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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My French accent is atrocious, but my French is even worse. Try to enjoy.

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Some mercies simply weren't offered, in her life before, or in this one. Therefore, the rain broke long before the low slung black car pulled down the street, the first she'd seen, and rolled to a stop beside her. It looked like a hearse… God, she didn't even know if that was Jacques car. What if someone thought she was a prostitute or something? Or maybe there were actually decent people left in the world, who'd worry to see her standing in the rain like that?

Shivering, unable to warm herself without a heartbeat, she stood well back from the car, warily, as the driver's side opened, and a tall, thin man stepped out, covered in black plastic. He popped open an umbrella, and approached her… He was only a few feet away, and she was seriously considering running, when he tipped his head up, and under the oversized rain cap, she recognized the skeleton she'd seen in her mirror.

"Vou look 'alf frozen, Mizz Lydia!" He greeted her, jaws parted in a bony smile, before he seemed to notice the frightened look on her face. "Oh my, I 'ave startled vou… Pleaze forgive me, vere are my man-nairs?" He held out the umbrella over her head, the features of his bones creased gently, in a way no true skeleton's could. "Pleaze get in, zere is a blanket vou can use, in the passenger's seat, oui?"

He led her to the car, and opened the door for him, giving the impression of a complete gentleman. Inside, she indeed found the blanket, and snuggled up in it unabashedly, despite the fact that she had to be soaking it. Small blessings would be taken where they could…

Jacques got in beside her, in the driver's seat, and removed his floppy rain hat, giving her what had to be his most charming grin. Despite herself, it made Lydia smile in return. Just so good to see a kind face… "Thank you." She whispered, wanting to hide behind the blanket, but figuring he deserved her to at least look at him. "I don't, know how to repay you…"

"Non-zense!" The skeleton scoffed, starting the car again. Instantly a sound of smooth jazz filled the car, which surprised her a little, but he just clicked his teeth, shuffled through the tracks of the CD, and found one he liked, before going on. "I am a gentle-skeleton, Mizz Lydia! Vhat sort of man would I be, not to aide zee lady in distress?" He drew a handkerchief from his pocket, beneath the slicker, and handed it to her, adding, "And from vhat Ging-er 'as told me, vou are most certainly in distress, non?"

"I don't think she knows the half of it." Lydia whispered, not sure how much of the story she'd actually managed to get across to the other girl. Jacques considered her for a moment, then raised one eye-ridge, and turned on the heat for her, before drawing back into the street.

He didn't press her anymore after that, which was good. As tired as she was, she had trouble understanding his thick accent, and felt foolish for wanting to ask him to repeat himself so many times. In addition… She really just wanted to wallow in self-pity for a while, albeit without really dwelling on why she felt so bad. That might just break her.

They drove a long ways, in silence. But, it wasn't a bad silence. He wasn't pressing her for answers, which admittedly she wasn't ready to offer, and she didn't really feel uncomfortable or anything. It kind of reminded her of the way things used to be, with him, before.

Mile after mile passed, as she gazed through the window at the endless streets, looping and drawing them to within inches of tall, crooked buildings, before turning abruptly, and heading off in another way altogether. She still couldn't find her way through the roads of the neitherworld, but then, she'd never had to. She reflected for a moment just how much she'd come to depend on Beetlejuice… How much her world revolved around him. What if he was just, gone one day? What if that day, was now?

She closed her eyes, and listened to what she supposed was a saxophone, crooning its haunting tune. Though the music wasn't sad, it fitted her unhappy mood perfectly. It even soothed her, a little. She reminded herself that Beetlejuice wasn't really mad at her… But what did that mean? Would he come looking for her?

She turned her gaze to the kind skeleton beside her, and suppressed a shiver at the thought of what he might be setting himself up for. "You know," She prompted softly, "If B comes looking for me…" And here she stopped, because she really couldn't bear to think that through any further. "I don't want you getting hurt, just because you're helping me."

