AN: Written to many things, over the course of many days, but try Addicted, Baliamos, Hero, and Escape by Enrique Iglesias. Thanks for hanging with me through this. Hugs, kisses, and maaaaaybe an epilogue, but not until i get over having strep throat. Your reviews and encouragement have been amazing. Thank you.

Chapter 15: The Rules

The temperature dropped like a stone had been tied to it, giving Lydia immediate goosebumps. The dim light exploded into flares that made her squeeze shut her eyes. When the brilliance faded, she squinted around the room, her hand up to shield her from the worst of it. Beetlejuice was sprawled out on her bed, still in the jeans and t-shirt of the night she had last seen him, but with a worn woolen naval coat over the top. She crashed into his arms even as he reached up to drag her down, and they ended up on the bed in a crushing embrace, and Lydia never ever wanted to let go. "Beetlejuice…" she breathed into his wild, silky hair. He grinned and brushed his mouth against her ear.

"Hey, now. no more with the B-word, babe, unless you want to send me back?"

"No! Under the same rules, then?" She pulled back slightly to look at him, and somehow her mouth and his met, and his lips were cool and he tasted of ozone and sandalwood and oranges, or maybe that was just in her memory. He tugged her hard against him, and she slid her hands inside his coat, until her fingers tangled in the tattered threads of his shirt, and they both froze at the same time, but for different reasons entirely.

He swallowed, and pulled back gently, kissing her cheek. "Um, not exactly the same, no." His eyes focused on her, and even though his skin was the color of crushed pearls, his eyes were the same brilliantly clear jade.

She absorbed the hesitance in his voice. "What happened that night, Beej?"

"Didn't Juno tell you?" He shifted nervously.

"She told me that you… that you traded your life for mine."

"Exactly!" He jumped on it too fast, raising her suspicion. She frowned slightly, tilting her head as if looking at him from a different angle would make the truth appear. "Life for a life, just like that. And then they tried to boot me, but…"

"Boot you?"

"Lyds, you know ghosts only get to stay if they have unfinished business, right?" She nodded carefully, unsure if she actually understood or if she just wanted him to continue. "So the first time I stayed out of a need for revenge. But this time… well, a Trade is pretty final. You know, no hangin' around to extract gratitude, sign autographs… that kinda shit. So they tried to send me on to the Great…Whatever, except that they couldn't." His mouth curled in a delighted half-grin at the memory of it.

"What do you mean, B? I mean, they made you live. That's pretty amazing… really amazing, actually." She stroked her fingertip over his collarbone and he tucked his chin in so that he could watch her hand. "So why couldn't they make you go?"

He kissed her forehead, and then murmured against her skin, "Because somebody else had unfinished business… with me." His voice sent a shiver of desire trembling up her spine.

"That would be me." She knew without his even saying it. But he nodded, lips parted.

"You… wouldn't let go. Like an anchor, and they couldn't pull me loose of you. I thought they were gonna tug me in half for a little while, there."

"So they let you stay?"

He chuckled. "I had to find some place to hide out—somewhere to go. So I came here, and found the picture inside your camera. But I don't think that spirits are made to be pixilated. I feel kinda square."

"And now that I've found you, Beej?" Her voice carried a lifetime of questions.

"I don't know, Lyds." He looked solemn. "I don't know what's gonna happen to me. Just don't say my name, okay?" She nodded.

But there was something else she had to know. "Beej, after I woke up in the hospital, the doctor told me that I had come in covered in blood."

He tucked his hair behind his ear casually. "Geez, whaddaya expect, Lyds? You were shot."

"It wasn't my blood." Her voice was more statement than question, but he knew there would be no fooling her. He sighed heavily.

"Lyds, you don't have to know this."

"Except that I do, since you gave up your life for me, Beej." Definitely no fooling her. But he did not reach to help her as she slipped her hands underneath the lapels of his jacket and slid it off his shoulders. Her hands slid tenderly over his back, over the shredded tatters of his shirt and the brutal wounds that had not healed. It would be many days of rest before he would be able to heal himself—manipulating his own body was slightly more difficult than, say, shifting the foundation of the Brooklyn Bridge. Lydia looked at him, tears brimming over in her dark eyes.

"Hey, babe, it's okay." He brushed a thumb over her flushed cheek.

"It wasn't a life for a life, was it?" He pursed his lips and looked down at his lap.

"Technically, yes."

"But in practice, it was your death for my life, wasn't it?"

"Hey, I didn't write the Rules." He paused. "If I had, well, things might be a little different." He saw a tiny smile flicker on her lips. He raised his eyebrows, mischief hovering around his mouth. "Like, I wouldn't have to wait for an invitation from a certain… beautiful… woman I know."

"I'm afraid to touch you now. Does it hurt?"

"No." He shook his head gently. "It doesn't hurt. But I can feel your hands on me."

"Does it feel different?" she asked shyly.

"It feels like you, Lydia. You afraid of me now?" He quirked an eyebrow at her, and she grinned at him.

"Not in a thousand lifetimes, BJ." She was smiling openly now, her sadness at what he had done for her not nearly as powerful as her joy. "You couldn't scare me if you tried."

He gave her a feral, dangerous grin. "That sounds like a dare, sugar." He leaned into her and kissed her, and she pulled herself against him, her hands gripping his upper arms, where his skin had not been torn by the whip. He sank down on the bed on his back, so that she wouldn't have to be reminded of the pain, and pulled her down on top of him. Lydia paused, cocking her head gently to the side.

"Is this even possible? I mean, since you're a ghost now?" He kissed her throat.

"Poltergeist, actually." His voice was just a throaty growl.

"Well, is it?" She was losing the ability to form words, as his mouth found the hollow of her throat.

"No idea. M'sure it's against the Rules, tho…" She felt his whispered smile.

"Good," she murmured, tugging his mouth back up to hers. "Let's write our own…"

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