For those who have stuck with me this long, hopefully it'll make it all worth it! Thank you so much for the kind comments so far. I'm sorry to rip your hearts out. I wanted to do respect to everyone who does live with a chronic, terminal illness by not just having a miracle easy cure come out of nowhere and instantly fix everything. It was an immensely difficult plot to write, since I tend to live the emotions of characters as I write them, but hopefully a meaningful one.
We are past the worst now and as I promised, things will be happier from here out (if still not perfectly sunshine and rainbows. Well, maybe some rainbows.)
After a few weeks, Erin decided she couldn't hide in Abby's apartment forever. She had to make some choices about what to do next. Abby assured her if she chose to sell the apartment she had shared with Holtzmann, she was welcome to move in permanently with Abby so neither of them had to be alone. Erin promised to think about it.
Both Abby and Patty had offered to go with her the first time she returned to her own apartment, but she politely declined. She wanted to do it herself, to have some time alone in the place that had been her home. Their home.
Still, when she actually got there, she needed to stand at the door for a while, just breathing to hold off a panic attack. The memories of her last time there were still too fresh, the horror and pain washing through her anew. She briefly regretted not having the girls come with her. But Erin knew she wasn't a woman who ran from anything anymore. Not since she embraced being a Ghostbuster years ago. So she straightened her shoulders and made herself unlock the door.
She was a bit surprised the lights were still on. She supposed turning them off hadn't really been a priority for anyone who would have come and gone from the apartment in the last days it was inhabited. It was heartbreakingly still, devoid of the life that had filled it for so many years, yet not silent as Erin had expected. Music played from the entertainment center in the living room. She figured Patty had put something on to deal with the quiet when she came to pick up some of Erin's belongings to bring to Abby's apartment. Her heart twisted more when she realized it was one of Holtz's favorite playlists.
She didn't have the heart to turn it off, so she let the familiar music drift over her, an inappropriate contrast to the solemn purpose of her visit, as she set down her purse and walked around the apartment. Echoes from throughout the years played across her mind. Breakfasts at the small dining room table by the window. Movie nights snuggled up on the couch in the living room. Showering off slime from countless busts in the bathroom until the landlord sent them enough plumbing bills that they stuck to using the showers at the firehouse. Every room was saturated with the memories of a happy marriage, no matter how many shadows the later stages of Holtz's illness tried to darken it. She supposed that was something to be thankful for. But it was still never going to feel the same again.
Walking past the kitchen, she saw her favorite mug was sitting out on the counter with a bag of her preferred tea lying beside it. She tried to remember if she had started to get out tea before bed or if one of the girls had tried to offer it to her after Holtz…died. She wasn't sure. She left it there, untouched.
For a while, she puttered around, straightening things up in the living room and dining room, rearranging pillows on the couch and adjusting pictures on the wall. The door to Holtzmann's workshop was ajar, but she didn't go in. What she had to do with this trip would be hard enough.
After putting it off as long as she could, she finally braced herself and walked down the hall into the bedroom. The mattress was gone. She had requested it be thrown out, unable to bear the thought of keeping the mattress Holtzmann had died on. She had kept her pillow, though, to have something to hold while sleeping over at Abby's that still smelled like Holtz. The bedframe sat, skeletal, in the middle of the room, a stark emphasis that no one was living there anymore. A little chill made Erin shiver as she stared at it.
Sighing, Erin made her way into the room, which somehow felt smaller than it ever had before. She was pretty sure she was going to get rid of the bedframe too and start completely fresh, maybe even get a twin or double bed instead. It wasn't like she intended to have anyone else to share a bed with anymore. Either way, she didn't need it here right now, reminding her of a vacant ribcage. Making a decision to do something toward moving forward, she started pulling boxes out from under the bedframe so she could take it apart.
