Pieces In A Pocket
By Wee-Me
DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the people involved with Betelgeuse (AKA Beetlejuice) they belong to Mr. Burton and various companies. I am making no money from this and it keeps me up at night, I need pity not a lawsuit.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Tenth chapter of my ramblings (technically the eleventh) and it is Betel's turn to talk. There is a mild swearing warning here, Betel got cranky on me. Please enjoy and review.
Chapter Title: Story Time
Used Items: None that I'm aware of
/---\\\
Someone will pay. Dearly. The trouble and fear he has caused before will look tame after he wreaks his vengeance on whoever hurt his woman. Alive and dead, he may have done some awful things, but hurting a woman isn't one of them. Even when he sent that annoying Maitland chick to Saturn he made sure she didn't get eaten by a sandworm (although he sometimes thinks it would have been better if he had).
Sandworms, there's an idea. Set him out and let them get the little bastard. Naw, too quick and then I couldn't get my hands on him.
It occurs to the distant part of his brain that still uses logic that he may have frightened Lydia and he might be frightening Juno now as he bellows for her again, but those are distant thoughts he can't hear over his own thrumming rage. And the logical side is no longer in control, or rather, is in less control than usual. He'd been overcome by love and a quick punch of lust when she'd entered her room half-dressed (you have to love the times, back in his day you were lucky to see an ankle even after marriage), but it was quickly tempered. Her poor beautiful skin was bruised and abraded all over her back, but that could be chalked up to an accident, breathers are forever having accidents that rush them through Death's shadow. He'd had a flash of panic wondering what he would do if she passed out of his reach and he never got to be with her. Then he saw the hand prints, the places on her arms when someone held her hard enough to leave deep black marks, and fury blotted out everything else in his mind (even his grand romantic plans).
He is only now vaguely conscious of how frightened Lydia looked, how aware of him she was as she half-sprawled on her bed, just before he threw himself back to his home and started yelling. The logical side of him decides now is the time to pipe up and work out what has gone awry here.
Shit! Another plan gone all ta hell. Hey, maybe the present will work and it isn't all lost. Now I just gotta convince Juno to gimme my girl and let me kill someone. Easy. And maybe I'll get a pulse and star on Broadway. Crap.
"Juno! C'mon Juno, we need to talk! It's important damn it!"
Juno stands in the next room, if you can call it that anymore, and listens to Betel yell. The rage her former assistant is pouring off in waves is warping his environment. The house around her is having a hard time remembering what it is supposed to be as the power pulses through, nearly bowling her over in its wake. The laws of physics aren't holding up very well she decides as she watches the walls heave and the floors tilt, it's almost like someone opened a black hole in his home and she wonders, not for the first time, at the power he possesses. She pushes aside the questions that always come to her about his restraint in other situations, what he is truly capable of, and the sheer wonder at the spectacle.
She had arrived before the higher ups even had a chance to send her a memo. She felt a strange feeling of dread and headed out to the only being (well, non-living being) she cares enough about to have that strong a reaction to. She knew it was more than just a prank when she got near the area where he "lives" and saw his home quaking with energy and pulsing in and out like a beating heart. Everything within the surrounding area was being pulled toward the place like flotsam in a whirlpool.
Ugh, the complaints from the neighbors are going to miserable. I need a cigarette, a drink, and a vacation.
Beside her a chair loses its fight for existence and with a little sigh it turns to pure energy to swirl with the restless power in the room. The whole house is alive with Betelgeuse's displeasure and she can feel it practically seething in tune with its owner. Oddly her mind hearkens back to some cartoon she watched with Lydia, it was something about Jedis feeling the effect of some event.
Well if there were such things I imagine this would count as a "disturbance in the force". No use waiting to see if he'll calm down I suppose. I'll smoke later. Hmm, he may be a drama queen, but the green is pretty, matches his eyes.
"You bellowed, Betel?"
The rest of her comments dry up at the sight of him. He has lost all pretense of humanity and would give even ghouls a fright with his sharpened features and predatory gaze. What gives her pause, more than the subtle danger of his tiger like manner, is the fear and pain in his eyes.
"Hurt."
It is more than a whisper, but only in tone and she's lucky he likes her. Words have power and a word like hurt could turn into a command if he had less control or if she meant less to him. It is a tribute to his power that even during a breakdown of this proportion he can still protect his loved ones from harm. But right now what matters is that he's hurting and she can leave her musings for another time.
"I know you do, but I can't help you if you don't calm down. Take some deep breaths then tell me what's got you so upset."
She is fairly sure of what is bothering him and certain he doesn't need the air she has him gulping, but speaking to him as if he is a skittish child seems to be working in her favor. He is upset enough to have lost control, a control he takes pride in as much as the power itself, and lost hold on his form; so a little TLC on her part is in order. He heaves out another deep shuddery breath and nods to Juno that he's better, though the air around them is still swirling and his form is still off.
