Uh, how're you feeling?" She asked innocently.
"Naked," he barked back.
Lydia inhaled and started talking at a dizzying speed.
"Well, you had these holes from, you know, Bart and the spears, and you had a bunch of splinters, and the holes were closing, couldn't have them closing with all that stuff in them… right?" She found the courage to look at him.
He was grinning like the Cheshire Cat.
"Babe, if ya wanted to see my dick, all ya had to do was asked."
Lydia's mouth opened silently and then she started sputtering. "I-I did not! Didn't see… I put the blanket…"
He couldn't hold it anymore. Pain or no pain, he needed to laugh or he would burst.
Lydia stayed open-mouthed while he laughed his ass off. Then, he hissed and groaned in pain and she narrowed his eyes at him.
"That's what you get," she chastised.
"Owy, owy," he whined like the man-child he was. "Why are we in this shithole," he cried and kicked his feet on the ground.
"I thought you brought us here."
He snapped his head up and grated through his teeth.
"Never. Never-ever-ever. Ever." His head plopped back down with a thud.
Lydia found his misery amusing. She giggled, which elicited a deep frown from the forlorn Betelgeuse.
"I'm so happy you're okay," she said genuinely. She could feel her gut contract and fresh tears threatening to gush out again.
Betelgeuse looked at her and searched her eyes for a long moment, then looked away again. He cleared his throat. "You still got time. I'll get ya to your fleshbag. Don't worry your pretty little—"
Lydia rushed to his side and dropped to her knees. She pushed her hair behind her ears, grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him full on the lips.
His eyes were still open as Lydia continued to crush her lips to his. For some unknown reason, he couldn't get his bearings. Just when he started to remember who the fuck he was, he went to yank her down on top of him but the slightest movement upwards caused the pain to his torso to return in waves.
"Gah!" He ground out along with more unintelligible garble.
Lydia released him. "Oh no! I'm sorry!"
"No," he growled and grunted. "Ya-don-nee-ta-be-com-ba-ere!"
He was still groaning through his words, making it hard for Lydia to understand.
"Beer? You want a beer?" She asked confused.
"Fur-fucks-ake." He rasped along with more gibberish, desperately trying to reach for her so she would keep kissing him.
"Okay, I'll see if I can find one." She hopped to her feet and scurried away.
Goddamnmotherfuckingshit!