A Ghost of a Chance

by LuckyLadybug

1987 series, my Exit the Fly verse. Filming a hands-on story on The Ghostbusters goes drastically wrong when an accident leaves both Baxter and Vernon astral-projected and wandering.

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles 1987

A Ghost of a Chance

By Lucky_Ladybug

Notes: The characters are not mine and the story is! Thanks to ThickerThanLove for the title suggestion! Characters from The Real Ghostbusters appear, but they are in supporting roles at best, so for that reason and others I'm not putting this in the Crossover section. I'm writing based more on the original 78 Real Ghostbusters episodes and not the show as it became after Peter and Janine's voice actors were replaced. As per my Exit the Fly series, Baxter is human again and an ally of the Turtles. His brother Barney works for Shredder.

It started out as a perfectly peaceful day at the Turtles' Lair. Donatello and Baxter were running experiments on the power source taken from the Floxy Theatre. Michelangelo was re-reading his old Bugman comics. Leonardo and Raphael were watching Rawhide. Splinter was peacefully eating a sushi snack. When a Turtle-Comm rang, this time it was Donatello's.

"Hi, April," he greeted.

"You sound occupied," April commented.

"Oh, Baxter and I are just trying to figure out what this weird thing is that we took from the Floxy Theatre," Donatello replied.

"You've been working on that for weeks and you haven't had any success yet," April noted.

"I know," Donatello sighed. "So what's up, April?"

"Well, actually I was trying to reach Dr. Stockman," April said. "His Turtle-Comm seems to be off."

Baxter sighed too. "I turned it off shortly after we started the experiments. I found that this thing reacts unfavorably to an unknown element in the Turtle-Comms."

"That's true," Donatello agreed. "It causes the Turtle-Comm to shock whoever's closest to it. We're trying to isolate what element it's reacting to by using a spare Turtle-Comm I had around here."

"That doesn't sound good," April exclaimed.

"No, but it's the only break we've had," Donatello said. "We can't figure out why it only started doing it today instead of all along."

"What is it you wanted, Miss O'Neil?" Baxter asked.

April looked apologetic. "I'm sorry to do this on your day off, Dr. Stockman, but Mr. Thompson insists that you come along on an interview I'm doing. Today's the day I'm interviewing the Ghostbusters. Mr. Thompson wanted you along to provide a scientific perspective."

"Ghostbusters?" Baxter scoffed. "Miss O'Neil, I would probably end up in a heated argument on the air concerning the existence of ghosts. I deliberately arranged my day off so I wouldn't be there for that interview. I felt it would only jeopardize my job if I were in attendance."

"Unfortunately, Mr. Thompson likes controversy," April sighed. "That's probably really why he wants you there; he hopes you will get in an argument."

Baxter was exasperated. "I don't seem to have much choice," he lamented. "Alright, Miss O'Neil. I'll meet you there."

"Bye, April," said Donatello.

"Goodbye, you two," April replied.

Donatello closed the Turtle-Comm and set it aside again. "I never really wanted to believe in ghosts myself," he said. "But we definitely dealt with some kind of a spirit when Bebop and Rocksteady broke a haunted burial urn."

Baxter adjusted his glasses. "I suppose it's not exactly that I don't believe that there's something in us that carries on after death," he said. "It's more that I find the idea of them continuing to remain on Earth ludicrous." He sighed. "But maybe I balk at that concept because I'm afraid if they linger on Earth, it means there's nothing else for them to move on to."

Donatello started to put away the equipment they had been using. "Were you raised to believe there is?" he asked in curiosity.

Baxter smirked. "My family is certainly not a truly spiritual one, although they have always attended church to keep up appearances. I'd like to believe in God and Heaven, at least. And if there is a place for the good, it stands to reason that there is also a place for the bad."

"It's really interesting how different cultures see things," Donatello said. "Master Splinter says that in Japanese culture, everyone goes to the same afterlife."

Baxter raised an eyebrow. "That would certainly be more comforting for those who haven't quite lived as they probably should have, but I'm not sure I find it very logical."

"We can talk more about it later, if you want to," Donatello offered. "You'd better get going. Burne Thompson is a pretty impatient guy."

"You're right." Baxter headed for the door. "Hopefully we can get back to work again before long."

"So far we haven't made much headway," Donatello commented. "This thing really keeps its secrets well."

"That," said Baxter, "is a complete understatement."

xxxx

When Baxter pulled up at the Ghostbusters' firehouse headquarters, April, Vernon, and Irma were already present and filming in the lobby. Baxter slipped inside, not announcing his presence when he saw April in the middle of talking with the Ghostbusters' secretary, Janine Melnitz.

"The Ghostbusters have certainly built an impressive reputation for themselves," April was saying. "You've been with them since the beginning, haven't you?"

"That's right," said Janine. "After all, somebody has to keep them in line."

"What do you feel is the most rewarding thing about working as their secretary?"

Janine started to answer, but Baxter was immediately distracted by a bizarre green blob that suddenly got in his face. "Hello!" it said . . . or at least, Baxter thought that was what it said.

"What the . . . !" He fell back heavily against the door.

Everyone turned to look. "Oh, you've found Slimer," Janine observed.

"What is it?!" Vernon cried in immense repulsion and some amount of fear.

"He's our resident ghost," said Janine.

Irma's eyes widened. "This thing used to be human?!"

"Uh huh. He kind of latched onto us and we've let him stay around." Janine came from around the desk. "Sometimes he's actually helpful."

"Aww," said Slimer with a touched smile.

Now that he was over the initial shock, Baxter straightened and adjusted his glasses as he stared at Slimer. Slimer stared back.

"Oh, this is Dr. Baxter Stockman," April introduced. "He's our scientific consultant."

"That's nice," said Janine, but it sounded like her mind was elsewhere.

Baxter finally spoke. "You know, among the things I've found most outlandish about your organization are the reports of many of the ghosts you find appearing so non-human." He looked from Slimer to Janine. "What is the explanation for that?"

"We're still not sure," came a deep voice from the stairs. "One possibility is that some of them never were human and are instead assorted types of ectoplasm brought to life during high-power supernatural events, such as seances. Another theory is that they were human once and their non-human forms have something to do with the level of memory-retention they have about their lives."

Vernon whipped the camera in the voice's direction while April said, "Will you elaborate on that, Mr. . . . ?"

"Dr. Egon Spengler," was the reply. "And yes, I'd be happy to." Egon reached the bottom of the stairs and calmly looked into the camera as though he had done this many times before. "The more a ghost remembers who they were in life, the more human they look and act."

"Shouldn't they all remember?" Irma frowned.

"You'd think so, but in our experience that hasn't always been the case. Slimer, for instance, appears to remember very little of who he was." Egon indicated Slimer, who waved at the camera. "There are bits and pieces, but overall his life is a closed book to him as well as to us."

"Not that we can understand him much to begin with," another new voice quipped from the stairs. "Dr. Peter Venkman at your service." The newcomer waved too. "And this is Dr. Ray Stantz and Winston Zeddemore." He gestured to two others with him.

"Hi," Ray chirped.

"Hey," Winston smiled.

Baxter barely focused on the introductions. He was genuinely disturbed. "But what would cause them to forget?" he demanded.

"Different factors," said Egon. "Some may have had highly traumatic lives or deaths and they prefer to forget and feel like they're starting over. Some may become so confused by the transition that they can't hold onto their humanity and instead unconsciously turn themselves into non-human entities."

Baxter looked sickened. He could understand that all too well, no death necessary.

"Have you tried talking to the ghosts when you encounter them?" April asked.

"Oh, we talk to most of them," said Ray. "But most of them aren't willing to tell us much of anything about themselves, if they remember at all."

"Slimer here is the only one who's really up for that," Winston said.

"Too bad there's just not much in that little mind for us to find out about," Peter smirked.

Deciding he wanted to change the subject, Baxter said, "And after you remove the ghosts from the premises, you keep them captive. Isn't that correct?"

