Lydia cradled her huge stomach as she wandered the silent meadow. She was alone except for a moth or two here and there. She was bare-foot and in a long, white silk dress that fell to just above her ankles. Her hair was once again long, and hung down to the middle of her back.
Lydia sighed contentedly as she wandered through the softly swaying grass, unable to remember what she was doing here, but happy to just let her feet take her where they would.
The strange triple suns above her gave way within a matter of minutes to the shining moon and millions of stars, and within minutes of that the sky was once more growing light as the suns drifted up over the horizon. In a cycle of every ten minutes or so, the days and nights would continue to turn until Lydia counted thirteen cycles when it finally stopped at night.
At this time, Lydia found her way to a very familiar bench, and perched on that bench was a very pregnant Marie.
The older woman smiled sadly and batted the bench next to her. "Hello Lydia."
Lydia lowered herself onto the bench, running a hand over her stomach. "Why was I brought here again?"
Marie sighed. "Because you died Lydia. Eris very nearly took your baby, and caused internal damage. You died from the trauma, but the baby lived on. Because of that, they were able to revive you." Lydia let out a chocked sob of relief when she realized she'd been holding her breath. Marie lifted a hand to brush the hair from the Goth's eyes. "You and the baby are fine now Lydia. You just need to wake up."
Lydia frowned. "I'm asleep?"
"Yes. Betelgeuse managed to contact Adam and Barbara, who called his name. Once he was Out with you, he juiced you both to the nearest hospital and checked you in. Doctor Graeid possessed the doctor that is taking care of you."
Lydia slumped against the back of the bench, shaking her head. "Marie… Marie I don't think I can do this anymore! These stupid gods, Beej's stupid destiny… I mean I'm pregnant! And every time I turn around, I get another scar!" Lydia groaned in frustration as unwanted tears rolled down her cheeks. "I died because they were trying to take my baby… What if next time no one can save us? What if next time..." Lydia whimpered. "What if next time we both die? I mean… we'd be in the Neitherworld bu-"
"No. You won't."
Lydia froze, her eyes wide. "Wh… what?"
Marie fixed her with a pitying stare. "Lydia, when you die, you won't be sent to the Neitherworld. You'll be brought here. This is neither heaven, nor hell, but somewhere in between like the Neitherworld. I do not know why we come here… I have been here since my death, though it seems like only a moment in time has passed…" Marie stared off into the distance contemplatively. "Whatever this place is, it is peaceful. Perhaps it is a line of balance: The Neitherworld is chaotic, a more dangerous version of the Breather Realm. This world is calm, quiet. There are no cities, no pollution, and few other spirits wander these meadows." Marie shook her head. "I do not know how, or why, or when Lydia. But you will be brought here when you die. And you will die sometime before your due date."
Lydia felt all the air rush from her lungs as she stared at her ancestor, and suddenly everything around her melted away into darkness and she was rushing backwards through the frigid void.
Delia sighed and flicked an annoyed glance at the screen monitoring Lydia's vitals.
Couldn't these stupid quacks do anything? Her daughter was dying! Hooked up to beeping machinery, needing tubes stuck up her nose in case she stopped breathing. Shouldn't someone be in here?
The woman hardly glanced up as Otho re-entered the room, two cups of 'coffee' held in his hands. "Here Delia. It's sludge but it ought to help."
Delia accepted the cup glumly and held it between both hands as she stared at her step-daughter's face. "Thank you."
Otho sighed heavily as he sat in the window seat, watching the people below with feigned interest. The silence in the room was heavy for a long moment, until Otho turned to stare at his partner's back. "The doctor said she would wake up soon dear. There's no use in killing yourself."
"I want her to wake up now. I can't stand this." Delia murmured. "It feels like she just got out of the hospital, and now she's back." Her eye flicked towards the other side of Lydia's bed as the creature there gave a low, short grunt in his sleep.
She and Otho had been at a gallery showing for some of her newer works. She had Betel to thank for the inspiration, she supposed, though she was loathe to admit it. The call had come in the middle of Delia's presentation, and Otho had waved her off the podium. They boarded the first plane they could get, and landed just as Lydia was coming out of surgery.
