Cruel Necessity

by Epona Harper

An attack on Peter has far-reaching repercussions.

2. Aftershocks

Ecto-1 careened wildly through the Manhattan streets as the Ghostbusters rushed to the hospital. Janine had reached them with the news of Peter's return when they were about halfway back to the firehouse. As Winston changed course, Ray called Mrs. Faversham to give her an update.

"...We don't know yet, Mrs. Faversham," he said. "Yes, we'll call you as soon as we know something.... Don't you worry. Peter's tough. He'll be fine." Ray smiled at her response. "I'll tell him you said so. Bye."

"How's she doing, Ray?" Winston asked with a quick glance at the red-headed engineer in the passenger's seat.

"Better," Ray answered. "Much better now that she knows Peter's back. Though she did say she was going to spend the night with a friend." He glanced back at Egon. "She knows there's no danger at her house, Egon, but she doesn't want to be alone just yet."

"Quite understandable," Egon replied absently, still skimming through Tobin's for some indication of what they were up against. Janine had given them a description over the phone just before the ambulance arrived, and he was trying to narrow down the possibilities. "I very much doubt that I would relish solitude after the events of today."

Ray slumped against the window and stared at the buildings as they flashed by. "Peter will be okay, won't he?" he asked quietly. "Janine said he was really hurting."

Egon reached over the seat to pat him on the shoulder. "It's futile for us to speculate until we have more information, Raymond. But remember what you said to Mrs. Faversham. Peter is strong, and the fact that he regained consciousness on his own is reassuring."

"In other words, don't go borrowing trouble until you have to," Winston concluded as he pulled into the hospital parking lot. Fortunately, it didn't take long to find an empty space. Ray and Egon sprinted for the entrance to the E.R. but paused...

"Winston!" shouted Ray. "Hurry up!"

"Hold your horses, Ray!" Winston trotted up to them, shrugging on a proton pack. Egon frowned.

"I don't believe that will be necessary, Winston," he said. "And it will certainly unsettle the hospital staff."

Winston snorted. "The hospital staff can just deal. This creep might make a go at snatching one of us next. I'm not taking any chances."

Egon looked at Ray, who shrugged helplessly, then decided to let it go. The trio burst through the doors to the waiting area and made for the admissions desk. A short, pinched-faced woman looked up at them with distaste as they approached.

"Ahhh, the Ghostbusters. You must be here for Dr. Venkman and his Guardian Valkyrie."

One side of Winston's face quirked in a half-smile. "Yes, ma'am. Could you please tell us where they are?"

The clerk's mouth twisted, but she punched the button to unlock the door to the rest of the Emergency Department. "Acute Care ten." She gave the pack Winston wore a very pointed look. "And please don't cause any more fuss."

"What was that all about?" Ray asked as they hurried through the doors and down the hall.

"Sounds like Janine is in full mother-bear mode to me," Winston shrugged. "They should have known better than to mess with her when she's like that."

"Considering how often we frequent this facility," Egon said, a little annoyance slipping into his tightly controlled voice, "one might expect a sharper learning curve."

"Well, some of us do catch on after a while, Dr. Spengler," drawled an amused voice as they came around the corner into the acute care unit. All three of them skidded to a halt.

"Bethany!" Ray cried as he engulfed their favorite nurse in a bear hug. "I'm so glad you're on today."

The stout, coffee-skinned woman returned the embrace with equal enthusiasm. In the course of their depressingly frequent visits to the hospital, the Ghostbusters had gotten on a first name basis with many of the staff. But Bethany Carlson had sort of adopted the team as her pet patients and called dibs on their care whenever she could. She had also become a bit of an intermediary between them and the more straight-laced of the hospital staff. "A good thing I was, Ray honey," she said with a fond smile. "Janine nearly got security called on her. What with her insisting on keeping that pack on and following Dr. Venkman to every test."

As Ray released the nurse, Winston claimed a hug as well. "Frankly, ma'am, I don't blame her. Something that could snatch Pete right off the street could probably do it in the middle of an E.R."

"That's what I told the radiology techs," she said, releasing Winston and giving Egon a quick embrace. "Now, before you go panicking over an empty room and driving Dr. Presterson nuts by running all over his E.R. trying to track them down..."

"She knows us way too well, fellas," Winston remarked in an undertone.

Bethany lightly slapped his shoulder with a mock glower. "As I was saying, they have Peter in CT right now. You all can wait in his room 'til they get back, but the administration's getting antsy about having lots of visitors in the unit. After you see him, you'll have to limit it to two people at a time."

