My memorial to the late Harold Ramis. Please review.
-Summer 1994-
In doubt, he once said, "See you on the other side, Ray," and after that night gave no thought again that he would need to say goodbye to a friend until many years later when it was too late.
Three men stood in a subway car, six-o-clock on a summer evening in the dead stagnant air. Three men of four: an incomplete team. It had been that way for only a couple of weeks and it was as new and strange as adjusting to a missing limb.
They seemed pale and tired and appeared to be breaking into their new routine. Things had been busy and help was one good scientist short.
"We caught a big one today. Nice work, men." Peter smiled, but not with his eyes.
Winston held a smoking trap by its power cord. "I don't know if I like all of this activity lately. Almost as busy as it used to be. Reminds me of the old days."
"Not quite like the old days," Ray mumbled with a cigarette between his teeth. He lit the end and breathed in.
There was an uncomfortable silence between them. The car scraped along on its tracks, noisily bouncing with the elastic noise of a rusty spring. Two women chatted incessantly in the back. Across the car, a young man with glasses shuffled away from his disapproving friend to approach Peter Venkman. He paused as the train hit an awkward turn and jolted, then took two shy steps to stand in front of his childhood heroes.
"Look, ah… you guys are the Ghostbusters, right?"
Winston and Ray looked at each other in mild confusion.
"Well, you see, I… I heard about Dr. Spengler's passing on the news. I'm so sorry. I really looked up to you guys when I was younger, and I—"
"Thanks, kid." Peter straightened his back and rolled his eyes to look at Winston and Ray before flicking his gaze back to his quiet fan. He noticed that the young man carried a beaten briefcase with a Ghostbusters sticker on it. "You know, it's been pretty hard for us all. We haven't replaced him yet, but we're thinking about it. Do you know anyone who's about six-foot-two, maybe likes to collect mold?"
Brow furrowed, Ray drew the cigarette out of his mouth.
"Too soon?"
"Venkman, leave the kid alone." He turned to the fan, who was now trembling with regret. "Thank you for your thoughts. Really. Most people are afraid to mention it to us."
The young man nodded and backed away as the subway train slowed to a halt and stumbled out of the doors, regardless of the stop, followed by his embarrassed companion.
"What the hell was that all about?" Ray snapped.
"I was trying to lighten the mood. It's how I deal with things."
"How do you think that would make Egon feel?"
"Egon? Ray, Egon is dead. Now, I know I make a living off of hanging around with dead guys, but trust me, he can't hear you. Wherever he is, it's not here."
Winston shrank away from his associates.
Ray's eyes flared. "I've done my research. There is a reasonable possibility that Egon still exists within our dimension. Where, I don't know, but I believe it."
"Ray, it's time to let go. The man was a genius. If he hasn't found us by now, he never will."
He thought for a moment, then began to walk himself through a new theory, his earnest voice rising with excitement. "Venkman, what if maybe we get a call and they say there's a full-torso apparition going around swabbing stuff for samples? We show up and there he is, and he hasn't come to see us because he was just being himself and bumming around doing research for a while? We don't know anything about a ghost's concept of time. Three weeks or so to us might seem like an hour to him!"
"Three weeks. Wow, Ray. You even counted. Look, why are we dwelling on this? We can remember Egon without going on like this."
"You're just saying that because it's hurting you and you know it."
Peter winced. Those words were like a blow to the back of the skull with a pick-axe. Of course they were true, but he hadn't intended to admit it.
"I think Ray is right," Winston said, rejoining the group with hesitance. "I believe in life after death, we all do. We see ghosts every day. Why not Egon?"
"I'll tell you why not Egon." Peter jerked his head to the side with annoyance. "We won't see Egon in our line of duty because he died. He died. You were there. We can't just deal with this and go home, because this time it was us. He was one of us—our friend. He was a good guy. We all loved him, but we're never going to see him again."
Ray looked out the window in solemn contemplation. What Peter said couldn't be true. Could it?
"Cheers to the happy couple!" Winston raised his glass of champagne. Laughing and the clinking of glasses filled the Sedgewick's ballroom.
The bride's mother, an older widow, smiled shrewdly. "Why don't we hear something from the best man?" She had been making eyes at him all night.
Egon stood stiffly and glanced around as the merry clamor in the room became a hushed tone. In his low monotone, he began his speech. "I have had the pleasure of knowing Ray for a very long time. I worked with him for years in a university setting until the dean terminated our grant. It was in trashing this very ballroom some six years ago that I feel I got to know the true Ray."
He shifted his weight, looking bored. "But who is the true Ray, you might ask? Personally, I believe that the essence of a human being's personality becomes clear in a stressful situation, and so the true Ray might be a man who tries to keep things neat in his workspace but who isn't afraid to flip over several expensive table displays if he has to. He might be a man who's just partial to Staypuft marshmallows." Silence took hold as Egon chuckled at his own joke. The smile faded slightly in the quiet and Egon continued, straight-faced. "It takes a brave man to get married these days, especially considering that the divorce rates are as high as they've ever been and rising."
"You're dying here, Egon," Peter growled through his teeth. "Wrap it up."
"I guess what I'm saying is that I'm not surprised that Ray fell in love. Of course, that's if you believe in love. Some say it's a chemical biological response that indicates that—"
"Egooooon Spengleeeeeer," Peter hooted in his announcer voice. "Give it up, ladies and gentlemen. You know, I really thought that I should have been the best man—"
Ray began to applaud loudly. "Egon and Peter! Aren't they great?"
Scattered clapping filled the room. Peter sat down and kissed Dana, who pulled away unamused.
"Let's, ah…" Ray glanced at his bride with an uncomfortable smile. "Let's get on the dance floor, everyone."
The party settled into a joyful humor as music played and the night went on. Peter and Egon stood off to the side of the floor, watching Winston flirt with a dark-haired beauty as Ray and his young wife danced.
"Just look at him. Even Winston's getting action now, and he lives with his mother. You have to get out there, Spengs. While you're still young and beautiful."
"Marriage has never been an aspiration of mine, Venkman. I'm married to my work."
"You're saying you've never wanted to settle into a house with a nerdy missus and raise a bunch of little Spenglers? That shocks me, Egon."
"Mock me if you want, I can tell you're not serious. Sure, I might consider it, but she would need to respect my work. You know I'm not the sentimental type."
"I've found you just the right girl, my friend. She's over by the newlyweds. Be sure she can't tell you're looking at her. Don't turn your head, just kind of turn your eyes." Peter pointed with a nod.
