(Old piece I wrote and published on the RGBfanfic yahoo group back in 2006. Thanks to Tammey for beta reading it! )
Prologue: Thursday, May 8th, 6 p.m.
What seemed to be ordinary routine had turned into something horrible.
That morning they had been called to control a pair of beautiful ancient earrings just donated by a certain student to a certain department of the New York University, but that is another story.
What we need to know is that those beautiful golden earrings turned out to be haunted by a really nasty entity from Persia. And that really nasty entity from Persia had followed the four Ghostbusters home.
"Damn!" muttered a tired Peter under his breath, "I can't take much more of this. Egon!"
Egon's head emerged from under Janine's desk: "We are nearly done! Keep distracting it!"
"Easy for you to say, you're safe under a desk!" cried the psychologist while bending to avoid a blast of pure energy.
Winston covered him by hitting the evil fairy with a precise proton stream "We don't need any 7-foot-tall evil fairies! What happened to the small and good ones?"
"Ready!" screamed Ray, coming out from behind the cover of the desk. "Time to end this!" Ray aimed the powered destabilizer at the entity. "Let's test this new baby!"
The device shook and screeched, then shot a sphere of red energy right in the evil fairy's chest. At the same time, Winston, Peter and Egon blasted the unlucky fairy with full streams. After a couple of minutes of struggling, the trap Janine had thrown captured it.
Before being engulfed into the trap's white light it cried, "This won't end here! Ahriman will take his revenge on you, mortal, he will…" its voice faded away.
"Yeah! I got it, guys!" the redhead cried in triumph as she got up from the floor.
"Finally, it's all over…dibs on the first shower," yawned a really tired Peter.
"You're right, I don't wanna see a ghost for at least the next three we-" Winston was interrupted by a horrible scream from inside the trap as a bullet-shaped bolt of light went out, bouncing off the pole and aimed right at the secretary's head.
"GET DOWN!" Egon threw himself on an astonished Janine as everyone hit the ground. The last thing Egon felt was a piercing pain, then it all went dark.
Sunday, May 11th , 9:30 a.m.
Oh, God, it felt so unreal…like time had stopped, and it felt like my heart had too.
This morning we all were there, listening to his mother's speech. I couldn't help crying.
Her eyes. Her eyes were red and swollen, but at the same time dry and full of silent pain.
Everyone applauded at the end of the speech.
I was standing right next to Dr.V, embracing him. His face was pale, eyes reddened, no tears left to cry, a hand absently stroking my hair. He had already cried all the tears he had in that damned hospital room.
Then we all stood up and formed a long queue. The blond woman held out a white rose and let it fall onto the coffin as the gravediggers lowered it into the grave. The moment the rose hit the coffin lid, she fell unconscious to the ground. Fortunately her brother-in-law was there to catch her. Peter and Winston rushed and helped Uncle Cyrus take a senseless Mrs. Spengler to his car. Poor woman, this was just too much for her.
I hesitated a moment, then let my red rose slip from my hand and into the open tomb and, as tears started to gather again at the corner of my eyes, I quietly went away from that place. As soon as I was far enough, I just let myself crouch under a willow tree and rested my head against my knees.
Egon had died. And it felt like a part of me had too.
Sunday, May 11th, 10:30 p.m.
Later that night Winston drove me home. I didn't want to be alone, but there was nothing left for me to do at the firehouse, and the guys needed some rest. Yeah, as if any of them would be sleeping tonight, unless they use the bottle of those mild sleeping pills the guys kept in the bathroom cabinet.
I opened my apartment door, closed it, undressed and threw myself on the couch. Why this had happened? He did not deserve to die like this. "It's not right," I thought as the last sip of vodka ran down my throat. I put the empty bottle on the floor and let darkness come over me as I fell asleep.
Saturday, May 10th, 8:00 a.m.
"Hyaaah! Try that again and I'll kill you!"