Jacques turned his gaze to her, the corner of his jaw lifting in a little half smile. "Zis, Beatle-joose, does not scare zis skeleton!" He boasted, then dropped his voice a little, and added with a wink, "Vell, not much, oui?" Turning his gaze forward again, just in time to prevent colliding with an oncoming truck, he spun the wheel easily, twisting them out of harms way. "To tell zee truth, Mizz Lydia? I do not care for zee danger. Jacques la Lean is not so easily swayed, when he wishes to 'elp a lady in need."

What could she say to that? Lydia just made a small sound of acceptance, and rested her weight against the door. After a while, she started to feel sleepy, and wondered just how far they still had to go. It had been a long, event-filled couple of days, and she was long since on her last legs. Maybe it would be all right, if she took a little nap…

Just as she was thinking this, something bumped into the back of her seat, hard, making her yelp, and sit up stock straight. Jacques grip on the wheel faltered at her surprise, as she was left wondering if Beetlejuice had already come after her, and there were more thumps came from the back, making her spin wildly to see what it was.

But now Jacques was laughing. "Relax, mon petite! It is just, 'ow you say, equipment for the exercising!" For a moment, she heard him wrong, and thought he'd said exorcizing, turning back to him with a wild look. He didn't seem to notice, just going on, saying. "Zee weights I take vith me to vork out with my friends, nes past? I zink I still 'ave an old bike in zere too." He cast a glance at her. "Vou may use it, if vou vish… Once vou are feeling better, of course."

He seemed to just accept that she'd be staying with them indefinitely… Lydia didn't understand this sort of kindness from someone she didn't know, and after a moment, realized that she really didn't have anything to say for it, except, "Thank you," very softly, before she turned back to the window.

Maybe they did have a long way to go. Maybe it would be okay to sleep, just a little…

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She hadn't been gone for five minutes, before it struck him what a complete dumb-ass he was being. Immediately he followed her out the door, still pissed beyond relief, but ready to, grudgingly, invite her back inside. He hoped to find her just outside the door, waiting for just this… But instead, the girl was nowhere in sight. It left him dumbfounded. She'd really just left? Damn, wasn't she supposed to know him better than that?

Cursing himself in as varied and imaginative of ways as he could think of, he lifted into the air, until he was just over the tops of the nearby buildings, and began scanning the streets for her. As minutes passed, and he still didn't find her, his frustration began to give way to something unsettlingly like panic. What the fuck was he thinking? Where the hell was that damn girl?

He had no way of knowing of course, that he flew over her twice, her slight frame tucked into the old phone booth, before he began ranging his searching further. No way to know she was behind him, as the rain started, less than an hour later, with him almost five miles away. What he did know was that every minute that passed without him finding her, was that much further she was getting away from him… One more minute she could be getting into some stupid shit, without him there to save her ass.

In the end of course, he convinced himself that it wasn't worth it. She'd come back on her own, right? Besides, she couldn't have come that far… He'd probably missed her. And in fact he did miss her, again, by one block, as the long black hearse took a different street than the poltergeist, the two practically side by side for one split second.

But of course, again, Beetlejuice didn't know that. He was too busy thinking of all the ways the girl could get herself killed again. And trying to ignore the twist of fear that this made surge up in his guts. And trying to pretend that he really didn't give a damn what happened to the goth kid he now couldn't get out of his head.

Soaked to the skin, bitterly cold, and even more angry, he stomped back into his house, dripping water everywhere. Kicking off his boots, he dropped himself into an ancient couch, which groaned in protest under his weight, and propped his chin up in his fist, staring intently at the door. Because she would come back, after all.

Like she'd said, she had nowhere else to go…

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Sleep was warm. It might be the only warmth left to her. The blanket was thick and soft, and by now, she was mostly dry, and very comfortable. So when the hand nudged her shoulder, trying to wake her, she pressed it away without thinking, murmuring under her breath, "Not now, B. I'm sleeping…"

She was vaguely aware of a sigh, and then two surprisingly strong arms lifting her from where she was resting. She opened her eyes, not really alarmed yet, to see the neitherworld sky. That seemed odd… And the arms holding her were strong, but really uncomfortable. Bony. She shifted, turning her face upwards, and frowned at the floppy rain hat obscuring her view.