Standing exasperated across the room was Janine, in a bright pink party dress trimmed with yellow and blue roses. Egon noticed that she looked more like she had when he met her than she had in years. Louis Tully was speaking to her relentlessly, going on and on about something loudly, presumably himself.
"Janine? Venkman, you've got it all wrong. We're just co-workers. She no longer expresses the interest in me that she used to. In fact, I'm not sure what happened. I thought we had some kind of mutual flirtation."
"Mutual flirtation? You never looked at her twice! The woman is desperate. She wants you, but she'll settle for less, and for two years she has been."
"Has it really been that long?" His eyes widened with bewilderment. "Maybe you're right."
"I am. I'm always right. Now go talk to her!"
Egon hesitated. "I think they're going steady."
Laughing, Peter put his hand on Egon's shoulder. "Going steady? Come on, we're all adults here. Can't you tell he's boring her to death? She's into you, man. I guarantee that whatever's going on between the two of them will be over by the end of the night. Go get her!"
A smile flickered on his face for an instant. He met his friend's gaze with anxious eyes. "How do I look?"
"Like a god."
Egon reached out and took the glass of champagne that Peter was holding and drank it all in one gulp. He then approached the object of his affections, who had begun to dance with her date.
"Um, Louis…?"
"Hi there, Dr. Spengler. I was just thinking about you the other day. There was a special on TV about—"
"I was wondering if you'd let me cut in."
Janine's eyes filled with gratitude and wonder as her sly cat-smile turned up the corners of her lips.
The intention registered in Tully's eyes. "Oh, sure. I was just gonna go say hello to Dr. Venkman." He sulked away and left the two alone.
"Why, Egon," Janine sighed when they were alone, "I never knew you had it in you."
"I've come to the understanding—that is, I've taken the word of a friend that you're still interested in me. Romantically. Is that true?"
She blushed, her eyes alighting, and lowered her tone. "You know I'm with Louis now. We can't talk about that here."
"But is it?"
An annoyed tone crept back into her voice. "Yes, it's true."
Elated, but confused, Egon raised an eyebrow. "Then I don't see why you're upset."
"Aren't you going to ask me to dance?"
"I guess so." He looked to the side to see that no one was watching. "Will you dance with me?"
Janine smiled coyly. "Okay."
The band had stuck up a slow number, courtesy of Peter, who gave his friend two thumbs-up from across the floor. Egon put one arm around Janine's waist and took her hand with the other in a display of shocking skill.
"Oooh, you have experience with dance, I take it?"
"Only from what I've seen in movies. I asked a girl to dance at prom and she sprayed mace in my eyes. I think she thought I was Peter."
Janine laughed. Louis watched in defeat as his adversary gave him a passing glance.
"If you wanted to be with me," Egon asked his dance partner, "why are you with him?"
"People don't live forever, Egon. I waited five years for you to notice me until one day I decided I'd move on. Every moment I was thinking of you. To be honest, I've been meaning to leave Louis but I don't have the heart to tell him."
"Then I'll tell him for you." Egon tried to break away.
"No," she smiled, "let me do it. I'll tell him after we send off the bride and groom."
"And after that, what happens?"
Janine lowered the volume of her voice to look up at Egon, who noticed that her eyelids were made up with a smoky grey. "After that, tonight or after that, in general?"
He cleared his throat. "In general."
"You and I could go out for a drink sometime and talk about it."
Egon swallowed hard and nodded. "And tonight?"
"I was thinking maybe you could be a gentleman and walk me home."
A smirk flashed briefly on Egon's face and the song was over.
"How do I look?" Standing at the head of the Ghostbusters headquarters dinner table, Winston straightened his tie and pulled the lapels of his dark grey suit into place. "Tonight's an important anniversary for Marcia and me."
"You look great." Ray and Peter sat side-by-side as Peter ate and Ray picked at his food.
"Any special plans?" Peter looked up from his carton of Chinese food as Winston pulled a small velvet box out of his pocket. He opened it to reveal an ornate diamond ring set in silver.
"Wow," Ray whispered, impressed. "How long have you been planning this?"
"I've been thinking about it for a while, but I bought the ring a couple of weeks ago." Smiling sadly, he snapped the box shut and ran his thumb across its smooth black surface. "Just after Egon died. I figured… life is short. We've only got a little time to do the things we want to do. I just hope she says yes."
Peter nodded. "I knew all along you crazy kids were gonna make it."
Her presence less sharp than it once had been, Janine entered the room with downcast eyes. She was carrying a large cardboard box.
"Hi, Janine," Ray said quietly, almost gently, as if he feared to upset her by acknowledging that she was there. She glanced up at him with a grateful smile.
"Don't worry, boys, no calls since this afternoon. I've just been helping, um…" She cleared her throat. "I've been helping Egon's family collect some of his things. I need to get into the storage closet."
"I'll unlock it for you," said Winston, who took the keys from the table and crossed the room.
Ray put his chopsticks down. "Would you like to come sit and eat with us?"
"No thank you, I'm not very hungry."
"That's alright. Ray finished most of it anyway," Peter joked. He glanced over at Ray to find that he had barely touched his food. This was an unsettling first, or so it seemed. His friend was too distraught to eat, and surely he had been just as sick and unhappy for two weeks now. How hadn't he noticed? Was he so selfish? "Or I did, actually."
There was a nearly silent click as Winston turned the key in the lock and pulled open the door. Stacked inside was the equipment Egon had been using to research paranormal phenomena at the time of his death: microscopes, test tubes, charts in his handwriting. From the air about them radiated a perceptible cold which pierced the air and chilled every person in the room to the bone.
Janine shivered.
Winston pulled his coat tighter about himself. "You okay?"
She nodded. "Yes, I… I'm fine." She placed the box down at her feet. "In fact, I feel better than I did before. I don't know why." The sudden draft died with a whisper, something only she heard, and with a quiet gasp Janine noticed that Egon's folded uniform lay folded at her feet.
"Egon," Ray mused, "do you believe in the afterlife?"
He raised his eyebrows. "We see the ectoplasmic remnants of life energy every day."
The two men were sitting seven feet underground and looking up at the darkening sky. A special call in the countryside had brought the Ghostbusters to the ramshackle remains of an old house. There, the combined weight of their feet on the old floor and the stress of the proton streams within the building caused the men to fall through the wooden planks and a second floor into the cellar too far below to climb out. All had suffered various minor injuries and there wasn't a phone or a road in sight.
"I don't mean ghosts. I mean spirits. Forget science."
