Beetlejuice, Lydia, the neitherworld… They don't belong to me. I just love them so much I want to take them in both arms, rip open my chest cavity, and stuff them inside forever, right next to my heart. Of course, if they were mine, just look what I'd do to them… But that being said, please don't sue me, okay?

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Ermmmm...

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The shower looked as if it hadn't been used in years… The thick layer of dust over everything attested to that as much as anything else. Whenever it had been used last though, it had been far longer since it had been cleaned. Mud caked the bottom. Mold grew over every tile, until their pattern was indistinguishable. But the only feature that really mattered to her, the flow of water itself, was very good, and she was grateful for the chance to get clean.

She'd turned the water as hot as she could stand, desperate for some lingering memory of warmth, when already it seemed like she'd spent her life in the grip of a chill she couldn't quite shake. Beetlejuice, surprisingly, let her shower in peace this time, though her mind had already been playing over the idea of him joining her for a little, well, fun. That was the whole point in dying, wasn't it? She wasn't afraid, or anything. She'd been waiting for him forever…

But, him. Nothim.

She was caked with mud, along with various degrees of filth, which had followed her from her death in the graveyard. She dwelled on this, finally, wondering how it would be explained. A complete lack of blood, versus no wound. People were going to think they were dealing with a vampire… Or maybe that was just what she would have thought. But her blood was there, right? Just soaked into the ground. And then there was the question of the second body…

The truth was, she didn't dwell on her parents, on their loss, nearly as much as she knew she should. That being said, she was pretty certain that they wouldn't even notice she was missing, until someone found her body. She wondered, with a sense of detachedness, how long that would take.

Slipping on the natty bathrobe Beetlejuice had given her, probably white at some distant point in the past, Lydia tied it securely around her waist, her lips set into a little frown. She wondered where he'd disappeared to. Well, technically, he'd said he was going to pick up a couple things for her, but… Who knew what he meant by that? She hoped he found her roll of silk… She should have said something about it.

Therefore she was stunned, on leaving the bathroom, to step into Beetlejuice's bedroom, hers too now, she supposed, and see it flooded with maybe everything she'd thought she left behind. Rolls of material, piles of clothes, sketchbook after sketchbook of pictures, photo albums, her dresser and mirror… Even her bed, tucked into a corner, resting on its side.

And Beetlejuice, looking smug as anything, sitting on top of her wardrobe, his feet propped up in midair, considering her with a waggle of his eyebrows. "Who says you can't take it with you, babes?" He prompted dryly, making a slow, delighted smile spread across her face. Though that did, again, bring up the question of what her parents would think…

"B…" She whispered, wondering for one wild moment if maybe he'd remembered everything, and was now going to make good on his promises of forever together. But just for one moment. Then she shook her head, reminding herself that if he had, he probably wouldn't rest it on her guessing… Nothing would keep them apart.

Therefore, he'd done this even without much memory of their time together. He'd done this for her, just as he knew her now. And it made her heart sing. She ran across the distance between them, real hope in her heart for the first time since that night he no longer knew her, and pretty much catapulted herself into his lap. Never mind that he was about seven feet off the ground.

He looked mildly surprised, but that was the extent of his reaction, as she threw her arms around his neck, and began applying as many kisses to his throat as she could. After a moment, he shifted a little under her touch, like he was getting uncomfortable, but when she finally looked up, meeting his gaze, she saw quickly that he was anything but. "Better watch it, babes." He warned, his voice a throaty rumble. "Ain't nothing keeping me from having my way with you, now."

Lydia smirked, an expression she didn't often have occasion to use, and lifted herself a little in his arms, pressing her lips to his without hesitation. When he tried to kiss her back, she drew away, then came back in to offer another light, teasing kiss to the first, drawing away before he could respond once again.

When she met his gaze, now, he looked angry, and about one step from crushing her to him, hard, and fulfilling his 'threat.' She just smiled, slowly, and whispered, "You always did say that you were the ghost with the most, B. Don't you think that might be a little too much for me?"

