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Charles Deetz believed himself to be a very organized person. He had to be, after all, being a business man like himself, working a profession in which any amount of disorder could result in a splitting headache. The man's favorite aspect of that organization was his office, tucked away in a secluded corner of the house, away from the most frequented rooms to minimize any sounds and distractions.
There, he could concentrate. Calm, silent, and undisturbed as he finished his work for the day.
"Dad!"
The door slammed open, hitting the wall with a loud banging noise. Charles' hand flew to his chest as he whirled around in shock.
"Lydia?! What's the meaning of this, what happened?"
She stood in the doorway, one hand leaning on the door frame and the other on one of her knees as she panted. Clearly, she had been running. Raising her head, Lydia said–
"It's- it's Beej, Dad." Charles stood up from his chair, waryness overtaking his features.
"Beetlejuice? What happened, what did he do this time?" He looked over at the hand that she rested against the doorframe, and– "Is that blood?"
"No! No, I mean, it is, but– okay, gimme a second–" She took in a deep breath and straightened her posture, trying to draw in enough air to properly speak.
"Lydia, why did you come here running? What happened to Beetlejuice?" Charles asked, paperwork now forgotten.
"Look, don't panic, this blood isn't mine, okay? I'll tell you everything, so, can you promise not to get mad?" Charles frowned. That didn't sound promising. "Beej didn't do anything bad this time, but he's in trouble, and I really need your help to fix this."
"I'll know if I'll be mad or not when I know for a fact what happened."
"Well, so..." She nervously crossed her arms behind her back. "A tree fell on him."
Oh god.
"What?"
"He's alive, though!" Lydia quickly raised her hands, as if the statement did anything to make this new scenario any less concerning. "I mean, not alive alive, that's not even possible, but he's conscious. I'm just not sure for how long he will be, so I had to get your help."
Charles sighed deeply, rubbing his temple with a hand. "Okay, I will help, but you will explain to me exactly how he got into this situation."
Lydia stepped forward and grasped one of his hands. "Yes, I promise I'll explain everything on the way!" She looked down at his outfit. "And you might want to change into some cheaper pants."
"Why? Where are going?"
One of the perks of the Deetz-Maitland household being so isolated, Beetlejuice thought, was the easy access to the woods around town. Just go down a small hill, and there it was! The perfect space to find moss, animals that could understand him way better than (most) breathers, and of course, a place sufficiently far away from civilization so he could use his powers without calling for unwanted attention.
"Hey, wait up!" Lydia's voice called out.
Beetlejuice turned back from where he floated on the air, watching as Lydia clutched her camera and carefully ducked under a fallen tree trunk that had been hit by lighting days before, blocking the usual trail the two of them used to go further into the woods. He crossed his arms behind his head and leaned back on the air, easily levitating through the path.
"I don't know what you're talking about, I'm not moving a single muscle." She looked up to glare at him, promptly causing him to snicker as she tripped on a large root and barely avoided crashing down onto the floor.
"You know what I mean, dumbass. Come on, you said you'd help me get some pictures, didn't you?" she said, brushing a leaf off her dress and briefly shooting a very offended look at the root.
Beetlejuice snapped his fingers and lowered himself down on the air, landing on his feet to walk normally by Lydia's side. "That I did alright. What are they for, anyway? That scrapbook stuff you like to make?"
"Something like that, but I also wanted something to give to Adam and Barbara. The anniversary of their deaths is pretty soon, and they never get to leave the house." She smiled fondly. "And well, I think it would do them some good to see nature beyond some plants and bugs from Barbara's garden. You can like, fly and paralyze things with that freaky demon magic, so I figured I could use some help."
"Huh. That's... pretty damn thoughtful, actually," he said, looking away from Lydia to stare at the path ahead.
(Should he do something for them, too? Beetlejuice knew when Barbara and Adam would die, manipulated them and kept their spirits in the house, treating their unlifes as a tool. Ok, that was obviously better for them than going to the Netherworld, but in a way, didn't he owe them something to show his appreciation? To show that he now cared. God/Satan, he was getting sappy.)
"Sooo..." Beetlejuice drawled.
"So?"