She had slid several boxes out, not even looking at what was in them, when she noticed a piece of machinery under the bed on what had been Holtz's side. Intrigued, she reached under and pulled it out to examine. It was clearly Holtz's handiwork, but not a device Erin had ever seen her build or use. Turning it over, curious, she noticed a cardboard tag attached to it with Holtz's rough handwriting scrawled on it. She turned the card so she could read it.
"For Z day."
Erin nearly dropped the machine in revulsion, but old habit kept her from being too rough with anything that might detonate. Still, she held it slightly away from her in horror, her other hand going to her mouth. Was this how Holtzmann had decided to 'let go'? Had she designed and held onto a weapon so when things got bad enough she could end it in a way that just looked like the progression of her disease?
"Oh god…" Erin's eyes clenched shut, tears starting to flow at the thought she could be holding the instrument of her wife's death.
A little breeze of air blew by her ear and she could swear she heard a voice whisper "No" right next to her. As she gasped slightly, the entire back of her hand that was holding the device went ice cold, like something frozen was resting on top of it. Something invisible with no weight or mass…
Her eyes widened as the hair prickled on the back of her neck. She knew that sensation, one that had become instinctively familiar over her years of work…
A thought dared to flicker at the back of her mind, one that had crossed all of their minds in the last few weeks but then been dismissed as wishful thinking. Making herself think rationally, Erin lifted the device to examine more closely.
No. Holtzmann would never discharge a weapon at herself while Erin was in range where it might hurt her as well, like, for example, lying beside her in bed. And now that she looked at the machine, she could make out more of the components. That looked like an electromagnetic generator, and that part was a structure that could amplify ambient PKE, and that one…
Her heart raced in her chest as full comprehension flowed over her. The cold had vanished off her hand, but she got an intense feeling of confirmation like a warmth inside her chest. Pushing away from the bedframe, she set the device on the floor in front of her, mind fluttering wildly. She was probably crazy. After everything, this was the time she had finally snapped. Ghost Girl come back in full force. This had to be her most advanced stage of denial yet and she knew it, but she had to know. She had to try.
Because if she was right…
She pushed the activation switch and the device powered up with a thrum. Erin's skin goosebumped at the energy it pumped out into the room. Her ears popped, but she barely noticed.
She knew she wasn't imagining it when she saw wisps of ectoplasm manifest and drift through the air, faint trails of blue mist. A few at first, then more as the PKE flowed through the room. And then…they seemed to condense, drawn together like a planet forming from cosmic dust, coalescing a few feet away…
Into an incredibly familiar form.
The ghost of Holtzmann beamed at Erin with a look of pride on her youthful face. "I knew you'd figure it out."
Hand pressing across her mouth, Erin made a noise that contained a mix of shock, joy, and pure visceral release.
Holtz's spectral eyes widened in alarm, then regret, holding up her hands. "Hey, it's okay. It's me. I'm realizing in retrospect that appearing as a ghost in your bedroom is spectacularly insensitive, but—"
Erin was already on her feet, moving faster than she had in years, instinctively racing to wrap her arms around Holtzmann. But instead she found herself passing straight through her in a flash of cold air, stumbling into the wall behind her.
"Sorry," Holtz winced. "Still working on the corporeal thing."
Erin straightened up, leaning against the wall as she tried to adjust to the surreal normalcy of Holtzmann's behavior. Holtzmann's ghost. She pulled herself together, trying to get out an actual sentence. "Wh—? How—? You—?"
"Me, yep," Holtz nodded, smiling.
"You're you. Here. Ghost," Erin managed.
"That pretty much sums it up, yeah," Holtz grinned.
Erin closed her eyes, pressing her hands against her mouth as she drew a deep breath. She let it out slowly, opening her eyes again. Her heart leapt to see Holtz's ghost still standing there, not a hallucination, not a dream, as real as any ghost she had seen throughout their career. Her Holtzmann, young and healthy and lucid. God. Erin could feel tears starting to escape her eyes, resenting them for blurring her view of her wife after so long apart.