Winston had gone to sleep an hour prior after the men had taken turns calling for help. At the edge of the pit, Peter was stacking a pile of debris in an attempt to build an escape platform, but whenever it reached a certain height it would collapse again.
Egon's eyes flashed. "Forget science?" He looked almost hurt for a moment. He was tired enough to entertain the thought, and contemplated as he held his wounded arm to his chest. "Science aside? I haven't considered it. I've always felt strongly that science holds an explanation for everything, and yet… scientifically, I know that the mysteries of this universe can't be deciphered completely. Honestly, Ray, I don't know."
Peter's voice rang out in the darkness from where he crouched at the base of a fallen rafter. "Someone come and help me. I have a hot date tonight."
Egon smirked. "Dana?"
"Dana?" Peter mimicked, followed by a roll of the eyes. "Who do you think? Give me a hand."
"It's useless," Ray groaned. "By the time we build a structure stable enough to get us out the wolves will know we're down here and they'll use it to get to us. It's best we just call it quits now and die of exposure like dignified men."
"Don't give up now; you've got a kid on the way." Pausing a moment, Peter stood. "Do you fellas hear that?"
The saving sound of tires crunching dirt and gravel made Winston stir from his sleep. The exhausted team raised their eyes to the shining face above them.
"Janine! There are cables in the back of the Ecto-1 that should be able to reach us. Tie them to something and throw them to us."
"Glad to see you're thankful I found you, Dr. Venkman. Nice to see you boys."
And when they pulled themselves from the wreckage and Egon stumbled into her arms with a cordial "hello,"and she scolded him for being in danger though she knew he could never help it, she pressed her lips to his with a brand of relieved urgency.
"Where did this come from," she breathed, lifting the worn old jumpsuit from the floor and inhaling its scent—chemicals, sweat, Cheez-Its and something like mildew—a familiarity that took her breath away.
Ray raised his eyebrows and stood up from his seat. "Seems like it was sitting in the closet. That's his old one—his first one. If you took his other uniform off the hook for the box, you can have that one." He smiled weakly. "If you wanted to."
"It's probably contaminated with all of that toxic stuff he used to fool around with," said Peter.
"I'm keeping it." She placed it into the box, along with a stack of papers from his notes and his extra pair of glasses, which had been sitting on top of the refrigerator for some forgotten reason. "I want to thank you all for being so supportive. People keep on asking me if I need anything, but knowing I'm not alone is enough."
"It's been hard on us all, Janine." Winston opened the door. "I'm heading out now, if you're going to your car. I can carry that box for you." He was sweating, feeling wrong, thinking how dare he take the future for himself that she wanted, even now, even tonight while she sat at home alone.
"I'll carry it myself."
Peter mouthed "good luck" and Ray gave Winston a thumbs-up behind Janine's back as their friends left the room.
"Egon, you're leaving already? It's only five-o-clock. It seems a little early, especially since you're always so timely." Peter snickered. "Is there something you want to tell us?"
"I've got dinner plans."
"And Janine leaving too, does this have anything to do with it?"
He shrugged with a sly smile.
"You dog! I had no idea!"
"It's a strange world, Peter. Sometimes I even surprise myself."
"I'm looking for some important paperwork," Ray called up to the second floor as he slid down the fire pole. "The Blair Cooper files!"
"Blair Cooper?"
"Yes, the girl who we crossed over!"
Peter frowned, his arms soaked to the elbow with dishwater. He wiped off his hands on the dishtowel and walked to the edge of the pole. "Ray, I don't want you messing with those. That was years ago, it was a one-time deal." He watched as Ray pulled a drawer out of a filing cabinet. "What do you need those for, anyway? Because this time we're charging. We're not a charity operation."
"It's not a case." He turned his back, a pang of sorrow in his eyes. "It's personal."
"Oh, no, no, no." Peter grabbed the pole and slid down to join his friend. "Not this again, Ray. We don't play with this."
"I just think it's possible. Like I said before. He was pretty young, Pete. I mean, if Egon's around, he's not causing any trouble. And I think there's plenty of reasons he would be around. Unfinished research, an inadequate relationship with his family, an untimely death—all grounds for his return."
"Look, I want this to be true as much as you do, but we have to stop kidding ourselves. He's gone. We can't get our hopes up…" he trailed.
"Why not?"
"Because what would happen if we never found him?" Cynicism, it seemed, had spread from Peter's humor to his brain and thrown him into despair. "We used to come out on top no matter what happened because the four of us were a team. But now Egon is dead, and we're going to need to learn to deal with that. Things will never be the same again. He's dead, Ray." There was a long pause.
"I know why you're acting like this." Ray replied finally, quietly, as he drew the folder he needed from the cabinet and pushed the drawer back into place. "No closure."
"Ray… you know that—that isn't true." He felt numb as he watched Ray retreat to one of the offices behind Janine's desk, file in hand. The shrill ringing of the phone shattered the silence.
Peter remembered a cool summer night not long ago, Dana's mouth against his as they lay together in bed. The air conditioner whirred in the corner of the apartment. He pulled her closer to him and kissed her again.
"I should go check on Oscar," she said, her full lips in a half-smile as she tried to break free. Peter pulled her back to him and kissed her again.
"Oscar's fine," he whispered. "We put him to bed an hour ago. The kid's asleep." She laughed as he kissed her at the corner of her mouth, on her cheek, by her ear—tolerantly she laughed, tolerant of his antics, then her face fell—she sat up beside him and ran her fingers through her hair with a frown.
"What's up?"
She thought for a long moment. "Something's wrong." She leapt out of bed, tossing the sheet aside, and walked to the bedroom door. "I'm going to check on him."
"Suit yourself," Peter mumbled, uneasy for the interruption of the peace in the moment. He sat up and put his feet on the floor, listening through the wall from where he was. All was quiet. The door opened with a soft click.
"He's alright," Dana sighed. "It's the strangest thing. I'd better call my mother and ask if everything is okay—"
And at that instant, the phone rang on the bedside table, where Peter was resting his hand. He picked it up.
"Hello? Who's—Janine, is that you? … Slow down, Janine, I can't underst—Egon?" He felt something inside of him sink. "What happened?" Peter listened, and exhaled a deep breath. "Oh my God. I had no idea." Janine sobbed on the end of the other line. "Do you need me to tell the guys?" He nodded solemnly. "Got it. Thanks, Janine. Listen—is he—just tell me, is he going to be alright?" The blood drained from Peter's face. "Well, tell him to hang in there. I'll be with you all as soon as I can."
He replaced the phone on the receiver, feeling decades older.
"Peter, what is it?"