The look in his eyes changed, abruptly, and he let out a low cackle, grabbing her around the waist, and crushing her mouth to his. His tongue demanded entrance, rather than teasing it, and he bit her lip, just hard enough to make her squeak, before suddenly pushing her away, and dropping her without ceremony to the floor. "You got a long way to go, babes," He informed her, in no uncertain terms, "Before you can beat me at this game." But he was, she noticed, smiling as he said it.

Lydia just grinned, not disappointed in being 'bettered.' It felt like things were going… well, if not back to the way they should be, then on at least, into something new, that should be. "B…" She giggled, not really even noticing the long drop he'd offered her, which she'd taken easily in stride. "You always could make me happy."

An odd look crossed his face at these words, sort of a puzzled expression, but he chuckled to cover it up, and dropped down beside her, sliding his arm nonchalantly around her waist. "Babes… You're gonna have to keep house for a while."

Now it was her turn to frown, but Beetlejuice feigned not noticing, just going on easily, saying, "I still got a few leads I gotta follow, and well, fact of the matter is, you'd just be in the way." He dropped a kiss on her ear, now ignoring her look of frustration. "You can keep yourself entertained, right?" He figured he could get away with just about anything, with this broad…

Irritation and amusement struggled for top notice in her eyes, but she finally just smiled, shrugged, and noted easily, "Like you could stay away." He snorted, twisting her black locks around his fingers, before pushing her back away, in that manner he'd developed, straightening his sleeves, and looking pointedly towards the door.

"Guess I'll have to bring you back food… You're still gonna want that." His tongue flicked across his lips, and he considered her, still weighing his departure in his gaze. He made her feel naked, the way he looked at her… It probably didn't help much, that all she was wearing was one of his old bathrobes. But his face split in a slow grin, as he admitted, with just a little bit of a rasp, "Babes, I ain't gonna be gone any longer than I have to. And then you and me are gonna make up for some serious lost time."

And before she could even think about tempting him into staying, he was gone… And she was alone.

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Beetlejuice adjusted his cufflinks, squinted his gaze skyward, and let out a little sound of thought, before turning back to the ghost before him, currently in two pieces. For now, he addressed the right half. "Seems like I'm running out of options then, doesn't it, Scythe?" He'd known the guy for a long time, though they'd never been what anyone would call friends. More like, mutually respectful of the other's power. Until now.

"The thing is," He went on, scratching at a patch of dried blood on his wrist, "I don't get it. The girl's dead, right?" The glance he cast in the assassin's direction was almost casual, nonchalant. "So the big plan has unfolded, and… hell, if there was supposed to be more than that, it's not gonna happen. I like the broad. Damn if I know why, but I do."

"So why, if her death was the whole point in this little game," He leaned in to the mercenary's space now, his fingers tightening like steel on his shoulder, "Haven't my memories been returned to me? Is it pretty much now just an effort to drive me crazy? 'Cause I gotta tell you… Not a real long drive."

He chuckled at his own joke as he leaned back, sat on the guy's couch, and pulled a tarnished silver flask out of his pocket. Taking a long draw, he held it out, with a little twist of his lips, to the guy beside him. "Peppermint schnapps, your favorite."

Scythe gave him a long, measure look, then accepted the flash, held it up to the light, and swished it for a moment, before holding it under his nose, taking a whiff. His eyes grew longing, almost fond, and a moment later, he tipped the drink back. Half of it dribbled out of, well, where he'd been cut in two, but he was used to that.

When he handed it back, his eyes were calculating, if not entirely unsympathetic. "I gotta tell you, Beetle. The girl was making you soft. People were talking." He ran his fingers along his lips, licking them to catch the last drops, and regarded the poltergeist, with his usual brooding interest. "So what made you take so long to come to me?"

"Finding you." Beetlejuice growled, his feign of pleasantness gone. "You're just about as hard to track down as whatever idiot I'm hunting. You're not the kind of guy people talk about real loosely."

