Disclaimer: Beetlejuice and Co belong to Geffen. Alas that he did not choose to make further use of them.

Chapter 14: On a Friday…

Friday dawned bright and cheerful, the 13th of October. Lydia showered nervously, almost forgetting to cover her mirror with a towel, although, irritatingly, more often than not she found it on the floor when she stepped out of the shower. Beth had taken to avoiding their room almost completely, opting instead to stay with her boyfriend, which was both convenient and terrifying. On Thursday they had met for lunch, and Lydia had told her that the HD had asked them to stay out of the room until she checked into everything. Which was mostly true. Things had been quiet, for which she was half grateful and half sorry, and she slept and dreamed in the absence of him.

Class was English Comp, so she spent the two hours in the library continuing her research on the hauntings in Saratoga Springs. She hoped that Beetlejuice would be able to answer her questions tonight. Dread mixed with excitement warred in her belly until she thought she was going to be sick, and she passed on lunch altogether. It was time.

Back in her room, she set down her books and turned to the mirror, which she could swear was grinning at her. She smiled, too, and felt a weight lift from her shoulders. "Well, here goes! Beetlejuice…" The mirror fogged, and one streak formed on the glass.

"Beetlejuice…" Two. Was that her heart pounding? Maybe she should have eaten, because she felt a little dizzy. Deep breath, Lydia. "Beetlejuice."

A deep chuckle raised the hairs on the back of her neck. That happened a lot around him. The mirror stayed blank, though, and she wondered why he was taking his sweet time. Until she felt his hands close around her upper arms. "Miss me?" His voice rumbled in her ear, and her eyes closed involuntarily.

"No." But she was smiling, and she knew he could see it in the mirror. She turned to face him. "You never left."

He looked offended, his brow crinkling and lips pursing. "I did too leave."

"No, you didn't. Unless you count following me to the library. I can feel you when you're here, you know." He quirked an amused eyebrow at her, and she blushed furiously and ducked her head. "You know what I mean, dammit, B. I don't think I need to be any more off-balance than I already am."

He brushed her hair back behind her ear, a wicked smile playing about his lips. Her mind prodded her frantically… back up, Lydia. Step back, c'mon girl. But her feet refused to obey. It was he that stepped back, and then she could breathe again. She attempted 'casual.' "So what happened to your coat? And that shirt looks…" she peered at him more closely. "…clean. –er." It was his turn to look embarrassed.

"I, um, well, you know, Thursday was laundry day, and…" But she was laughing, and felt stronger for it.

"You washed your shirt for me?" She fingered the material, and it was heavy and cool: fine linen. "I'm honored."

"You should be," he muttered gruffly. But he looked pleased that she had noticed. He cast a critical eye over her scuffed jeans and tshirt and frowned. "You got anythin' a little more… um…"

"Where are we going?" She prodded him with a finger. "Tell me and I'll know how to dress." He ducked away from her teasing, and walked over to her closet. The doors flew open and all her clothing came cascading out in a rush. "What are you doing?" she cried. Pants, jeans, shirts, and skirts swirled around her in a colorful tornado. He reached out and plucked a red skirt, the one that came to just above her knees, and a black top that fitted her snugly, and then tossed them at her. Suddenly she was wearing them. She squeaked, startled, and he cocked his head at her, daring her to disagree. She scowled at him, and stomped over to the closet to get her knee high boots. He frowned in return as she grabbed a shawl as well.

"You know, you shouldn't be afraid to show off a little, Lyds. You don't know how pretty you are." This last was said with earnest seriousness, so much so that the shawl drooped to the floor in her hands. He grinned and tugged it out of her hands. "That's settled, then. Besides, it's warm where we're goin'!"

"Where are we going?" But he impatiently tied up her laces for her with a flick of his fingers and grabbed her hand. She allowed herself to be pulled against him, and her body reacted immediately to the intimate contact. He slid his arms around her and she hugged him close, her hands clutching at the dense fabric over his narrow back. His hand came up to press her head against his shoulder, her mouth turned in against his throat, and she felt his lips touch her ear, sending a violent tremor through her. A gasp escaped her before she could get a grip on herself.

"Don't let go." And then her world shook violently and fractured into a hundred thousand shards.