His tongue was dry. Words were cracked and hot in his throat, and when he tried to speak no sound escaped his lips. He tried again, his voice in a different tone than Dana had ever heard it. He did not recognize it as his own voice, or his own words. "Egon is in the hospital. I have to go. Now."
"Ghostbusters."
"It's me."
"Hi, Dana."
"When are you coming home?"
"Looks like I'm staying late tonight. You know, things have been busy. Winston's got a date. It looks like he's going to pop the question."
"That's great! Wish him good luck for me."
"He already left."
"Well, I hope it goes well."
"So do I."
"Look, I'll be honest here. You don't sound like you're feeling okay. I haven't seen you in three days. What's going on?"
"We keep getting calls, and in case you hadn't noticed, we're short-staffed."
"Don't be that way, Peter. I can tell you're hurt by this and you know you can always talk to me."
Peter was silent.
"Do you want me to put Oscar on so you can say goodnight?"
He softened. "…Sure, why don't you do that…"
"Hello," said a quiet and scratchy young voice on the end of the line.
"Hello," Peter echoed. "It's good to hear from you, little man. How was your day today?"
"It was good. Are you gonna come back?"
His honest young words had weight. "Of course I'm gonna come back. I've just been busy."
"Mommy says you're sad. She says she isn't but I think she's sad too."
Peter was humbled that a child could see through him. "Don't worry, kiddo. I'll be home soon."
"Okay, bye."
"Goodbye, kid." The line went dead, and there he stood, still denying to himself inwardly what he said outright, what he had been saying all this time. Egon can't be dead. He can't be. He can't be. In the window, Peter noticed that the "Help Wanted" sign he'd put up the day before had been taken down. He stormed into the office. "Ray!"
"What's up, Pete?" Ray was sitting behind the desk, the case files spread out before him. He was doing calculations and making a sloppy graph with magic marker on the back of a folder.
"Who took that sign in the window down?"
He frowned, an edge on anger in his voice and in his eyes. "It was me."
"And why did you do that? I haven't seen my family in three days. We're too busy to leave. We need help, it's pretty clear. If things get as bad as they used to be we won't be able to handle it."
"I haven't seen my wife or kids either, but that sign in the window is tactless. It's been two weeks. We're not ready yet."
"I'm ready. Let's get this over with."
"Don't mess with me, Peter, I know you understand!" Ray exhaled through clenched teeth. "I didn't want to have this talk with you, Pete. You know you're the best friend I've got." His face was flushed. "Now, anyway. Listen—this is part of the job, this pace. We'll be back to our regular workload soon, I hope. But for now we're not hiring any new recruits. It's bad enough dealing with his empty place. If we try to fill it now, we would be rushing changes, and that would be harder on everyone. We can handle this. I just think..."
"You just think what, Ray?"
"I think you're doing worse than all of us because you never got to say goodbye." Ray stood and threw his marker down on the desk. "I'll be in the garage."
The corridor was lit with yellow light, a pale florescent glow washing the corridor from the ceiling to the floor. Everything was clean and quiet, noise was muffled by the silence itself and by the heartbeat in Peter's ears. Doctors and nurses, patients, nervous visitors all seemed to slow down around him, the hallway hot and cold. He was alone, he left his bed and Dana to come by himself.
"Excuse me, are you alright?" It was a doctor, a kindly-looking older man.
Peter blinked his eyes. The world had gone out of focus and the patterns on the wall looked bleary. "No, I'm fine. I'm looking for someone."
Over the doctor's shoulder, he saw a familiar shape walk out of a room. Ray. Winston followed, Winston closed the door behind him, not speaking, grim and empty.
Staggering forward, Peter reached out and put his hand on the doctor's shoulder and pushed him aside, slowly, sick with uncertainty. Winston was saying something to Ray, who was looking down. He touched Ray's arm as Peter came closer. Ray looked up and met Peter's hollow gaze, squeezing his eyes shut tight, hot tears running down his face. It confirmed the unspeakable.
"Peter," Winston said, "I'm sorry— but Egon…"
Peter closed his eyes.
Now he was alone in the hot night air in old firehouse, on the second floor, as the curtains hung limp on the open window. City noise drifted up through the air and into the room over three empty beds and one body still living, lying awake. Ray was still in the garage, and had been for God knows how long. The bell in the steeple of the Catholic Church two blocks away clanged solemnly once, then was silent. 3:00 AM. Peter couldn't sleep until he was sure that he had convinced himself of the truth. Egon's dead, he thought. I've said it a thousand times and I still can't believe it. Then, after a moment, he grumbled, "Sleep is for suckers."
Barefoot in an old Ghostbusters t-shirt and his boxer shorts, he felt his way through the dark and into the kitchen, where he switched on the light. He pulled the refrigerator door open and grabbed a beer off of the shelf. As he shut the door, he heard a clanging noise from downstairs.
"Ray! Keep it down," he called. Suddenly an arctic chill filled the room and made Peter's heart jump in his chest. He took in a breath and let it out slowly. "…Must have been the air conditioning."
Placing the dark glass bottle on the counter, Peter hastened back to the sleeping quarters in long strides to find that the curtains were blowing in the wind. The air conditioner had been broken for months and was sitting in the corner under a thin layer of dust. By the window, the air was hot as it had been, but with a breeze that turned cold as ice when it blew through the center of the room. Seven paces, Peter measured. There was a clear divide between hot and freezing, and every second the cold grew colder. Seven paces. The room was warm until—Egon's bed. A cold spot, expanding. Peter shuddered.
Mind racing, he raced into the kitchen again. The light bulb blew out above his head, a rain of sparks fading into the dark. The entire kitchen was covered in frost, audible frost, crackling, visible only by the artificial lights on the street outside. The cabinet on the wall above the counter was shaking; its door was trembling on its hinge. It flew open and a box tumbled to the floor.
"…Twinkies? Why—" It can't be.
Peter bent to pick them up and glanced over at the floor. Unearthly, bright-green glowing footprints trailed across the room and out of the kitchen, toward the area designated for experiments—where Egon's equipment sat, where it too lit the dark. Then the sound of test tubes clinking penetrated the silence.
"Ray, knock it off!"
The distinct crash of a dropped breaker, of shattering glass.
"That's it!" Peter seized the frozen beer bottle from the counter and threw it over his shoulder like a bat, thinking the noise was an intruder, creeping forward as the clattering of scientific instruments continued. "I'll count to three!" He exhaled slowly. Come on… "One, two… two and a half…"
The noise suddenly stopped, but Peter was standing before the table now, the bottle raised over his head. "Three!" He swung it fiercely downwards as he stood over the table, but a hand arrested its motion—a luminous hand in the soft green light, a familiar face, a body green from head to toe. The phantom smirked.