"In most cases," Egon agreed. "When it comes to the more human ghosts, we generally try to help them move on. The ones who aren't human usually can't be reasoned with. We bring them here to our Containment Unit."

Baxter frowned. "Isn't that unnecessarily cruel?"

"It's bigger on the inside," Janine said dryly.

Baxter still wasn't impressed. "So they will just be here indefinitely because they 'can't be reasoned with'?"

"If we knew more about them, we might be able to determine how to help them regain their humanity and move on," said Egon. "For most of them, we don't even know their names."

"So we can't bring up their pasts and try to help them remember," Ray added. "Although we do have some that remember at least something about their identities and they still don't want to move on."

"Those kind were mainly unrepentant crooks in life," said Peter.

"Why am I not surprised?" said Baxter. "They probably feel that your Containment Unit is better than the afterlife that awaits them."

"It all sounds like something out of a late-night horror movie," Vernon shuddered.

"But very interesting," said April. "Tell me, what prompted all of you to decide to go into this line of work?"

"Well, me, I just needed a job," said Winston. "I haven't studied all this stuff for years like the others have."

"I just thought Parapsychology would be something off the beaten path," Peter said smoothly. He smiled at April. "You meet a lot of interesting people."

Irma rolled her eyes. "Oh brother."

"And Egon and I were genuinely fascinated by ghosts and wanted to learn more about them," Ray said enthusiastically.

Egon nodded. "So far it's been a very enlightening experience. I hope that in the near-future we'll be able to learn enough about ghosts that we will be able to help the non-human entities remember their identities and move on, if they wish."

"I can't imagine they wouldn't all want to move on," Vernon objected.

"Unless they think they're going to Hell," said Baxter.

"Or unless their ties to Earth are so strong that even death can't break them," Ray added.

The ringing of the telephone interrupted the conversation. Janine quickly answered it. "Ghostbusters. . . . You have what? . . . Alright, calm down. We'll be right out." She scribbled something on a pad of paper and hung up. "Three free-floating Class Fives are terrorizing a construction site at this address." She tore off the page and held it out.

"Three what?" Baxter raised an eyebrow.

"We'll have to explain later," said Egon. "I'm sorry; we'll have to cut this interview short."

"Dr. Spengler, would it be possible for us to come along?" April asked. "The Ghostbusters in action would really add a lot of spice to this interview."

Egon frowned. "That's not a good idea. It could be very dangerous."

"Hey, as long as they stay out of the way, what could happen?" Peter retorted. "I for one like the thought of a story on us being more than us just talking into the microphone. It could be a lot of good publicity!"

"I promise we'll stay out of the way!" April delightedly said.

"April . . ." Vernon looked to her in dismay. "If Dr. Spengler thinks it's too dangerous, why don't we listen to him and go back to Channel 6?"

"Oh, come on, Vernon," April objected. "We'll film across the street. That should be perfectly safe, shouldn't it?"

Vernon swallowed hard, his knees knocking. "Not as safe as hiding under my desk."

"Vernon, you're hopeless," April sighed.

Baxter had an uneasy feeling about going ahead with this plan. But he had to admit, he wanted to see the Ghostbusters in action himself. In the end, his scientific curiosity won out over any reservations he had-something he would come to regret.

xxxx

The construction site in question was definitely under attack. When the two groups pulled up, everything from heavy metal beams to caterpillars were flying through the air and over the ground by themselves.

"This is incredible!" April cried. "Vernon, you've gotta get this footage!"

"This is horrifying!" Vernon wailed.

"This doesn't make sense," Baxter objected. "Ghosts are not solid. How can they operate like this?"

"Poltergeists have ways of manipulating physics to their advantage," Egon called as he and the other Ghostbusters began to pull on their proton packs. "We're not sure how that works yet, either. Obviously it's a highly advanced form of telekinesis."

"Obviously," Baxter grunted, ducking as a steel rod flew in their direction.

"April, this really is dangerous," Irma exclaimed. "We're not safe across the street."

"I agree," Egon called over his shoulder. "I really must insist you leave."

April gripped her microphone in frustration and dismay. "It can't be any more dangerous than filming the Turtles' battles with Shredder!"

Egon had no chance to reply. The poltergeists had noticed the Ghostbusters' proton packs and they were not happy. As they attacked the Ghostbusters with everything they had, the Ghostbusters ducked, leaped, and rolled out of the way, all while trying to aim the beams from their proton packs at the malevolent creatures. April continued to report while Vernon cowered behind Baxter to film and Irma tried to shield herself from the flying debris.

It was only a matter of time before something went horribly, drastically wrong in such a situation. One of the ghosts deliberately flew into the middle of the street. When an attempt was made to catch it with a blast from a proton pack, it used a mirror ripped from one of the construction vehicles to redirect the beam directly into the middle of the Channel 6 newscrew.

Terror filled Baxter's heart when he realized the energy blast was coming right at him and Vernon. "Look out!" he yelled. He turned to tackle Vernon to the ground, but it was no use. The beam hit them both and they screamed and collapsed.

April and Irma screamed too. "Dr. Stockman! Vernon!"

Egon looked over in alarm. "What happened?! Were they hit?!"

"Yes! Point-blank!" April cried.

Irma knelt next to them, desperately shaking them for signs of life. "What's supposed to happen to living people if they're hit?!" she burst out.

"We've never had that situation before!" Egon exclaimed. "Not with as strong of a charge as we were using!"

April sank to her knees. "It's my fault," she whispered in horror. "It's all my fault." Shaking, she pulled out her Turtle-Comm and opened it.

"April, what is it?!" Donatello exclaimed.

"Donatello . . ." April choked back the lump in her throat. "It's horrible! We came with the Ghostbusters to film them working and something went wrong. Dr. Stockman and Vernon . . . they were both hit by an energy beam from the ghost-busting equipment." She looked to Irma, who looked back and sadly shook her head. "And I'm afraid they're both dead!"

Donatello's eyes widened. "We'll be right there," he promised.

April hung up and slipped the Turtle-Comm back in her pocket. "Are you sure, Irma?!" she cried.

"I can't find a pulse on either of them," Irma said. "Maybe I'm doing it wrong, but . . ." She gazed down at the two lifeless men. "I think they really are gone." Tears pricked her eyes.

"Oh no. Oh no. . . ." April reached out, gently turning Baxter onto his back. He fell limply, his glasses askew. There was no independent movement from either him or Vernon. April adjusted his glasses with care, even though he could no longer look through them. "I'm so sorry. . . . So sorry."

xxxx

Baxter stumbled, dazed, and slowly got to his feet. Next to him, Vernon was sitting on the sidewalk and looked confused. "That didn't hurt nearly as much as it looked like it was going to. . . ."

Baxter frowned. Vernon was right, and that didn't add up. But as he took in the scene around them, everything made a new and horrific sense. If he could have gone sheet-white in his state, he would have.

"Mr. Fenwick," he said at last, his voice pinched in his sickened alarm, "it hurt far worse than we could have imagined."

"What?" Vernon followed his gaze to where April and Irma were still struggling to check for life from the bodies on the ground. A shriek tore from his lips. "That's us! We're dead! We're dead!"

Baxter trembled. "No. . . . We can't be dead. This can't be what death is like. . . ."

Vernon scrambled forward. "April! Irma! I'm right here! I'm not down there; I'm here!" He reached for Irma and his hand passed through. He screamed and scrambled back.

Baxter walked around to April. "Miss O'Neil?" He bent down to try to make eye contact with the frantic and grief-stricken reporter. "Miss O'Neil, please tell me you can hear us! Please . . ."

April brushed a lock of auburn hair away from her face, but it just fell back. Ignoring it now, she leaned over Baxter's body and desperately tried to perform CPR.

"Oh. . . ." Baxter backed up, shaking more. "We really are dead. . . ."