"Erin?" Holtz asked gently, worry replacing the smile on her face.
"It's just…" She swiped the tears away, clearing her vision as much as she could. "I lost you. I saw you dead and…and I've been grieving you for weeks. And now…you're here. And you're so beautiful and real and… I can't believe it. I'm not dreaming," she said, with an edge of a question.
"You're not dreaming." Holtzmann floated closer, catching Erin's eyes, voice steady and reassuring. "I'm here. A bit short on skin and bones, but still me. Here, check it out."
She closed her eyes, the crinkle that always formed between her eyebrows when she concentrated enough to make Erin's heart ache with familiarity. Then Holtzmann held out her hand, looking a bit more opaque than it had before.
Erin realized she was meant to take it and extended her own. Holtz's spirit's hand was cold, the same unearthly chill that Erin had felt so many times on the job, but their hands still fit together as they always had and Erin felt a new sob escape her throat.
"Really me." Holtz smiled.
Erin stared at their joined hands. "It really is." She looked up. "You're healthy again. I mean, you're dead, but—"
"Yeah, kind of the ultimate in unhealthy, but definitely not sick anymore." Holtz wrinkled her nose, frowning at Erin. "Though honestly you're looking worse than me and I'm the dead one. When's the last time you slept?"
"I've been mourning you, you jerk," Erin retorted, but without malice.
"You should've come by sooner, saved yourself some sadness." Holtz's glowing eyes lit up further when she saw her pendant hanging on Erin's neck. She picked it up fondly, grinning. "You always did look good in my stuff."
"Wait, how long have you been here?" Erin asked, trying to keep up.
"About a week? I think? Time's weird like this. Hey." She picked up her own phantom version of her necklace. "We're jewelry twins."
The physical pendant dropped through her fingers as they faded, becoming more translucent again. Holtz's lip quirked in irritation, but she shrugged. "Oh well."
"What happened?" Erin had a sudden terror of Holtz fading from her view as abruptly as she had gotten her back. "Are you okay?"
"Oh yeah, just…still working out the bugs on staying corporeal for extended periods. It takes way more energy than I expected, even with all our calculations. I've been practicing, getting the hang of it while I had the place to myself. Took me hours to get your tea out for whenever you came back, but I did it. Just wound up pretty well drained for, like, a day after."
Erin was suddenly aware of the potential urgency of this situation. Her eyes shot back up to Holtz's. "How long do we have? To say goodbye? When do you have to leave again?"
Holtz smirked, eyes shining even more than their baseline glow. "Babe, that's a factor we never have to worry about again."
Erin frowned, then her eyes widened in fear. "Oh god, are you stuck here? Is the shielding on the apartment preventing you from crossing over?"
Holtz shook her head, waving that off. "Nah, that's actually not an issue. Dying's surprisingly easier than I thought it would be. I mean, the leaving-your-earthly-remains part. Always knew getting killed was pretty simple to arrange—"
"Holtz," Erin interrupted, stomach still turning at that line of conversation. "So you're not trapped, doomed to haunt our apartment?"
"Oh, I'm totally here to haunt you, but yeah, I'm here by choice. Crossed over, checked in—after checking out, you know—said a few 'Hi's to Dr. Gorin and a couple other folks I'd missed, then once I'd gotten the hang of things, got back here as fast as I could. Been hanging around waiting for somebody to show up again," she said pointedly with feigned annoyance.
"You came back?" Erin gaped at her. "You were in the afterlife and you chose to come back?"
Holtz grinned. "Well, yeah. My favorite people are still here. I wasn't about to leave you guys if I had any say in it."
Erin wasn't even sure how to respond to that. Holtzmann had returned from the dead. For them. For her. And now sort of stood, sort of floated in the room they had lived and she had died in, as if nothing had changed. Looking just the way she had before that cursed genetic irregularity had started wearing away at her, from the disheveled curls piled atop her head to the mismatched socks showing above her boots.