"That's not going to be effective, Peter."
"…Spengs?!"
He stood, six-foot-two at full height, and straightened his glasses with a slight smile. There he was, in a different shade, but somehow just the same. Even in death, Egon carried the air he had in life, a strange and individual confidence in his quiet ways.
Peter laughed wildly and clapped Egon on the shoulder, leaving his hand coated in green slime. "Euughh. I don't suppose you'll want a sample of this?"
"I don't think so." He stooped to pick up a vial of something, a red liquid.
"How are you doing that?"
"I can control my state in a semi-solid form. I haven't tried walking through walls yet but I can levitate and—"
"What is that?"
"I'm running some tests."
"Ewww, is that your blood?"
"That's none of your concern."
Sighing, Peter pulled a chair out from the table and turned it around so he could sit and face where Egon stood. "You listen to me, pal. I knew you'd be back. I didn't lose faith in you for a second."
"Would you hand me that PKE meter?" Engrossed in his work, he gestured without looking. Peter picked it up and handed it to him. "Let's see what this can do." With a bit of a maniacal grin, he switched it on. The arms reached out and the lights lit up. It began to beep and buzz uncontrollably until it burned out in a cloud of black smoke. "Ahem. Hm. That was a bust."
There was a voice on the stairs. "Hey, Pete, what's with all of the shouti—" and Ray saw.
"I'd like to say a few words about Egon," Ray said. He was standing at the front of a large assembly of scientists, celebrities, and great minds, along with former clients and average New Yorkers, all gathered to mourn the man they lost.
There, in the front, was Peter, with Dana. His arm was around her shoulders, and he squeezed her lightly. She rested her head on his arm, tears in her eyes. Beside them was Janine, weeping quietly, and Winston with Marcia, both of whom were quiet and solemn. On the other side of the aisle in the front row, Egon's family were stern and proud. Louis Tully was deeply saddened, despite the turn of events that had lost him Janine's affections. The mayor of New York City had his place there, and, at the back with an uncertain and begrudging frown, sat Walter Peck of the EPA.
"At the risk of sounding sentimental, and we know Egon wasn't a sentimental man, I want to tell you all how much he meant to me—how much I know he meant to all of us." Ray's voice through the microphone was warm and gentle, though it wavered on the point of breaking. "He was a brave man. A truly brave man, in his field and outside of it. A pioneer in paranormal research technology and a true hero. He was instrumental in saving New York, and possibly the world. Twice."
Glancing at each other, Peter and Winston smiled.
"Egon may not have been a very forward person when he felt something, but when he knew something was true he would tell you. He was good at being honest, which made him a terrible liar but he was the greatest friend." Ray paused, his voice rising in his throat. Egon wouldn't want him to cry. "As remarkable as he was, as different—at the end of the day he was just another one of the guys. And we're sad to see him go." Ray turned away from the microphone to sniff and wipe the corner of his eye, then turned back again. "Rest in peace, buddy."
"Spengler! Is it really you? Haha—Egon! Am I glad to see you again!"
Ray dashed forward and stood in front of him, inspecting him for a moment. He then grabbed Egon's hand and shook it excitedly, then pulled him into a hug regardless of the slime. He smiled earnestly. "You don't know how we've missed you."
Egon rolled his eyes slightly, though it was clear that he was happy to see his old friend. "I'm not back to stay, unfortunately. Just to say goodbye. I thought while I was here I'd try and make things easier on you two by analyzing ectoplasm from this perspective. In my opinion, it can be done, but we don't have the right equipment so that's out."
Ray nodded. "Okay. Mind if I ask you a couple of questions?"
"Go ahead."
"Why are you wearing your Ghostbusters uniform?"
Egon looked down. "Uniform!" He sighed and shifted his eyes exasperatedly. "Not that I care what I'll be dressed in for eternity. Though I suppose the imprint I left here is tracing the energy I expended while I was in this building, so the effects of my image as an apparition are based directly on my time as a Ghostbuster. My job was my life. But that's not the issue at hand. That is, what I'm asking is for your cooperation." He crossed his arms and looked at Peter and Ray gravely. "I need your help."
"Well, whatever it is you need us to do, we're your guys," Peter said as Ray shifted his weight and looked at Egon intently. "You're a ghost now! Who ya gonna call, right?"
"This is serious, and I'd appreciate a certain level of urgency." His eyes flickered from Peter to Ray.
"We'll do anything," Ray said.
Egon gestured for the other men to sit down. They each pulled up a chair and sat. Straightening his back, he began. "Upon discovering that I was a spirit, I decided to take my cause upon myself and find a way to the other side without you all. I thought it would be less painful. I was wrong. By waiting so long, I've deprived you of a formal goodbye and I've made it more difficult for myself to cross over."
"Blair, is that you?" Peter looked up into the rafters of the old building. "I thought I saw her, guys. She's here."
"Wait," Egon said. He held up the PKE meter, reading the air. "No disturbances here." He turned, taking two steps toward the wall.
"I think she's on the ceiling, Spengler," Ray said.
"Hang on. I've got something." Egon stopped an inch away from the wall. The PKE meter began to blink wildly. "I think she's in the wall."
"If that's the case, we'd be better off just going home."
"No, I don't think so, Winston." Egon began to bang on the wall with his open palm. When nothing happened, he tapped the wall with his fist twice. He moved to the right, then up, then down, rewarded with a hollow thunking noise. "Look. A hidden panel. There's a crawlspace inside the wall." He pried it loose and tossed it aside in a cloud of dust, pulling the cobwebs away from the opening. "It's a tunnel."
The others stared back at him.
"I guess it's my turn to go first." On his hands and knees, he shuffled forward into the dark. Ray followed, and Winston behind him.
"I'd better stay here," Peter said. "You know, in case she comes back."
"I don't think so," Winston objected. "Come on."
Peter obliged. The passage creaked as the men shuffled down the tunnel, the sound outside muffled. All was complete darkness.
"You know those lights you can clip onto a hat?" said Ray. "I have one of those and I wish I brought it."
"You would need a hat," Winston said.
Egon coughed.
"You okay up there, Spengs," Peter called from the back of the line.
"I think I inhaled a cobweb."
"So tell me more about this Blair girl."
"She was very young," Egon said. "Her parents had a meeting with me and asked if there was any way I could track her down, see if we could cross her over."
"Cross her over? And you said yes?" Ray asked.
