Unbound Chapter 4: Chapters 12-13, a beetlejuice fanfic

Chapter 12

When Lydia had woken up, Betelgeuse wasn't in her room. She sat up and snapped the sheets back to be sure. No ghost.
"Adam!"

Her adopted father came running into the room. "What is…" His eyes fall to the empty bed. "Where did he go?"

"I don't know. I was hoping you saw him leave."

Adam shook head. "I didn't…but he can just appear and disappear. You can't really blame him for leaving."

"True, but he can't go farther than five miles away from me. There's not many places to go to within five miles in Winter River."

The two began a search of the house to see if he was just haunting elsewhere. Each open door and empty door caused a rising pressure of panic in Lydia's chest.

In the attic, Barbara was laying over a couch practicing an apology in her mind. She didn't notice as the couch colors deepened into a black and white striped pattern.

Almost a month went by and there was still no sign of Betelgeuse.

Lydia had stayed at the Maitland/Deetz house during this time. She had to ask her neighbor to keep caring for Goblin, sending money to make it worthwhile.

He had to be close, she reasoned. She would surely be able to tell otherwise, right? Lydia honestly had no clue, and returning to the contract, she didn't find answers.

The tension in the house was still palpable.

Adam sat on the comfy chair in the living room, staring with unhidden anger at Charles.

"You leave soon, right?" His voice was uncharacteristically hard. As he turned, his glasses reflected the light, giving his face an inhuman look.

"One more day."

"Good."

The nastiness of the word is what turned Charles to sneer. "Don't blame your marriage issues on me."

Charles gave him a glance before disappearing into his study. While none of the ghosts were talking much, Barabra had completely secluded herself in the attic, causing Adam's bad behavior.

Adam sighed as he sank deeper into the chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I should just talk to her."

As the only living person in the house, Lyida would be the one to go grocery shopping. On her second trip that month, she was about about to park at the familiar market store, now run by the son of the previous owner, when she just kept driving. Her eyes narrowed and she pressed her finger on the odometer trip button. Let's see how far we can go.

At two miles, the familiar pit of worry sat in her gut. Was he hurt? Angry? Afraid of her? Would this stunt cause harm to them both or set Juno on them?

At three miles, nothing had changed. He was close enough that she hadn't triggered anything. The small shops of the town began to give way to residential areas. White houses with faded shutters stood against time in both style and build. Lydia often wondered if the people here just took good care of them or if there was something unique about the town. Despite being a place of such upheaval for her, not much else seemed to change. The worry began to fade to mild irritation. How could he not know she was doing her best? How could he just hide like a child?
At four miles still, she felt the same. She scanned the edges of the town, peering in windows hoping to see a flash of greened hair or a pale face. He could be a cat for all I know. She realized. While she still felt worried and guilty for bringing him to Winter River and for temporarily sending him back, she was growing angry after he abandoned her. She had done so much for him and he bolted at the first struggle. Her foot pushed on the pedal with more force now. "Come on, you stupid ghost. Where are you?"
At a bit over four miles, she slammed on the breaks causing the old car to squeak and rock forward on its springs. A tug in her gut had surprised her. It felt like a hook pulling at her insides, trying to keep her from going forward.
Taking a breath, she gripped the steering wheel and forced a smile. "There you are, motherfucker." Her voice carried more confidence than her rolling insides.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she slammed down the gas causing the car to charge forward with a growl of the engine and a strong smell of gasoline.

The invisible hook in her pulled tight, and a scream of pain tore through her throat.

Adam had just been about to knock on the attic door when a gurgling scream pushed him to yank the door open.

Barbara stood in a wide stance near the model of the town, her hands gripped at the table, knuckles pale with the strain. Her neck was sharply craned so that she was staring right at the ceiling, the white of her eyes showing bright as the pupils strained up. Her mouth was wide wide open and she was making a loud sound of pain.
But the sound was two toned, like her voice yelled alongside another one. Both in anguish.

"Barbara!" Adam ran towards her but stopped as he saw her head widen. No, not widen. It was as if a second head was peeling out of her own. The head pulled until it was as if his wife had two identical heads. The second head began to morph. Brown, styled hair turning shorter, messy, and blonde with green. The skin paled, the eyes darkened. Mouth opened in a deeper scream, now clearly distinct from Barbara's shrill one.
"Betelguese?"
In a matter of seconds, his shoulders emerged in a similar manner, then torso, hips and legs. All the while, a horrid ripping sound was heard. Finally, the feet detached, and the two were separated. As if the second ghost inside of her had been animating her, Barbara's body slumped against the table, and Adam sprang to catch her.
Betelguese's body was no longer anchored and flew against the wall of the attic, stopping only for a second before he was pulled through it.

Barbara, leaning heavily on Adam, stared with vacant eyes at the spot where the trickster ghost disappeared.

Chapter 13

The light blue Kia Spectra pulled up to the house with a new dent in the bumper and an exhausted Lydia driving it. As she got out of the car, her messy hair was reminiscent of her goth days and her face was as well.

Throwing the door open, she was about to demand to see the fucker, when Adam dashed in front of her with a finger to his lips. "They're both resting." His voice was a quick whisper.

"Both?"