"I had hoped…" Erin sniffled, shaking her head. "I dreamed maybe you'd come see us one last time. Maybe you'd get to say goodbye or show us you were okay, something like that. But I thought only people who died traumatically or with negative emotions stuck around."
"That's how it's supposed to work, yeah. But I had a suspicion and sure enough, I figured out kind of a loophole. Patty's the one who made me think of it." Holtz gestured vaguely in the air. "Remember? When we were talking about if there were any happy ghosts? And how I promised if I could come back, I would?"
Erin huffed a marveling laugh. "I do. I'm just amazed you remember it."
"Oh yeah." Holtz gestured at her head, eyes exaggeratedly wide. "Turns out, even though my hardware was breaking down, all the software saved to the universal version of Cloud or something." She waved her hand in the empty space above her head. "So once I separated from my body—" She clapped her hands, making Erin jump. "Got everything back. Sorry if I'm talking really fast too. Apparently thoughts move a lot quicker without neurons slowing them down, so I feel like that time I mixed Mountain Dew and Red Bull together, but without the heart spasms."
Erin felt tears welling up again, hearing Holtz had her mind and abilities fully restored at last, but didn't have time because Holtz was already blazing forward, beckoning Erin to follow her back to the machine that had been under the bed.
"So, I made a plan back before my brain started really falling apart. We know the barrier between this world and the next is permeable, but it also has polarity. And we know our emotional energy affects ectoplasmic material. So what I hypothesized is that positive emotions are able to cross the barrier easily, but usually in one direction."
She held up one hand to represent the barrier and pushed the fingers of her other hand through it, a demonstration made easier by her lack of corporeal restrictions. "Toward the other side. But negative emotions…"
She moved her fingers toward her "barrier" hand again, but this time had them bounce off. "Can't get across as easily and tend to rebound or just get stuck. The more negative the emotions, the more the energy of the barrier repels them. Hence, nasty ghosties who kept us in business for the last twenty-some years."
"That…has some merit," Erin nodded, pondering that potential.
"Also explains why you and Abby were able to survive nearly crossing the barrier alive," Holtz continued. "What you saw isn't the full afterlife. It was just this dead zone of trapped spirits who got stuck in that energy there. Call it Purgatory, Hell, whatever you want. But you guys were safe passing through because you both were in there out of love, so you were like this bubble of positive emotions floating through. And I figure Patty and I were able to pull you back because we loved you guys too, so it was just all kinds of positive energy making a channel back to the living world."
She shrugged. "Or maybe I'm just sentimental and we got damn lucky because honestly? That shouldn't have worked. Either way, based on that I decided to try and see if it was possible to intentionally create enough positive emotions to tether myself to this world even after I died. If so, it could make a bridge I could use to go back and forth through the barrier without getting stuck like the bad guys do."
Erin shook her head, putting her fingers to her temples as she tried to take in what she had just heard. "I'm sorry, did you just say you basically invented some kind of…spectral wormhole? Using love?"
"That's one way of describing it, yep." Holtz nodded, looking deservedly proud of herself.
"You invented a new understanding on spectral energy so you could come back to us," Erin said, staring at her.
Holtz scrunched up her nose. "Little bit."
Erin laughed, beyond being shocked at this point. "Well, honestly, if anybody could, it would be you."
"And I had very good motivation to do it," Holtz smiled, giving her a wink that Erin had missed with her very soul in recent years. "But even with all that, I still had to deal with the issue of manipulating matter while I'm here. That's where this little puppy came in."
Erin listened, fascinated, from a seat on the edge of the bedframe as Holtzmann laid out the design of what she had apparently dubbed the 'ghost projector'. To deal with the extreme energy demands of interacting with physical objects, since there was no convenient rip in the ley lines anymore, the device generated psychokinetic energy and pumped it out into the room. That way, Holtz didn't have to struggle to draw enough ambient energy from the area just to barely be able to move something, much less manifest a whole body.