Her memory returned, little by little, and she let out a soft sound of pain, remembering Beetlejuice's dismissal. Bony sockets appeared from beneath the hat, and a wide skeleton grin greeted her. "Bon waking, Mizz Lydia!" Jacques greeted her, still taking long strides forward, to… Well, wherever he was taking her. "We are 'ome!"

Home? She closed her eyes, the very word making her unbearably cold. She'd thought she knew where home was… But she resolved herself, and with a moment's thought, made an attempt to stand. Jacques made no protest, simply dropping her lightly to her feet, and flashing her that charming grin again. "Vou vere sleeping the sleep, 'ow you say, of the dead!" He noted jocularly.

"Good reason for that now, I suppose." Lydia mumbled, brushing her currently very stringy hair from her face. She was a mess, and knew it. And didn't really even care. "Where are we?"

"As I 'ave said, ve are 'ome!" Jacques explained, gesturing in a welcoming way towards what looked like a large, rather squat building, albeit with odd peaks here and there, as if added as an afterthought. "Ging-er, she vill be waiting, oui?" He put a gentle hand in the small of her back, and guided her forward, until they reached an odd, old style swinging door, with top and bottom opening separately. "Ging-er!" He announced loudly, swinging both open at once, "Ve 'ave returned!"

"Oh, hon!" The ghost in question poked her head around the doorframe, relief written on her features. Currently halfway up to the ceiling, clinging to the plaster. "I been walking the walls, waiting for you to get back!" Her immediate concern, as it turned out, was not for Lydia, but for Jacque. "I swear, if that jerk did anything to you…!"

Only here, a bit grudgingly, but with at least some relief evident on her face as well, Ginger turned to her, and gave her a long, serious once over. "Well, looks to me like you had a hell of a long night, sugar. But at least that fellah of yours hasn't seemed to have done you any harm." She sighed, running a serrated hand over her mouth, then smiled, and shrugged, seemingly giving up any right she might have had to be angry. "Why don't you come with me and wash up, hon? Then I'll find you a nice place to sleep… We been trying to rent out that empty apartment forever, seems like. It ain't much, but it's got a roof and a bed…"

At some point in this gentle rambling, she'd taken Lydia by the hand, and was leading her across what looked like a shared living space. She glanced at Jacques over her shoulder, but the skeleton just waved, looking a bit weary, before turning to their door with something of a frown. She could just imagine what he was worrying about. But if B did come looking for her, it probably wouldn't be for, she didn't know, days?

Lydia sat obediently and quietly on the edge of a clean white tub, complete with clawed feet, not big, but elegant, and let Ginger take a warm cloth to her face. She didn't even protest when, almost in a motherly way, Ginger clucked her tongue at the messy state of her hair, and began, without saying a word, working her way through it with a comb. She didn't even ask why the spider had a comb, even though neither she nor Jacques had hair. She was worn out, and the gentle ministrations felt good.

They didn't talk, but Ginger did hum a little under her breath, a soft little lulling song that Lydia didn't know. She supposed there was a lot of music she didn't know about… She'd always limited herself to what Beetlejuice introduced her to. That pretty much went for everything in the neitherworld, too. She'd always said he was her whole world…Now she was starting to realize that he really had been.

Her eyes hooded, gazing at some imperfection in the tiled floor, she almost didn't hear Ginger, as she noted suddenly, "Hon, you ain't warming up yet? Ain't you breathers supposed to be a hell of a lot warmer than this?" The word, 'breather,' cut through Lydia like a knife, but she just smiled.