"Not like you?" It was, oddly, the other half of him speaking now, the lips curved in something menacing, nothing like a smile, but with decided amusement. "Seems these days, all a person has to do to find you, is call your name… One person, anyway." His voice switched to the other half of his body, as his fingers fanned across the table before him. "And now, you want her back. Why? I figure you'd just say good riddance, and move on."

Beetlejuice's eyes narrowed, becoming angry green slits. "Someone stole from me." He said simply, his mouth set into an angry line. "Tell me you wouldn't be doing the same."

"We're not that much alike, Beetle." He denied, reaching into his pocket, and drawing out a yellowed slip of paper. "For example, tracking me down is the first intelligent thing you've done, going about this. Unless you're planning to pull some sort of coup over the neitherworld underworld… And that much responsibility isn't really your style."

"However, it is mine." Both halves of him were smiling now, as he waved the little piece of paper against his chin. "Are you going to contest me for it, now that you've done most of the work?"

"I could care less." Beetlejuice growled, wondering if what he wanted to know what on that paper the guy was twisting so carelessly between his fingers. He had to do this right. The guy had his answers, he knew. If he went for the paper, and the name he was looking for wasn't on it, then his chance was shot. And no amount of 'questioning' would get an answer, not from this guy. He loved pain. "You want responsibility for a bunch of idiots and hired goons, that's your thing."

"Yes, it is." Scythe agreed, looking satisfied. The paper went back in his pocket. "Aren't you going to ask how I know what you don't?"

"Wasn't gonna, no." Beetlejuice growled, doing all he could to keep his patience now. "You'll probably just mouth some shit about how it helps, being in two places at once." For a moment, Scythe's eyes darkened, both of them, and a stare drew on between the two. Will, not power. They both knew Scythe held all the power here. This was simply a matter of who could be more stubborn.

But in the end, it was the other ghost who relented, that not quite smile returning to half his mouth. "Something like that." He agreed easily, the two halves of his body shifting closer together, so that their raw sides almost touched. "But the fact of the matter is this Beetlejuice… I want you to get your memories back. Why? Because I want you soft."

It was a challenge, a goad, and under other circumstances, Beetlejuice might have risen to it. Instead he just considered the other ghost as evenly as possible, wondering what the real catch here was. Not the underworld, he could take that on his own. Beetlejuice was, yes, the only one who could stop him, but he had no reason to. Making him soft? They both knew he didn't have to take the memories back… That wasn't what this was about. This was about revenge, plain and simple. And Scythe would know that.

"What's your game?" Beetlejuice asked at last, his voice painfully even, his teeth gritted in something like a death mask. "You want me soft? Bullshit. What do you really get out of this?"

Now, now his smile was genuine. "Personal satisfaction, Beetlejuice." He informed him softly, making no bones about saying his full name this time. "Though it's never meant much to you, it's always frustrated me to no end, that you're the stronger of us. Put simply, I'm willing to tell you what you want, because I want to see you fail."

After his words, a weighty silence hung between them, and then suddenly, a little madly, the other ghost laughed, standing, and offering Beetlejuice his hand. "Yes, by all means. Get your memories back or not, as you see fit. I don't care. All that matters to me is you knowing who took them."

Beetlejuice looked down at his hand, and slowly accepted it, well aware that the paper would be passed into his palm. As soon as it was, he scowled at the other man, yanked his hand back like he'd just touched something nasty, and claimed the paper that held all his answers.

When he read it though, there was no following sense of satisfaction, only a slow, churning heat, deep in his suddenly hollow gut. Maybe it made sense. Maybe it didn't. In the end, it didn't matter, he was suddenly certain it was true.

With a furious sound, he turned on Scythe, and while the other ghost laughed his ass off, proceeded to rip him limb from limb, grinding him into what amounted to little more than a puddle on the floor, before he was done. It wouldn't kill the other ghost, of course. That was his one power… He simply couldn't be killed, always regenerating, no matter how severe his wounds. That, and a love of pain, as well as an unquestionable madness, made him all but unstoppable.

