BJ's Roadhouse: Fanfiction, Etc.: Time Will Tell: Part 2

"Lydia, those are just morbid," Melinda commented on the bouquet of dried roses, which Lydia had perched in a vase she'd made the year before. "You two must really be meant for each other," she added quickly, as if to mask the furtive apprehension in her tone.

Lydia glanced up from her sketching and smiled in greeting, watching casually as Melinda shed her jacket and tossed a canvas on her bed. Melinda sat down on her pillow, fixing Lydia with a look every bit as eager as it was full of concealed dread. Lydia released a tense breath. Her friend would not take silence for an answer, and the sudden change in attitude toward her undisclosed admirer was alarming.

"That's... a safe assumption," Lydia replied, paying closer attention to her work. Upon returning from the Neitherworld around three o'clock, she had managed to contact her professors for missed work. Since Lydia was so rarely ill, making them believe she had the stomach flu had been easily accomplished.

"A safe assumption?" Melinda echoed, as if Lydia had made the understatement of the century. She continued in a tone that bordered on sarcasm, "Princess, I know he's the one if you think he's worth skipping an entire day's classes. At least you finally see where I'm coming from."

Lydia blushed at the backdrop she was working on, at the same time struggling to discredit Melinda's edgy manner. "You can say that again," she sighed. It had been harder than ever to leave Beetlejuice. Between loving in the morning, dozing through Jacques' (rather nosy) offer of brunch shouted through the bedroom door, and dancing to discordant Weird Al parodies, they had proved once again that making the best of short time was their forté.

"Deetz," Melinda pressed with greater insistence, twisting one wild ringlet around her index finger in frustration, "you've got it bad. And I mean more than `You're whipped!' when I say that. Are you ready to tell me who it is?"

"Yeah, but Lydia, you're serious!" Melinda cried, forgetting her quest for vindication just long enough to hug Lydia in congratulation. "You're going to conquer Broadway one day, you know that? People like you put the competition out of business."

Melinda released Lydia, sitting back to examine the ring. "God, that's esoteric," she breathed, both impressed and disturbed as she lifted the face to reveal a miniature reflection of herself inside. "Honestly, Lydia, just... a name, that's all I'm asking. I know you're a private person and all, but so am I, and I introduced you to Ray before I introduced him to my parents. Please...."

Lydia pulled her hand away, closing the ring protectively. "Mel, you have to bear with me on this one. I'm not ready to go public with this, all right?" Lydia pleaded, biting her lip. She could not deny that Melinda was terrified. And that alone was more fearsome than silence.

"No one's making you," Melinda admitted with a heavy sigh. "I can't do that. All I'm asking you to remember is... I'm not exactly your public, and if you can keep a secret like this right under my nose, then chances are, they'll never know. This admirer of yours might as well be a ghost! Whoever he-- or she-- is."

"Hey, you knew there were rumors about you last fall, didn't you? I don't doubt your orientation, but I think you ought to know there are those who do. I mean, think about it. People tend to speculate about reclusive individuals with no apparent love life."

Beneath the fire of Lydia's stare, Melinda barely prevented herself from landing hard on the floor. "I'm only telling you the truth! You know I don't believe a word of it, because I know you-- live with you, for crying out loud. However, Lydia, it's comments like that... that scare me, make me worry about you, that you don't think you can tell me the truth. And so does this constant avoidance of direct answers! Give me a name, a personality! Give me anything that'll reassure me you're not seeing someone who's stranger than you are-- in a bad way."

"Okay, okay," Melinda groaned. "I was really out of line on that one. Forgive me. So, you're dating a mystery man. Cool, fine, peachy. Just don't end up wasted or worse, okay? I never meant to make you feel pressured to fit in."

Lydia's head flew up, shock and remorse filling her chest. "Oh, Mel, don't tell me you think I went out and did this just because you and Ray... oh, no, that's not it! I'm honestly in love, but on my own terms. Learn to trust me, would you? I'm touched that you're always wanting to look out for me, but really, I can find my way. I always have. Oh, you've got me choked up. Get over here!"

"Damn, this is seriously unusual. What an intrigue," Melinda replied, ruffling Lydia's hair and studying her sketch. "What on earth are you doing? They didn't assign proscenium work yet, did they?"

I find it hard not to notice that the easier lying to my parents becomes, the circumstances that I must hide grow progressively stranger. Dad called earlier this evening to ask if I wanted to come home for the weekend. Mel's jaw nearly did a repeat performance of Jacques' when she heard me say no.

"What, you're going to be a recluse here rather than at home for a change?" she had teased. "Just in case you need to get in touch with me, I'll be at Ray's till Sunday. Lydia, why don't you come over too, at least for tonight? We're renting Rocky Horror. I think half of the sophomore class'll be there. Rumor has it, Nate knows the audience participation lines."

"Not really," I'd replied, looking up from my almost completed sketch. "But you know what half the sophomore class thinks of me. Oh, Mel, for God's sake, don't give me that look. You know I can't stand bad '70s cult classics anyway."

My thoughts turned immediately to Beetlejuice, for whom the film was something of a favorite-- which he incidentally had skirted around watching with me until I was in high school, until which event I hadn't grasped why. "Well... that's a different story. Exorcist doesn't involve an otherwise dignified leading actor traipsing around in drag. I still think Tim was better in Clue."

"Fine, fine. Point taken," Melinda had sighed in defeat, shouldering her overnight bag. "I swear, though, Lydia... Ray and I will get you into social functions yet. Take care, Princess," she said affectionately, pulling the door softly closed on her way out.

A beam of weirdly refracted light shot out of my ring and bounced off the ceiling and walls like a demonic pinball. I dropped my sketchbook on the floor, following its haphazard trajectory with amusement. It finally crashed behind behind me on the bed, landing with far more force than such a small object ought to have. I scooted forward to the edge of the bed to make room for the dizzy figure lying sprawled there.

"Whoa... you've gotta try that sometime, Lyds," he remarked, giving his head a spin as if to verify it was still in working order. He sat up and offered enthusiastically, "Hey, if you want, I can arrange that right--"

"Uh, that's okay. I'll pass," I replied, tilting my head to one side in acceptance of a greeting kiss. I sighed, leaning back as he slipped his arms around my waist. "You feel so good after such a long day," I murmured, willing my back to memorize him as surely as the rest of me had.

"I never thought hearin' that kind of thing would ring my bell, y'know what I mean?" Beetlejuice commented, the resulting clamor perfectly worthy of sticking my fingers in my ears. "Only, you Lyds. Only you. Now, about that news!"

"No!" I cried explosively, laughing so hard at his unexpected conjecture that I cried. "Better than that. My costume designs were chosen for Sweeney... apparently without any otherworldly interference," I added, hugging him proudly.

And so I did, though often at the expense of having bubbles flung in my face. Strange, I never thought I'd find a good use for this flamingo-pink terry bathrobe I got last Christmas in the white elephant exchange at Delia's Christmas party-- but lying here half damp and curled up more than proves its comfort and certain attraction in someone's color-addled eyes.