Delia had been horrified, disgusted and confused at first when she spotted 'BJ' pacing the length of the waiting room. But Charles shot her an odd glare and a shake of the head, silently pleading with her to shut up.
Delia had taken another look at the ghost, and realized how… dead he looked. His eyes were empty, his hair looked like he'd yanked his hands through it a dozen times, and he'd missed a lot of mold around his hairline.
But now he'd finally fallen into an actual sleep on one of the cots a nurse had brought them. He was on his side facing Lydia's bed, and his right arm was up on the mattress.
The poltergeist hadn't let go of her hand once since he'd been allowed to see her. Even as he slept, he had a loose grip on her, carefully avoiding the IV sticking out of the back of her hand.
"She'll be fine Delia. Why don't you work on some sketches? That always calms you down."
Delia shook her head. "My daughter nearly died Otho, I don't want to be artistic."
"I'm only trying to help."
Delia sighed. "Why don't you go back to the gallery Otho? Charles will be here soon, we'll be fine until then."
Otho grimaced at the back of her head, but gathered his things and crossed to the door. "Call if you need anything Delia."
Delia stood and moved to the window to lean against the wall. She watched the fluffy bits of snow try to stick to the ground below. Tomorrow was Christmas.
Some Christmas present.
"Nnn…" Delia blinked, spinning around just as Lydia groaned again and touched her free hand to her nose. "Wha…"
Delia was by her step daughter in a flash, one hand pushing her back down onto the pillow, the other pulling her hand away from the tube in her nose. "It's alright Lydia, you're in the hospital."
Lydia groaned again and shook her head, confused. "No… She… the baby…" Lydia's eyes shot open as she sat up, rubbing her hands over stomach. "But…"
Delia guided Lydia back down and sat on the edge of the bed. "The baby's fine Lydia. And so are you." Delia glanced towards the door before scooting closer to Lydia's pillow. "What happened Lydia? Charles said Betel didn't stop to tell him what was going on, and we haven't been able to get him to talk at all."
Lydia frowned, turning her head to stare down at Betel's hand. "How… how long have I been asleep?"
Delia grimaced. "Tomorrow is Christmas Lydia."
Lydia sighed. "Thirteen…" Lydia shifted against the pillow. "She tried to take the baby…"
Delia frowned. "Who?"
"Eris. Showed me… horrible. Everyone dying. Cut me open, took the baby…" Lydia sighed. "Burned her…" Lydia lifted her head to look around the room. "Is dad here?"
"I sent him out to get some air and take-out. He was so worked up, I was worried he might end up in the bed next to you."
Lydia smiled weakly. "Take-out should help his blood pressure."
Delia chuckled, leaning forward to kiss Lydia's forehead. "Can I get you anything Lydia? Are you in any pain?"
Lydia shook her head. "Just hungr-"
Lydia was cut off by a sting of hushed swearwords as Charles tripped over the doorframe, balancing a tower of takeout. Lydia cringed as the tower tipped forward, snapping her eyes shut as she waited for the crash and splatter, but it never came.
Betel yawned, twirling his hand. Charles, frozen in mid-fall was pushed upright, and the takeout was juiced onto the tray at the foot of the empty bed. "Walk much Chuck?" He grumbled. The poltergeist ran a hand through his hair as he settled onto the edge of his cot, smiling groggily at Lydia. "Hey Babes."
Lydia chuckled. "Show-off."
Amelia glared at the ceiling as she imagined a thousand ways of painfully re-killing Betelgeuse and Vince.
It had been maybe two weeks since the ceremony. Two long, nerve-grating weeks. The suit Vince had given her was gorgeous, with giant, fluffy cushions and fancy trinkets and doodads. A huge, gorgeous closet full of fancy garb the prince had told her she was welcome to wear, a handsome sitting room. No TV of course.
Amelia, however, refused to be won over. She flat-out refused to partake in the massive bed with its mountains of pillows and comforters that would be heaven to lie in.
The kind of bed every woman dreamed of when she was a little girl.
Amelia cast another longing glare at the mattress from her spot on the floor before she returned her gaze to the ceiling.
