Hey everyone! I just wanted to update and say that MY PROTON PACK FINALLY CAME IN. I ordered it like a month ago and I was so worried that it wouldn't get here by Halloween, but you guys have no idea how excited I am! I love it! So I had to quickly finish this chapter so I could share my excitement with the world. ;)

I hope it's not getting too confusing for you guys, I promise I'm wrapping it all up as a sort of murder mystery type of thing for the end. Any questions, comments or suggestions, just leave a review or message me! Thanks and I hope you enjoy reading! :D

John Bennett reached his apartment and slammed the door shut behind him. He threw his keys onto the table beside the door and ran a hand nervously through his hair. As he collapsed into his armchair, he noticed that the light on his answering machine was blinking steadily, signaling that he had a message waiting. He pressed the button and put his head in his hands as he listened.

"John…it's Angela. I just wanted to make sure you were alright…last night at the bar, you started acting funny. I thought things were getting better...that's why I didn't say anything. But I'm worried about you. Please give me a call when you get this."

John looked up as the message ended and sighed heavily as he reached for the receiver. After dialing the number that had long since been imprinted in his mind, he stared blankly out the window at the evening sunset awaiting the phone to be answered on the other end.

"…John?"

"Angela, yeah it's me." John said as he leaned forward in his armchair. He heard her sigh in relief.

"What happened to you last night?" She asked. John hesitated before answering with the truth.

"Angela…you're going to think I'm crazy. But…do you remember Lucille?" He heard a sharp intake of breath from the other end of the line and then a brief few seconds of silence. He cringed, anticipating her to hang up on him.

"Yes." She finally answered with a questioning tone in her voice. John ran a hand through his hair once more, a nervous habit he had.

"I saw her last night." He blurted out.

"John…"

"Honestly, Angela. It was her…she came up to me while you were gone last night at the bar. It was this strange younger woman though, but somehow…I believed it was Lucille." He said, his voice trembling as he tried to explain himself.

"And that's why you were acting weird after I came back. You thought you saw your dead fiancé's ghost." He could almost picture her shaking her head in irritation.

"Yes." He paused and bit his lip, expecting her to go off on a furious rant towards him. When she didn't say anything, he slowly continued. "I went to see the Ghostbusters about it this afternoon."

"…Why?" Her voice was suddenly cautious.

"I wanted to see if there was any truth to it really happening. And while I was there…the same woman came downstairs. The one from the bar. She was the spitting image of Lucille…" John's voice cut off suddenly as he heard a quiet knock at his apartment door.

"John…why are you doing this to yourself again?" Angela asked, her voice almost pitying. John glanced back at his door absently.

"Doing what?"

"You know…you're torturing yourself about her death again. It's been almost eight years now, John. You…you need to let go." Her voice was gentle over the phone and his throat grew tight with emotion. He was startled as another knock sounded at his door, this one slightly louder.

"Angela…I need to go. I promise I'll call you again soon." John said, standing up from his armchair and moving to hang up the phone.

"Promise me you won't do anything stupid? You know how I worry about you."

"Yes, I promise." He relented. He said a quick goodbye and then hung up. He ran another hand through his hair before going to the door, holding his breath. Another knock pounded and he quickened his pace.

"John."

As he opened the door, he wasn't surprised to find that the girl from the bar and the Ghostbusters' firehouse was standing out in the hall. Her face was pale, her dark hair in messy curls down her back. She was still in the t-shirt and jeans she had been wearing at the Ghostbuster's headquarters, only the light blue of her left sleeve was burnt and she was clutching at her shoulder tightly.

"…Keira, was it?" He asked hopefully. A weary smile spread across her face as she shook her head up at him.

"No John, it's me…Lucille."

John looked down at her hesitantly. She leaned towards him but he hastily stepped back before she could touch him. Her bright green eyes blinked up at him with hurt.

"John please…" Her voice was a hoarse whisper as her eyes brimmed with tears. He stared at her trying to hold himself together in thoughtful silence. When he finally spoke again, his voice was flat.

"You didn't act like you knew me when we were with the Ghostbusters earlier."