Before meeting his unruly housemate, Jacques had thoroughly believed he'd succeeded in giving up brooding. Bittersweet defeat, to admit to himself that the very admission of failure broke the resolution in twain a second time. Jacques hefted a miniature weight restlessly from one hand to the other. As many times as he convinced himself Beetlejuice's affairs weren't worth his marrow, he failed in believing that just as miserably.

Beetlejuice had vanished again the evening before, predictably. The last way Jacques had planned on spending his Friday night was pondering Beetlejuice's jaw-dropping romance, but in Ginger's moping presence, it was hard to do otherwise. He was finding his morning workout difficult due to how little he'd slept.

Jacques took a seat on the edge of his trampoline, forcing himself to acknowledge for whom it was he feared. Lydia was a sensible girl, he knew that. Even despite her odd tolerance for their concept of normality, she maintained a balance of thought and character capable of existing within the bounds of her own eccentricity.

Jacques was immediately angry with himself for even having considered it. The more he thought about it, the more he was certain she must have been the one to set things in motion. Jacques had noticed the change in Beetlejuice's cavalier attitude toward the opposite sex in the years since he'd met Lydia. When once he might have loved and left, uncaring, the present held him blinded by merciless sincerity. What Beetlejuice felt for Lydia, Jacques hoped against hope, was incabable of reverting to selfishness and ruin.

By the time the phone rang, he had worked himself into a reasonably calm sweat and vowed that whatever happened, he would be watching. The call in question, too, worked wonders on his disposition. Jacques was seldom keen on recording messages for Beetlejuice, but delivering this one would be a pleasure.

"Shut up!" Lydia laughed, she and Beetlejuice almost tripping through the front door of the roadhouse. It felt almost like junior high again-- how many Saturday mornings she'd dashed across that threshold, she could not count. But not one of those times were her companion's arms so wonderfully present around her, never once his teasing so meaningful, never once his lips seeking her cheek-- her forehead, her hands, her mouth-- moment by moment.

"You asked for it, Lyds," Beetlejuice taunted playfully, swinging her to one side as the door slammed behind them. "Your hair just can't do that anymore without looking like a broom with a crew cut. Face it," he continued, briefly assuming the appearance of Clare Brewster. "That look is, like, so last decade!"

Lydia backed away with a grin of insidious acknowledgement, stepping lightly on his foot once her toe had slunk down his shin. The creak of a door caused them both to whirl around, their faces flushing in unison as the moment was broken.

"Ah, Be-atlejuice! Lydia! Bonne matin," Jacques greeted them as he emerged from the kitchen, a glass filled with some dubious blended substance clutched in one hand. "You 'ave 'ad a good evening, no?"

"Tell me something, Jacques," Lydia suggested brightly, ignoring the skeleton's suggestive grin and slanted eyebrow. Twirling in order to display herself from at all angles, she stepped away from Beetlejuice, who was trying his best to focus on the floor tile he'd promptly begun to scuff with the heel of his boot. "I can still pull off the upsweep, can't I?" Lydia asked, glancing at Beetlejuice with an almost impossible mix of reproach and adoration.

"Hey!" Beetlejuice interjected, storming forward with amiable consternation, embracing Lydia more than jokingly, as if Jacques had challenged him to be more open with his affection. "I do the flattering around here. Got it, bone breath?"

The skeleton turned and began to walk away, calculating without a glance that the pair behind him had seized the opportunity for continued mischief. He spun on his heel unexpectedly to find them forehead to forehead, Lydia teasingly sweeping Beetlejuice's hair into a semblance of her own and murmuring what sounded like, "Told you so!"

If Lydia hadn't been holding onto Beetlejuice, he surely would have keeled over. Mustering all of her willpower against the urge to laugh, she steered him to the sofa. Jacques stood looking on, vastly amused and secretly proud.

"Breathe, Beetlejuice, breathe. At least it wasn't Donny," Lydia pointed out brightly. "You've met 'em both," Beetlejuice growled petulantly, "and you mean to tell me you can't see this is a case where the 'lesser of two evils' concept doesn't apply?"

Jacques seized the opportunity to add, "You are supposed to call her back, mon ami. I told 'er you would return before ze evening, likely. She sends 'er regards to you aussi, Lydia." With that, he granted the pair on the couch their privacy.

"Beej, it's not that bad. It never is," Lydia reassured him, fussing with his hair once more. "Just give her a call and see what she wants. It's been more than half a year since you've seen her!"

The instant he rose and made his way to the phone, Lydia sprawled out on the sofa, gasping with hysterical laughter. Beetlejuice dialed his parents' residence, glaring at her out of the corner of his eye.

"Hello, yeah. Ma? Uh-huh. He sure did. Yes, I'm fine. Ma, I said I'm fine. Now, what did you... Yeah, yeah, behind my ears and in front of 'em, too. Lyin'? No. You heard me-- MA! Cross my eyes and hope to-- I said yes! If Jacques is just tryin' to waste my time, I swear... uh, no, no! 'Course I do. So you really did have somethin' to... uh-huh... what? Whaddaya mean? Laughin'? Of course not, that's just-- yes, Ma. She is," Beetlejuice muttered, rolling his eyes and covering the mouthpiece. Lydia only giggled harder.

"Yeah, that was. I will-- hey, Lyds, she says hello back. There, is that ok? Ok. So what did you... no, I haven't, since when did I bother to clean up around here when she does? Oh, come on! It's not-- fine. Lyds, you're supposed to remind me to dust. Mom, just stop it already! What do you want?"

Lydia's amusement faded into confusion as the phone slid from Beetlejuice's grasp. He stared at the floor for several moments, looking as if he couldn't decide whether he wanted to curse or blow a fuse. Without thinking, Lydia leapt off the couch and retrieved the phone.

"Mrs. Juice? Are you still there? This is Lydia... yes, yes, fine, and you? Great. Uh... Beetlejuice went to answer the door. You know the Monster across the street, always something to... Beetlejuice? Why, no, he didn't-- you mean you just asked him-- well, what did you ask him? Certainly I'll ask him for you again. Now what is it? Ah... ah! Oh, Mrs. Juice, that's so thoughtful! Yes, of course I will. Uh, I don't think he'll be back any minute soon. We'll get back to you. Again, that sounds wonderful! See you soon. Bye!"

"Upset Ma and Pop? Well, Babes, here's the thing... yes and no. I agree it's not as serious as your situation at all. Ma loves you. Pop doesn't say much, so that means about the same thing. But the fact I'm... well... uh, by their standards not making an honest ghoul of either of us...."

Beetlejuice sighed, "Yeah, I guess. And Ma's as good a place as any. The worst she can do is tell me to go dry clean every last piece of lint I own. On the other hand, yours would probably ship you off to some--"

"I'm not answering that," Beetlejuice said simply, returning the favor of earlier. After a euphoric minute pinned flat against the wall, Lydia could scarcely breathe. "You tell me, Lyds."