Beetlejuice couldn't do a damn thing to him, and he knew it. At this point, he was really just venting. But it had to be him. The one person in the neitherworld with enough power to keep himself high and dry, and out of the poltergeist's reach, for the better part of an eternity. However he'd managed to kill the guy's son, had to have been more luck than planning. And now…

And now he had to figure out a way to deal with the biggest fish of them all. Prince Vince's father. The king of the neitherworld…

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Lydia was exhausted. She'd been 'keeping herself busy,' working for hours to organize her many things into the, presumably, formally empty room. She managed with strength she didn't know she had, to maneuver her bed next to Beetlejuice's coffin. The dresser and wardrobe had gone side by side, against the far wall. And then she began tackling the mess he'd made of her things.

Truth was, she'd been needing to sort through this stuff for a while… She was a real packrat. Half her clothes didn't even fit her anymore, and a lot of the rest of it was beyond repair. But they were all memories of the life she'd left behind, so each and every thing, no matter how insignificant, found a place to rest. Her poncho, back where it had always hung, on the post of her bed.

Maybe she was being presumptuous, setting things up the way she wanted, without asking B how he felt. Of course, she was really just passing time. If he wanted the stuff somewhere else, he'd move it with like, a flick of his pinky. The thought made her smile.

Of course, she was also taking stock of just what he'd brought her. Her clock. The jewelry box from her grandmother. Was she in the neitherworld too? No, no, she had been a religious woman, and that court…

And here she stopped, trying to remember just what had happened at that court. She remembered some of it very clearly, like the words that Death had whispered to her as the end. Other things, like her trip across the river, she couldn't remember at all. But most of it fell somewhere between, like she'd been in some kind of dream-state… To tell the truth, now that she was 'awake,' she wasn't entirely certain that it hadn't been a dream after all. Except…

Except that the memory still filled her with such conflicting emotions. Protection. Fear. Certainty. Warmth? Definitely danger… And no matter how she tried, she just couldn't convince herself to forget it. Maybe with time, she'd believe it was a dream. But not yet.

With her things in place, she began tackling the bigger mess of the house… There was dust everywhere, even on the floor. Grime and soot covered every inch of Beetlejuice's few simple things. He seemed to like odd knick-knacks… She hadn't known they had that in common. But then, she'd never been to his house before. She wondered if she should have mentioned that…

Taking a piece of fabric too small to do anything else with, Lydia began dusting. Though, dusting might not have been the right word. De-filthing, might have suited it better. She started in the bathroom, because, well… Because she wanted her next shower to be in a slightly cleaner environment. Of course, since she had no cleaning supplies, it would be a half assed job, no matter how much effort she put into it, but well, Beetlejuice didn't seem to own a tv, and she needed something to keep her busy.

By the time the shower alone was done, hours must have passed. When she opened the shutters that held out the light in his bathroom, it had fallen into night again. She wasn't really sure of the time. Her skin itched, and she really, ironically, needed another shower. Instead she tracked down a broom, which looked very old, and still unused, and began sweeping.

It was silly of course. Obviously he didn't mind living in filth, but if she was going to live with him, she kind of liked the thought of him coming home every day, to a house just a little cleaner than he'd left it. "Keep playing happy homemaker, Lydia…" She muttered to herself, trying not to breathe in the stuff she was disturbing on the floor, "Pretend you actually know what's gonna happen next… Damn!"

She fell into a fit of coughing, sneezing, and with watering eyes, went to another window, and flung the shutters open as well. There was no air in the place… Never mind that she didn't need it, it was still nice to breathe!

I don't need it… It was a fleeting thought, and rather than upsetting her, almost made her laugh. God this was ridiculous. Death was supposed to have more of an effect on a person than this. After all, she'd only died the night before, and here she was, cleaning her new room, like it was the most normal thing on ear- well, in the neitherworld!