"I suppose we can live with that, Mrs. Carlson," Egon answered. "Could you please tell us how Peter's doing?"

"He has one mother of a headache, but the doctor said he could have some Demerol if the CT was okay. Oh! I nearly forgot."

Bethany walked behind the nurse's station and picked up something. "Janine asked me to give this to you if you got here before she got back." Her hand came up with a PKE meter Janine had used to record the events in the firehall. She handed it to Egon with an impish twinkle in her eye. "Maybe she thought playing with this would keep you out of trouble."

Egon eagerly accepted the meter and checked its memory. "Thank you, ma'am. I believe this will keep us safely occupied for some time."

"It'd better. If I catch you wandering the unit, I'll toss you in the decontamination showers." She shooed them away with a motherly smile. "Go on. Get out of sight before Dr. Presterson gets back from break and sees you all here."

The trio obediently withdrew to the empty treatment room. The unit was a series of glass-walled cubicles surrounding the central nurses' station. Curtains were hung in the rooms for privacy, but they were pulled back in AC 10 giving the Ghostbusters a good view of the area. Egon immediately sat down in one of the two hard plastic chairs and started going over the readings recorded on the meter. Ray dragged the other chair over to him and plonked into it, looking over Egon's shoulder at the screen. Winston simply leaned against one of the countertops.

"Wow, this is great!" Ray breathed. "Even accounting for the distortion coming from the cross-rip, that's got to be at least a Class Eight corporeal manifestation!"

Winston rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Just great, Ray," he said exchanging a quick commiserating look with Egon. "Got enough to lock down where its home is? I'll feel a lot safer when we've got it trapped and locked away."

"Hmmmm...unfortunately, that may be more difficult than anticipated," Egon absently shoved his sliding glasses back into place. "We have the same scrambled readings I got back at Mrs. Faversham's house. Exactly the same." He frowned, causing his glasses to resume their slide down his nose. "The first time may have been disruption of the residuals due to variations in the dimensional fabric or environmental factors. However, readings taken when the cross-rip was open should not be showing the same pattern. I fear that someone has found a way to scramble the signals. This will make tracking the entity quite difficult."

"Gosh," Ray said with an equal mix of excitement and uneasiness. "It's like whatever it is knows our standard operating procedure and is trying to anticipate our moves."

"An unsettling but highly probable possibility. We will need to be extremely cautious."

"Now aren't you glad I insisted on bringing at least one pack in with us?" Winston said wryly.

"Egon! Ray! Winston!"

The three men looked up to see Janine striding quickly across the unit with an orderly pushing a gurney beside her. She had her thrower drawn but it was leaning casually against her shoulder. Even across the unit, they could see relief clearly on her face.

"Peter!" Ray shouted as he dashed out of the treatment room to meet them. He grabbed the psychologist's hand and walked alongside the bed. "How are you feeling, Peter? Are you okay?"

Peter was slightly propped up in the bed. An I.V. was running into his left hand, and a damp cloth had been placed across his eyes. He made no move to remove it, but turned his head slightly toward Ray's voice and squeezed the hand reassuringly. "Just peachy, Ray," he croaked. "Got a shot of somethin' in x-ray. Instead of being certain I'm gonna to die, I just wish I would."

"Complaining already," Janine said with a smile. "He's on the mend. We're just back from the scanner, and, wonder of wonders, there is actually something resembling a brain in that thick skull. I had to see it to believe it."

"Heard that. Hope you weren't counting on that raise."

"Are you sure you want to give me less incentive to keep you alive, Dr. V?"

The orderly maneuvered the gurney into the treatment room and the other two Ghostbusters converged on it.

"Good to have you back, homeboy," Winston said gently clasping the psychologist's shoulder. "We were starting to get worried."

"Of course you were," Peter murmured with only a trace of his usual bravado. "Team would have fallen apart without me."

"I see your ego survived intact, Dr. Venkman," Egon said dryly, and paused for Peter's response. When there wasn't one, he reached down to clasp his hand. "Peter?"

The brown-haired man twitched, then turned his face toward the sound. "Egon? Sorry, Spengs. Kinda sleepy."

"The shot they gave him must be kicking in," Janine said quietly.

