It was pandemonium. Not only were half the NYPD police cruisers parked outside, but the officers packed the hallways of the emergency room, the overworked nurses doing all they could to keep the throng at bay.
Ray didn't even wait for Winston to stop the car before he was out of it, his heart pounding. He didn't see if they were behind him.
But, he knew they would be.
He didn't know what he was going to find. But, he was still afraid.
He had told himself over and over on the agonizing ride over that maybe they were mistaken. Maybe she would be alright. It wasn't as serious as they thought.
Just what the hell happened?
She had to be OK. There was no other option he wanted to consider.
The looks on the other officers' faces when he barged through the double doors into the ER was all he needed to see to realize he'd been filling his head with false hope all along.
There were tears, even on the gruffest of features. And anger. Raw anger.
In a daze, he stopped in the middle of the waiting room and stared.
They all stared back.
A few he recognized. Most, he didn't.
Vaguely, he sensed his three friends standing close behind him. He knew they were waiting to see what he would do next.
What he had to do next was ask to see her. Ask how she was doing.
But, just by the look of every person's face in the room, he knew the answer to that question.
And, he wasn't sure if he was ready to hear it actually spoken aloud.
The crowd parted, a figure working his way through.
It was Clancy. He looked older than Ray remembered.
And, judging by his splotched face and blood-shot eyes, the man had been crying.
"Wh-where is she?" It was the first time Ray had spoken since those awful words had come out of Janine's mouth. He was surprised he sounded as calm as he did. Because what he really wanted to do was tear this place apart looking for her. Demand answers.
People who didn't know him well would say that would be unlike him.
But, the people who knew him best knew better.
Maybe it was the quiet support from the three guys behind him that kept him just on this side of sane.
Ray hated the tears in Clancy's eyes more than anything.
There was only one reason a man like him would cry.
"I'm sorry, son. But . . . they told us not . . . not 20 minutes ago."
If someone had stabbed Ray in the heart, it wouldn't have felt as excruciating as it did now. He took a deep breath. Held it. Almost felt like a weight on his chest wouldn't allow him to exhale.
He was lying to himself all along.
For a moment, he hung his head.
Someone put a hand on his back. He thought it was Peter.
He knew they were worried about him. If it were the other way around, he'd be just as concerned.
But, he wasn't going to fall apart. Not now. Not until he figured out just how in the hell his world got turned upside down so quickly.
Ray looked up, right at Helen's partner. Looked him straight in the eye, his own eyes dry. "What happened?"
Clancy cleared his throat, a little taken aback at Ray's calm reaction. "We don't quite know. She was found . . . at the docks. With Gambini and one of his goons."
Ray's breath stopped in his throat.
Gambini.
The phone call.
It wasn't from her chief. It was from Gambini.
She'd lied to Janine.
She lied to me.
Tears threatened this time, and Ray looked away from the fierce gaze of Clancy.
Clancy was still talking, choosing his words carefully. " . . . guys found her, she was still alive. But, Gambini and the goon were not. She . . . she took them out."
Ray's head snapped up, a sharp retort on the end of his tongue.
But, at what cost?
Clancy must have seen the anger on his face because his next words faded into nothing.
Helen was gone.
But, the anger didn't last long. It faded just as fast as it appeared. Replaced with an emptiness that he knew would never quite go away. Not for a long, long time.
He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing would come out.
Get a grip, Stantz. Tears won't change a fucking thing.
Someone was speaking. Egon.
"She got a phone call not two hours ago at the station. She said it was the chief." Egon's voice was quiet. Calm. Trying to figure all this out. Reasoning in a world full of insanity. It was what he did best.
Clancy shook his head, some of his color returning. "No one called that I know of. We were all just trying to figure out . . .how she wound up out there."
Clancy glanced at the other Ghostbusters. Ray looked like he was in shock. "Why would she go all alone?"
"That's something we'll have to figure out," Winston said. "All the answers will come out. They always do."
They were talking over and around him, surrounded by all these people in blue uniforms.
