AN: Yes! BJ catches a break. But it's only temporary, so enjoy the tender moment while it lasts... hugs and kisses.

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Chapter 10: A Different Sort of Hell

"Oh my God!" Lydia folded to the floor beside him. He was curled up tightly, moaning and cursing softly. Regret wrenched at her heart. "You scared me! I'm so sorry, but you scared me, and I just reacted! Oh my God, Beetlejuice…"

He breathed out, panting, "I'm… not Beetlejuice."

"What?" She leaned into him, so that she could hear him better.

"I'm not… He wouldn't be writhin' in pain… on this floor." His voice was thready with agony. "He wouldn't be here… at all." He squeezed his eyes shut, and she was horrified to see a tear leak from the corner of his eye. She stroked it away with a trembling hand.

"I'm so sorry, B. Please." She stroked his shoulder tentatively, but he didn't pull away. The texture of his scars underneath her fingertips awakened a fresh wash of guilt. He relaxed slowly under her hand, until he was just curled up against her, unresponsive.

She sighed and stroked his fine white blond hair, feeling the heat of his mouth still against her lips. She swallowed. "Beetlejuice, you shouldn't have kissed me like that."

"How should I have kissed you?" His voice slid over her ears like warm whiskey.

She flushed. "That's not what I meant. You shouldn't kiss me at all. You don't have the right."

"Then you don't have the right to touch me like that." His voice was at once cold and broken, and he pulled away from her, crawled to the couch, and curled up on in, his back to her in silent reprimand. "Wake me in a year."

Feeling thoroughly wretched, Lydia looked at the clock. It was almost seven. Benji would be there in minutes, and she didn't want him to see Beetlejuice like this. She stood and tugged gently at his shoulder. "Come lay down in my bed, B." He peered up at her, surprise coloring his exhausted features. She tried a smile, and it was a little pathetic, but he moved off the couch and stood gingerly. He allowed her to lead him by the hand through her bedroom door, and settle him gently on the bed. He sighed softly as she pulled a blanket over him, and then she went into the bathroom to get ready, wishing she could do anything to not have to go out tonight.

But Benji showed up as promised at seven on the dot, and Lydia left Beetlejuice sleeping on her bed, the regret staying with her as she locked her apartment door. They attempted a nice meal at Lydia's favorite Thai place, the one that served the little spring rolls arranged in spirals on the plate and heaped the peanut shrimp in mountains in the center of the table. Conversation was strained, and more than once Lydia found herself drifting, thoroughly exhausted by her lack of sleep the night before and the stressful events of the day. Finally, Benji snapped.

"Are you sleeping with him?"

She shook herself out of her reverie, uncertain if she had heard him correctly. "What? No! Not even remotely. Where did that come from?"

He looked both frustrated and chagrined. "I can't seem to get your attention tonight, Lydia." He frowned. "I mean, I didn't actually think that you were, since I don't seem to have gained that privilege, and I hope you would consider me before a total stranger."

"He's not a total stranger!" she snapped. He flicked his eyes away, and she flushed, mortified. Totally wrong thing to say. She tried again. "You agreed that I would keep my own counsel about this when you started dating me."

He looked pained. "That you would when you were ready, and not a moment before. Sometimes I think you'll never be ready for me."

"We aren't going to argue about this, Benjamin. This qualifies as pressure, and I won't tolerate it. I told you I'm not sleeping with him, and I'm not." She sighed, and softened a bit, feeling guilty even though he was free to leave at any time, greener pastures and other rot.

"Then why was he in your bed?"

"What?" Her voice shook a little. He must have seen, somehow.

"Are you hard of hearing tonight? I asked you why he was in your bed." Benji was getting angry now. Lydia just gaped at him for a moment, before she was able to collect herself.

"He was tired. He slept on the floor last night." Who was she defending—herself or Beetlejuice? She didn't even know.

"Where are you sleeping tonight?" Rage had made him reckless. She threw down her napkin and stood.

"Too far, Benjamin. I've had enough."

He stood as well. "So have I. I won't tolerate him staying in your apartment, an apartment I don't even have access to. You've known him for a day, and he's in your bed!" His voice was a harsh whisper now, but still, everyone in the restaurant was listening with rapt attention. Lydia worked her jaw, and shook her head.

"Fine. Good night, Benji. This has been lovely." And she threw down a twenty and walked in dignified silence out of the restaurant, leaving him the center of unwelcome attention. Six months, and one day had ruined everything. One day. And one man. Who was sleeping in her bed. Where was she sleeping tonight?

Lydia walked home. It wasn't late, and she wanted ample time to look over the ruin of her life. Her photographer's job wasn't in any danger, at least, because she was called from precincts all over Manhattan and the Bronx, and sometimes even in Queens. She was on many rotations. No, part of the trouble was dating people that she worked with. She would still come into contact with Benji on a regular basis. That, although irritating, she could handle. What she couldn't get a handle on was the man in her apartment. She didn't even know where to begin.

The key still fit. She supposed that she would have to still live here. The door creaked open, and she peered in. The bedroom door was closed. Closed. He hadn't known, after all. He had guessed, and she, in her guilt, had confirmed it. Dammit. Dammitdammitdammit. When she opened her bedroom door, though, Beetlejuice was awake.

"You're right." He sounded a little creaky, and looked more than a little rumpled by the light of her little desk lamp.

"What about?" Nothing could surprise her at this point.

"I shouldn't have kissed you." He paused, and then mumbled, "Sorry."

Check that. Surprise still possible. Tears sprang to her eyes. Strange that in all that had happened that day, his apology would bring her the closest to crying that she had been in a long time. She sank down on the bed beside him, in great need of comforting. "We're both pretty sorry, aren't we?" The twin bed barely fit them both side by side, so she turned and rolled against him, hiding her face against the curve of his neck. She felt a hesitant hand cup the nape of her neck. Warm.

"Have a nice dinner, Lyds?" He was close enough that his voice was a gentle rumble in her ear.

"Benji broke up with me. He thinks I'm sleeping with you." She grinned then, feeling the little bubbles of hysteria churning in her belly. "I've known you for a day, B, and you've toppled my life like a house of cards. What's on for tomorrow?"

He held her more firmly, then, and his legs relaxed against hers. "That's up to you, I guess."

She sighed and stretched against him. "I think I'd like to sleep for a day," she yawned. "I'm exhausted."

"Where are you gonna sleep?" Caution colored his voice.

She scowled. "Why does everybody keep asking me that?"

"Because it's a good question?" He pulled away from her a bit, so that he could see her face, and the memory of her lips on his threatened to overwhelm him.

She looked at him softly. "I think the real question is, where are you sleeping?"

"Here. You'll have to drag me off the bed if you want me outta here." He smirked at her, humor returning to his voice. The corners of her mouth curled up in response.

"Even thinking of that makes me tired."

"Then stay," he whispered gruffly into her hair. "I'll promise to behave, even."

"Damn my bad timing." She curled sleepily into him, her fingers finding purchase on his hip and collarbone. His mouth was dry, and her body against him kept setting off warm electric sensations. This was an entirely different sort of hell. He slid his arm under her head and cradled her gently, his chin resting gently against her forehead. His other hand settled carefully on the curve just above her hip, but she didn't protest. But he didn't shift or even breathe heavily until she was deeply asleep, for fear that she would wake and change her mind.

"Why are you trying to seduce me, Lyds?" he murmured. She shifted, rolled over on her other side, and he pulled her against the curve of his body, warm and deep. She sighed, her hands sliding over his. As tired as he was, he was awake for a long time, content to be aware of the woman in his arms.