Each was too absorbed in the other to notice a hollow pair of eyes watching discreetly from around the corner. The only difference was, this time, their owner decided it best not to interrupt. He slipped away as quietly as his joints would permit, deciding that perhaps his fears were ungrounded after all.

Beetlejuice had been glad to relegate the duty of calling his mother back to me. Not that I minded or blamed him for it-- he never could get a word in edgewise amidst her endless queries and caveats. A long joyride immediately following our dalliance in the living room had calmed his nerves greatly, albeit rattled Doomie's when we decided spur of the moment to catch the next showing at the drive-in. Our wheeled friend expressed his distaste for Lon Chaney by snoring loudly through a disengaged muffler during the last half of the film. Beetlejuice and I had finally resorted to putting the hood up once the disgruntled onslaught of popcorn from neighboring viewers became too frequent. What amuses me most is that sound should bother them during a silent film! Well, no loss-- hoods are good for keeping out more than just popcorn. Even I didn't stay interested in Chaney's performance for the remainder of the evening.

I had hoped to avoid Melinda's usual invitation to dinner today, but I didn't succeed. She and Ray walked into the room just as I was about to take leave of this world for the evening. Not having spent more than an hour-- let alone a night-- in Beetlejuice's presence since Saturday had become definite torture. I snapped the ring shut just in time as the door opened. It trembled in shock and protest, Beetlejuice nonetheless growing instantly quiet.

"Hey, Lydia!" Ray greeted, embracing me with a casual enthusiasm that complemented Melinda's so well. "I haven't seen you since that night you and Mel stopped by the Outback. What've you been up to?"

I stared at them for a moment before answering, struck as always by the incongruous beauty of the pair. Ray is as broad and muscular as Melinda and I are petite. In every physical aspect, he seems to contradict her-- skin fair, hair dark and straight, eyes fathomless brown. But in temperament, the two could not be more similar.

"You couldn't handle it," I replied, half lightly and half sincerely. It gave me great satisfaction knowing I could do just that before their very eyes and no one in the world would believe them.

"Well, these have come of it," Melinda informed him, indicating the bouquet of dried roses and the ring on my finger. "She's really got a lot of explaining to do, when the time comes."

"Why?" Ray asked, catching me completely off guard. "It's not like she ever forced you to bring me out of hiding, and heaven rue the day you did. The poor girl's probably never recovered from the teasing I dished out the first time you introduced us."

"So she has, poor dear," Melinda reiterated wryly, flashing me a look that brought to mind last week's conversation. "She's definitely a master of concealment and defense. They ought to put her in charge of national security."

"You're right. We did. But just don't expect me to give up my reservations about you in an instant, okay? Lydia, I care about you and I don't know the hell why! Sometimes I think anyone else could have roomed with you and just left you in your own separate world, barely knowing you were there-- and they'd have settled for that. But not me. Not me. I see too much that's worth knowing in you, Lydia. I just thought you might like to know."

Whether Ray sqeezed her hand in urging for silence or in encouragement, I could not tell. Melinda blinked, biting her lip before whatever words came next could escape. "I care," she said simply. "I know. It's selfish of me to force you to show that you do, too."

I put my arms around her, feeling cold and shocked. "Please, just tell me what I can do. But just not today, Mel. I have work. You know where I draw the line, miserly as it seems." Lying made my heart painfully aware of guilt's pinpricks constantly hovering at its periphery.

I hesitated a moment before deciding it best to respond, "Yes, I'd like that. And... well, I'd like to make this up to you. Is there something you guys are doing in the near future that might require my presence?"

"Later," I replied, shutting the door almost too forcefully once they both stepped into the hall. I leaned heavily against it, simply grateful to be alone once more. How had things gotten so out of hand? As if to comfort me, the ring grew warm. I opened it hurriedly, gasping for breath.

"Beetlejuice, shhh... it's tempting, but what would that solve? She doesn't know you exist. She wouldn't know it's an act of revenge even remotely connected with-- oh, let me take that back. Considering the animosity she's hiding, she'd blame me."

"Me too, Babes," he whispered, his eyes almost feverish. "Me too. Good grief, might as well get in what time we can before Ma hogs our Friday evening... oh, yeah, I forgot. She called again this afternoon. She wanted me to ask you something."

I couldn't think clearly, but it wasn't the reason my schedule popped up so full. I groaned, "Beetlejuice, I doubt it. I have classes solid till noon, then an hour break, and then I have a required meeting since I'm now on Sweeney Todd design staff and--"

"Well, yes, if we weren't planning on some private time like we happen to be," I replied, somewhat irked. "It's six thirty now and the darkroom closes at eight. I'd have barely enough time to snap off those ten remaining shots at random and tear the little sucker apart so I can develop the film."

"Beej, why don't you come here instead? Mel's eating dinner at Ray's, and I seriously doubt she'll be coming home tonight. No one else'll be in the darkroom, and I have a key to that wing since I'm vice president of photo club..." I trailed off, smiling hopefully.

I took us by the least conspicuous route to the art building I knew. Ten minutes later, we slipped down the dim hall into an even dustier side route with cinderblock walls. I turned the key in the rusting knob, swinging it inward with a sweep of the arm.

"You'd think they would be able to keep even this in better repair, wouldn't you?" I remarked to Beetlejuice, leading him by the arm into the tart, damp atmosphere. I closed the door behind us, the familiar automatic click of the lock firm and reassuring. No one would prevent us from getting the job done. Bee would not be disappointed.

While Beetlejuice eyed the cracks in the walls and floor with a familiar attentiveness, I made short work of dismantling the disposable camera and preparing the roll from the beach for developing. By the time I'd cut the film and begun setting them cautiously in the trays, Beetlejuice had drifted up behind me, his interest split between what I was doing and what I was wearing. His fingers brushed the waist of my knee-length black shirtdress every so often, half inquisitive and half tempted.

"I've never seen you in this before," he remarked absently, withdrawing just as quickly in order to focus on my fingers carefully setting the last frame in place. I turned unhurriedly, my job for the moment complete, brushing my hands off on a chamois cloth before casting it aside.

I felt my lips turn up into a smile, a sudden rush in my veins. I took him by the hands impulsively, drawing him forward until we touched as we had on that first night, standing frightened and miserable beyond words. But no fear prevented me this time from clasping him near, from leaning my head on his shoulder as I whispered, "Why can't here be one of a dozen?"

Beetlejuice stared for a moment, startled that I might even suggest such a thing, but in moments I was matched fervor for fervor. And if you think nothing so thrilling can be done in the twenty minutes it takes film to develop, let me tell you, you couldn't be more mistaken. At some point, pinned deliriously between he who held me and the edge of the countertop, my limbs wrapped about him for dear life-- I let go for the sparest instant, my arm arcing to one side as aimlessly as a whip. A split second later, the sound of shattering glass and the splash of liquid on cement was dimly apparent in the background.

But somehow, it just didn't matter, and to tell you the truth, I'm still not sure whether that jar was full of acid or mere distilled water. I'll let the morning custodian be the judge of that.