"All right, children. Are you satisfied that he won't dry up and blow away in the next ten minutes?" Heads swivelled to see Nurse Carlson standing in the doorway, her arms folded across her ample chest, an amused smile on her dark face and a determined gleam in her eye. "If so, two of you need to vacate the premises. Now, will you go quietly, or do I have to fetch my tranquilizer gun?"

Winston chuckled and raised his hands in surrender. "Orders received, ma'am. We'll withdraw immediately." He unbuckled his proton pack. "You guys hang on to this. Janine and I will take the first turn in the lobby. I'm sure you're about to start taking readings on Pete six ways from Sunday."

"Oh, joy," Peter muttered just loud enough for them to hear. Janine grinned and patted his shoulder.

"Hang in there, Dr. V. Come on, Winston. I need a break from sentry duty." And the two of them headed for the waiting room. Bethany smiled with satisfaction.

"Dr. Presterson should be back in a few minutes. He's probably gone to get the official read from the radiologist, but the preliminary didn't show any bleeds." Concern crept into her eyes even though her smile remained steady. However, she simply nodded, pulled the curtains around to give them some privacy and went back to her station.

Ray and Egon looked down at their friend. In that short amount of time Peter had apparently drifted off once more. Egon released Peter's hand with a gentle pat, then picked up his meter. After a moment adjusting the settings he pointed it at the dozing man. The volume had been muted out of consideration for Peter's headache, and a good thing, too. From the violently blinking lights and the numbers flashing across the screen, the alarm would have probably brought security down on them. Egon's eyes widened and he started murmuring softly and fervently in Sumerian. Ray looked over his shoulder at the readings and gasped.

"Oh, Egon! We've never seen readings that high in a person outside of a possession!" Ray looked down at Peter, aghast. "Could he be..." He gulped, not wanting to finish the thought, as if that would make it come true.

Egon made a minute adjustment on the meter and relaxed only slightly. "No, Ray. It's not a possession. There's no coherent pattern to the PK energy that would indicate the presence an entity. In fact..." He frowned, causing his glasses to slide to the tip of his nose. He violently pushed them back up again. "If it wasn't for their sheer strength, I would think these were residuals."

Ray nodded. "That's right. It's like he's been completely saturated with psychokinetic energy. But why?"

"For that matter, how?" Egon's mouth pressed into a thin line. "In order to achieve this level of saturation in under two hours, the levels of PKE would have to be phenomenal. Much higher than any human could survive."

"...was longer..." Peter murmured from below them. Ray leaned forward eagerly.

"You heard us, Peter?"

"The last bit. Time went slower...wherever I was. I remember it saying that."

"How much time passed for you, Peter?" Egon asked. "Can you estimate?"

"More than three hours. Where's my watch? They took it off to stick me."

Ray spotted the bundle of Peter's belongings in a rack under the bed. He dragged them out and rummaged through them until he found the watch. "Gosh, Egon! He must have been in a dimension on an alternate time-stream. If the watch hasn't been tampered with, Peter was gone for nearly nine hours. Would that be enough?"

"Perhaps. If whoever did this had extremely precise control over energy flows." He pulled the chair over to the bed, sat down and took Peter's hand. "Peter, I know it's difficult for you to stay awake...Correction, even more difficult than usual for you to stay awake right now, but we need to know what happened to you."

"You just love ruining my sleep, don't ya, Spengs?" Peter sighed and lifted one hand to slide the washcloth up to his forehead. He opened his eyes a sliver to look at the physicist, then winced and covered them again. "I was charbroiled by the sorriest talking lizard you ever saw. That's what it kept saying anyway. 'I'm sorry.' But it wasn't sorry enough to stop!" The last sentence was laced with bitterness. Egon squeezed Peter's hand reassuringly.

"A reptilian humanoid? That matches Janine's description of the creature that returned you. We entertained the theory that this entity may have actually rescued you from your abductor."

"No such luck," Peter said with a snort. "Did it to me three times. Felt like it was shooting napalm through me with a high pressure hose. The last time..." Peter turned suddenly on his side and his grip on Egon's hand tightened to the point of pain. Ray took Peter's other hand and crouched down by the bed.

"What happened the last time, Peter?" he asked gently. "Tell us."

Peter took a shuddering breath and held it for a moment. "The last time...something broke."

Ray and Egon looked at each other in alarm. "What broke?" Ray asked hesitantly.

"I don't know," Peter whispered, his voice showing the tight control it assumed only when he was well and truly terrified. "It hurt. It hurt like hell, but I don't know what it did to me."