"And we're stranded here like this!" Vernon sobbed. "It's not Heaven, so it has to be Hell!"

"Or Limbo. . . ." Baxter slowly moved backwards towards Vernon, unable to take his eyes off the scene. It was too much to process. They were dead, Vernon was having a nervous breakdown, and Baxter felt like joining him. This was horrible.

"Can no one see us?" he whispered. "Can no one hear us?"

Vernon cried harder. "I'm too young to be dead!"

One might be tempted to say that Vernon had had more years than a lot of unluckier people. But Baxter was absolutely not in the mood. He was reeling and growing more and more terrified the more it all sunk in. "I'm too young to be dead too!" he exclaimed. "I want to live. I have to find someone who can help us. Someone has to know what's going on. They have to . . . !"

He didn't know how it happened, but suddenly the scene changed. Now he and Vernon were no longer on the sidewalk at all. They were in the middle of a laboratory he had seen quite recently, on Christmas Eve. Barney was sitting at a table, tinkering with what looked like a half-built laptop.

"What happened?!" Baxter said in disbelief. "How did we get here?!"

"What?" Vernon looked up. "What is this place?!"

"It's the Technodrome." Baxter took several shaking steps forward. The scene had changed when his feelings had spilled over. Had they been brought here because of that? Had he brought them here somehow, someway? Had he subconsciously sought Barney out of fear and panic and desperation, as he had in the past when he had been in dire straits?

Barney had always let him down in those situations, though. Why would Baxter come to him another time?

He walked over closer to Barney. His brother hadn't noticed anyone else in the room, of course. Baxter wasn't sure what possessed him to reach out and try to touch Barney's shoulder, but he wasn't at all expecting the reaction.

The screwdriver fell from Barney's hand and he spun around, about to exclaim something. Whatever it was, it was quickly forgotten when he focused on Baxter. He backed up against the table, breathing heavily.

Baxter stared at him. "Barney?" he ventured. "Can you . . . see me?"

". . . I'm either insane or this is a cruel joke," Barney said at last.

"Barney?" came the alien computer's voice. "What's going on? Did I just hear Baxter?"

Barney shot a look at the contents of the table. "You heard him?" Immediately he grabbed the motherboard and plugged it into the laptop. "Can you see him too?"

The computer's face filled the screen. "Baxter, old pal! . . . Why are you transparent?"

"He's a hologram!" Barney exclaimed. "He has to be a hologram. This is some sick joke of Krang's or Shredder's!"

"I'm not a hologram!" Baxter cried. "I'm me. Krang and Shredder wouldn't know about the last time we saw each other, on the roof of my apartment building! Nor would they know about the dark memories that started coming back to both of us and prompted our meeting."

The color drained from Barney's face. "Then you . . . you're . . ."

The computer just stared. "Baxter, Buddy, you're dead?"

"Yes!" Baxter exclaimed, agonized.

Still sitting where Baxter had left him, Vernon sobbed, "I am too!"

Baxter glanced back at him. "Do you also see him?"

Barney frowned. "I only see you."

"Who else is with you, Baxter?" the computer asked.

"Vernon Fenwick." Baxter looked back to the others.

"Then maybe we can see and hear you because we care about you," the computer suggested.

Baxter and Barney scoffed in unison. "I highly doubt the reason is anything so saccharine," Barney sniffed.

"Miss O'Neil couldn't hear me or see me," Baxter said. "And to be frank, she has shown more caring for me than you have through the years, Brother."

"Maybe it's that we have a deeper connection with you than anyone else does," the computer said.

". . . That's possible," Baxter conceded. "That might be why we ended up here too. In my panic, I may have subconsciously teleported us to those I have a deep connection with."

Barney drew a shaking breath. "Alright. Nevermind that for now. Just tell us what happened?!"

Baxter started to pace. "We were doing a story on the Ghostbusters. There was an accident and we were both hit by a blast from their equipment. I believe they call it a proton pack."

Barney frowned. "That's what they use to capture ghosts, correct?"

"Yes," said Baxter.

"Then apparently the beam latched onto your and Mr. Fenwick's spirits . . . essences . . . personalities . . . whatever and pulled them out of your bodies." Barney pondered on that. "Yet you didn't stay captured in the beam afterwards. Maybe the effect on living people is that you are basically forced into astral-projecting."

"But astral-projection isn't supposed to be fatal," Baxter said. "If it really happens at all. Wait." His eyes widened. "Are you saying we might not really be dead?!"

"It's possible," Barney said impatiently. "Let's go to the surface and find out."

"Can you leave the Technodrome without suspicion?" Baxter asked in concern.

"I'll tell them I need more parts," Barney said. He unplugged the motherboard and slipped it into his coat pocket. "Come on."

"Wait a minute." Baxter hurried back over to the hopeless Vernon. "Did you hear what my brother said?"

Vernon looked up. "That we might not really be dead?" he quavered.

"Yes." Baxter folded his arms. "We need to go."

Vernon slowly picked himself up from the floor. "Can't you just teleport us again?"

"I don't know how I did it in the first place," Baxter retorted. "It may only work if I am highly emotionally distraught. I've calmed down since then. Maybe I'm just numb or in denial. Anyway, Barney is willing to help us . . . or at least to come with us. So we'll go with that."

"But . . . we'll be seen," Vernon gulped.

"Don't count on it."

Sure enough, as they stepped into the corridor, only Barney was addressed. "Where are you going now?" Shredder demanded.

"I need another part," Barney said flippantly. "If I'm not needed here, I trust I will be allowed to leave."

"Go on!" Shredder barked.

Barney smirked to himself as he turned away. "Thank you, Mr. Shredder," he muttered, half-sarcastically.

xxxx

Irma had been trying hard to stay strong for April's sake. April was badly shaken and devastated, both because of what had happened and because it likely wouldn't have happened had she not insisted they stay against almost everyone's wishes. Irma had followed her lead in trying to perform CPR, but the longer she worked without anything happening, the more she felt like her heart was shattering and she had to get away before she broke down in front of April. She didn't want April to have to worry about her too. There was enough on her plate as it was.

"It's no use, Irma," April said sadly after several more minutes. "They're gone." She shivered. "We can't just leave them here like this. . . ."

"There's a blanket in the van," Irma said quietly. "I'll go get it."

She got up quickly and climbed into the van. The blanket really was there, but she had mostly used it as an excuse to flee the scene. As she fumbled about in her search for it, she accidentally knocked several trays of assorted electronic accessories to the floor. That was the final straw; she sank to the floor and drew her knees up to her chest as she sobbed.

Of course, she was only there for several minutes before April appeared at the open doorway. "Irma? Are you okay?"

Irma looked up with a start. She swiftly lifted her glasses and rubbed hurriedly at her eyes with a sleeve of her sweater. "Yeah," she called back in a highly unbelievable, quavering voice. "But I . . . I can't find the blanket. . . . Just . . . give me another few minutes. . . ."

Instead April climbed up into the van and walked around the shelves of equipment to find Irma curled up against the wall on the other side. "Oh Irma . . ." She bent down, blinking back tears from her own eyes.

"I'm sorry, April," Irma choked out. "I couldn't help it. It's just too awful, seeing them there like that. . . . It was just a few minutes ago that they were alive and okay. . . . Vernon was so scared and Dr. Stockman was so . . . skeptical. . . ." She dug a hand into her hair. "Maybe if I'd been standing closer, I could have helped them. . . ."

"If I hadn't been so story-crazy, we wouldn't have been here at all," April lamented. "I should have listened to Dr. Spengler and Vernon and you. Now two people are dead because of me! You and the Turtles have tried to tell me before that I get too caught up in wanting my big scoop, but I've never listened. It was always mostly me who ended up hurt when I got too eager, and I was willing to risk my own safety. I never should have risked anyone else's!"

Irma laid a hand on April's shoulder. "Hey, a good reporter is always out for a big story," she said. "And the best ones never do seem to let danger be a turn-off."