"I didn't want them to know." Lucille said softly. She nodded towards her injured shoulder which she still held so tightly that her knuckles were white. "You see what they did to me when you left."

John glanced down at her shoulder and slowly peeled her fingers away from the wound. She winced but allowed him to look over the singed shoulder and the shirt burnt around it.

"Why didn't you go to a hospital?" He asked quickly. Lucille laughed drily.

"I don't think that would've been an option. I've already been there once today because of Keira. I think showing up a second time after already being turned over to the Ghostbusters would just cause that much more of a fuss."

John regarded the girl in front of him worriedly before glancing down the hall around her before finally relenting to let her into his apartment.

"Alright, come inside. I'll see what I have to fix you up." John said as she walked past him into the room. He shut the door quietly and then hunted in his cabinets for his first aid kit. "But you at least owe me an explanation if you really are who you say you are."

"Fair enough." She smiled as she watched him from the living room. When he had gathered a few of his old bottles of rubbing alcohol and bandages, he turned around and noticed her looking around the apartment knowingly.

"How did you know where to find me, for starters?" He asked skeptically. She turned back to him and smirked.

"Thankfully, even after all these years…you haven't moved. Room 249, just like before."

John froze as he set the first aid kit and supplies on the table next to his armchair. As he straightened up he could see the familiar light in her eyes that he had remembered ever since that fateful night eight years ago when he'd lost her.

"Oh Lucille…" He said as he drew her into a hug, careful not to put too much pressure on her injured shoulder. She leaned into him briefly and then pulled away to look at him.

"I've missed you, John." Her smile fell slightly as she studied him, and she cocked her head to the side thoughtfully. "Though, you do look much older…has it really been that long?"

"The years have been hard on me since I lost you, Lucille. You have no idea…" He motioned for her to sit in his armchair as he opened up the first aid kit. She did as he bid her to, an unreadable expression on her face.

"I'm sure I have some idea." She said.

John was silent as he knelt next to her and rolled up the remains of her shirt sleeve so that he could get a better look at her shoulder. She winced as he peeled the shirt from the raw, burnt skin on her shoulder. John shook his head in disbelief as he worked.

"How is this possible, Lucille? What have you done to this poor girl?" He murmured.

"I'm…still figuring it out. But soon…she'll be gone and I'll be…well, me again. I may not look the same, but then again, neither do you." She said. John met her gaze hesitantly.

"This girl…Keira…you mean you'll get rid of her spirit so you can inhabit her body?" He asked, hardly believing that he was taking her seriously. She nodded.

"She's weakened to the breaking point now. I promise…we'll get to be together again…"

Lucille cried out as he dabbed some of the rubbing alcohol onto her arm. She blinked away the pain and then glanced up at him once more. He was silent as he finished cleaning her wound.

"What's wrong?" She asked as he slowly began to bind her shoulder. He wouldn't meet her gaze when he finally answered.

"I don't like this." John tied off the end of the bandage and started to pack up the first aid kit as Lucille stared at him levelly.

"You don't like what?"

"It's taken me years to get over you, Lucille. And just when I finally think I can move on, you show up again. It's just overwhelming me, I suppose." He said. Lucille followed him with her eyes as he stood and began putting away his supplies.

"I thought you would've been overwhelmed with joy after realizing I was alive again. Why does it torment you so much?" She asked. She hesitated when he didn't answer. "Is there someone else?"

John turned back to her abruptly from where he had replaced the first aid kit in the kitchen cabinet. He let out a huge breath and smiled sadly.

"No…no, there's no one else." He said quickly. Lucille blinked up at him, worriedly.

"Then what is it?"

"It's nothing, Lucille. It's just…hard to wrap my mind around all this." He crossed the room back to her and took her hand. She stood and stared up at him hesitantly and he kissed her cheek. "It really is you."

Lucille's face broke into a relieved smile and she leaned into him once more.

"Of course it is."

"There's so much I want to say to you…" He said sadly. He felt her laugh quietly against him.

"Take a walk with me?" She suggested quietly after a few moments. Surprised, he looked down at her.

"Where do you want to go?" He asked. She smiled.

"Where this all started."