Author's Note: Hi all :). So, I finally had to take this story down and completely rewrite it from beginning to end. There might be a few shards of the original story in here, but they are few. I don't have much to say for myself except that having writer's block for three years has made me question myself as a writer. Let's hope the result of all that introspection will be a positive one. Enough of my world... please holla if you like it!

He rarely told her where he was going, which was fine, because after the first few times of knowing, she really didn't want to know. It was pretty easy to guess from what he brought back, like the time he brought her a skull covered in what looked awfully a lot like diamonds, and then before she could convince him to take it back, there was that story on the web that a 50 million dollar diamond-encrusted skull had been stolen from the White Cube gallery in "the exclusive neighborhood of St. James in London."

There had been a row, and he did, sulkily, take it back, but she discovered afterward that the small chandelier hanging from the ceiling in their bedroom had increased its crystal count considerably. One large particularly fine "crystal" shattered the white bulb-light into miniature rainbows that sprayed all around the room. On this, Lydia pursed her lips and kept silent, secretly fascinated with the idea of having a diamond worth eight million dollars hanging from her lamp.

Then there was the time he tried to fit a motorcycle through the mirror in the bathroom... because it was the biggest, he claimed later. She happened to have been taking a shower, and screamed in terror as this roaring monster (he was riding it, of course, and whooping like a television cowboy) came halfway through the frame and landed crookedly in the sink. She dropped to her knees and crawled naked out of the bathroom, convinced that the Netherworld mafia had send an assassin for her. It had taken weeks for her to forgive him, and forgetting was quite out to the question- the bike had gotten firmly lodged between the two worlds, and she'd had to use a blowtorch to cut enough of it away to be able to use the sink again. Her stepmother hadn't asked many questions- Delia was just barely getting accustomed to her daughter dating the poltergeist, and expected catastrophe.

So Beej hadn't told her where he was going, and Lydia hadn't worried, because she had lesser things to worry about, like dinner, and perusing the wanted ads for a job for photographers or designers that didn't involve pornography. She had learned early not to answer ads that called for photographers that worked well with live models- invariably that led to porn, and she wasn't ready to go there. Beej was supremely uninterested in her job search- he maintained that he could support her in high style, but she countered that she wanted some independence, and to use her talents. Although he grumbled, he didn't interfere beyond hiding the want ads under cushions or rugs- a weak protest indeed, when he could have just as easily hid them on Titan.

That and various activities had kept her busy until late. She looked up from her perusal of the craiglist for the city, considering looking at the Greater New York area, even though the thought of working in New Jersey was at the bottom of her 'fun' list, and realized the outside light had gone. The microwave clock read 9:37, and as if in agreement, her stomach suddenly felt very hollow, and growled at her.

"Beej?" She looked around, but he wasn't quietly watching her from behind, as he did sometimes to her annoyance. She got up and stretched sore muscles, ready to get concerned, when a bright light filled her vision. She closed her eyes, wincing, and then a shockingly loud thunderclap tore through her head. Lydia screamed in pain, and collapsed to the floor, her thin arms and legs splayed on the kitchen floor just as if someone had cut her strings.

Against the dim light of the laptop screen, a small curl of smoke drifted up from her ear.