By the time we'd regained our bearings sufficiently enough to realize what we'd done and where, the pictures needed pulling-- and fast. Beetlejuice worked beside me, equally as dizzy, but he proved that so many years of watching me hadn't been spent in vain. In fact, I didn't even mind that he tracked a beetle on our way out. As far as I'm concerned, he earned it as surely as he earned the sleep he's now claiming at my side. The pictures now sit tucked in my canvas bag, safe from any prying eyes. A pity, that such marvels must be hidden from all mortal sight save my own.

Come to think of it, I need rest just as badly. I'll have to rise at seven if I expect to get him out of here before Melinda returns. Strange, though-- the risk bothers me less and less with each passing day.

"Babes, I dunno how you ever talked me into this," Beetlejuice remarked nervously, leaning on the arm of his chair as Lydia patiently ran a comb through his hair. "Ma's gonna scrub me out of house and home when she finds us out."

"Beetlejuice, for all your complaining, you never mind visiting your parents half so much when we get there," Lydia pointed out, arranging his wild mane in a careless but charming cascade on his shoulders. "There, you look fine. After all, she did say this is completely casual."

Lydia put her arms around his shoulders, rocking him. "Stop worrying. If anyone deserves a reprimand, it's me. My jeans have faint stains on the seat dating back to the second week of first semester when Melinda thought it would be amusing to leave her palette on my chair."

"Pppht. You didn't even consult with me on that," Beetlejuice commented, amiable despite his defeat. "You really know how to win me over, Lyds. You must have your parents mastered, too-- no protests when you said you weren't comin' home this weekend, either?"

"Not really. Dad was mildly disheartened, but Delia's apparently gotten off my case altogether! She's proud that her hermit of a stepdaughter has finally acquired a social life." "Whaddaya know. Delia's growing up. Kinda brings a tear to your eye," Beetlejuice cackled with gleeful sarcasm, mock-blowing his nose on a handkerchief drawn out of thin air.

"Tears of relief, maybe," Lydia responded wryly, pulling him to his feet. "Come on. Doomie's been raring to go. I think he's starting to feel sorry for the way he's been acting since things changed between you and I. He's not really upset, he's just afraid of losing attention now that we're so wrapped up in each other."

Lydia was glad that she'd insisted on driving. They were on the road for scarcely two minutes when Beetlejuice gave in to his paranoia once more and started thinking up excuses left and right for why they shouldn't show. If Beetlejuice had been behind the wheel, God knows what detours or dead ends he might have purposely taken. Beetlejuice had removed his snakebelt and was cowering under the dashboard by the time Lydia pulled up in front of the Juices' residence.

Doomie pulled up next to the curb obediently, leaving Lydia free to lean over and hiss, "Beetlejuice, get up this instant! This is really unnecessary. Your parents love you. Nagging doesn't mean a thing, do you hear me? I don't care what they think, if they even bother to comment! I love you, and they won't change that."

Beetlejuice crawled onto the seat, hanging his head penitently. "Yeah, Lyds, right... right, right, right as always. I should've taken a hint way back when Doomie was 'stolen.' I am a jackass."

"Oh, shush," Lydia murmured, sorry that she'd come close to raising her voice. "Of course you're nervous... to tell you the truth, I'm nervous. I've never done this... meeting-the-parents thing before, I guess. Gracious, and I already know them!"

"Yeah, Babes, but the difference is, you've got self control. You can hide it," Beetlejuice pointed out as he hovered up and over, landing outside so that he could Doomie's door for her.

Just as he was about to lean forward and kiss her lightly, the sound of the front door opening changed his course of action drastically. They both nearly leapt out of their skins at the face peering exuberantly from behind the screen.

Drained of what spare color he possessed, Beetlejuice gripped Lydia hard by the shoulders, lest he lose consciousness in front of the one person he'd least care to witness him in a dead faint.

"Nnnnooo," Beetlejuice replied, locking his jaw into the biggest, fakest grin he could muster. "Showtime, Babes," he added, taking her by the arm rather possessively and advancing bravely toward the gate.

Predictably, Donny strode down the front steps and met them halfway, immediately crushing his older brother in a strangling bear hug. Lydia winced, giving Beetlejuice's apoplectic visage a sympathetic look over Donny's shoulder.

"What a fortunate coincidence," Donny gushed, "that my favorite brother's coming to dinner on the one night in a dozen I stop by. It's great to see you-- oh, just think! A whole happy family reunion!"

"Yeah... happy... blah, let go of me already!" Beetlejuice choked, struggling free of his brother's embrace, checking his throat for bruises. Oblivious, Donny turned his attention to Lydia.

"Miss Deetz, it's a pleasure to see you again!" Donny chimed, shaking Lydia's hand so vigorously that she thought it might come off. "My, what a fine young woman you've grown up to be. Wouldn't you agree, Beetlejuice?"

"Yes," Beetlejuice spat, almost seething, barely regaining control of his temper. Lydia blushed in spite of herself, touched by the sheer honesty that her lover allowed to defiantly shine through his fury.

"It's good to see you again, too, Donny," Lydia replied brightly, quelling her annoyance as best she could. For all of his sickening cheerfulness, Donny's heart was always in the right place. In fact, she'd always fancied it lodged there a bit too deeply.

"Oh, you know I can't stay away from my dear parents for long," Donny said modestly, clasping his hands primly behind his back. "Aren't they just the greatest folks two guys like us could ask for?" he gushed, eyeing Beetlejuice expectantly.

Lydia took the initiative in getting Beetlejuice away from his brother so that his temper would have time to cool. She led him up the stairs, beaming at Bee. "Hello again," Lydia greeted her warmly. "If tonight's dinner is half as good as lunch the other day, then we're all in for a treat!"

Lydia mouthed, "I'll explain later!" as she bent to accept Bee's outstretched arms. "Thanks again... so much. We really ought to see a little more of you," Lydia said honestly, much to Beetlejuice's fleeting consternation.

"Well, my dear, you're here now and that's what matters. My, how neat and clean that georgeous hair is! It shines like midnight, doesn't it, Junior? How lovely!" Bee said admiringly, fixing her son with a curiously undefined look that was both pleasant and unsettling.

"Uh... yes," Beetlejuice replied awkwardly, swallowing hard. "Smells great in there, Ma," he said softly, taking his turn to embrace Bee and planting a light kiss on her cheek. Lydia didn't dare turn around, lest her mere attention induce some sickly sweet comment from Donny that would only irritate Beetlejuice further.

"Speaking of which, Junior-- so do you! My, my, someone's introduced my boy to shampoo! You weren't lying about the ears after all," Bee remarked approvingly, studying his right ear more closely through her spectacles. She glanced sideways at Lydia with the same curious look she had given her son moments previous.

Lydia cleared her throat before Beetlejuice acted on the urge to send his brother sprawling down the stairs. "Ahmmm... Bee, about those appetizers... I sure am hungry! Lead the way."