"I know we don't really do that kind of thing, but I didn't have much of a choice. They offered me ten thousand dollars."
Ray stopped dead in his tracks. Winston crashed into him.
"Keep moving, man!"
"Sorry." They continued to crawl. "Ten thousand dollars, Spengler?"
"I didn't take it."
"What?!" Peter shouted. "Why?"
"I would have, but Janine was standing with me."
Winston chuckled.
The men all crashed into each other again.
"Why'd you stop," Peter yelled to the front of the line.
"I hit the wall," Egon said. "I need to push through it." With his elbow, Egon smashed the decaying wood. In a moment daylight broke through the wall and the men pushed their way out. They stood in the crumbling remains of an old colonial fort in the open air. A little girl in a yellow dress sat on a stone wall. She couldn't have been older than four years.
"I think someone should talk to her," Peter said. "Ray?"
"I don't know."
"Winston?"
"I'll give it a shot." Winston approached the girl quietly. She turned her head slightly, her chestnut-colored curls glowing. "Hi there, Blair."
She shook her head shyly.
"Do you want to come talk to us?"
She shook her head again and pouted.
"We can't leave until someone gets through to her," Egon said.
"Then you give it a try," Peter scoffed.
Egon pulled his proton pack off and laid it on the ground. "You're kidding. She won't respond to me."
"Then I guess we'd better set up camp." Peter sat down at the edge of the wall and slid his proton pack into the dirt. "Anyone mind if I take my boots off?"
"I didn't say I wasn't going to attempt contact. I just don't know if she'll respond." He gingerly approached her, and sat beside her on the wall.
"My name is Dr. Egon Spengler. I—"
Giggling, the little girl reached up and took the glasses off of Egon's face.
Peter's jaw dropped. Ray and Winston laughed.
"If it doesn't make any difference I'd like those back. I need them to see." He reached out to take them, but she jumped off of her seat and bounced up and down, grinning with a young gap-toothed smile, threatening to run away.
"Please don't."
She held them out to him and giggled again, squealing. He took them back and put them on his face. "That's much better, thank you. Why didn't you want to talk to my colleagues?"
Whimpering, Blair hugged Egon's leg, her eyes full of terror. He looked down at her firmly, but his gaze softened and he patted her on the head awkwardly, a hint of fear in his own face. "Don't be afraid of us," he said. "We've come to return you to your parents."
"You want us to cross you over?" Ray beamed. "Didn't I tell you, Pete? I knew it from the start."
"I didn't doubt it, Ray. I did not doubt it."
"Listen, men. We've got one shot at this. Now that I've made contact with you, it won't be long before a portal opens. Then I'll move on, for good. Not to say that you won't join me one day," he added at Ray's frown, "but I need you to gather the people who meant the most to me and bring them back here. By the time the dawn comes I'll be gone. I'm not sure how it works; due to the nature of my death I could fade away at any second. I need you to be quick. I would have done it myself, but I decided it would be best that I stayed here where no one can see me. It's less complicated that way."
Peter grew quiet. Suddenly it was real. In a few mere hours, his dear friend would be lost to him indefinitely. He hadn't felt this sobered when he learned that Egon was dead.
Ray grabbed his Ghostbusters jumpsuit off of the wall. "Just tell us what to do."
"I knew that if I visited my family it wouldn't do much for anyone—that is, spiritually speaking—since neither of my parents believe in the concept of the human soul. I suppose there are only three people in this life that I'd like to see again, which leaves one for each of us. Peter, you get Dana. Ray, you can have Winston, which leaves me with Janine."
"No Louis Tully?" Ray asked.
With a glimmer of happy malice, Egon smirked derisively. "We don't have that kind of time."
Peter jumped up and walked to the door where he leaned on the doorframe. "I thought you said you weren't planning on leaving the firehouse. The last thing we need is for someone to call us while we're out."
"I was going to contact her through her phone."
"Honestly, Egon," Ray confessed, "I'm not sure whether making contact with Janine before she can see you is such a good idea. What if she got here and you were already… you know, in regions beyond? How about you call Winston and I'll get Janine?"
"Winston either just sealed the deal on the woman he's going to marry or had his heart ripped out by his longtime girlfriend," Peter said. "I don't think he's going to pick up."
"So I'll call Dana," Egon decided. "And you can go get Janine. Tell her… tell her you need her help and it's urgent. She won't leave her apartment unless it's urgent, but you know how sensitive she is toward people in need. She'll go with you, but you really have to mean it. And if it helps to panic a little—"
"Egon, cool it!" Peter said at the top of his voice as he swung the door open. "I'll improvise. This time it's out of your hands, but don't worry. You can count on us."
Mr. and Mrs. Cooper watched, tears in their eyes, as their daughter was welcomed into the light, and she was gone. Feelings rushed to the surface, rare feelings Egon had never felt. It was as if a floodgate in his empty heart had opened and suddenly a great potential filled him, as warmth swept through his chest.
"Children are a blessing," Mrs. Cooper said at last. "I never asked if any of you have children of your own."
"My stepson is almost three," Peter said.
Ray thought for a moment. "It looks as if it won't be too long before I settle down myself. My wedding is next week."
To Egon, that life seemed unreachable, but ultimately he knew it wouldn't stop him from trying…
Ray knocked softly on the door of Winston's apartment. Inside he heard the familiar rumble of his friend's voice, and soft murmuring with feminine tones. Marcia. Shaking his head apologetically, he knocked again. Footsteps approached the door. There was a moment's pause as Winston unlocked the deadbolt to find his colleague standing before him with his front covered in ectoplasmic residue.
"Ray, what's going on? Is Peter alright?"
"Yes, don't worry. It's nothing like that." Ray leaned forward and lowered his voice. "You know that conversation… we had in work the other day…"
With a deep sigh, Winston put his hand on the door handle. "You do realize, Ray, that it's almost four-o-clock in the morning?"
"It couldn't wait."
At Winston's shoulder, Marcia stood in a silk bathrobe. She cleared her throat.
Winston panicked. "Baby, I'm sorry. It's just Ray."
She rolled her eyes. "Oh, good."
"What conversation," Winston hissed through his teeth.
"The long discussion concerning the fourth member of our party."
"I see." He took Marcia's hands. "Look, sweetheart, I'm gonna have to leave for a little while. I'm so sorry. Really. I'll be right back. It's just very important. You know I try to keep my work out of my personal life, but this is something I can't put off. I just have to go."
"This is the first time and I trust it will be the only time," she said. "It must be important."
"Thank you for understanding," he muttered and kissed her on the cheek.