Ginger though, wasn't done, climbing around her, and stopping only when she could meet the goth girl's eyes face to face. The frown lingered on her lips for upwards of a minute, before suddenly, her face grew horribly pale. "Oh, sugar…" She whispered, lifting a delicate limb to brush softly against Lydia's cheek. "Don't tell me… He didn't… Not to you!"

All she could manage was a soft, pained sound, and turning her eyes back away. Ginger though, simply followed her line of sight doggedly, looking angrier than she would have thought someone, other than the obvious, could look for her. "Well then, damn him!" Ginger snapped, the words surprising Lydia into further silence. "Don't he know the whole point of this…?" She shook her head, now simply mute with fury, and glared off at nothing at all.

She felt, like she should defend him. But any words she could think of, sounded horribly pathetic, when she tried to make them speech. "It's not like I tried to stop him." She said at last, feeling defeat in the words. "Ging… It's always been going that way."

"And that's all there is to it, is that it, hon?" The spider turned her frown on the girl, eyes flashing with what, she didn't know. "Look, you only get one life Lydia, and that big jerk took yours from you, without no never mind! And him supposed to be caring about you…"

"He doesn't remember that." Lydia pointed out softly, making the other girl fall silent, and just shake her head in distress. "It doesn't matter. It's done. There's no going back." The truth was, that didn't even bother her. Not really. Being dead didn't feel any different than being alive had. But it certainly hadn't made things any better, just worse.

"Hon…" Ginger whispered at last, putting one gentle hand over hers. "This is gonna be the hardest part of your afterlife. If he ain't gonna be here for it, and it being him that did it in the first place, then you gotta realize he ain't the fellah for you, right?"

Lydia sighed, deciding the best thing to do, was not to answer this either way. Yes, she was miserable. Cut off from her past forever, her future uncertain… But damn if she didn't still love him. Damn if she didn't want him to just show up, right then, and take her back… home.

You've fought all my battles for me, B. How can you not be here for this one? Maybe things would make more sense in the morning. Maybe he'd come looking for her, and everything would be all right again. Or maybe… Maybe it was just the whole long ordeal talking, but maybe it was just time for her to do now, what she'd never had the strength to do when she was still alive.

Maybe it was time for her to start fighting her battles herself.

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He'd been sitting in the same spot for the last thirteen hours or so… To tell the truth, he really didn't know how it had been himself. He'd stopped looking at the clock a long time ago. His eyes lidded, his heart… What the hell, his heart? Fine, his guts then, twisted all up in weird, annoying emotions. Like, pain.

Grunting, he finally came to the conclusion that the broad just wasn't coming back. Fine whatever. But had he really scared her that bad? Damn chick wasn't supposed to be scared of him… That was one of the things he liked about her. Probably one of the things he'd always liked about her, not that he could remember. It just, seemed to fit. The kid had spirit… So why the hell not just stand up to him? Why run off like some broken doll, or something?

Pushing himself to his feet, Beetlejuice took a long look around his home, and reflected that it did look better, when someone put in an effort to clean it. Pissed off at himself, pissed off at the girl, Beetlejuice stalked from the living room, determined to lie down, figuring if she hadn't come back by now, she probably wasn't going to.

Damn her, she… He stopped, frozen in the doorway, as he saw again the way she'd rearranged the bedroom. But she hadn't actually messed with any of his stuff. Just put her stuff around it. A little more cluttered than he liked… But then again, it was kind of impressive what that girl could manage, when she got it into her head to do something. She'd moved that big ass bed all the way across the-

How the hell had she done that? He considered the dresser, the wardrobe, and yes again, the bed, and frowned, wondering if the girl was going to end up having powers. Not like his of course… No one had powers like his. But some power, at any rate.