A brittle silence filled the room as the implications sank in. Ray turned to Egon, his brown eyes wide with anxiety. The question in them screamed at the physicist. What now? Egon suppressed a sigh and managed to force a smile.

"Whatever happened, Peter, we'll deal with it," he said, determination lending a hard edge to his voice. "First of all, we should attempt to remove some of that PKE contamination. It may even be exacerbating your pain."

Peter grimaced. "After all this, you're gonna neutronize me too?"

"Come on, Peter. You know better than that," Ray chided. "We can pull it off with a trap."

"Oh, great. More bright light," the psychologist groaned as he rolled onto his back. "Well, let's get it over with."

Ray pulled the trap off the pack and held it over Peter's chest as Egon replaced the washcloth and added his hand to shield Peter's eyes from the glare. Brilliant white light poured out of the trap as it was triggered, and Peter gasped as he felt something pull away. Ray shut off the trap and dropped it to the floor. "Peter! I'm sorry, did it hurt you?"

"S'okay, Ray," Peter managed to gasp out. "Felt kinda like when you rip a scab off." His breathing evened out and some of the tension left his face. "Hey, I think you're on the right track, 'gon. After the initial kick, my head's feeling a little better. Maybe if we do it again, it won't fall off when I try to sit up."

"Just what do you boys think you're doing in here?"

Two heads whipped around to look sheepishly at Bethany as the formidable nurse pushed through the curtains. She folded her arms and shook her head sorrowfully. "And here I thought you were actually going to behave yourselves for once, but nooooooo. You just have to set off a light show."

Peter, his pain now at a level where he could tolerate it, chuckled. "Come on, Nurse Bethie. It's working better than that happy juice you gave me. Come on, Spengs. How about another hit?"

Egon glanced at the meter. "Hmmmm...I don't believe repeating the process would help you further. We appear to have gotten the majority of the contamination on the first try." He turned to the nurse with a contrite look. "I'm very sorry if we disturbed any of the other patients, Mrs. Carlson. However, we do have reason to believe that Peter's injuries may not be wholly physical in nature. Perhaps we could have waited until we got home before trying to draw off the contamination, but I did not feel comfortable with that delay."

Bethany's expression softened as she looked down at the figure on the bed. "I can understand that. You boys are the experts when it comes to ghosts and whatnot. I..." Her voice trailed off, and her mouth hardened into a thin line. She gave each of the men a penetrating look then abruptly reached behind her to pull the curtains closed once more. "I might as well come out and say it," she said as she walked over to the bed and laid a hand on Peter's shoulder. "I know Dr. Presterson isn't going to find something to treat. I knew from the moment you got here, Peter, that you'd taken a soul hurt."

"How did you..." Ray started to ask, then his face lit up with delight. "Bethany! You're psi-sensitive? Why didn't you tell us?"

Bethany smiled and shrugged. "No, love. I'm afraid I don't have the Sight. At least, if I do, I've not got enough to do much with. But it does run in my family, so I learned a lot about it from my gramma. Now, I can't tell much of what's going on here, but Peter's been hurt and hurt bad."

Peter's mouth twisted into a wry half-smile and gave the impression that his eyes were rolling under the closed lids. "Thanks ever so much for clearing that up, Bethie."

The nurse gently slapped the psychologist's shoulder. "None of your sass, boy. As I was saying, you've been hurt pretty bad and I have a feeling that you may need some help to get healed up properly."

Egon rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "You're referring to a psionic healer, I believe. A person with the ability to detect and influence psionic based injuries."

"Well, my gramma just called them `Sight healers' or `soul doctors', but I think we're talking the same thing. You boys heard of them?"

Ray nodded. "A little bit. But they're really hard to find. They don't set up openly. I guess because they don't want to be confused with all the quacks."

"Partly that, and partly because they don't want to be badgered to do things they can't do," Bethany added ruefully. "They've got no power over physical injuries, and, if they set up as a healer publicly, that's exactly what people would come to them for."

"You seem to know quite a bit about this," Peter said, tiredly. "Shall I make a dizzying leap of logic and assume that you're about to make a referral?"

"As a matter of fact, Dr. Venkman, I am," Bethany countered. "Sara's an old friend of my gramma's and I think she's just the one to help you." A sly smile slipped across her face. "In fact, you could be getting two healing approaches from this. Sara's new apprentice is a doctor in this hospital. Dr. Basco in pediatrics."

"That would be highly appropriate given Peter's apparent level of maturity," Egon remarked dryly.