And somewhere in this place was Helen. His Helen.
"I want to see her." His voice was firm.
Although he didn't see it, Peter looked like he was going to argue. Winston shot him a look and shook his head.
For once, Peter shut up.
Clancy looked dubious, but replied, "I don't think that will be a problem."
Clancy didn't say it, but the unspoken words made Ray flinch.
Now that she's dead, anyway.
An elderly nurse with a kind face led him down the corridor. Ray followed woodenly, part of him wanting to run the other way.
He didn't quite know if he could handle this. But, he had to do this. Alone.
The guys didn't like it, but they stayed in the waiting room, Egon and Clancy still piecing everything together. Including something about green slime all over Gambini's face.
How Slimer fit into this screwed up equation, he didn't know.
And, if anyone could figure out how the hell this happened, it was Egon. Normally, Ray knew he could help. But, not this time. At least, not today.
The nurse had stopped at the entrance of a door marked 'Room 4' and gave him a sad smile.
"They haven't cleaned her up yet." Her tone was apologetic.
All Ray could do was nod, his tongue feeling like it was five sizes too big for his mouth.
Still in a daze, he followed her inside the darkened room. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust. But, what he saw made them blur again, this time with tears.
He could tell just by that cursory glance they had tried.
And, right in the middle of the room, was a sheet covering the body of the woman he'd come to love.
Ray stood at the foot of the gurney, staring, his heart in his throat.
The nurse reached for the edge of the sheet. There wasn't a spot on it.
Absently, Ray was surprised it was as white as it was. No blood stains it at all, like the ones on the gauze littering the floor.
Helen's blood . . .
For a brief moment, he thought, "How great would it be if this was not her after all? If it were someone else's wounded body underneath that stark white sheet!"
That, too, was nothing but false hope.
When he saw her ghostly-pale face, he thought his knees might buckle. Gritting his teeth to keep from crying out against this awful, awful thing that had happened to her, he somehow found himself standing on the opposite side of the gurney from the nurse with the pitiful look on her face.
Automatically, his hand reached for the edge of the sheet.
The nurse stopped him with a touch. "I wouldn't if I were you. The doctors . . . well, they tried everything they could. It's a little . . . tough to see."
Ray stared at the woman, some part of his brain still responding because he obeyed. His eyes strayed back to Helen's face. There was a little blood streaked on her cheek and her hair, the tube sticking out between her blue lips where they tried to keep her alive a stark contrast to her pale features.
She'd suffered. She'd suffered and died.
Alone.
Luckily, there was a stool right next to the gurney, and Ray sank onto it, his eyes never leaving Helen's face.
He didn't even hear the nurse leave the room, shutting the door softly behind her.
He didn't now how long he just sat there staring. Questions flitting in and out of his mind.
Why? Why did you do this? Why couldn't you have called someone else? Ignored him? Told him to go to hell?
Just like you promised?
Why did we get a run a few minutes before she arrived? I could've stopped her. Gone with her. Talked her out of it.
How long did you lay there? Did you know? Were you afraid?
Ray wiped his face, his hand coming back wet.
Tears.
Tears will do no good. They won't change a damn thing.
Hesitantly, he reached out and brushed her cheek with his finger, some of the blood smeared on it coming off on his hand.
She was already cool to the touch.
"Jesus, Helen . . ." His voice was strangled. He felt like someone was strangling him. All the life drained out of him onto the floor where Helen's own blood had pooled.
Suddenly, he found himself wanting to revert to his youth, when crying and yelling against the unfairness of it all didn't change anything, but might just make you feel a little better . . . wait? What was that?
Ray looked down, blinking the tears from his eyes.
It was Slimer.
He had wrapped his little green arms around his leg.
"So sorry. So sorry. Tried to help. So sorry."
There wasn't anything Ray could think to say to make the little guy feel any better.
Ray wondered if he'd ever feel better ever again.
Instead, he hung his head and wept bitter tears, the little green ghost clinging to his leg like a frightened child.