Bee chuckled, turning on her heel and leading them all into the living room. "My, Lydia, but if I'm not mistaken, he's rubbed off on you a bit, too!" she said softly, leaving Lydia with a mystifying look before bustling off to the kitchen. As an afterthought, she called over her shoulder, "Donny, why don't you be a dear and offer them a place to sit?"

"Yes, Mother," Donny agreed blithely, turning only to discover that his older brother had already claimed a spot on the couch and propped his boots on the coffee table. Lydia stared between the two for a wary moment before murmuring, "Don't mind if I do, Donny." She boldly took a seat close beside Beetlejuice, managing to resist both the urge to lean against him and to nudge his feet off the table. If this was his way of challenging Donny on their parents' turf, Lydia's mischievous side certainly didn't want to miss it.

Grinning as if nothing was potentially amiss, Donny took a seat on the recliner opposite them-- only to rise quickly a few moments later, gasping, "How could I forget? That's Father's. I really ought to save it for him." Much to Beetlejuice's annoyance and Lydia's amusement, Donny took a seat with them on the sofa. Lydia was only glad she separated the two.

"Hello, Lydia. Same as usual-- we get the job done. There's always demand for things as useful as neckbolts. Isn't that right, Junior?" Gnat asked in the same tone as she'd once heard him ask Beetlejuice why he had no employment.

Gnat shooed the cloud away nonchalantly, heaving a noticably disappointed sigh. "Always fooling around, Beetlejuice. A man'll never get anywhere that way. Couldn't you be a bit more like your brother sometimes, son?"

Before Donny could rise, Beetlejuice sent a lightning bolt directly at their father's head. When the smoke cleared, Gnat's cap had been transformed into a towel swathed about his head like a turban. Taken somewhat aback, Donny shrugged with a ridiculous grin, resuming his seat-- Lydia thought-- rather insecurely. One sidelong glance at Beetlejuice's sore expression was enough. She took his hand and squeezed it.

Lydia realized uncomfortably that Donny's eyes were riveted on her-- or, more precisely, riveted on her hand comfortingly clasping his brother's. Tightening her hold, she cleared her throat and said quietly, "Mr. Juice, you ought to be glad that your sons are as different as they are."

A beat of shocked silence ensued, and it was hard to say exactly which of the men sported a more flustered expression. Gnat's face remained for the most part unchanged, but his eyes sought the floor, brow hardening inscrutably, his hands flexing awkwardly on the arms of the chair. Donny's eyes went bizarrely wide for a split second before narrowing the nearest to a look of discontent that Lydia had ever observed in him. She preferred to look at Beetlejuice, who likewise avoided the other two, looking both faintly embarrassed and desperate to seek refuge in Lydia's embrace.

His features uncharacteristically hardened, Donny opened his mouth to speak but was fortuitously interrupted. Bee shuffled gaily into the living room, carrying a steaming tray of brie tarts molded in tiny shapes ranging from stars to-- Could it really be? Lydia thought incredulously-- beetles.

"Eat them while they're hot, dears!" she instructed cheerfully, placing the tray on the coffee table. Her eye met Donny's briefly as she did so, and she murmured as if cooing to a child, "Were you about to say something, honey?"

Donny straightened up, immediately his old, amiable self once more. "Why yes, Mother-- that they must be absolutely divine," he praised in a voice dripping with saccharine, giving Beetlejuice the most subtly insolent look. "I could smell them coming."

Lydia caught his fingers in a vise grip, whispering, "Calm down. Do you realize it'll irk Donny even more if you resist the urge to juice him? Wow, BJ... I've never seen him this way before. He looks... almost jealous."

Beetlejuice had been listening to her only halfheartedly, but the word "jealous" seemed to hit home. He grinned at Lydia as he reached for one of the tarts, making an exaggerated point of saying, "Ma, they look so good you can already taste 'em!"

Donny almost choked on the miniature star that he'd just popped into his mouth. Lydia slipped an arm discreetly around Beetlejuice and murmured in his ear as he chewed on a beetle, "Score one for the B-Guy!"

Beetlejuice stuck the tip of his tongue out at Donny just as Bee spun on her heel and returned to the kitchen. Gnat was too wrapped up in the newspaper he'd retrieved from the floor to notice that Beetlejuice had put an arm around Lydia in return and leaned close enough for his lips to touch her ear. Donny's eyes swelled to nearly twice their normal size, in perfect accompaniment to his fit of coughing.

"You know it, Babes," Beeltejuice murmured in Lydia's ear, following with a silent but unhurried kiss pressed just behind it. Rather enjoying the game herself, Lydia leaned into the gesture of affection with a genuine, blissful sigh.

The two of them shrugged, each seizing a second tart and promptly shoving it in their mouth. As Gnat resumed reading, Beetlejuice murmured gleefully in Lydia's ear through a mouthful of brie, "I think you mean score two for the team, partner!"

Gnat rose wordlessly, leaving the newspaper folded on the chair in his stead. Lydia and Beetlejuice followed suit, but they hung back for a moment, still holding hands. Donny remained in the doorway, his eyes narrowing with a curious, appalling petulance once Gnat passed by. Pretending not to notice, Beetlejuice and Lydia drew close for a moment, forehead to forehead.

Lydia giggled, pressing her lips to his impulsively, the briefest flirtatious brush. They heard Donny's strangled gasp of shock, but by the time they turned in his direction, he had vanished into the kitchen.

Lydia masked her shock behind feigned interest in what Bee had bubbling on the stove. Beetlejuice followed suit, flashing her a private look of fright. Never in his afterlife had Donny sounded so much like his older brother.

Bee sidled up between Beetlejuice and Lydia at the stove, lifting the pot with unbelievable strength for such a tiny woman. She carried it to the neatly set table, clucking, "Come, now, stop acting like strangers in your own house! Sit down, boys. And Lydia, dear, please do have a seat."

Donny stiffly claimed the seat to the left of where Gnat was seated at the head of the table, sulking vividly behind a perfect imitaiton of his usual sincere grin. He patted the chair directly beside him, inviting in a kind but strained tone, "Won't you join me, brother dear?"

"I'd be delighted," Beetlejuice grated in faultless imitation of his brother's trademark politeness. His expression, however, suggested otherwise. He gave Lydia a look of sheer misery as he plopped into the seat beside Donny.

With a smile at once sly and consoling, Lydia slipped into the seat directly across from him. "That way he can sit beside you and look me right in the eye. Great idea, Donny," she murmured smoothly, running the toe of her boot with slow deliberation up Beetlejuice's calf.

Beetlejuice didn't succeed in preventing his eyes from widening for a moment, nor his hands from tautly gripping the table. "Uh... sure is," he blurted, breaking into a hasty grin, but not quickly enough. Donny had already blanched another shade bluer.

Oblivious to the covert exchange of contempt, Bee had begun to ladel the pot's savory contents into the large soup bowls sitting before each one of them. Looking fairly sick with his surroundings otherwise, Donny breathed in the steam as if in denial.