"You think I could try taking some of those pictures myself? Like, ya know, add my own little spin to that scrapbook thing." Lydia looked at him as if he had sprouted a second head. "Hey, what's with that look?"
"Oh, well, that's just... unexpected, I guess. You never showed any interest in photography before."
"Well, it's for A-Dog and Babs. I think they deserve it." He scratched the back of his neck, once again avoiding her gaze.
Lydia stopped walking.
"Wait, I get it now. You like them!" She pointed a finger right at his face.
"Huh, what? 'Course i do, have you seen those bodies?"
"Ew– okay, don't be gross– it's obvious you don't mean it like that. You mean you actually care about them!"
(Huh?)
(What?!)
"Wha– shut up!" She narrowly avoided his attempt at an elbow to the side, laughing at Beetlejuice's enraged expression.
"You do, that's why you want to help!"
"I do not!" he said, raising a hand to point at her.
"Yes do!"
"Do not!"
"Yes do!"
"Do no– oh, come on, just–!" he deflated, dropping his hand and letting it soundly slap against his thigh. "Just teach me how to use the damn camera, okay? And no word of this to either of them! I have a reputation to maintain."
Lydia still had a barely suppressed grin on (no doubt laughing at his misery!), but Beetlejuice couldn't bring himself to be actually mad when he was so embarassed. Cursing his own magic for a moment, he was painfully aware of the way a tingly energy coursed through his body, no doubt dying the tips of his hair an embarrassing shade of pink.
"Alright, I promise. It's a secret."
(She whispered something that sounded vaguely like "It's not like you're not already obvious, anyway", but he must have misheard it.)
And so went on the afternoon. Lydia properly taught him how to use a camera (there were so many tiny buttons – he was extra careful not to damage anything with his claws), and getting to see the images that showed up after each little click turned out to be way more fun than Beetlejuice had anticipated. They photographed plants, trees, anthills, one or two hives that showed up on the way, fallen tree trunks — just anything that could be interesting to the Maitlands (considering they hadn't left the house in almost a year, they made sure to take a lot of pictures).
Beetlejuice's powers did come in handy, after all. Taking pictures of bugs and animals turned out to be way easier when they are magically paralyzed, and a few clones did the job perfectly to lift Lydia on their shoulders whenever she wanted a picture taken from a higher angle. It was quite easy to tell which pictures were his and which were hers (namely, which pictures were wildly better than the others – he was still learning!) but despite a little teasing smile, Lydia assured him that the Maitlands would care more about the thought behind it.
(One of his favorites had been a picture of himself holding up a snake, posing proudly with a hand on his hip in a way Lydia described as "the way men pose when they catch a big fish". Beetlejuice tilted his head, confused at the comparison, but the girl simply pat his arm and promised to show him some examples when they got home. Apparently having a physical body still wasn't enough for him to show up on cameras, though, so Adam and Barbara would have to deal with the image of a seemingly flying snake.)
At a certain point, the clones helped Lydia up to the top of a huge tree, and Beetlejuice carefully floated behind her, steadying by the shoulders so she could balance on a branch to take a picture of the sunset. The sun shone bright, a mix between orange and yellow that colored the horizon, framed by clouds that were now painted with blue and purple tints – every little element joined together with the wind on his face to create a view that reminded Beetlejuice of old paintings, from the times before his curse.
(It certainly looked better now, though, being able to see the real thing. Never once did Beetlejuice think of sharing this view with someone, but standing there and thinking about the reaction his two favorite ghosts would have to the pictures, he couldn't stop himself from smiling.)
And of course, nothing good lasts forever. Maybe he and Lydia should have realized the signs of the tree's instability, and maybe they would have if not for their excitement. Well, living (or unliving?) and learning, like breathers said. As soon as the last clone stepped down from the tree, it swayed and creaked unnaturally, at first almost imperceptible. They were stepping back, heading once again for the trail to go home – Lydia distracted as she looked through her camera to take another look at their pictures – when Beetlejuice heard the noise of wood creaking.
Looking behind himself, all he could see was that same huge, tall trunk falling directly towards them.
"Look out!"
And then Beetlejuice was reaching out, pushing Lydia out of the way, and his entire vision went dark as a heavy weight crashed against his back.