"Hey!" Peter protested weakly, but any further verbal sparring was cut off as Dr. Presterson finally arrived.

***

"But, Peter..."

"No arguments, Ray. I'd do it myself, but between this headache and my luck with machines, I'd probably blow containment sky-high."

"Hey, I don't like it either, m'man, but Pete's got a point."

"It is a reasonable precaution."

"Come on, Egon. You don't seriously believe Peter would hurt us, do you?"

Night had fallen by the time Peter had been sprung from the E.R., and Winston was driving Ecto with smooth efficiency through the lively streets of the City That Never Sleeps. Janine rolled her eyes in the back seat where she was jammed in together with Egon and Peter. This particular argument had been going on in several different variations for the last five blocks. After all the readings and her fruitless search through Tobin's for the creature that attacked Peter, they still had no clue what had happened to him except for a psionic scorching, and, since they didn't know, Peter had insisted on taking maximum precautions.

"I know that Peter would never intentionally harm us," Egon replied, taking off his glasses to clean them. "However, there are methods of circumventing a person's standard code of behavior. Especially when we are dealing with the paranormal."

"Translation: This whole thing could have been done to turn me into a sleeper agent," Peter said firmly. "Bottom line. As soon as we get home, Ray cancels my access to the containment unit and I don't touch a thrower."

"How very convenient, Dr. V.," Janine drawled. "Gets you out of early morning busts and emptying the traps. Sleeper agent is right...as in sleeping in. And do you realize you look like a refugee from The Matrix in those shades?"

Peter leaned his head back against the seat and adjusted the extremely dark, wrap-around sunglasses Winston had considerately purchased at the hospital gift shop.

"Come on, Janine," he moaned pathetically. "Surely you can muster a little more sympathy for your battered boss." The moan was only half contrived. The E.R. physician had confirmed that there was no intercranial bleed or any other serious problem behind his headache, so he'd decided to treat it as a severe migraine. In addition to the Demerol given in the E.R., Peter had been a prescription for Vicodin to take when it wore off, but, while the pain was no longer incapacitating, the medication seemed to be only blunting it. Even through the sunglasses, he winced at the passing headlights of other cars.

"In your dreams. And don't call me Shirley."

"Oh, I can just feel the love," Peter said with a melodramatic sigh. "Now, Tex..."

"Okay, okay," the engineer interrupted, raising his hands in surrender. "I still think you're overreacting, but I'll void your code on the containment grid as soon as we get home. Then I'll hit my other books to try to find out what nabbed you." Ray turned in his seat to look at their secretary. "Do you mind staying late tonight, Janine? I'll need your help."

"Heck, you guys had better haul out the cot for me, 'cause I'm staying over. I'm not about to give that bastard a nice juicy target by going home alone."

"Okay, that gives us four to divide up the night-watch," Winston said with satisfaction. "Pete's not gonna be up to it, but we probably need to have someone awake and on guard all night. After all, that thing did open a cross-rip right in the middle of the firehouse."

"After I recalibrate the firehouse alarms, we should have ample warning of another portal," Egon said reassuringly. Winston's mouth hardened.

"That's all well and good, Egon," he retorted as he turned on to Mott. "But I want someone with a proton pack ready to blast at a moment's notice."

Egon thought this over for a moment, then acquiesced. "Very well. We will probably be up for most of the night anyway, researching the entity. And I have several tests to run on you, Peter. If you can manage it, I'd prefer to do them before you take any more painkillers."

Peter sighed as they pulled into the garage. "Okay, bring on the electrodes, Spengs. But I want a shower first."

Winston shut off the motor. He and Ray climbed out of the converted hearse while Egon and Janine helped Peter out of the back seat. Just as Peter turned toward the stairs...

"PEEEEETEEEERRRRR!!!"

"Awwwww, crap!"

The Ghostbusters' mascot ghost exploded through the ceiling from the upper levels of the firehouse with a wet SPLAT of ectoplasm and dove straight for the parapsychologist. Peter tried to dodge but his equilibrium was so thrown off by the headache that he started to fall. Egon lunged in to support his friend. As a result, both Ghostbusters were throughly slimed as Slimer tackled Peter.

"Yuck! Forget me staying away from the packs!" Peter snarled with disgust. "This ghost is toast!"

Ray ran over and tried to pull the Class Five off of Peter. "Slimer! Let go. Peter's been hurt."