Oh wait, that's right. Amelia lifted her hand to pull her glasses off before she snapped her eyes shut, blinding herself.
It was juvenile, and it would do nothing to help, but Amelia was pissed and wanted to be doing something.
But why was she trying to do something? Nick was right, he was a monster. The only thing that could have made him worse was if he'd succeeded. That should have changed everything.
But dammit, it didn't. He was still the guy that had taken her in even when he himself was slowly fading off. And he had tried to protect her… he'd kept her in the dark for her own safety, and now she was almost being treated like a royal guest in return for helping one of the most dangerous ghost.
"My lady…" Amelia's brows knit together as the prince's voice assaulted her ears. "Why do you refuse my hospitality still?"
"Is Nick still in the dungeon?"
Vince smirked. "No."
Amelia blinked, and shot up as she heard low, labored panting enter the room. Niehest and some other lumberjack were dragging a limp, gray-haired body between them. The other guard made to drop the poltergeist but Niehest caught Nick and helped him up, handing him off to Amelia as she scrambled forward, shoving her glasses back onto her nose. "You… you're letting him out?"
Vince nodded. "Yes. In the interest of keeping his friends in my favor. Or at least their grudging gratitude. Besides," Vince waved Niehest away, and reached out to grab the doorknob. "He'll need to be, as you put it, 'nursed back' for the rest of his punishment." Vince made to pull the door closed but Amelia called him back.
"Wait, your lowness-" Amelia grunted from the effort of supporting the poltergeist, and lowered him onto the bed. "What… what is his punishment?"
Vince fixed her with a blank stare. "Something I hope will cause him a suitable amount of distress. It is Christmas tomorrow, and I would like to invite you, and even master Nick if he is up to it, down to the dining hall to enjoy breakfast with me. Goodnight my lady."
Amelia stuck her tongue out at his back before she turned to sit on the bed so she could lift Nick's feet into her lap and begin unlacing his shoes. "Boss?" She asked softly.
Nick made a low gurgling sound, arching his back as another shockwave of pain ripped through him.
Amelia sighed, frowning in concentration as she finally dislodged the half-melted shoe from his foot. The other one wasn't much better. The patch job she'd tried to do during his one of his severe downtimes was falling apart and the dark leather was stained with blood.
His entire outfit was about in the same condition: frayed, burned, torn, bloody, and falling apart at the seams.
Loathe as she was to move him, she pulled him up into a sitting position and quickly rid him of the suit jacket and the shirt beneath, tossing them to the end of the bed so she could really work on them. She lowered him back to the pillows and scooted closer to his head. "Boss… Nick. I know you don't believe it right now, but you'll be okay." She lifted a hand and stroked it down his cheek. "I'll take care of you."
Nick shuddered beneath her touch and lifted a hand to scratch at the gauze covering his eyes. "Ah… Amel-elia…"
"Shh." Amelia sighed. "Just get some rest Nick."
Nick clutched at his face as he coughed violently into his palm before he gave one last shudder and went limp against the mattress.
Amelia watched him for a moment, stroking her hand down his arm. "Tomorrow's Christmas… My first Christmas as a dead person." She shifted herself down the mattress so she could lay next to him, her cheek resting against his arm and her own over his waist. "Is there a dead Santa? Do floaters get Christmas wishes? Mine would be to have you get through this." Amelia sighed, glaring at his ribs as he took another shaky breath. It had been two long, painful weeks, waiting to see him. And he was still fighting this stupid almost-exorcism. "Or maybe for Vince to be covered in a swarm of ghost-eating earwigs."
Again, short I know, sorry. But it has been two days, and I'm still trying to fight off a majority of my writer's block.
Prats 'R' Us: Lol, glad you enjoyed so much. I tried to stay true to their relationship, and figured him being married would make Bee even more determined to scrub him clean. Lol, Nick's out-of-order at the moment, it wouldn't be as productive to beat him up right now.
Ceysna: Good. You can join the angry mob advancing on me as we speak. Someone got a hold on my notes, and leaked them to the Neitherworldians. o.0. Anyway. Sorry I can't reassure you about Lyds, wish I could but I can't so I shant. ^.^". Glad I can keep ya on yer toesies though.