"–ej! Beej!"
He could barely differentiate any sounds from the ringing in his ears at first, but slowly, the world began to clear out just enough. Colors and shapes swayed against his vision, certainly not helped by the way the sky got gradually darker by the second, sinking the world in dark tones. He could make out a few things, though – that he was laying down, the heavy weight pressing against his back – a few shapes, a few colors, and a particular voice calling out above the ringing.
He shut his eyes tightly, trying to combat the headache that overwhelmed his senses.
"Beetlejuice!"
The demon's eyes opened again, awareness compelled by the use of his name. Ah, of course. Lydia.
"Beej, are you okay? Can you understand me?"
"Oh, uhm... Yeah, I'm doing juuust fine," he drawled. His voice sounded incoherent even to himself, like a Breather with poor alcohol tolerance. Damn it, had speaking always been so hard? Lydia let out a deep sigh of relief, holding a hand against her chest. She then looked around, worry growing on her expression by the second.
(He got hit, okay, and maybe it was quite hard, but there was no reason to worry! The world was spinning just a little too much for his liking.)
Something warm flowed down from his forehead, forcing the demon to close an eye to stop it from stinging. Lydia grimaced and carefully wiped at his face with her hand, leaving some of the liquid smeared on her fingers.
(Oh, it's red. Shit. That can't be good.)
She frowned as she looked at her hand, and then back at the demon's face. "Shit, I– Beej, do you think you can wait? I'll try to get help; get my dad or someone else to come here and help. I can't drag you out on my own."
She was leaving, then.
"... Do you have to go?"
Lydia gripped his hand, concern taking over her features. "I'll be back soon, okay? We'll get you out of there."
"... Don't take long."
"I won't," she said, trying to smile.
Lydia squeezed his hand one last time, stood up, and took off running.
"And that's how he ended up like that."
Charles walked besides Lydia on the trail, carefully avoiding any roots on the floor with the help of a flashlight. The moon now shone dimly on the sky, not offering much help in their search as it's light was obscured by the trees. By that point, he had severely reconsidered any potential scoldings he may have thought about for his daughter and Beetlejuice, as his main concern now rested on finding the demon.
"We're almost there," she said. Even in close proximity, it was quite hard to see her expression properly, partially because of the way she held her head slightly down, and partially because of his daughter's habit of wearing fully black clothes. However, Charles couldn't miss the worry that plagued her expression.
The man reached out, carefully yet firmly touching her shoulder.
"He'll be okay."
Lydia turned to face him and nodded weakly, though she still looked displeased. Charles wished he could do something more – know what to say beyond simple words. Something more meaningful, that could ease the frown out of his daughter's expression. But he didn't know how to.
Not the way Emily could, anyway– the thought hit him with an unexpected pang.
He was snapped out of his thoughts as, suddenly, Lydia tripped as she stepped on something – a large root, Charles observed, after quickly grabbing her shoulders to steady her. Before he could say anything, though, the girl's face lit up, eyes widening. She grasped his hand and started pulling him along, walking pace becoming gradually faster as she looked around.
"I recognize this path, we found him!"
Charles carefully illuminated the ground with his flashlight, observing a massive tree laying on the ground a few meters away from the trail. The beam of light hit a crumpled silhouette on the ground at the same time Lydia rushed over to it's side, and the man quickly approached to get a better look.
There was Beetlejuice, lying on the ground on a prone position as the weight of the tree pressed down on his back, eyes half-closed and glossed over. Charles winced and frowned hard, fighting against the urge to lok away; no human being would have survived such an accident.
Reacting to the light of the flashlights, the demon's eyes suddenly opened more, and he slowly blinked, squinting against the light. Thank God, he thought, as the appearance of the demon truly reminded him even more of a corpse than usual. Charles changed the direction of the beam as not to hit Beetlejuice's eyes directly.
"Chuck...? Heeey..." The ghost tried to lift a hand and wave, but the gesture ended up looking pitiful as he lacked the coordination to properly move. At least Beetlejuice had recognized him – that had to mean he was at least semi-coherent. "You actually came back."