"But they also know when to draw the line," April replied. "I never have."

Irma sighed. She definitely had been frustrated with April's obsession in the past, especially whenever she was along for the ride. But she didn't want to make April feel worse by going on about that now.

"Well, right now we'd better find that blanket," she said as she got to her feet. "We really can't let them just lay out there like that. Covering them up's just about the only thing we can do for them now."

April nodded forlornly. "You're right."

Together they started to look through the boxes and shelves for the mysterious blanket. After several minutes of futile searching, Irma spoke.

"It's funny how you meet so many different kinds of people in the workplace. Dr. Stockman, he was kind of standoffish. Not someone you could really get close to. Kind of arrogant sometimes too, like he knew it all. But even at that he was a nice guy, nothing at all like the nutcase that locked down the whole building and tried to take it over with his creepy computer."

April smiled sadly. "He wasn't really standoffish. I guess he was just really cautious about getting to know people because he'd been hurt so much. Or maybe it was because he wasn't sure how they'd react to him, knowing what he'd been and how he'd hurt others when he was out of his mind. He didn't like to impose. And he probably didn't want to jeopardize his chances for a fresh start by getting close to the wrong people."

"He liked you better than he did me," Irma said.

"I don't think that either," April said. "He . . . knew me better, I guess. He was more comfortable around me."

Irma fell silent. When at last she saw a soft blue corner, she grabbed for it. "Here it is!" she exclaimed.

April helped her pull the blanket free from the back of a crowded shelf. "I never realized how much stuff we have in here," she remarked.

Irma held the blanket to her chest as she turned to walk towards the open doors. ". . . And Vernon . . . ugh. We both know all too well what Vernon was like. I guess part of me thinks I should be glad he's gone. But I can't be." She shook her head, burying her face in the blanket. "He was a self-centered, cowardly crumb who took everyone for granted and had some kind of illogical loathing of the Turtles. But I can't stand seeing him lying there dead!"

April came up behind her. "He was like a little boy, really," she said. "He never grew up. And even though his behavior was repulsive, it's hard to really hate a little boy."

"Yeah. That's a good way of putting it." Irma looked up. "You know, every now and then I saw glimpses of a better person. It was just a few seconds at a time, so I'd always tell myself I was imagining things. Maybe I just wanted him to be decent, so I'd read what wasn't there. But then Dr. Stockman actually believed in him and I started trying to see what he was seeing. Then I started realizing that maybe deep down, I already did. Even though I never let myself know it." She walked on ahead with the blanket.

April blinked in surprise. "Irma . . ." Again she followed, but their conversation was cut short by Egon exclaiming from outside.

"I have something!"

Immediately both girls ran to the open doorway. "What is it, Dr. Spengler?!" April gasped.

Egon was bending over the bodies with a strange box-shaped device. "I've found a weak pulse on each of them. They're not dead!"

Irma nearly dropped the blanket. "Huh?! But how?!"

"I'm not sure. And what's baffling is that I'm not picking up any trace of their spirits."

"What does that mean?!" April half-wailed.

"It means that I don't think their spirits are present," Egon answered. "Their bodies are alive, but they can't wake up and function without their spirits."

"So . . . they're zombies?!" Irma said in horror.

"No!" Egon barked. "It's more like they're in comas from which they can't awaken. At least not now." He straightened. "They can't be left out here. I'll get them into your van. You can try to keep them warm with that blanket."

"But . . . what can we do?!" April cried. "How do we get them to wake up?!"

"Don't we need to get them to the hospital?!" Irma added.

"The hospital won't know how to help with this," Egon answered. "They don't appear to be physically hurt. The blast from that proton pack must have pushed their spirits right out of their bodies. The poltergeists were so strong that we were using more power than we normally do."

"But I thought the streams from your proton packs trapped the ghosts in them unless the ghosts were stronger than the amount of energy being used," April frowned.

"We know so little of how the energy from our proton packs interacts with living people," Egon said. "Certain levels of energy have actually captured them. In this case, it looks like the streams somehow reached into their bodies and took hold of their spirits. The energy held on just long enough to extract their spirits from their bodies and then something, possibly the shock of removal, broke the force. Of course, there is another possibility, but I don't think that's as likely. . . ."

"I'm almost afraid to ask," April lamented.

"It's possible that the force of the stream destroyed their spirits altogether," said Egon.

Irma cried out in horror. "You mean . . . they could be gone for good?!"

"I seriously doubt it," Egon rushed on. "If it were, I doubt their bodies would still be intact, let alone alive."

"Well, I can't believe you really have the power to destroy spirits!" April insisted. "I'm going to believe they're still out there, somewhere, and I'm going to believe we can get them back!"

"When all is said and done, we also know very little of spirit energy," said Egon. "But we haven't witnessed the complete destruction of any entity yet. I will agree with you that there is most likely still hope." And although his voice did not change, a flicker in his eyes said that he truly hoped that was correct. If any spirits had been destroyed, especially those of innocent bystanders', he would be deeply, perhaps permanently, affected.

"So what can we do?!" Irma burst out in frustration.

"Assuming that the first scenario is what happened, Dr. Stockman and Mr. Fenwick most likely believe themselves to be dead and are wandering about not knowing what to do. We'll have to find them and bring them back to their bodies. From there we will hopefully be able to reunite them body and soul and they will revive." Egon stuck the device in his back pocket and bent down to lift Baxter's small frame into his arms.

Irma slumped back. "Oh, those poor guys." She looked up at April. "I'm still not really sure what he said, but I know Vernon must be absolutely freaking out."

"And I can't imagine Dr. Stockman is very happy either!" April exclaimed. "But at least there's actually some hope! We can get them back, and we're going to!" She pulled out her Turtle-Comm.

xxxx

The Turtles were badly shaken as they and Splinter climbed into the Turtle Van and headed for the address April had given Donatello.

"No way, Dudes," Michelangelo said. "Baxter can't be dead. Right? It's just a misunderstanding or something, like it was about the crowbar."

"I don't know, Michelangelo," Leonardo said quietly. "I hope so."

"And ol' Vernon too. . . . Not that we'd really miss him . . . I don't think . . . but man, that sounds like an awful way to die."

"Take heart, my Turtles," said Splinter. "I do not understand what has happened, but I do not sense that there has been a tragedy. I believe what was done can be reversed."

Donatello frowned. "No one can come back from the dead, Master Splinter."

"But perhaps they are not truly dead," Splinter replied. "Let us wait and see."

"April sounded pretty definite," Donatello said.

Leonardo's Turtle-Comm rang and he quickly answered it. "What's happening, April?" he demanded.

"Big news!" April said. "The Ghostbusters have given up fighting with the poltergeists or whatever they are right now. Dr. Spengler came over to examine Dr. Stockman and Vernon with some gadget of his. There's no apparent physical damage and he found weak pulses. They're still alive!"

"Alright!" Michelangelo cheered. All the Turtles high-fived.

"There's still a big problem, though," April continued. "Because of what they were hit with, Dr. Spengler seems to think that their spirits were pulled right out of their bodies and are wandering."

"What?" Michelangelo blinked. "Oh, maximum bummer, Dudette."

"Now that is just creepy," Raphael said. "We're past Halloween!"

"How would he arrive at a conclusion like that?" Donatello looked skeptical.

"I guess because he knows his work," said April. "He seems to think that science has proved the existence of ghosts."

"And maybe it has," said Leonardo. "He's put years of study into a field that you haven't, Donatello."

"That's true, but that still doesn't make him right," Donatello argued. "The general scientific community as a whole doesn't share his views."

"I don't really care about the general scientific community," Michelangelo interrupted. "I care about getting our bud back! So how do we do that?!"

Splinter leaned over into the viewscreen. "We will be there shortly, April," he promised. "Wait before you send for an ambulance. Considering the unique circumstances, I have an idea that might be better."

"Dr. Spengler didn't think an ambulance or the hospital would help, either, but I'm still not really sure I understand why," April frowned.