She didn't really have anyplace to sweep the grime, so she swept it into nice little piles, in the corner of each room. She straightened his boxes, not looking inside, certainly not reorganizing anything, but made more of a path so that it was easier to move from room to room. Not that she wasn't curious what he'd spent the last few centuries hoarding…

Before she knew it, there was light streaming in the slatted windows, and she moved instinctively to close them, thinking her fiancé, what a wonderful word, might have reason to have had them closed. He didn't have curtains after all…

And then, just as she was seriously considering taking that second shower she'd been putting off, the front door flew open, and there stood Beetlejuice. She started to move towards him, intending to greet him with a hug, when she faltered at the expression on his face. He looked angry. Deeply angry. And as if he didn't even see her, standing right there in front of him.

He moved past her with a low grumble to leave him alone, heading into the kitchen, and with only a little hesitation, she followed. He poured a glass of water, downed it in two gulps, and smashed the glass down so hard that it broke… Which certainly explained the many piles of glass she'd cleaned up over the course of the night.

"B?" She murmured, moving up behind him, but deliberately not reaching for him yet. "Is everything all right?"

"I don't want to talk about it!" He snapped, his voice like ice. "Just leave me the hell alone… I need to think." He turned on his heel, as she didn't immediately retreat, ready to yell at her if she didn't let him brood in peace…

Only to pause, his eyes sweeping over the room, which was now markedly cleaner than he'd left it. At first he gave no reaction, but then slowly, his eyes narrowed, and his mouth tightened. "What the hell did you do?" He snapped, suddenly ready to turn whatever anger he'd been dwelling over, on her.

Lydia paused, surprised, and suddenly uneasy. "I just swept, dusted… Passed some time." She murmured, as he stood there shaking his head, looking visibly frustrated, and as if he were currently trying very hard, not to take his anger out on her. She remembered, with sudden heartbreak, a time when he wouldn't have even had to try… But he was trying. That meant something, right?

"What else did you do?" He muttered at last, sort of under his breath, stalking from the kitchen like a ghost on a mission. Lydia followed, not sure what else to do. This wasn't the homecoming she'd expected. She didn't think he was really angry with her though… What had happened while he'd been gone? She wished he would just talk to her…

Every room he visited seemed to make him more upset than the room before, and she was already expecting a full on explosion, when he saw how she'd arranged the bedroom. Instead he just sort of, stopped in the doorway, his mouth twisting in a frown, as he turned to her. "I didn't think it would bother you." She murmured, not sure if this was an apology or not. "I wanted to make things nice for when you got home…"

"My home." He growled, his voice unflinching. "Not yours." Lydia had no answer to this, just staring, not willing to accept what he'd just said. This, wasn't her home too? He scowled more deeply at her lost expression, rubbing his temple with one hand, and turned his back on her, deliberately. "Get out." He said softly. "Get out of my house."

"B- B…" Lydia whispered, starting to approach him, only to be cut off by his sudden, sharp glare, as he lifted his head again. She swallowed, trying to meet that gaze, that suddenly had nothing of her friend in it. "Please don't make me leave, B. I've got nowhere else to go."

"I don't care!" He hissed, narrowing his eyes at her, but deliberately not moving from his spot. "It's not my problem, you're not my problem. Just get the hell out of my house, before I make you leave!"

It was, ridiculous. He'd just killed her, so they could be together, and now he was making her leave. He was, just upset, that was all. Not at her. But if he was feeling so unbalanced just then… She probably should leave. At least, that was the part of her mind that was determined to make sense of this was saying. The rest of her just felt betrayed, abandoned, and suddenly, horribly, alone.

She turned without another word, and ran from him, fleeing the bedroom, running out the front door, into the gloomy day. Rain clouds had started to gather at some point, casting an even deeper gray over the neitherworld's usual sort of dreariness, and Lydia didn't even notice. She kept running, down the street, around the corner, on and on until her strength suddenly left her, and she had to lean against a brick building for support.

And then she looked around, and realized that she didn't know where she was. She'd never been in this part of the neitherworld before, probably because Beetlejuice lived here. And at the moment, she didn't even know how to get back to his house anymore.