A thought struck Erin. "Since this is designed to enhance ghostly abilities, is this going to attract or give power to any dangerous ghosts who might take advantage of it?"
"It shouldn't," Holtzmann said. "From what I've seen so far, the ionized shields on the apartment still work. I can get through 'cause I'm positively charged, but the negative ghosts are still repelled. It's part of why I figured the apartment would be the best place to try tethering to. Well, that and all the years of positive energy we've been pouring into this place together," she added with a smile. "Safest and best shot at forging a real connection. That's also why I had to make the transition before I lost my chance to."
The easy comfort froze in Erin's chest, realizing what Holtz meant by 'transition'. She had suspected, but still… "You knew," she said, looking at Holtz, knowing she shouldn't ruin this reunion, but still too raw over the last few weeks not feel stung and deceived. "You had this all planned out, you chose when to let go. And you didn't tell me."
Holtz practically shrank, slumping into herself as she looked down. "Yeah. Unfortunate detail of the plan."
"Unfortun—Holtz, you died!" All the pent up grief and anger was bubbling out of her at once now, the lingering ice around her heart sublimating to steaming pain. "I've been grieving you! We all have! And all this time you knew you were coming back? You didn't think that was something I deserved to know?"
"I wanted to tell you. I mean it," Holtz said, dropping to her knees in front of Erin, her hands cupping Erin's face. "I almost did a couple times, when you were really upset. But I didn't because I wasn't sure this was gonna work. It was completely untested and I could have been wrong. I didn't want you to be waiting for me to come back if I was actually stuck on the other side after all."
Erin's anger cooled as she thought about that. She tried to imagine the anguish of the last few weeks, but made more painful with an empty hope as she waited in vain for Holtz to appear. She knew herself. She would have spent the rest of her life waiting for that sign from Holtz, never able to let go and move on.
"You're right," she admitted grudgingly. "That would have been worse."
"I didn't want to hide it from you." Holtz was quiet and serious. "And I didn't want to let go either. But when we got that last diagnosis…" Her eyes darted to the floor awkwardly. "I wasn't sure if the tether would work if I was away from the apartment. And if I waited until I was in a hospital and my mind was gone… Then I might not get to come back. And it really would be goodbye. I had to let go while I was still me, while we were still together." Her eyes flicked up, then down again and she shrugged. "So I picked a day I felt okay enough and tried to pack in one last round of good stuff, partly to strengthen the bond one more time, but also…in case it didn't work, and that was the last day we had. Guess it worked, huh?"
"One last hurrah." Erin shook her head. "So Patty was right again."
Holtz's lips quirked up. "Well, that's not surprising. She's always been the smartest of all of us."
"Hm." Erin gave Holtz a small smile back, then realized something. "You're touching me."
Holtz's cold hands retreated from her face immediately, a hurt look on her face. "Right. Sorry."
"No," Erin assured her, apologetically. "I mean, you were able to touch me. I thought you said making yourself corporeal took a lot of effort."
Holtzmann frowned, looking down at her hands. "It did…"
Erin gently reached out and found she was able to hold Holtz's wrists, resting her hands in Erin's own. Holtz's blue palms were tinged with red, unlike the green energy she had always seen from other ghosts. "You really are positively ionized," she breathed, fascinated.
"Huh." Holtz flexed her hands, turning them over so she could twine them with Erin's. "Looks like PKE really does respond to positive emotions too."
Erin looked at Holtzmann, seeing the red tint appearing throughout her blue form now, their love manifested in quantum phenomena. And she was awestruck anew at her brilliant wife who had defied nature and physics itself to return to her, even as her brain and body turned against her. What could be more incredible than that?
Holtz's eyes glittered wickedly. "Hey, I wonder if my ectoplasm's red too!"
"You slime me, I'm putting you in a ghost trap," Erin warned flatly.