"The hospital is for healing the body," Splinter said. "In this situation, their bodies are unhurt and only remain unconscious because their spirits are absent."

"Okay," April said slowly. "What kind of idea do you have, Splinter?"

"When a loved one is in a coma, sometimes those who care for them can call them back," Splinter explained. "But it can generally only work if they want the injured one back with all their heart."

April bit her lip. "What if the person isn't really a loved one, but you don't want them to suffer anyway?"

"I do not know," Splinter admitted. "We will work it out."

"I hope so. I'll see you guys soon." April hung up.

"I don't think she's convinced," Raphael said. "Then again, I'm not sure I am, either. Oh, not that I'm doubting you, Sensei," he hurried on. "It's just that it sounds so different from anything we've done before."

"It is basically meditation, which you are already familiar with," Splinter said. "As you meditate, you think of the person you are trying to contact and reach out into the spiritual plane for their presence."

"Um, Dudes?" Michelangelo said in concern. "If it has to be, like, somebody who wants them back with all their heart, how are we gonna get Vernon back?"

"Whew, don't ask me," said Raphael. "Maybe we'll have to get his sister and his nephew up here from Boston. They're probably the only ones who care about that creep."

"It's not nice to speak ill of the dead, Raphael," said Leonardo.

"Hey, if he's not really dead, he's fair game," Raphael retorted. "Besides, you know as well as I do what Vernon is."

"Yes," Leonardo sighed. "He hasn't been favorable to any of us unless he needs something from us. I guess I'm just thinking about how Baxter was so confident in his hidden strength and he was proven right. I'm wondering if Vernon has any other surprises in store."

"I'm not holding my breath," Raphael grunted. "You don't have to be a nice guy to not be a weakling, O Fearless Leader."

"I know that too," Leonardo said with a nod.

"But you're still not convinced." Raphael shook his head. "Oh brother."

Donatello gripped the steering wheel and looked ahead, not speaking.

Michelangelo was the first to really notice. "Hey, you've been pretty quiet, Donatello. Does the thought of a scientist who believes in ghosts really bug you that much?"

"I'm just thinking how Baxter and I were working on that device just earlier today," Donatello replied, his voice laced with sadness. "Then April called saying Burne was making Baxter go in for the interview. We got talking a little about ghosts and the afterlife and Baxter gave me a few glimpses into his beliefs. He said what he really didn't believe in was the idea of people lingering here after their deaths, not that he didn't believe in a spirit existing at all. And now he's potentially wandering around as a spirit."

"You never believed in ghosts or stuff like that before," Michelangelo said. "Even after that dead guy tried to turn New York into ancient Japan."

"I did concede I was wrong about ghosts then," Donatello said. "There hasn't been much reason to talk about them since then. What I said at the Floxy was true, that science hasn't proved the existence of ghosts."

"So what do you think's happening to Baxter right now?" Michelangelo wondered.

"I was getting to that. If we assume that there is something like a spirit or an essence of a person-what people usually call a ghost-I'm really wondering what Baxter's feeling right now. I think he must be pretty scared, especially if he's not really dead and he isn't in Heaven or something like that."

"That does sound pretty scary," Michelangelo said.

"I mean, think how it would be if one of us was still here but we couldn't communicate with the others," Donatello elaborated.

"Not to mention being stuck with Vernon," Raphael interjected.

"Well, I think Baxter is aware of stuff," Michelangelo said. "And I think Donatello's right that he'd be scared."

"And Vernon must be completely falling apart," Raphael said. "That can't make it easier."

"If there is a way to save them, we have to be able to," Leonardo declared.

"We will certainly do everything we can, my students," said Splinter.

The scene at the construction site was sad. The Ghostbusters were trying to brainstorm on what they could do for Baxter and Vernon, if anything, while the poltergeists continued to play unchallenged. April and Irma were kneeling on the floor of the Channel 6 van next to the bodies that had been moved there and covered with a blanket. And seeing them felt unreal and wrong.

"Poor Baxter," Michelangelo said sadly. "And heck, I feel sorry for Vernon too. They both look awfully sad lying there. They kind of look like they're asleep, though, you know?"

"But unfortunately they are not," Splinter said. He got out of the Turtle Van first and went over to the other one. "April, Irma, have there been any new developments?"

The girls looked up. "They're definitely alive," April reported. "But they're completely unresponsive. Dr. Spengler says we have to look for their wandering spirits, but I don't know how we'll find them! They're probably not visible like the ghosts they have to fight."

"I still don't get what makes him think something like that happened," Irma frowned. "Or worse things. They just seem like they're in regular comas to me."

"Oh, it's because of that reading on that gizmo he had with him," April said impatiently. "And it was that combined with his knowledge of what they got hit with."

"But he doesn't really know!" Irma insisted. "He's just guessing. And I think all this fooling around with things he doesn't really understand is dangerous!"

Splinter looked to her. "In this case, I still believe Dr. Spengler is very likely right. From everything I have been told of the situation, it makes an unfortunate sense." He knelt above Baxter and Vernon and gently smoothed Baxter's hair back before laying a hand on his forehead. "Looking for their spirits is one idea, but will they find them? And even if they do, what then? I believe we can accomplish more by staying right here."

"You said something about calling them back," April said. "Can we really do that? Irma and I have been hoping and praying, but it hasn't brought them back so far."

"We must actually reach out to them on their current plane," Splinter said. "That can only be accomplished with a great deal of mental thought and concentration." He laid his other hand on Vernon's forehead. "All of us can participate, but in order to reach them we must be completely in tune with their wavelengths."

"And want them back with all our hearts," Michelangelo prompted. "You said that too, didn't you, Sensei?"

"Yes," Splinter nodded. "That is very critical."

"Well, it won't be hard in Baxter's case," Michelangelo said. "Not now that he's our bud. I wanted him back as soon as Donatello took April's call. But how are we gonna reach Vernon?!"

"Let us try and see," Splinter said calmly. "Perhaps if they are together and Dr. Stockman hears us, he can help guide Vernon back with him."

The Turtles gathered around and knelt beside the lifeless forms. "Hey, come back, Baxter Dude," Michelangelo softly pleaded. "You know we really want you, right? You've ended up meaning a whole lot to all of us. You're our amigo."

Donatello laid a hand on Michelangelo's shoulder. "I think the idea of trying to mentally reach out to them is that we're doing it silently and trying to transmit our thoughts."

"Yeah, I know," Michelangelo said. "But I just wanted to say it. You know, in case he'd hear it better that way."

Leonardo smiled sadly. "Hopefully he'll hear both ways. Let's keep at it, everyone."

Irma opened one eye and looked around at everyone present. Then she closed it again and bowed her head. The rest of the group followed suit.

xxxx

The ride in the module was proving to be very awkward. Barney drove in silence, gripping the controls and staring ahead without speaking. Vernon was drawn into a ball with his knees up to his chest. He shook, seeming very forlorn and without real hope. Baxter was tense.

The computer was the one that finally broke the quiet. "Baxter, old pal, how are you feeling?"

"I don't want to be dead," Baxter said matter-of-factly. "I've come through so much and lived. . . . Logically I probably should have been killed long ago." He stared down at his transparent hands. "My life has mostly been filled with sorrow. I feel like I only really started to find happiness over the last several months."

"Maybe Barney is right and you're not really dead," said the computer.

"That's what I hope," Baxter said. "And yet I don't like to raise my hopes too high. To have hope and lose it is worse than simply not hoping in the first place."

"Which is what I've always told you," Barney grunted.

"I know." Baxter turned to look at Vernon, who hadn't budged from his position.

Sensing eyes upon him, Vernon looked up. "I'm just thinking . . . wondering what my family is going to say when they find out I'm dead."

"You don't know that you're dead," Baxter objected.