Crouching down on the grass beside the demon, the man couldn't help but grimace. Two open gashes seemed have formed on Beetlejuice's forehead and nape, likely from hitting some rock on the groud or scraping against the wood. From them, blood dripped down his face, forming one big wet patch of the liquid on the back of his head, staining his hair with a dark shade of red. Way too dark, in fact, and Charles couldn't help but wonder if the bloodloss would be dangerous to him like it would be for a human.
And his hair– the man realized he had never seen Beetlejuice's hair looking that way before. It was purple, but the color was dulled, mixed with an odd shade of dark grey that spread through the roots. Mixed up with the blood, it made for a very odd image.
"Of course we did, Beej, just hang in there a little longer. Dad, do you think you can try to drag him out?" Lydia said.
"I am not sure that would be safe..." He looked around with the flashlight, looking for something that could potentially help. He suddenly jumped, startled by a body that laid on the ground face up, heart almost jumping out of his chest before he noticed the striped suit that the thing worn.
"Is that... Wait, it's one of the clones, isn't it?" Lydia perked up and looked at Beetlejuice. "I thought they disappeared when you got hit!"
The demon groaned slightly, which Charles supposed was an attempt at communicating "no", considering how often Beetlejuice tended to groan when displeased.
"'S not that simple, those guys are like... The dead version of immortal. Don't disappear unless I tell 'em to. Pain in the ass sometimes."
"Huh, yeah, they did seem unbothered at having limbs ripped off..." Lydia remarked, looking up as if in thought.
"Having what?"
"I'll tell you later," she said, waving her off her father's concern. "More important, I think I have an idea. Beej, do you think you can control that clone?"
Beetlejuice closed his eyes briefly, frowning and closing one of his hands into a fist. Nothing happened.
He groaned once again. "No deal."
"Damn it... Let me try something else, then."
She motioned for the clone that laid on the ground, doing a "come here" gesture with her fingers.
"What are you doing?"
"Testing."
The clone slowly lifted it's head and sat up, groggily looking ahead with half-closed eyes. Then, it focused on Lydia, and finally seemed to become aware of it's surroundings, awkwardly standing up and walking up to her.
Charles pursed his lips as he watched the clone move. "That's... creepy."
"It's weird, right?" she replied, sounding a little too enthusiastic for his taste. "The clones can do their own thing, but most of the time they will obey whatever Beetlejuice wants them to do. They also mimic me sometimes, though, so I figured it would probably listen."
The man nodded and looked around, observing that patch of the forest. The tree fell across the path they have been following, cutting off access to the area beyond if one wasn't capable of climbing over the trunk. A few rocks had been on the way of the fall, some bigger ones that kept the trunk slightly above the ground, though in a space still too tight to squeeze Beetlejuice through.
One big rock in particular, though, gave him an idea.
"Lydia, how many clones did Beetlejuice summon? And are they as physically capable as he is?"
"Like eight of them. And no, the clones are actually way more capable. Beej is like, sedentary." Charles heard the demon whine in protest. "Why, though?"
"Can you try to find the other ones and bring them here? I think I know what we can do, but I'll need help. And please, be careful walking around in the dark." For as much as Charles hated the idea of letting Lydia roam around alone, he was truly out of his field there. If anyone could deal with Beetlejuice's clones, it had to be her, and desperate times called for desperate measures.
"Don't worry, they shouldn't be too far away. I'll be back soon." She nodded, standing up and walking off into the woods.
Charles quickly put himself to work. Ordering around the clone that had been waiting there, they worked together to lift and wooden that laid nearby, putting it up against a big rock and fitting one of the ends in between one of the biggest gaps he could find between the fallen trunk and the ground.
Lydia soon returned with the clones. Seven individuals marched behind her, each looking very confused and wearing the same striped suit he had become used to.
The man ordered the clones around, making them all grab onto the propped up log while doing so himself, and simultaneously put all of their strength into it. His daughter, on the other hand, had the single duty of dragging Beetlejuice from under the tree as soon as she got the opportunity to do so.
And so, Charles mentally sent a quick prayer, and the plan went into action. The collective strength of himself and the clones was utilized to push down on one end of the log, making the other one rise up and, like a lever, lift the trunk of tree just a little bit with it. The man suddenly felt incredibly grateful for the extra help, as his muscles burned with exertion and he grit his teeth with the effort, body shaking as they all supported the heavy weight. He could hear the sound of leaves rustling on the ground, and then Lydia's voice calling out.