Beetlejuice, who had been on the verge of sulking, gave Lydia a positively adoring, furtive smile. As she served her husband, Bee clucked indulgently, "Kids... aren't they something, Gnat?"

Lydia couldn't help but notice that Bee carried herself with that same latent aloofness on the way back to her own seat. The five of them ate in silence for a few moments, either unsettled by the tense undercurrent in their conversation or too hungry to care-- which latter condition applied solely to Gnat. Donny, simmering more visibly minute by minute, was first to break the hiatus.

"Would you please pass me the lemonade?" he asked Beetlejuice, speaking politely enough but contradicting it with a sharp elbowing under the table. Beetlejuice dropped his spoon, flexing his fingers threateningly.

"With pleasure, Donny," he muttered, a faint spark illuminating the tip of his index finger. But for some reason, just before he could send the pitcher sailing perilously at Donny, the spark went out in unison with the peculiar expression that grew on his face. Lydia reached forward and grasped the pitcher, her eyes fixed restrainingly on Beetlejuice's face even as her lips pursed as if in concentration.

Beetlejuice, for the moment, seemed to have lost all contact with the moment. If anyone noticed that Lydia's eyes had not left his the entire time, they might also have noticed the slight motion in her poise, even in stillness. The corners of his mouth turning up in almost a mirror image of hers, Beetlejuice quickly gulped a spoonful of soup and murmured, "Mmmm!"

"It is fabulous, isn't it?" Lydia agreed verbally, the accompanying arch of her eyebrows as out of place as Beetlejuice's utterance. She turned to Bee and asked with overcalculated poise, "Wherever did you get this recipe?"

"I'm so glad you like it, dear!" Bee replied enthusiastically, only her bespectacled eyes betraying her perception once again. "I don't really follow a recipe. I just do what seems best at the moment."

"Yeah..." Beetlejuice murmured somewhat distantly, finding concentration on his soup ridiculously difficult. Donny's eyes, though apparently fixed in his own lap, had steadily begun widening. In perfect contrast, Gnat's focused placidly on everything but the apparent situation emerging. Lydia tore her involved gaze away from Beetlejuice for a moment, flashing Donny a slit-eyed, mysterious smile.

"Spontenaity is definitely a virtue, wouldn't you agree? I mean, since you're such an expert on them," she said wryly, almost in a whisper. A slight forward shift of her entire chair was preceded by a dull thwack under the table. Donny's eyes bulged to the size of silver dollars and shot upwards at her, torn between a livid, disbelieving glare and sheer despondency.

"Hehe," Beetlejuice laughed with a grin, "you bet, bro!" With that, one of Beetlejuice's eyes took a short trip around his head. And simultaneously, Lydia slid halfway down in her chair, clapping a hand to her mouth as if the action were funny to a crippling degree.

"Mother, I don't believe this!" Donny shrieked, leaping out of his seat with such force that it knocked his chair backwards. He pointed maniacally at the floor as if accusing the carpet of treason. "How can you let them get away with it?"

"Sitting upright like good guests and eating their supper? Donny, dear, that's more than can be said for you, right now," Bee chided with the same controlled disdain. "I think you had better just sit down and we'll forget this little episode. Gracious, have you been stressed lately? Calm down for now. You can tell me all about it later, Precious."

Donny fumed, doubly insulted by his mother's obvious imperviousness and the resurrection of his childhood pet name. "I can't believe it! You really don't see it? It's.. it's not fair!"

Donny quite impressively held tears at bay. He bit his lower lip and said quietly, "Yes, sir." Only Beetlejuice, with great satisfaction, noticed the look of sheer, unbridled jealousy that passed over Donny's features when he spotted what had hit him in the shin as he bent to retrieve his chair. Donny shot a hauntingly miserable look at Lydia as he pulled his chair back up to the table.

Lydia drew in her breath unsteadily, completely taken aback by Donny's direct, accusative query. Lydia shot a glance at Beetlejuice, pleading him silently to maintain self-control. Beetlejuice looked for all the Neitherworld as if he were ready to send his own brother on a one way trip to Sandwormland.

"Donny," she said levelly, "I don't owe you an answer, because it never concerned you in the first place. I can't pay for the pain of something that you never admitted. You're a friend. Please, either take the news like one, or find another outlet for your grief. We've suffered enough for our own folly. We're happy with or without your blessing-- but preferably with." She enunciated the last word with imploring care, her eyes moving slowly to include both Bee and Gnat in her monologue. Beetlejuice looked up from his bowl, emboldened by her resolution on the very matter he had feared revealing to his parents.

Gnat's expression of surprise was pronounced but brief. He stared at his oldest son without blinking for a few moments before nodding slowly, making a sound in the back of his throat that began on a note of admonition and ended on one of tentative acceptance. Beetlejuice swallowed the knot in his throat, drained and relieved. Until the strangest thing of all happened.

While Donny slid into an eerie imitation of his father, wordlessly polishing off his soup, Beetlejuice took his turn to blush. Conversation returned to normal for the remainder of the meal, in which Donny was a less significant participant than before. By the time Dessert was served, Gnat had already excused himself in order to return to his newspaper. Donny followed suit, making a weak excuse for joining his father-- but Bee would have none of it.

Still unwilling to give in to his sibling's apparent victory, Donny made the mistake of wasting another sidelong glare at Beetlejuice. But the fact that his brother's eyes were locked on Lydia's and very suggestively eating a spoonful of the confection didn't help in the least.

Bee sat down to a dish of her own, content to act as if she hadn't noticed. Donny had scarcely taken two bites. He stood up with his dish, grabbing the single remaining one on the tray and announced sorely, "Father must be lonely. I'll see if he wants any."

Seconds later, Beetlejuice and Lydia shared a few seconds' worth of uncontrolled mirth all the same. Bee clucked her tongue, but she was smiling with them. In fact, she was laughing with them when at last they finished and rose. Beetlejuice and Lydia were shoeless.

"Now, that's what I call fancy footwork," Beetlejuice congratulated his accomplice, folding her in a leisurely embrace once Bee had borne the cleared ice cream dishes away into the sink. "And, uh... really... I was only jokin' about the choc--"

At that instant, Bee strolled back to the table, swinging her dish towel at them playfully. "All right, kids. There'll be no idlers in my kitchen. Either lend a hand or run along and play."

The women barely had the chance to begin washing and drying the dishes when Donny strolled into the kitchen, offering them his and his father's empty ice cream bowls. He was smiling again, even if reluctantly. He took the dish towel from Lydia and offered meekly, "Here, why don't you let me take care of this?"

"In that case," Donny continued, his sweetness giving way to an odd, feverish insistence, "Mother, why don't you take a load off and join Father in the living room? Lydia and I will wash and dry."

Lydia gave Bee a brief, helpless look of alarm, but the astute housewife was quick to quell it with a level, trust-me expression. Lydia said nothing, focusing doubly on the task at hand as Donny took his mother's place.