"I don't want to get my hopes up either," Vernon retorted. He stared blankly at the seat in front of him. "My sister had a rough marriage. . . . She married some guy who just wanted her money. When she divorced him, I tried to do what I could to help her and Foster get a fresh start. But she wanted to stay in Boston and I didn't see how I could leave New York, so I was never able to do as much as I wanted. I don't know that Foster really cares about me. To him I'm probably just his idiot uncle who runs pathetic errands for my boss."

"I've never met your nephew, so I can't really say," Baxter answered. "But I do know that in general, most people love those in their families. Even if it seems like they don't," he added quietly.

Barney still didn't enter the conversation. Baxter doubted he would have even if he could hear both sides of it.

"I suppose you're right," Vernon said.

"Tell me something," Baxter said suddenly. "What do you have against the Turtles? They've saved you so many times. Yet instead of showing gratitude, you revile them."

"I've never liked reptiles," Vernon retorted. "My sister loved them. She had a pet snake when we were children and she liked to terrorize me with it." He shuddered. "It was horrible!"

"But turtles aren't snakes," Baxter pointed out. "And regardless, why can't you make an exception for these reptiles?"

"Huge talking reptiles are my worst nightmare!" Vernon insisted. "And ever since I met the Ninja Turtles, my life has been upsidedown and backwards! Every time I see them, that's all I can think about! They save me, sure, but I wouldn't be in most of the messes I get into if they weren't around in the first place! It's their enemies who are always coming after me!"

"They're not responsible for this mess," said Baxter.

"No, this one is all April's fault," Vernon scowled. "But she's probably just thinking what an incredible story this will make-two people killed during one of the Ghostbusters' ghost fights!"

"Is that really what you think?" Baxter frowned.

"Why not? She only ever cares about her stories," Vernon insisted. "If anyone gets hurt, that really isn't a problem for her!"

"That isn't true," Baxter said firmly. "She was devastated when we were blasted. I saw her reaction firsthand. I'll admit she gets caught up in the excitement of her stories. It's the same with scientists focusing wholeheartedly on their inventions and discoveries. Sometimes we forget that other people may be harmed. That doesn't mean we don't care if that's what ends up happening."

Vernon gave him a curious look. "No one else around here has ever tried actually talking seriously to me before. They always just brush me off."

"You make it easy for people to dismiss you," Baxter said frankly. "You have come across as an idiot to me as well. But you proved yourself stronger than people thought you were, including yourself. Maybe you're not as stupid as you come across either."

"Everyone hates me," Vernon whimpered.

"And you tend to give the impression that you don't care very much for anyone else," Baxter replied. "If you didn't always leave people to fend for themselves when danger comes along, it might go a long way in making you look like a much more decent person."

"But everyone else handles danger better than me," Vernon objected. "Everyone else is braver than me, even Irma. What could I possibly do that she or April couldn't do better?"

"It's not a matter of doing it better," Baxter answered. "It's just a matter of not running out on your friends."

"I'm too afraid," Vernon retorted. "And it's not like I'll have any chance to try again anyway."

Baxter paused. ". . . Do you feel that?"

"Feel what?" Vernon frowned.

"It suddenly felt like something was reaching out to me," Baxter explained. "No . . . someone. They're calling to me. They want me to come home."

"I don't feel anything," Vernon cried. "They're calling you, but they don't want me! Where am I going to go?!"

"Calm down and focus," Baxter told him. "I can feel different voices . . . different people. I can't distinguish words, but I sense the message they're trying to get across. It's comforting."

He had to wonder, though-"home" in this sense was usually used to refer to Heaven, and he wasn't even sure he would go there upon dying. He had only committed gravely wrong acts while out of his mind, but would that make a difference? He had tried not to think of it much before, afraid of the answer, but now he had to think about it.

Barney didn't seem to have the same doubts. He slammed his hand on the console. "Then why don't you follow the voices already?!" he snapped. "Go on! Go 'home'!"

Baxter flinched. ". . . You want me to leave that badly?"

Barney glowered ahead and didn't answer.

"Barney," the computer spoke now. "If Baxter is dead, are you going to leave things like this? Are you just going to let him leave thinking that you really want him gone?"

"I do want him gone," Barney muttered. "If it is the end. I thought there was still a chance, but I don't want to keep being tortured thinking maybe he'll be alright if he really can't be! If voices are calling to him, then . . ." He trailed off, his shoulders slumping.

"Barney . . ." Now understanding, Baxter got up and walked over to where Barney was. "It hurts you that much?"

Barney gripped the controls. "We're about to break the surface," he said. "Is that going to jostle you if you don't sit back down?"

". . . I don't know," Baxter said. He sat next to Barney.

Barney still said nothing more about his feelings. Instead he maneuvered the module through the ground and up onto the surface. But then, rather than getting up and opening the door, he just sat where he was.

"This is too much to process," he said at last. "You came to me. Me, of all people! And I can see and hear you when others can't. And now you're leaving for good."

Baxter looked at him sadly. "I don't know why I went to you," he admitted. "You're my brother, whether or not you really want to embrace that fact. Maybe I went to you for help. . . . Or maybe it was to say Goodbye."

"Baxter, old pal . . ." The computer sounded sorrowful. "I'm glad we met again. And even if it was only for several months, I'm glad that you finally found happiness."

"Thank you," Baxter rasped. "I'm glad you're still alright. And I'm glad Barney is going to put you in a laptop. It's smaller than any of the units you're used to, but I know it will be the best it can be. Barney is a superb inventor." He looked to Barney, who just looked back. His eyes, however, flickered with an unknown emotion.

"Barney . . ." It was difficult to even know what to say when the conversation was one-sided. "Thank you for trying to help me," he said at last, laying a hand on Barney's shoulder. "That's more than you ever used to do. It means a great deal to me."

"Baxter . . ." Barney finally spoke. ". . . I hope they'll treat you well," he said gruffly.

Baxter was genuinely happy that Barney had said something. He smiled before turning away and walking back to Vernon. "Let's go, Mr. Fenwick."

"What?" Vernon looked up in shock. "I thought you were going to leave me. I still can't hear or feel anything!"

"I can't just leave you here," Baxter retorted. "We'll sort it out when we get to wherever we're going." He reached out a hand to pull Vernon up.

Vernon allowed it, still regarding Baxter in surprised amazement. "Maybe . . . maybe I am starting to hear something," he mused.

"Focus on it," Baxter told him. "That will lead us on."

Barney dared to look back, just in time to see Baxter shimmer and vanish. He swore under his breath and slumped over the console, digging a hand into his hair.

xxxx

It was Splinter who ceased concentrating and looked up first. "I feel something," he said. "I believe Dr. Stockman has heard us. Do you feel it too, my students?"

Michelangelo looked up too. "I think I do," he said in amazement. "It feels . . . like maybe someone else just showed up. Baxter Dude?" He leaned over the motionless body. "Are you there?"

Baxter's eyes slowly opened. "Michelangelo? . . . What . . ." He looked up at everyone, the confusion obvious in his face and voice. "I'm alive?!"

"Alright!" Michelangelo broke into a big grin as he and the other Turtles cheered. "Yes! You are back among the alive and kicking, Baxter!" And to Baxter's shock, Michelangelo promptly glomped him.

The other Turtles paused, blinking in almost equal surprise.

Realizing what he had done, Michelangelo quickly let go. "Uh, sorry about that, Compadre. . . ."

Baxter adjusted his glasses. "No one's ever been that excited to see me before. I don't mind. But I . . . I don't know what to say." He still looked dazed. "I thought I was dead. . . ."

"Apparently the beam that hit you and Vernon was strong enough to forcefully wrench your spirits from your bodies," Splinter told him.

"But Master Splinter knew how to call you home," Leonardo smiled.

". . . So yours were the voices I felt," Baxter mused. "Of course. And home meant here, not Heaven. . . . Or wherever I'd go. . . ."

"Not yet, Baxter!" Michelangelo beamed. "Not for a long time!"