"All right." Holtz pouted. "Maybe I can surprise Abby. She might think it's funny."
Erin's eyes widened. "The others! We've got to tell them you're here. They'll be so thrilled."
"Whenever you want." Holtz shrugged, leaning back in the air. "Bring 'em over. I just can't go out. With the current range on the projector, I'm kind of limited to the general surroundings for now. And not a great idea taking it outside the apartment's shields, unless you feel like fighting a whooole lotta ghosts."
"Right. How long does the charge on the…ghost projector last? What kind of timeframe do we have?"
"Well, right now, only lasts a couple days before needing a recharge or risking overheating."
"Is it battery-powered?" Erin asked, picking it up to examine.
"Plutonium core."
Erin's eyes focused on her, suddenly more careful with the device. "You've been keeping a plutonium-based power cell under the bed?"
"First of all, it's no more dangerous than our proton packs and we've slept next to those plenty. Second, I didn't put any plutonium in until the night I intended to use it."
Erin pushed away the memory of that morning. "And where did you get plutonium?"
Holtz fidgeted sheepishly. "Jesse's lab."
"You stole plutonium from the firehouse? Oh my god, that's why you wanted to visit," Erin groaned.
"To be fair, my main reason was to see the place one last time. Getting the plutonium was just secondary. And also seeing if I could maybe tether myself there in case the apartment didn't work. Hey, did you put my ashes there like I asked?"
Erin pressed her hand to her eyes. "Tell me you didn't fake that episode there to get time alone to steal the plutonium."
"All real, I promise. Just made it easier to get a distraction so I could steal it."
"You're telling Jesse about this little plot," Erin said firmly. "They're probably freaked out they lost radioactive material on their watch!"
"Okay. We're gonna need to set up a standing order anyway to keep the projector recharged."
Reminded of the more immediate problem, Erin's heart ached at the thought of Holtz disappearing again now that she had her back. "So I only get to see you once in a while?"
"For now, but I've got ideas for how to stretch the power usage. I mean, it just lets me materialize easier. I'll still be here, even if you can't see me. Plus I stashed a few more of these babies in a box in the workshop so we can put one in every room of the apartment." She grinned. "Full-on ghost roommate."
Erin stared at the ghost of her wife, marveling how in just a matter of minutes, the tragedy of the last few years had turned to rejuvenated hope for the future. She had Holtzmann back, maybe less physically, but so much herself. "I missed you so much."
Holtz moved to sit beside her on the bedframe. "Missed you too. But never have to worry about that again. You're stuck with me."
"Mm." Unable to resist any longer, Erin leaned over, closing her eyes and hoping she wouldn't pass right through Holtz's body. To her grateful relief, her lips were met by a cold, but welcome pair that matched her kiss with the same mix of tenderness, longing, and joy.
Ultimately, Erin pushed back. "Okay, if we're going to tell Patty and Abby, we'd better do it before we get too carried away with that."
"True. We need a new mattress anyway. Not that I'd mind using the floor, but I don't want to hurt your old bones."
"Cute," Erin snorted, getting out her phone. "At least I still have my bones."
"Ouch! That's cold, Gilbert. Didn't your parents ever teach you not to disrespect the dead?"
"You're supposed to respect your elders too. Now come on and let's take a picture to send the girls."
"Hang on, let me pose like I'm sneaking up on you. I want to see if I can scare Abby."
As they worked out the creepiest way Holtz could think of to announce her return, Erin relished the joy that had been absent from their lives for so long. And she decided if this did turn out to be a dream or she was going crazy, she never wanted to be sane again.
(P.S. - I feel like I should note I absolutely do not advocate death as a "solution" to chronic illness. This is just a story set in a very specific universe where ghosts are a practical reality and even then, death is not to be taken lightly. I hope it doesn't come across that I'm suggesting anything insensitive or inappropriate of that sort.)