He tried to turn his attention away from all of it, his only intention to lie down and get some sleep, but then his eye fell on that damn red thing she was always wearing, hung there from the post of her bed. Grudgingly, he walked over to it, taking it between his thumb and forefinger. It was time worn, faded, and stitched up from countless tiny tears. Why was it so important to her? Beetlejuice, without thinking, brought it to his nose. His eyes closed, as he breathed in her scent. It was like…

It was like the girl wasn't even there, and she still had some kind of power over him. But he didn't react with anger this time, just tugging the poncho from its resting place lightly, and gathering the soft silk of it up in his hand. It crinkled, like the way it had gathered against her under his touch… He brought it to his face again, and this time, inhaled more deeply.

Pumpkins, cloves… Something feral. Something uniquely her. It made his hea- His guts twist, again. Slowly he moved to his own coffin bed, and lay down, the soft material still clutched in his hand. His head fell back, on his pillow, and he was hit by a wall of dust, making him sneeze. Not that it'd be that bad, having someone clean up this place from time to time… This thought too, he pushed away.

He held the sheer material over his head, gazing at the meager light through its weaving, then sighed, and rolled over, pulling it down across him. Damn her for having this power over him. How the hell had that happened? He didn't have any of their past to draw on, or anything… Maybe something else? Something that wasn't just memories, or…

I loved her. That's the bottom line, right? He closed his eyes, frowning, but unable to escape the way it made him feel a little nauseas, admitting this. Even to himself. So what, is that supposed to be some big shit, bigger than memory, or… He couldn't think of that. God, he didn't want to admit he was losing all control over this situation. Especially not when any idea of getting his memories back now was pretty much shot, whether he wanted them or not.

It had to be the king of the neitherworld. The one guy, who even with all his power, the poltergeist just couldn't fucking touch. Maybe it should have been staring him in the face, ever since he'd found out he was the one to kill that brat of a prince… Who'd want revenge more than someone who had every reason to hate him, and nothing to risk?

He lay there, trying to sleep, for the better part of an hour. It should have been easy. He was exhausted, and his thoughts had never kept him awake before. But he couldn't fucking sleep. His mind kept returning to her. It probably didn't help that he was clutching her clothing to his chest like some kind of security blanket, drowning himself in her smell.

When he gave up on sleep, it wasn't with anger. Sure, he was mad at her, more mad at himself, but this really had nothing to do with either one. He got to his feet grimly, starting to toss her poncho aside, then reconsidered, and tucked it into his belt. Go ahead, let the broad know I've been thinking about her… She can't control me any more than she already does, at this point. Though secretly, he wondered if that was really true. If he was this far lost, after all…

So he'd go find her. Wasn't like he was going to apologize or anything, just tell her to come back. She'd listen, right? The question was, where the hell was she? For the first time, it struck him as incredibly unfair that she could find him whenever the hell she wanted, but he had no way to track her down himself.

Yeah, that was balanced.

"'Kay babes, you want me to come find you, I'll do it." He muttered under his breath, already turning his mind forward to where to look. "But you sure as hell better appreciate it!" Now he just had to think… Did she know anyone else in the neitherworld? She'd been coming here for years, yeah… But he didn't strike himself, even in memories he'd lost, to be the kind of guy to share.

Wait. She'd said that, hadn't she? He thought back for a minute, trying to remember when the girl had said that… When the spider chick had shown up, right? She said he didn't like the share, but it didn't surprise her, him finding a way to look out for her when he wasn't around.

So hell, the spider, right? That was where she'd go… Fury welled up in him, at the thought of some little knee-high spook thinking she had any right to what was clearly his. Getting between him and Lydia… Screw if they were having a fight, it was none of her damn business! If the girl hadn't had her to run off to, she'd have come back by now!

Finally with someone to direct his anger onto, this just left finding the damn ghost, and… Hell, she had that skeleton guy living with her, didn't she? Some asshole, making time with his babes? Oh… Oh, no. That wasn't acceptable at all.

Beetlejuice threw his coat on, scowled in the direction of the mirror he'd once been able to find her with so easily, and cursed the pair that had drawn his girl from him. He'd make them pay for it, that was for damn sure… All he had to do was find them.

And they would sure as hell be easier to corner than that damn king…

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