"Done!" Charles immediately let go of the log, and so did the clones. One of them, who looked a bit scrawnier than the rest, immediately collapsed on it's back, letting out a comically loud sigh. The man almost felt sorry for it. Almost.
Lydia sat down besides Beetlejuice on the ground, who had been carefully turned face up, and leaned over to look at his face. "How are you doing?"
""S kinda like... Like a weight got lifted off my back."
"Oh, shut up."
Finally, there they were, heading back to the house. Charles walked in front of the group, guiding the way with a flashlight, while the clones carried Beetlejuice, who was accompanied by Lydia to ensure he wouldn't pass out during their short trip.
Barbara and Adam were awake, thankfully, and decided to help patch up Beetlejuice's wounds while himself and Lydia changed. He hadn't previously noticed it thanks to the darkness of the woods, but his clothes and hair had been a mess – wrinkled, covered in leaves, and with an uncomfortable amount of mud staining his shoes and the hem of his pants.
Careful not to wake Delia, he changed his outfit for something more casual and clean, leaving his shoes in the bathroom while dreading the effort it would take to remove all of the dirt from his clothes. Afterwards, he once again went down the stairs to check on the Maitlands' work.
Beetlejuice was sitting on the couch, listening as a concerned Adam explained all of the possible symptoms of a concussion, and absentmindedly scratching at the bandages on his head before Barbara slapped his hand away. His hair was looking closer to normal now, with it's color seemingly more lively than the dull purple that colored his tips just minutes ago, though the demon still looked confused, to say the least.
"Will he be alright?"
"We're actually not that sure," Adam said, picking at his fingernails. "He seems coherent enough, but testing for a concussion isn't exactly possible the way I would prefer to do with a human."
Charles frowned. "Why's that?"
"Whole being dead thing, Chuck. Can't send a guy with no pulse to the doctor."
"We could probably go into more detail, but... that's pretty much it. There's nothing much to do besides waiting," Adam finished. "Though we should keep an eye out, just in case his condition gets worse."
"Adam and I thought about keeping him with us in the attic during the night. That way we can see if he'll get better, and... keep him from making it worse for himself," Barbara said with a pointed look at Beetlejuice.
"I see, thank you very much for your help," Charles nodded. Something still weighed on his mind, though; an incessant feeling that kept him from simply going to sleep, kept his mind racing no matter how tired he might have been.
"Excuse me, Adam, Barbara, but could I have a word with Mr. Juice on my own?"
Adam and Barbara promptly agreed and went up the stairs, chattering about the potential accommodations they could make in the attic to keep Beetlejuice comfortable, and also to apparently keep him from destroying something.
"'Sup, Chuck?"
"Now, Beetlejuice," he began slowly, struggling to find his words. "I want you to know that it made me very... concerned, to learn what had happened to you. At first, I assumed whatever accident happened might have been your fault, but now I see that it was wrong of me to make that assumption."
"Don't sweat it, that kind of stuff is usually 'cause of me, anyway," he demon replied easily, showing a lazy, uncharacteristically weak grin.
"I would like to have more trust on you from now on, though," Charles said firmly, causing Beetlejuice to frown slightly. He continued, "Lydia told me what happened this evening. About how you helped her with photography, and about how you prioritized getting her out of the way instead of saving yourself when the accident happened. I am grateful beyond words for that."
"Well, I wasn't about to let Scarecrow get squashed. You don't gotta be so formal," he said, looking down as if caught off guard. His hair changed shade slightly, purple tips now colored by a light green. Understanding how the ghost worked was still a challenge to Charles, but he perceived the change as a good sign.
"I want you to know how I feel, though, he said, and put a hand on the demon's shoulder. "You have joined... our household, Mr. Juice. Not only our household, but our family. You are a part of this residence, and I will keep working every day to continue bulding my trust on you, as you have shown to be deserving of today."
Yet, words remained stuck in his brain, as they always did. Charles had never been a very transparent person; that was Emily. But still, he could only hope that his true intention had been understood. That the unspoken "I care about you" had been transmitted, at least while he couldn't gather himself to say it out loud.