"I'm so glad you're alright, Dr. Stockman!" April exclaimed. "I'm . . . oh no." She looked over at Vernon. "Vernon hasn't made it back."

"Uh oh." Michelangelo frowned. "What do we do now, Sensei? We really tried to get both of them, but it looks like it didn't work."

Baxter looked over in concern. "I tried to bring him with me. . . . I thought it worked."

"We must keep trying," Splinter said. "Or perhaps the . . . Ghostbusters will have some luck finding where he has wandered to."

"But they've been looking for ages!" Irma protested.

"They won't be able to see him even if they do find him," Baxter said grimly. "We had a . . . very difficult time being seen or heard."

His thoughts turned quickly to Barney. Would he decide to come see what was happening? Or would he just turn back to the Technodrome? He had seemed so upset, so unlike how Baxter had thought he would act. Baxter needed to go find him and let him know he was alright. But he didn't like to leave until this problem was resolved. Vernon had been so frightened, and since Baxter had been as well, he could thoroughly understand.

April looked forlornly at Vernon's unresponsive form. "Oh Vernon, please come back," she begged. "This was all my fault. I shouldn't have been so eager for a story that I endangered other people's lives. I didn't want anything horrible to happen to anyone, including you."

Irma also determined to try again. "Come on, Vernon," she whispered. "Don't leave us hanging. You want to get back, so why don't you come already?! What do we have to do to get you back?!"

"So do you think that will work?" Raphael said under his breath. "April's guilt is probably the closest thing we can get to 'wanting him back with all our hearts' without sending for his family."

"And I'd sure hate to put the microdude through that," Michelangelo frowned.

"I think Foster could handle it," Donatello said. "Especially knowing we got Baxter back."

"We might have to do it," Leonardo said. "I'm afraid that as hard as we try, none of us really care enough about Vernon personally to make it work."

"Wait, my students," Splinter implored.

After a moment Vernon stirred and opened his eyes. "What happened?" he moaned. "Is this Heaven?"

Irma brightened. "Hardly," she said, leaning into his line of vision.

He bolted upright like a shot. "I'm alive?!"

"Yes, Vernon!" April assured him.

"Dr. Stockman too?" Vernon looked over at Baxter, who met his gaze.

Irma looked surprised and pleased that Vernon had asked. "Yeah. You're both fine." She relaxed and smiled. "Everything's going to be okay." She looked to April for confirmation.

"It will be now," April agreed. "Dr. Stockman, Vernon, I am so sorry this happened to you. It wouldn't have happened if you hadn't been trying to film the story I wanted so much."

Vernon looked stunned. "You're actually sorry?"

"Of course I am!" April cried. "You thought I wouldn't be?!"

"You never seemed sorry before," Vernon informed her.

April looked down. "Nothing this horrible has ever happened before," she said quietly.

"It isn't entirely Miss O'Neil's fault," Baxter spoke up. "I could have voiced an objection, but I didn't. I wanted to see how the Ghostbusters operated myself."

"You scientists and your curiosity," Vernon scowled. "But that was only on this occasion. I'm thinking of many more that you had absolutely nothing to do with."

Irma looked to Vernon. Despite her own frustrations with April's behavior, she felt the need to defend her friend in light of Vernon's revelations. "You never seem sorry when you run away and leave us," she said. "Lots of horrible things could happen when you do that."

Vernon started. "But you can handle things better than I can," he protested. "I can't help you and I'd only get hurt."

"Have you ever even tried?" Irma pointed out.

Vernon looked at her like she'd asked him to stand on his head. "Me, deliberately get into danger?!"

"Actually, you did when Foster was involved," Raphael piped up.

"Well, sure, but he's just a child," Vernon objected. "April and Irma are both adults and they're both fierce go-getters . . . in their own ways. I've watched them handle all kinds of situations in ways that I never could."

"If you can do it for Foster, you could do it for other people too," Irma said. "If you really care about them."

"Why does what I do matter to you anyway?" Vernon wondered.

"We have to work with you every day," Irma said. "It would be nice to know that we can rely on you. Sometimes we really do need another hand. And you're better than you think you are, than any of us thought you were. Even you could probably be reliable if you try."

Vernon just looked at her in confused amazement.

"But even if you're still going to be a real pain, we're glad you're back," Irma continued.

April nodded. "That's right, Vernon. We are."

"You really mean that," Vernon realized. His expression changed to awe.

Baxter interrupted the conversation by pushing himself up. "Excuse me," he said. "I need to do something."

"Like, are you sure you feel well enough to get up?" Michelangelo asked in concern.

"I'm fine," Baxter assured him. "I just need to make sure someone else knows that too."

He moved slowly as he climbed out of the van and to the ground. The blast had definitely left an ache for the time being, but he wasn't about to complain. It was far better to suffer through the inconvenience of the pain rather than to be unable to feel it due to being out of his body.

The feeling that he was being watched startled him into looking over near a stand of trees. Barney was standing there, looking back at him but making no motion to come forward.

Baxter started to move towards him. "Barney?" The utter silence disturbed him. He was used to Barney blowing up. He would have been able to handle Barney screaming at him for one reason or another, but how was he supposed to deal with a seemingly unmoved Barney?

"Baxter, old pal!" the computer exclaimed. "Barney said you were alright! He said he saw you waking up in the van."

"Yes," Baxter said. "I'm alright." He looked from the motherboard in Barney's hands to Barney himself. "It was my friends calling me back. It wasn't God or angels or . . ." He swallowed hard. "Barney, please say something. . . ."

Finally Barney leaned in close. "Don't do that again," he hissed.

Baxter stared at him. "Barney, I . . . I wasn't trying to hurt you. Please believe me. It was horrible for me too! I didn't even mean to go to you in the first place. It was an accident. . . ."

"You didn't hurt me." Barney turned away. "This whole experience was just an incredible inconvenience. I was busy; I didn't have time to get waylaid by a dead brother who wasn't even really dead."

"Barney, don't do this to Baxter," the computer pleaded.

Baxter drew a shaking breath. "No . . . he has a right to be angry. I did hurt him, even if he won't admit it. I've never seen him act this way before. I must have put him through so much. He already struggles with how he feels about me, and then I show up apparently dead to give him something else to struggle with. He has the idea that maybe I'm not dead and he takes the time, completely voluntarily, to try to find out. But then I feel like I'm being called 'home' and he has to face the idea again that I'm dead and that I'm leaving him before he really a chance to handle the situation. Then he finds that I'm alive after all. Why shouldn't he be angry?"

Barney spun around. "I shouldn't be angry!" he screamed. "I should just be happy you're alright, or relieved, or something like that. Instead I'm furious at you for 'putting me through' all that! And you just stand there and make excuses for me! Why are you like that?"

". . . Would you be happier if I were angry with you?" Baxter asked.

"It's what I deserve," Barney muttered bitterly. He started to turn away again. "I am glad you're alright, Brother. You deserve better than just a few months out of a lifetime to be happy."

"It means a great deal to me that you would say that, Barney," Baxter said.

"Maybe we'll see you again soon, Baxter, old buddy," said the computer.

"I hope so," Baxter said.

Barney just nodded noncommittally and started back through the trees to the transport module. Baxter stood and watched until he was out of sight. Then he sighed and turned back to the news van and his new life.

xxxx

It was an interesting scene in the Ghostbusters' headquarters that night. After a long battle against the poltergeists, which the Ghostbusters had finally won, they had invited everyone to the lighthouse for a celebration and the rest of the interview.

"Now this is my kind of party!" Michelangelo exclaimed as he eyed the buffet table loaded with many kinds of pizza.

Slimer seemed to think so too. He floated around in delight, grabbing a piece here and a piece there while Peter yelled at him in frustration.

Baxter watched the antics with a raised eyebrow. "If that creature is actually a ghost, how does he manage to eat anything?" he said in disbelief.

"That's one of the biggest mysteries about ol' Slimer," Winston said. "We're still trying to figure that one out."