A few moments of working in aloof silence passed before Lydia said calmly, "I'm rather surprised at you. And as much as I think that sounds as inconsiderate as your outburst earlier, I'm determined to set you straight as civilly as I can. I know it's come as a shock to you. I know it's come as a shock to your parents. Donny, it came as a shock to us. I can question neither time and its revelations, nor what I'm feeling. But I can question you, because never at any time did I give you reason to think I might somehow figure into your existence."

Donny lowered the plate he'd been scrubbing into the suds, his eyes following in hurt agreement. "Lydia, it's not so much I that I ever thought you... that we... well, not until seeing you now... but, to think my brother's already cut in where I might have tried... you know."

"To think?" Lydia asked pointedly. "It's a fact, and I'm sorry for it, but I made sure the point came across as soon as I could see the look in your eyes. Low of me? Yes. But look who I learned from-- look who I love. It doesn't get any more simple or complicated than that."

Lydia nodded, relieved. "So am I, for what it's worth. There's someone for you. Somewhere," Lydia added under her breath, wondering if there had yet a woman passed on that might remotely tolerate the likes of an extreme like Donny.

Appropriately, the thunder broke less than a heartbeat later. The shriek caused Donny to send a plate to its unceremonious demise on the kitchen floor. Lydia's nerves were much calmer from experience-- but she cringed all the same.

Although the furious clamor had come from outside, its perpetrator materialized promptly beside Donny, carrying a small parcel wrapped in copy paper. Beetlejuice sustained the wail, leaning forward in order to drive it directly into his brother's ear. For a split second, the miserably bewildered Donny resembled an oversized shaft of wheat.

Beetlejuice glowered, opening his free hand to reveal the tiny object clenched in his fist. "You were lookin' for this?" Beetlejuice asked accusitorily, shoving the tie tack in its owner's face. "Well, sur-pri-iiiise... my car's tire was courteous enough to find it for ya!"

Lydia flung the dish cloth down on the counter, rushing to Beetlejuice's side just in time to take the photographs from him before he crushed them in his rage. Putting a hand on his shoulder, she asked in alarm, "You mean Doomie...?"

"Okay, stop," Lydia sighed heavily, stepping between the two of them. "This won't solve anything, and we can't alter an accident. BJ, come on," Lydia said sternly, taking him by the tie and heading toward the living room.

The entire group ended up huddled around the couch as Lydia showed off the snapshots. Beetlejuice sat beside her, sulkily drumming his fingers on one knee, but even he couldn't keep his eyes off of them for long.

"Lydia, dear, you never mentioned a trip to the seashore!" Bee exclaimed with admiration, taking a closer look at a few of the snapshots taken on her birthday. "Junior, you're positively adorable," she commented sweetly, studying a shot of Beetlejuice awkwardly holding Lydia's hat in place, while unbeknownst to him she had pinned it with her own hand from the opposite side.

"Gnat, dear," Bee cut in tactfully, "why don't you go see if you have a spare tire in the shed?" She took the remaining photographs from Lydia as her husband tromped off obediently. "Gracious! You worked wonders with that old shawl. Donny, have a look...."

Lydia leaned back against the couch with a satisfied sigh as Donny and Bee studied the photographs from Cleopatra's. She murmured to Beetlejuice, brushing his hair back over one shoulder, "I told you everything would be fine."

There was no mistaking the terrible, grating roar that echoed from outside, followed by a muted cry of surprise that was recognizable as Gnat's. Several moments later, the front door swung hesitantly open.

"Son, I don't know what you do to that car of yours, but it sure doesn't like crowbars," Gnat said slowly, the closest to outright dumfounded that Lydia had ever seen him. He placed his tool kit on the floor, swiping his hat off with a whistle. "Chances are it's halfway across town by now."

Lydia stared at the floor, caught between laughing at the hilarity of their situation and wincing in sympathy. "Doomie always comes around before too long," was all she said. "He knows his way home. Call Jacques and tell him to keep a lookout."

Beetlejuice might have gone on smacking his forehead indefinitely if Lydia hadn't put an abrupt halt to his maddened frustration. "Beetlejuice," she whispered, "it's only one night. Your mother's just doing her job, as far as she's concerned. Besides, it's an invitation--"

Completely disregarding Donny's presence, Lydia flopped down beside Beetlejuice, slipping her arms around him and nuzzling his shoulder. "I'm really curious about your old room, you know. If it's as much fun as your attic, we'll be up all night," she ventured softly, attempting to cheer him.

"Actually, I think I'm tired," he sighed with light sarcasm, returning the gesture with an adorably contrary ruffling of her hair. "Ppht. I swear, Babes. The things you talk me into...."

"Oh, come now, dear! Not until we have a game of cards with your father. He gave up his night with the boys, so I think maybe he'd like a little compensation. Besides, Lydia hasn't proved herself against my poker skills yet, has she?"

Donny was quickest to obey his father's command. Bee responded that she'd be down in a few minutes. Lydia trailed after Donny into the kitchen, dragging a reticent Beetlejuice by the arm.

Donny was trying his best to ignore their conversation. Gnat was paying little attention, as his eyes were glued to the classifieds. He looked up immediately when his wife finally joined them. Bee took the seat beside Donny, expertly shuffling a deck of cards patterned with a palm tree casino logo.

Gnat did not reply verbally, but the look he gave his wife was one so oddly sentimental that Lydia found herself wondering if she hadn't seen a bit of his hidden romanticism in Beetlejuice. When all was said and done-- plays argued and rounds completed-- Bee had come off victorious as predicted. Lydia had spent more time giggling behind her cards than thinking seriously about which she threw down. Bee's knack for catching Beetlejuice in all his ingenious deceptions was phenomenal. Donny had, of course, played with subdued honesty and lost with much less flair than his brother. A casual inulgence about Gnat's plays made Lydia wonder briefly, too, if he hadn't let his wife win.

Lydia noticed that he'd given Beetlejuice a look contradictory to the comment on what good sports they were, but he left without any such complaints as earlier. The two of them were left in a moment of charged silence with Bee and Gnat.

"Don't think you kids are leaving here without a nice breakfast. Consider yourselves warned. Good night, dears," Bee bubbled, rising long enough to hug them both and give them a little push toward the door.

"Point taken," Lydia replied, following Beetlejuice past the closet where Bee kept her shawls. They passed a white door that lay open a crack to reveal a neatly kept blue tile bathroom, and a second white door that was closed but had a soft light filtering from underneath.

"Donny," Beetlejuice commented, jerking a thumb at the door. "He's probably reading a book by his favorite motivational speaker or something. Well, here we go... mine," he said, turning the knob of the third adjacent door.

Lydia was surprised at the room's relative plainness-- walls of wood paneling, thick beige carpet, a blue throw rug beside the bed reminiscent of the bathroom's shade. She glanced at Beetlejuice dubiously.

Their eyes finally fell on the bed, a simple but tastefully carved four poster draped in a homemade quilt. Beetlejuice lamented, "She couldn't even keep the one I spent so much time staining."