Months ago, Charles would never have expected to ever think about those words when it came to the demon. Now, he hoped to be able to say them, one day.
"I am glad you're safe," he finished, reassuringly squeezing Beetlejuice's shoulder one last time before removing his hand.
Beetlejuice's hair slowly started to change, the green slowly spreading from the tips to it's root, now a darker shade that resembled it's usual color. He moved his hands to fiddle with his coat and looked down, avoiding Charles' gaze.
"Damn. Got a little too honest there." He chuckled weakly. "I didn't really... I was pretty sure you hated me until a while ago, ya know? I'm not really used to this whole 'being liked' thing, if you get what I mean," the demon said, grinning in a way that looked more like a grimace than an actual smile. Charles supposed it was part of the consequences of the concussion.
"I understand, Mr. Juice. I know we've had our differences—", to put it lightly, he thought—, "in the past, but I'm glad you feel welcomed now."
"Yeah, you turned out to be cooler than I thought, too," he said, finally looking at Charles again, voice lowered and tired. "Thanks, Chuck. Means a lot."
Charles nodded, and soon came Barbara down the stairs, leading Beetlejuice to the attic so he could properly rest. The ghost looked back and catched his gaze on the way up, eyes partially closed, and nodded back weakly.
Feeling the exhaustion of the day catch up, the man headed to the kitchen and turned on the lights, just in time to feel something bump against him.
"Ow."
He frowned.
"Lydia, what are you doing in the kitchen with the lights off? I thought you'd be in your room by now."
"Oh, I wanted to get something to eat, but didn't want Barbara to see me. She doesn't like when I snack before dinner."
Charles stopped and considered it. It was in fact a little late to eat anything besides dinner. Lydia was still growing and shouldn't break her routine like that. Emily's voice suddenly came on his mind, clear and loud as it always used to be. "A little exception wouldn't hurt, right?", it said, intonation the same his wife used whenever she wanted to convince him to break routine and do something nice.
Maybe he should listen to her again. He always did.
"I came here for the same reason. Barbara doesn't need to know as long as we're quiet, right?"
Lydia looked surprised for a moment, eyes widening slightly, and then smiled.
"Right."
She grabbed the ingredients from the pantry, and Charles prepared sandwiches for the both of them as Lydia set up two plates on the table. The lights were then turned off, to keep Barbara from seeing there people on the kitchen if she came downstairs, and they both sat down.
The room fell on a comfortable silence, then, illuminated by the glow of the moonlight through the windows, as both father and daughter enjoyed their meals.
"Hey, Dad."
"Yes?"
"I overheard you and Beetlejuice talking," she said. Charles looked up.
"You're getting better at this whole... You know, emotions thing." She gestured vaguely, not looking up as she gazed down at the now empty plate. "You used to be so awkward to talk to him, it was actually a little painful to watch". Despite her words, Lydia smiled.
"Well, he wasn't exactly cooperative," he remarked.
"Yeah, not at all. You still did good, though. Even got his hair to turn green again."
"It means he's happy, right?"
Lydia nodded, relief evident on her expression. It was comforting to see it, he realized, thinking back on how tense the girl looked back at the forest.
"It probably means he'll be okay soon, the tree didn't knock any screws loose. Not looser than he already has, anyway."
The man smiled and huffed. "Well, I'm glad to know tha—" he cut himself off as the sound of a chair dragging across the floor echoed in the room, watching as Lydia stood up and walked over to him, suddenly wrapping her arms around Charles and pulling him into a hug. He hugged back, straightening up on the chair.
"Thanks for helping out today," she said simply, voice quiet.
Oh, there was so much he could say. So many thoughts and emotions that barged in the last couple of months, feelings he worked to put a name on, all brought fourth by the presence of a few special people in his life. Some who left too early, some who came in uninvited, and weirdly enough, a person who challenged his very concept of forgiveness.
But above it all, it was all brought fourth by the warmth of a child that Charles swore to never, ever let go again.
In that moment, though, in the quiet of the night, in a moonlit kitchen, there wasn't much more to be said. He hoped it would suffice.
"Any time you need me," he whispered, and pulled her closer.