Over in the corner, Donatello seemed to be in a very involved discussion with Egon. Raphael paused to listen and then walked on, shaking his head.

"So what are they talking about?" Michelangelo wondered.

"I have no idea," Raphael proclaimed. "I don't think they're agreeing on much. Although the guy's willing to listen to Donatello's ideas, at least. Who knows; maybe they're making friends."

"All of these people seem to be pretty accepting of us," Leonardo observed with a smile. "That's nice for a change."

"Hey, they encounter bizarre things every day," Raphael shrugged. "What do you expect?"

"Dr. Stantz even seems to be a fan," Leonardo chuckled as Ray cornered Michelangelo and started yakking away.

"They seem to be discussing comic books," Splinter said.

"Well, what do you know. I guess there's one on every team," said Raphael.

"And Dr. Venkman isn't giving up with April." Leonardo indicated Peter and April at the buffet table. He was clearly flirting again, while she remained unmoved.

"And now Irma's chumming with their secretary," Raphael said.

Indeed, Irma and Janine were over at Janine's desk, apparently engaged in a serious conversation.

"I wonder what they're talking about," Raphael mused.

"Where's Vernon?" Leonardo suddenly wondered.

"Over at the buffet table . . . again," said Raphael. "I'm starting to wonder how he stays thin."

"He looks like his mind is somewhere else," Leonardo observed.

"Somehow I do not think he will stay here much longer," said Splinter. "After what happened today, he was most likely not in the mood for a social event."

"How are you feeling, Baxter?" Leonardo asked.

"Strange," Baxter said honestly. "It feels . . . unreal to be alive. And I don't know how I feel about having firsthandedly proven the existence of ghosts and spirits."

"Donatello said you told him that you didn't actually disbelieve in their existence so much as in the idea that they can linger on Earth," Splinter said.

"That's true," Baxter acknowledged. "And I'm still horrified at the idea of anyone lingering. Communication is almost impossible, and when it is, that actually makes things worse."

"Do you wish to talk about it?" Splinter wanted to know.

"Not here," Baxter said. "Maybe later."

Splinter gave a kind nod. "Whenever you wish."

Michelangelo hurried over to them then, his eyes wide. "Ray and me are gonna have a comic trade-off day!" he exclaimed. "He's got a lot of mondo exciting series that I couldn't ever get hold of, and he wants to try Bugman!"

"Well, you're in seventh Heaven," Raphael quipped.

Michelangelo grinned. "These guys are great!" he proclaimed.

"I'd say Donatello thinks so too," Raphael remarked.

"So we've made five . . . six new friends topside," Leonardo smiled, ducking as Slimer flew overhead with an entire pizza while Peter exploded in aggravation.

"That Slimer is my kind of ghost," Michelangelo laughed.

Leonardo chuckled. "I'm sorry we had to meet the way we did, but I'm really glad to know them."

Splinter nodded. "One can never have too many friends and allies."

Baxter had to agree. But he prayed silently that Barney would find peace. He still wanted his brother's friendship as well.

"Baxter . . ."

He looked up as Michelangelo spoke. He sounded serious now.

"Hey, um . . . I heard what Barney was screaming at you," Michelangelo admitted. "I kind of followed you for a while because I wasn't sure you should be walking around. . . ."

"I don't blame Barney for being upset," Baxter said. "I guess in one way, I'm almost glad. It's probably the closest I'll ever get to knowing he cares about me."

"That is so not cool, Dude," Michelangelo said. "Family just isn't supposed to be like that." He hesitated a moment before barreling on, "Didn't he feel sad for you that you'd been put through so much? I mean, it's not like you were trying to do anything to him. You were just really scared and trying to reach out to him for help."

"He knows that," Baxter replied, although silently he had to admit that Michelangelo's troubled feelings were reaching a part of him that had been pierced by Barney's outburst. Michelangelo had been his strongest supporter and the most willing to give Barney a chance, but for Barney to act like that with Baxter was finally making him start to doubt. Naturally it would; Michelangelo found such a dysfunctional relationship all but incomprehensible.

Pushing back his feelings, Baxter said, "Barney's problem is that he cares about me, but he doesn't know how to deal with that fact because at the same time . . . he hates me." His shoulders slumped. "And I put him through an emotional roller-coaster today. He had to face the idea of me really being out of his life for good, and he didn't like it." That brought a ghost of a smile. "He didn't like it at all."

Michelangelo shifted. "So . . . you're really okay with how he acted?"

"I'm not, really," Baxter answered. "Part of me is deeply hurt. But the other part understands. And I don't have much choice but to be 'okay' with it. Barney is what he is. He won't easily change, not unless he can come to terms with his feelings. And after a lifetime of hating me, I'm afraid I don't have much hope for that."

"It's just not right," Michelangelo said again, shaking his head. "I'm really sorry you have to deal with him treating you like that, Baxter."

Baxter sighed, wearily. "I guess I'd prefer staying away from him until he calms down. But with Shredder around, who knows when we'll meet up again."

Michelangelo started to turn away but stopped, looking worried. "I wonder what'd happen if he gets put in charge of a plan before he calms down."

Baxter cringed. "I don't like to think about it. We might both end up hurt."

"You don't think he'd try to hurt you, do you, Dude?" Michelangelo asked.

"No. He would try to avoid hurting me, maybe even more than usual, and that is what might get him badly hurt." Baxter shuddered.

"Then hopefully that will never happen," Michelangelo declared.

Baxter dazedly nodded.

Donatello joined the group then. "Hi, guys. Baxter, are you holding out okay?"

"I'm alright," Baxter said. "Although I was thinking of leaving soon."

"Yeah, I'm sure a day like today would really wear you out," Donatello said sympathetically. "It looks like Vernon's trying to slip out now. He's talking to Irma at the door."

"So I'm still baffled about something," said Raphael. "How did we get Vernon back? And who got Vernon back? Was it us, trying to do the right thing? Was it Baxter, trying to take him with him? Was it April and her guilt?"

"Perhaps it was Irma," said Splinter.

"Irma?!" all Turtles echoed.

"Or perhaps not," Splinter continued. "Perhaps it was all of us collectively, since we did not want even Vernon to suffer."

"But Sensei, you said that to reach out to someone in the most effective way, the person had to want them back with all their hearts," Raphael said.

"And deep down, all of us did," Splinter said calmly. "No matter how much we dislike Vernon's behavior, the thought of abandoning him to such a frightening fate was not something we could accept in good conscience."

"That's true," Leonardo agreed.

"I do not know for certain what happened, my students," Splinter continued. "Nor do I believe it truly matters. The important thing is that he found his way back."

The Turtles nodded, accepting that pronouncement.

Donatello looked to Baxter again. "What was it like, Baxter?" he asked quietly. "Were you really experiencing things the whole time, like Dr. Spengler and Master Splinter said?"

"Yes, I was," Baxter said. "There wasn't a moment that I was unaware of everything. It was . . . extremely enlightening and incredibly frightening. And I never want to experience anything like that again."

"I hope you won't have to for a really long time," Donatello said in all sincerity. And he meant it, but the look in his eyes said that he still wanted to know more about what it had been like.

Baxter recognized that look. He had seen it in the eyes of every scientist he had ever known. And he would tell Donatello more, he was sure. Just not now.

At the door, Vernon was indeed quite determined to leave. After a moment, Irma followed him out.

"So what was up with that?" Raphael blinked.

"She probably just thinks he shouldn't be driving after today," Leonardo said. "And he probably shouldn't."

Raphael shrugged. "That makes sense. I guess."

Baxter didn't comment. He had to admit, he would be curiously watching Vernon to see if his behavior would improve in any way after the discussions he and April and Irma had had with him. Vernon didn't seem the sort who would easily change, but that didn't mean he couldn't.

Of course, maybe Baxter was really only thinking that because he hoped that the seemingly immovable Barney could also change for the better someday.