Biting her lip against tears, her shoulders sagging, she tried to figure out what to do. She needed to get somewhere she knew… But she'd run out of the house without any money. She was filthy, tired, and lost. She needed help.

Wiping the back of her hand across her eyes, she started walking again, looking for a payphone. She had the feeling that this was a bad neighborhood, it just had that sense, but so far, she hadn't seen a single person on the streets. As if something had just swept through the whole neighborhood, more terrifying than dying itself, and frightened them all into hiding.

She had to walk seven blocks before she found what she was looking for, and even as she felt at least a little relief, at the thought of hearing a familiar voice, new worries began to rise. She didn't have money for a phone call. She didn't even know who to call. She didn't know anyone in the neitherworld but him…

No, that wasn't true, she knew Ginger too. But after everything Beetlejuice had done to her, would the spider even be willing to help her? She'd only befriended her at all for fear of the poltergeist… right? Lydia stood there, her fingers on the thick gray pages that sat before her, listing name after name, street after street. How did one even look up 'Ginger, the tap-dancing spider?'

Page after page turned, from hopelessness, if nothing else. She even looked up Beetlejuice, unsurprised not to find him listed. And then back to the search. There seemed to be thousands of Gingers in the neitherworld… That only made sense, she supposed. Even with other afterlife options, a lot of people had to end up here, and Ginger? Well, it wasn't that uncommon a name.

She actually hesitated a bit with disbelief, at a half inch ad, right in the middle of the page she'd just turned. 'Ginger, the Tap-dancing Spider. For all your tap-dancing needs.' Just that, and a phone number. But why here? Why not under entertainment, or…

It didn't matter. She had a number. Now it was all up to whether or not the girl would accept her call. She picked the phone up, and with a lump in her throat, pressed zero. It rang twice, before someone picked up. "Neitherworld operator." A decidedly male voice stated boredly, surprising her. "How may I direct your call?"

"Um…" She really didn't even know if this was how things worked here, "I'd like to make a collect call to Ginger, please?" Her fingers traced the number as she read it off, then waited. After a moment, he told her to stay on the line. She wasn't ready to feel relieved yet.

Then he was back on the phone, in that same, annoyed with the world voice, asking, "Your name, please?"

"Lydia." She whispered. When he explained that he couldn't hear her, she said again, louder. "Lydia!" Her own frightened voice echoed off the empty buildings surrounding her, sounding far too loud in the still, silent street. "Please, tell her it's Lydia."

That was followed by another pause, this one far longer, before a sudden buzzing filled her ear, making her heart sink. Had she been disconnected? Had the guy not even bothered telling her that the spider's answer was no? Then, amazingly, the static cleared, and she heard a small, puzzled voice on the other end. "Lydia? Is that you, hon?"

The knowledge that someone actually gave a damn was too much for her. Lydia started crying. Instantly she heard Ginger's voice, soothing her, pleading to know what had happened. Still actually giving a damn. The story came out in half uttered sobs, and finally, Ginger got the gist of it. "You what? You need a place to stay, sugar?" Her first, visible hesitation. "Well see, I got a roommate hon, and I don't want to get him into any trouble…"

At this point, there was a sound of, what, she didn't know, but the next moment, a decidedly male voice was on the phone instead, murmuring in a thick French accent. "I vill hear none of theez, Ging-er. If ze lady needs some-vere to stay, zen she will stay vith us, oui?" The next was to Lydia herself. "Ging-er, she 'az told me of your troubled story, mon petite. I vould be honored to, 'ow you say, make your company."

Another sound of movement, this time with low arguing in the background, and then Ginger was on the phone again, sounding worried, but resolved. "It's settled, hon… You tell us where you are, Jacques here will pick you up. All right?"

"Thank you." Lydia whispered, well aware that she'd never be able to repay either one of them for the kindness they were offering, or the risk they were taking. She knew she didn't deserve it. She just didn't know what else to do…

Oh… B…

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