Adam led Lydia to the couch and, over the next several minutes, explained what he had seen occur: BJ being torn out of Barbara, both of them passing out, Barbara eventually waking and demanding they take care of BJ. It was all strange and unusual, even more so than they were used to. Lydia added her own part and together they realized that she had ripped Betelguese out of possessing Barbara by forcing their "tether" tight.

Silence hung between them as they both were lost in concern for the other ghosts. Lydia found herself about to ask about BJ but stopped herself when she noticed how Adam was polishing his glasses on his shirt for the third time in the conversation. "How is Barbara?"

"She hasn't said much. She's awake, but just looks… exhausted. Maybe you can try? She otherwise seems fine, I guess. I'm still not sure if you can harm a ghost." Adam looked lost, and it was clear he hoped Lydia had some answer.
"Yeah, I'll try." She forced an encouraging smile and pushed on her knees to stand up. It didn't escape Adam's notice that she held her head and neck stiffly.

Ascending the stairs to the attic, Lydia had to remind herself that Barbara had just survived a lengthy possession and that whatever resentment Lydia had about earlier had to be put aside. By the time she opened the door and saw the dazed expression on Barabra's face, she nearly forgot any negativity.

Barbara's face seemed to disappear into her large curls as she sat, straight backed, on the couch. She blinked once. Twice. And then focused on Lydia. All at once, her stiffness melted and she ran to her adopted daughter, pulling her into a hug which they both sunk into. The relief of finally being able to be kind to each other made the younger feel a warmth in her chest.

"He was in so much pain… and so, so alone. Lydia, you have no idea."

Adam went over and put his arms around them, resting his chin on his wife's head. "I was fine, honey."

Barbara shifts beneath his chin. "No, not you. The Beetle."

The ghost with the most had been put back in Lydia's room. At first, Lydia had been determined to be there when he woke up this time. At first, she was content to just see him again, feeling right to have him near. However, sitting by his side after two hours with no distractions, she began to fiddle, to worry, to pull at the corner of the bedsheets. Would he want to see her when he woke up? He did hide from her and torment Barbara with his memories. Should she even want to see him? He did hide from her and torment Barbara with his memories.

I shouldn't be just sitting here. I have so much work I'm behind on. With that convenient excuse, she stood up. Scribbling a quick note, she grabbed her camera and went to the dark room in the basement.

"I'm going to have some angry brides…" she said to the developing fluids as she began the process. With each hung piece of photo paper, she felt her shoulders lower, her breath steady. The routine was familiar, and productivity made her less stressed. It was going to be okay.

The clients could get a discount, and she would still be able to pay the bills, Barbara and her were on speaking terms again, she would talk with her father soon, and Betelguese was… was…

Well, that was a problem for when he woke up.

She hung another photo as she actively tried to push him from her mind, but that's just not how the mind works.

Fucking idiot, hiding in Barbara. Absolute coward.

It was cruel, and she knew it, but it had been cruel to have him trapped there so long as well.

"He views you as the only light in the darkness" Barbara had said. "I was in his mind. Any time he thought of you, you were backlit in gold light, angelic. We love you, honey, but that was something else."

Lydia shook her head in hopes of rattling such nonsense from her mind. Sure, it was flattering– Hell, more than flattering, who wouldn't take a bit of pride in such an image– but this was Beteguese, and she didn't want to have the responsibility of being his guiding light when she already had so much responsibility for him.

Dipping the next photo in the developer, she watched as the figure in it ghosted into view. That's not the bride or groom. She squinted at the image as it came into focus. Crazy hair and the striped suit came were the easiest identifiers, and she smiled as she remembered the photo she had posed him for.

"Such a ham." She chuckled to herself, unable to look away or stop smiling.

The lines became more crisp, the goofy expression on his face clearer, and she found herself tracing the outline with a fingernail.

That day had been nice. The car ride, the conversation, the easy way they held hands.

Once the photo was fully done, she took it from the clip and looked at the monster of her childhood. He stared back with an earnest desire to please her, an eagerness to be near, and an excitement to be the focus of her attention. It was something. It was a start.

"Fine…" she said to nobody in particular as she stood up.

When Beteguese woke up, he was warm and something smelled lovely. The fuck? That didn't happen ever.

He opened his eyes and found it to only be a little bit lighter than closing them, but there was enough light to know he wasn't in The Room. I pressed his face into the soft warmness, and found it to also be the source of the smell.

"Lyds?" he mumbled into her chest.
"Hey, BJ." Her voice was angelic. The voice that had pulled him from every sort of darkness before. "You're an idiot, I'll have you know. And you're in a lot of trouble."
He chuckles and buries his face between her breasts. "I'm your idiot now."

Her chin bobs against his head as she nods. "I suppose you are."

Charles sat at his office, his jaw resting in his hand as he propped his head up on the desk. He stared at the carved wooden duck. He messed up. He knew he messed up.
If he had messed up with Deliah, it would have been easy. A bouquet of flowers and the assurance that she was the center of not only his world but of everything. But with Lydia, his own daughter, he felt like he had never really known her.
And now she was upstairs with that thing, being manipulated and who knows what else.
His finger flicked the duck and it spun to the side. The painted eyes looked too judgy today, and he didn't want to deal with anyone's attitude.

The clock on the wall had stopped working months ago, and the Maitlands had not seen the point of winding it. Even so, he knew he'd be returning to the Netherworld soon and found himself looking towards it for answers.