They both stared at the bedside table for a long time, what sat there taking a few moments to register. A crystal vase full of garden-grown blooms sat innocently enough beside a plate of chocolate chip cookies neatly wrapped in cellophane. A small piece of stationery sat folded on top of the cookies, sporting an elegantly penned inscription: To Beetlejuice and Lydia, with love to those that are in it.

"My dears... As weary of hearing this as you both must be, it's true. Mothers always know. And despite time's taste for presenting me with surprises, this somehow wasn't the greatest of my life. Actually, that was Donny. But enough about that-- I wish simply to say, wherever love has taken you, you both have my blessing in the going there. And, if I haven't waxed tedious enough already, Junior-- just don't wake your brother! Love, Ma."

By the time Lydia looked up at Beetlejuice, he was somewhere on the verge of either tears or mild embarrassment. She murmured, "What did I tell you, love? You have nothing to fear from them. Here, we're home."

"Yeah... and to think... whew," Beetlejuice replied slowly, drawing his sleeve quickly across his eyes. He seemed changed the instant he had, grinning awkwardly at the paper in Lydia's slim hand. "Don't wake your brother, she says... well... since he's not even asleep yet...."

"She never said not to keep him from sleeping," Beetlejuice murmured deviously, swinging Lydia into his lap so unexpectedly she gave a yelp. Which utterance was soon silenced by a lingering kiss.

"Oh... right," Lydia whispered, grinning broadly, slipping her arms under his jacket without hesitation. "Mmmmm," she sighed, her tone escalating from inaudible to an alarming level as she kissed him back.

"You won't be talking for long if I have any say in the matter," Lydia replied, enunciating deliberately, her voice breaking slightly with the continued attention being paid to her neck.

"Aaaaaahah, well," Beetlejuice murmured in a conspicuously low tone, taken somewhat aback that she'd gone so far as to clasp him with familiar insistence, "we'll see whose line that really is-- yaaaaah, okay! Babes...."

If the ability to admit any other emotion had not been so crippled by the situation, they might have coherently realized a backfired prank. An effort as conscious as maintaining inordinate vocal volume had suddenly become quite involuntary. Beetlejuice pulled away from Lydia, gasping.

Lydia pulled him back agitatedly, pressing his body close once more. "Beej, I think we accomplished well enough what you intended," she whispered, trying to even her breath enough for speech. "Just... let's not torment him any more... but... mmhmm... shh, just be quiet... that's right... ahhhh, there! God..."

Lydia's voice faded to a choked nothingness, rocking with him, completely lost. No words found comparison-- only dazed inhibition, hushed agony. After a while, even breath failed since it had been denied all vocal access. Wrapped in complete silence and a quilt softer than shadow, their hearts had never sung nor cried so loudly-- truly spoken.

"Beej... what's happening to us?" Lydia whispered wonderingly, uncertain of whether an hour had passed or an instant. "I'm... this... do you understand what I'm saying? That's... perfect."

"I didn't think I know what you meant... you know... when you said... let's scare each other. Long time ago now, it seems like... Babes, but it wasn't," Beetlejuice responded with an effort, still stunned by the rise and fall of her chest against his own. "I think...."

If the rest of the Neitherworld felt morning's unusual reticence to fall, they gave no sign of it. Pale sunlight through a second story window had no effect on the sleepers within. But a knock from without-- from the hallway-- did.

"Never is," Beetlejuice grumped, waking automatically to the sound of what had once been his alarm clock. He rubbed Lydia's back, murmuring her name reverently, as if it were a prayer. "Lydia... sweetheart, get up," he whispered in her ear, aching at the thought of leaving their warm sanctuary. "Ma's gonna throw a fit if we don't come to breakfast."

"Funny," Lydia murmured, almost coherent, smiling as she opened her eyes a slit. She yawned profusely. "Ahhhh," she sighed, stretching. "Tell your mother I want to take this bed back to Lyme with me!"

"We could get a mattress like this one for the coffin, if you want," Beetlejuice offered without missing a beat. He was painfully awed by how much more lovely and fragile she seemed in the new daylight.

Lydia smiled gently, reflectively, at last fully awake. She buttoned him into his shirt, finding that even temptation, finally, needed not always be so urgent. But it did not prevent an indulgent embrace, nor a fierce unspoken reflection on the night gone by.

Beetlejuice and Lydia descended the stairs to find Donny already seated at the table and Bee cheerfully flipping flawless pancakes and expertly battered pieces of bread over a large griddle. Donny, unaware of their arrival, continued nervously rearranging his silverware as he waited. The tall glass of orange juice in front of him appeared to be untouched.

Wordlessly, they took the seats across from Donny. He still did not look up, which made Lydia certain that she'd been wrong to assume he hadn't seen them coming. Beetlejuice cleared his throat awkwardly, only to take a quick sip of his orange juice in order to delay necessary apology. Lydia reached underneath the table as if intending a gesture of affection, and though it was half intended as such, she pinched his thigh hard.

Beetlejuice set the glass down hard, nearly spilling it. He clasped Lydia's hand, but only after slapping it lightly. As if on cue, Donny looked up at the same moment his older brother did.

"I don't know, it was supposed to be. But I obviously-- screwed up," Beetlejuice said through clenched teeth, remembering Lydia, focusing on her strength. It had been a long while since he'd known such rage, and prompting him to imprudent speech was one of its side effects. As if to reassure him he'd done well, Lydia's grasp eased.

Beetlejuice let go of Lydia's hand, bringing his to the edge of the table, in full pleading sight. "I don't think you should say that. Do you hear me sayin' I wish Ma hadn't invited us here? I might've acted as if I did, true... but when did anything I've ever done mean anything?"

"You know us better than you think," Lydia said, finally deeming entrance into the conversation appropriate. "We're sorry. And if you don't take your brother's word for it, take mine."

"I'd say it's as good as gold, coming from both of you," Donny said brightly, coming so fully back to himself that it made Beetlejuice momentarily ill. "Mother," Donny called enthusiastically, "we're all here! It's going to be delicious."

"Breakfast is served!" Bee announced, bearing an overstacked plate of pancakes and french toast and a gravy boat filled with syrup over to the table. "Make sure you leave some for your father. I promised him there'd be something left when he gets home from work."

Lydia knew that Beetlejuice would have no qualms about eating at all when he looked slightly irked at his mother's ending statement. By the end of the meal, she found herself severely regretting that her father had no such luck where Delia's cooking was concerned.

Donny left shortly after helping his mother clean the kitchen. Lydia made no move to help as she had done the night before-- she understood that perhaps a talk with his mother was still what Donny needed most. Once the baby, always the baby, she thought, relaxing beside Beetlejuice on the sofa as he flipped restlessly through the channels. They rose briefly to see Donny out. The brothers' goodbye was by no means warm, but somehow, blunt civility sufficed. Lydia could not help surrendering an apologetic hug. At least Beetlejuice kept his jealousy on a leash for the sake of her conscience.

Lydia embraced Bee warmly, handing the plate of cookies temporarily over to Beetlejuice, as unwise as that might have been. "We'll come again soon," she whispered with a smile. "I promise."