"Thank you for understanding my grief, Ray, but I need to come back to work. Sitting at home won't do me any good, and we both know you three can't handle this place without me." Janine set her bag down at her desk and sank into her chair.
"Are you sure?" Ray took a stack of paperwork off of the top of her computer. "It's only been a week. We're not pushing you."
"If you guys are going back to work, then so should I. You loved him as much as I did." She stood up and started towards one of the offices in the back. "I'd like to talk to you, if you don't mind, and we'll both need to sit down."
In two straight-backed wooden chairs, they faced each other and talked for hours. The phone wasn't ringing because Peter had quietly taken it off the hook to let his co-workers take an extended break.
"Would you like to know what he told me the last time I saw him before he died?"
Ray nodded solemnly.
"He asked me if I remembered just before you all fought Gozer, the night I said that I thought he was going to die. I told him I did, and he said that now he felt the same way, but instead of me thinking he was going to die—" She paused as her eyes filled with fresh tears and covered her mouth to stifle any thought of sobbing. With a deep breath, she continued. "He said that now he was convinced it was true, and he said he wanted to say something he never thought he would say to anyone." She let the words sink in. "I asked him what it was, and he said he didn't know how to say it and that he just wanted me to know… and I kissed him and I told him not to talk that way. I told him I already knew what he was going to say and that I felt the same way. We left it at that. I just wish that I'd let him say what he wanted to, when he had the chance."
Peter stood outside the door, listening, a knot in his stomach. He turned away.
When he knocked he didn't expect Janine to answer, but there she was in her glasses.
"I needed to see you—" Peter's words were cut off by a sharp slap across the face. He stared at Janine speechlessly, shocked.
"Shame on you, Dr. Venkman!" She glowered. "Despite the chemistry between us, I'm disgusted to find you would dishonor your wife this way. And with Egon barely in the ground. This visit is both unexpected and inappropriate. If you mean to seduce me—"
"Believe me, my intentions were nothing of the sort," he groaned, rubbing his stinging cheek.
"Why on earth else would you show up at my door in the middle of the night unannounced? We have work in a few hours."
"There is something very, very urgent I need you to help me with. Now."
"You do realize it's not fair to manipulate me like this."
"Just come with me. I need to talk to you."
"Let me get my coat," she said, scowling.
Janine set the phone back down on the receiver. "You remember that young couple you guys helped out a few years ago? The Coopers?"
"Sure we do," Winston said.
"Well, they just called. Mrs. Cooper just had a new kid, a healthy boy. They thought it would be nice for us to know."
"Gee, that's great," Ray mumbled, a layer of heartache beneath his voice. "I just wish Egon was around to hear about it. You know, he kept in touch with them. I didn't think he was the type, but…" His voice trailed off. What secrets did Egon have stored away in his private mind when he died, what silent parts of his consciousness would his friends never discover? It was impossible to know.
Egon dialed Peter's number on the rotary phone in the kitchen. "Please pick up, Dana," he said. The phone continued to ring until the message machine beeped. Flustered, Egon hung up the phone and dialed again. A thin coating of slime dripped from the phone. "This is disgusting."
The line picked up. "Peter, it's the middle of the night. Either you're coming home right now or someone had better be dead."
Someone is, Egon thought. He opened his mouth to speak, but found that he didn't know what was the right way to break the news.
"Hello? It is you, isn't it, Peter?"
He raised his voice slightly in an attempt to impersonate his friend. "Yes—yeah—hey, Dana. This is your husband Peter."
"Are you feeling okay? You sound strange."
"No, no, everything is fine. I just need you to come down to the, ah, fire station."
"Now?"
"Yes, now. Hurry."
"Is everyone okay?"
"Apart from the one of us who died, yes, everyone is okay."
Dana gasped. "You sound like—Egon?!"
He threw the charade. "You know I can't lie to you, Dana."
"I can't believe it. I thought you were dead."
"I am. But I need to move on, and I can only do so effectively if I make contact with the people I care about. That includes you. I need to say goodbye because I can't be sure where I'm going, and I'll need the positive energy to pass through the dimensional portal or else I may effectively vanish."
"This is incredible," Dana said. "Why didn't you tell us you were going to do this?"
"I had no idea. That is, I had no way of knowing for sure, which goes for most things, even in life. Sometimes when you choose not to take a leap of faith you have to try falling instead. Hopefully when you do, it's a soft landing."
Dana grinned. "I'll have to bring Oscar. I have no choice. Is that alright?"
"I guess," Egon granted, knowing inside he didn't mind as much as he made it seem. "As long as you hurry."
"We'll be right there."
Egon glanced out the window hopefully.
"He was sick," Winston said quietly.
Peter's eyes lit with fury and pain. "Why did he do this to us without warning us? Why the hell didn't he tell us?"
With a sigh, Winston looked calmly into Peter's face, his own agony internal but speaking loudly through his eyes. "Because he didn't want us to know."
"Egon, is that really you? I don't believe it."
"Well, it's my spiritual core, more or less, without my body for a frame. But it's me."
Winston held up his hands as if he were surrendering. "I'd love to give you a hug, really, but if I came home dripping with slime my girl would be confused."
"Actually, Winston, I'm past that point now. Wait a second, I have to try something." Egon walked briskly toward the wall until he stood before it, hesitant. He put both hands on the wall, took a deep breath, and stepped through. In a moment he returned again, but this time he was different. He was a paler green, a thinner mist, more ethereal.
"Look at that," Ray said.
"Huh. I guess it's starting."
Winston glanced out the window. "I see Dana coming down the street. Peter needs to hurry up."
"He'll get here," Egon assured himself. "I'm counting on him."
"You're still awake?" Dana rolled over in bed next to her husband. "Peter, I'm worried about you. You need to sleep."
He stared at the ceiling, dull-eyed, void of feeling. "I was one minute too late."
"You did your best."
"I wish it was me."
"No you don't."
"No, I don't."
Peter ran down the New York City sidewalk, dragging Janine behind him, Janine with her purse in tow.
"Would you slow down?"
"No!" They raced hand-in-hand toward the looming corner of the block. They could see the top of the building from where they were. "I promise you, this will all make sense in a minute."
At break-neck speed, they reached the property. The doors were in sight. Suddenly and without warning, they collided with a woman in black—Dana, who held hands with little Oscar.
"Fancy seeing you here," Peter said, and kissed his wife on the lips.
Janine broke away, flustered. "I don't understand," she said. "It's five-o-clock in the morning. What could you possibly be doing here?"