It was 8.00 a.m. and Egon had silently slipped a couple of ice cubes into a sleeping Peter's pajamas. In no time Peter erupted from his bed, mayhem in mind, and started chasing his friend. After a couple of minutes of happy chasing, Peter saw the blond physicist stop dead and curl on himself, shaking. "Hey, a-are you alright?"
It all happened in a few instants. One moment he was running for his life, the next second everything went dark. A white rose, the cry of a woman. A pink butterfly. Egon shut his eyes closed and felt cold -inside-. Then a warm hand touched his shoulder. As quick as the vision came, it went away again. Opening his eyes he saw Peter's worried face and heard his distressed voice: "Hey, a-are you alright?"
"I-I suppose so…" was all his startled mind could produce.
"Okay, you already played the 'let's scare Dr.V game' last Thursday, so don't go there again please." Peter tried to make his tone as light as he could, so his worry wouldn't show. It wasn't a good idea to upset Egon more than he evidently was.
"What happened?" asked Ray, entering the room. "How do you feel, Egon?"
An arm came around Egon's waist. "Yo, man, you look terrible! Let's just lay you down on the couch and it'll be okay."
"Really, Winston…guys…I'm all right. I just felt…dizzy," the blond man said feebly.
"You still are dizzy, big guy," Peter gently pointed out as the three of them led him toward the living room.
In a minute his friends had him laid out on the couch with his feet up and drinking some hot tea. He was feeling so…well, he didn't know exactly how to define it. The warmth of the tea definitely brought him back to life and, after clearing his voice, he spoke: "Thank you. It's over now; but I made you worry again, didn't I?"
"No problem-o. Hey, you should've known that wounded heroes shouldn't be running around like that. Not after a number like the one you did on Thursday," said Peter playfully. Egon was glad to see that Peter's face was relaxed again.
"Peter's right," Ray put in. "You need rest. Why don't you catch a little nap?"
He did not have time to finish his sentence before Egon was sound asleep.
A pink butterfly. Red roses falling. A white one too. A woman was crying. Was that his mother? No, why should his mother cry like that? Something resting on his shoulder caught his attention: it was the butterfly. A tiny voice spoke into his head: "Don't let him take his revenge. Go…or it will be too late."
When he woke up it was already noon and a delicious smell was coming from the kitchen. Slowly getting up, Egon tried to remember his strange dream, but nothing came to his mind except a feel of utter anguish. Peter's voice cut through his thoughts: "How's our Sleeping Beauty doing? Waking up right in time for lunch, hm?"
Egon could sense a hint of worry in his best friend's voice and immediately reassured him: "I am completely restored now. Probably this morning I was just tired, last night this arm ached a bit."
Peter's green eyes widened: "Someone who had nearly died a couple of days ago shouldn't be running like that. That energy bolt…" He looked away.
"That bolt of energy could have pierced my heart, but it didn't," Egon completed the psychologist's sentence, catching his eye again. "It didn't happen. I'm here, sore but alive."
"Lunch is ready!" yelled a happy Ray from the other room.
"Glad to have you here still in one piece," said Peter, hugging him lightly, so he wouldn't hurt Egon's bandaged arm. The brown-haired man's face lit up again as he headed for the kitchen, where Slimer was already under the table, ready to steal his meal.
A room. A hospital room. Things scattered, and blood everywhere. A body was lying on the bed, covered by white sheets except for a hand that dangled down.
Janine slowly walked to the bed and took that hand in both of hers. She had no need to remove the sheets to know whose hand it was. Tears came again, but she fiercely fought them back. Squeezing that hand, she brought it to her face, resting her left cheek into its warm palm.
"Warm?" she thought. At the same time, the hand moved, gently caressing her face with its thumb as the other hand had emerged from under the sheets and removed them, revealing the rest of the body. Here he was, warm and alive.
"Egon…" she breathed.
The man looked her into her blue eyes for a long moment before holding her tight to his bare chest. Then he whispered, "What happened to you? What?"
Then it all got confused as she found herself lying on her couch. Taking a long sip of vodka from another bottle, Janine tried to water down her emotional pain.