"Now would you like to explain to me what's going on? It will make you feel better and it will let me keep my appointment."
She can tell he's coming around when he half smirks at her.
"So I'm not the most important thing on your plate today? Bet if I broke through The Wall I would be."
His eyes are feral again as he refocuses on his reason for calling her while hers are wide at the implication of his statement- could he?
"You have to let me out, she needs me."
"Who?"
"You know damn well who. The girl, my girl, Lydia! She's the only girl I've ever tried to marry, you might have noticed, and I plan to make it down the aisle with her someday. Now somebody hurt her! She could have died!"
Another time when this is all over she will have a good laugh at his panicked tone and expression, but for now it is too much like looking in a mirror for her to find any humor in it.
"I'm fully aware of the situation, I talked to her not long after it happened. What makes you think your presence would be helpful or welcome?"
For a moment he seems lost and a bit betrayed by her harsh question (feels like a jab to the chest), but she needs to know what's going on in that head of his.
"Some breather roughed her up, put marks on her, and you're worried about what I'm gonna do? I've done a lotta 'bad' stuff, but I wouldn't hurt a woman or let one get hurt and you know it. Or do you think less of me than I thought? Never mind. So I'm gonna keep her safe is what I'm plannin' Junebug and come Hell, high-water, or hailstones that's what's gonna happen. I'll get the little bastard who hurt her and then I'm gonna kill 'im or make 'im do it hisself. Couldn't be more than a few days ago, imprint of him should still be on her right? Then I'm taking my girl and I'm not letting her out of my sight. Problem solved. End of story."
Put some thought into this have you Betel? I've underestimated him again; he's smarter than he acts. Now he wants to play detective, all he needs is a deerstalker and a pipe. Oh why am I friends with this man?
"Hmm. By imprint you mean essence? Left on her from their contact."
He nods.
"How do you know it hasn't been longer? And how do you know it's a 'breather'?"
He levels an 'are you dense?' look at her.
"Junebug, I know bruises and I know spirits. Those marks were fresh. An' a ghost wouldn't leave handprints like that, not unless it was more like me and then it'd probably just kill her and not leave a witness or waste a bunch of time trying to keep it secret from you people. Unless torture was the plan, or somethin' worse. Not all 'geists have my fine moral compass."
She isn't sure which disturbs her more: his intimate knowledge of bruises (which is first hand from his own living body if the haunted look in his eyes is anything to go by) or the fact that most of his type of ghost would kill for efficiency's sake. That's just another of those things she'll push aside until later; much, much later.
She gives his arm a quick squeeze of affection, then reaches for a cigarette and looks around. The room is still aglow with his energy but is no longer pulsating and pumping like a heart. Good enough for now. She heads to the window to blow smoke and tap ashes there; it's a habit she developed at Lydia's because Charles and Delia dislike the smell.
"So you want to help Ly…the Deetz girl. Do you know why?"
He looks at her like she is a child that has just learned the word 'why' and delights in its use. It's his turn to sigh and wonder about their friendship. Joining her at the window he has grace enough to be embarrassed when he sees the destruction his upset has caused. With a flick of his hand everything is in a reasonable semblance of order. He turns to apologize sheepishly, but Juno waves it off as if she isn't the one who has been busting him on his behavior for years.
"Why're you bein' so nice to me? Startin' to creep me out here Junebug."
What might be a smirk flashes over her face at his suspicious tone and expression, but she battles it down.
"I'm your friend Betel. You know 'friend', person who cares for you even though you're a twit. I'm your friend and you are hurting so I'm here for you. This is what friendship is supposed to look like. Now, back to the Deetz girl, explain your interest."
It never ceases to amaze him how she can be his friend Junebug one second and Juno the caseworker in the next breath.
"Aww, J you're prob'ly the only real friend I ever had so cut me some slack. This is not my area of expertise, possibly the only area I don't know it all. An' I told you: Lydia's mine. I want her, need her. So let me help."
"So she's important to you."
"Yes, yes, how is this so hard for you to understand? You're one of the smartest people I know."
"Don't use that tone with me, I'm your friend but that won't stop me from slapping you. Now do you know why?"
"Why what? Why you're threatening me? Yes, you lack a sense of humor. Why we're having this conversation? No. Why you delight in tormenting me? No. Why…"
"Ugh, hopeless. Do you know why she's important to you? Nitwit."
"Well, I…she…we…"
"Your grasp of pronouns is excellent. Now answer."
The glare he has should set her on fire.
"No, I don't know."
She nods, more to herself than him, and draws two file folders out of her pocket- Betel isn't the only one with that particular trick.
"I do. Sit down, it's time I told you a little story."
/---\\\
AUTHOR'S NOTE 2: Bwahahaha! A new chappie and yet another cliffie, and you people thought you wanted to see more of me. Marshal next chapter. If you would be so kind, please review and (or) visit my profile for a poll question concerning this story. Thanks for reading.
Cross-posting to ffdotnet and LJ.