Dana reached out and opened the door, held it open. "Why don't you come inside and find out?"
Baffled, she took the door and walked inside. She looked to the side for a moment, studied the wall, but felt a warm and familiar presence and raised her eyes. Before her was the spectral shape of a man she had known, a man with hopeful eyes and a sad mouth. "Egon!"
She flung her purse to the side and ran to him, threw her arms around his neck. He embraced her too, tenderly, as if he might crush her, as if he were not the fragile one, an expression of relief on his face as well as hers.
Janine looked up at him, her eyes shimmering, her lower lip trembling. "You never said you loved me."
Pensive, he paused. This was not the moment; these words were not his words. "If you'll allow me to say it how I will… love is subjective. The words only mean something when they mean something between those who speak them. I always wanted to say it, but I can't be sure of anything, not what love means, not where I'm going—but I do know that I felt things for you I didn't think I could. I never said I loved you because I didn't have to. I was always sure you knew."
She laughed with melancholy tears in her eyes, and Egon glared sheepishly at Peter, Ray, and Dana, the bystanders who watched in hilarious awe at the odd couple. He turned to look at Janine again, whose face was joyful sorrow.
"Dr. Spengler, you never cease to surprise me," she said, "even now."
He leaned closer to her, closing his eyes, his hands on her shoulders, so close but not touching, his icy breath at her cheek, frost crackling on the summer windowpanes. Their lips touched, and she gasped, bracing herself against the cold. There in his arms, that fleeting moment of light, there was a spark of life, a sense of normalcy and comfort. Softly the moment ended with his awkward and apologetic smile as he cleared his throat and his eyes darted to look at the others, and his lost farewell was complete.
"It's almost daybreak, Egon," Ray said. "What does that mean for you?"
"I can feel something now," Egon replied, stepping away from Janine. "Like a gravitational pull. I feel heavier." He turned and gazed at his friends before him. "You're all here. I guess that means this is goodbye."
"I guess," Peter muttered quietly.
"Dana," said Egon, "I've always considered you a dear friend despite Peter's strict orders after the break-up that I stay away."
"I'm going to miss you," Dana whispered with misty eyes. She hugged him briefly as her son watched.
Egon nodded his head in agreement, and then knelt down to meet eyes with Oscar, who hid bashfully behind his mother's leg. "Oscar." Still clinging to Dana, the boy waved with a shy smile.
When Egon stood again, he touched Janine's arm lightly and whispered something in her ear with an impish smirk.
She giggled. "Egon Spengler…!" And Egon looked away.
Winston approached him coolly. "It won't be the same without you around here," he said. "You're going to be great up there, though. There are lots of smart guys like you—say hey to Einstein for me."
Egon seemed to ponder this for a moment. "You might be right, Winston. Thank you."
To Ray, Egon didn't know what to say. He struggled to speak and for a moment wished he would disappear before he would be able to speak a word. "Ray," he began, "I want you to continue my experiments if you can. You're the only one who has a concept of what I was working on and I have confidence that…" He paused, noticing that Ray was scrutinizing the ground. Ray looked up.
"I don't know how we'll do it without you."
"You'll do fine," Egon affirmed.
"You really believe that?"
"I do." Egon took a deep breath. "For your understanding, for our work together, for your constant companionship, Ray, I extend my gratitude… you were always there when I needed you. And sometimes I did."
"It was nothing, buddy," Ray sniffled, quickly hugging Egon and then stepping back. "You were there for me too."
Finally Peter realized that it was his turn. He tried at first to play it off but a look of dismal sorrow crossed his face. At last he would confront his grief. "Egon, if it's my last chance to say it then I'm going to say it. We both know that I hated you when I met you for the first time, and that we've had our differences, but listen: I'm over all that. I've just been spending years working up the guts to say that I've never been half the man you are and I wouldn't be where I am today if I had never met you."
"I can say the same for you, Peter," Egon said, and the two shook hands with a sense of reconciliation and sweet, absolute closure. A strong gust of air blew strongly through the room, the scent of flower gardens in the rain. The gap between the storage closet and the floor began to glow brightly, a brilliant white. Warmth began to fill the freezing room and fog rose from between the floorboards.
"This is it," he breathed. "It's time." Egon stared at the door as the brightness grew in intensity. "For the second time in my life, I'm terrified beyond the capacity for rational thought."
"You can do it," Ray said.
Egon swallowed nervously and took one careful stride toward the door, then another. The walk seemed long and slow, and he was there, his hand on the doorknob. "I wasn't sure where I was going," Egon confessed, "but for the first time, I think I know."
With that, he opened the door. The room was flooded with dazzling white and filled with a raging wind. Papers were swirled into the air as Peter and Dana held onto each other, Oscar between them. Ray threw himself onto the ground. Janine stood against her desk. Winston braced himself against the wall. Every soul shielded their eyes, every soul but Egon, who looked eagerly where he would find his answers. "I'll see you all again," he yelled over the sound. "I have no doubt!" When he was taken the light faded away cleanly and all was still and silent.
After a moment, Ray stood to see that the door was open. It once again was an ordinary door. The portal was gone with all proof of a portal, all proof but the impermanent papers strewn on the floor. "He's gone," Ray said.
A year later, a young man in glasses came to call. "I'm here to see about the job," he told Janine, who smiled and offered him an application.
"I already filled one out," he said, and withdrew it from his beaten briefcase with a nervous half-smile. "In black ink."
Peter stepped out of his office behind Janine's desk. "Another client today?"
"No, he's looking to see about the job."
"Let's see his qualifications." Peter came forward and climbed over the counter. He took the stack of papers from the youth, who was sweating visibly. "First job application?"
"First good one," the youth said.
"Hey, there's something," Peter exclaimed, pointing at something the young man had written. "Degree in Parapsychology, and you graduated a year early. I'm impressed."
"I'm a fan," the man blushed, and clutched the briefcase to his chest. In the top right corner was a faded Ghostbusters sticker, peeling around the edges.
"We've met, haven't we? I remember you! You came up to us a year ago on the subway."
The fan stammered. "I—yes, I'm s-sorry, I realize now that it may not have been an appropriate gesture t-to—"
"Relax." Peter placed the stack of paper on the desk. "I appreciate what you said that day. I shouldn't have been such a jerk about it. In fact, you're hired."
He placed the suitcase down on the floor. "Really?"
"Yes," Peter replied with a wistful smile. "You remind me of someone I used to know. Now quit sweating and let's go tell the guys."
-In memory of Harold Ramis, 1944-2014. Rest in peace, Mr. Ramis. We'll see you on the other side.-