"Peter hurt?!" Slimer pulled away with an alarmed expression and looked the angry man up and down. His yellow eyes widened and bugged out. "Peter different!"

Egon looked up through ectoplasm spattered glasses at the ghost. "Different? What do you mean?"

"He probably sees the scorch marks Barbizilla left on me," Peter said sourly as he scraped slime off his face and threw it on the ground.

"Is that it, Slimer?" Winston asked. "Can you see what happened to Peter? Do you see where he's been hurt?"

Slimer shook his head violently, causing everyone to duck flying globs of green. "See Peter better. Brighter!"

"What on earth is that supposed to mean?" Janine asked as she snagged a Kleenex from her desk for Egon to clean his glasses.

"At this point, I don't really give a damn," Peter said as he staggered toward the stairs. "You guys can play Twenty Questions with the spud. All I want is a shower so I'll be relatively comfortable while Egon plays mad scientist with me." As he started up the steps, he staggered again, this time with fatigue and Winston hurried to support him.

"Careful there, Pete," he cautioned as he put his hand on the psychiatrist's shoulder ready to grab him if his legs gave way. "You probably need a good meal too with all you've been through."

Peter stopped and made a face. "With this headache? I'm feeling a little better Zed, but not so good that I can guarantee I won't be doing the technicolor yawn all over the kitchen."

The former soldier was adamant. "Then we'll start with soup. Why don't you two see what you can do with your books," he said over his shoulder. "I'll get Pete cleaned up and fed before I turn him over to your tender mercies."

"A good idea," Egon said agreed as he started to shed his slimed jumpsuit. He pointed with his chin toward the green ghost whose gaze was locked on Peter as he went upstairs. "Why don't you see if you can determine what Slimer means by seeing Peter better, Ray?" he asked. "Perhaps that will give us some insight as to what happened."

Ray nodded as he guided Slimer toward the basement steps. "Okay. I'll talk to him as I modify containment security. Come on, Slimer."

"Wanna be with Peter!"

"Later, Slimer. Maybe when he feels better. Right now I need your help."

Slimer gave one more longing look toward the upper levels, then sighed and allowed Ray to pull him downstairs.

***

Egon put down the printouts and slipped one hand under his glasses to rub his eyes. His shoulders ached from hunching over the pages, and a knot was beginning to develop in the small of his back. To say it had been a rough day was an understatement of mammoth proportions. Now that the immediate danger seemed to have passed, fatigue was beginning to spread through him. However, logically he knew that their peril had not lessened in the slightest. He sincerely wished that the visual image tracker had not been damaged in his last lab accident. It would have been the most accurate tool to evaluate the effects of the psi-attack on Peter, but here had not been time to repair it. The physicist was now limited to a standard EEG and PKE meters.

Damn it, he swore silently as he picked up the notes he'd made from his discussion with Peter about his abduction. This makes no logical sense whatsoever. There are many powerful entities who would desire to capture one or all of us. There are just as many who would want to torture us-- either to extract information or revenge. The more crafty would leap at the opportunity to subvert one of us to get access to the containment unit. But to put Peter through agony one minute, then show concern over his discomfort, and then to return him openly to us... He shook his head. There has to be something we're missing.

"Hey, Egon? You hungry?"

The physicist looked up to see Ray framed in the doorway to the third floor lab. He was laden down with a tray of sandwiches and a six-pack of soda. Egon blinked, then turned back to his printouts.

"I'm afraid I don't have much of an appetite right now, Raymond. Perhaps after I finish with the EEG's..."

Ray shook his head as he kicked the door shut behind him and crossed the floor to the workbench. "Nothing doing, Egon. Janine dragged me out of the basement by my collar when I said the same thing about my books. She told me that the two of us were going to take care of ourselves even if she had to strap us down and forcefeed us. Now, if you want to try to cross her..."

Egon shuddered theatrically and reached for a sandwich. "When you put it that way..."

Ray grinned and slipped one of the sodas out of its plastic ring. "Good call. You have any luck?"

Egon thoughtfully chewed the bite he took from his turkey-on-rye and handed Ray several printouts. "I ran Peter through the full gamut," he said after he swallowed. "There is a very slight change in both his EEG and his baseline biorhythms. Nothing drastic. In fact, if it had not been for recent events, I would have put it off to natural fluctuations due to the high residual PKE he was still showing. However, after a second attempt to draw off the energy with a trap, there was no change in the pattern." The physicist leaned over to point out a particular pattern. "The EEG shows some new spiking here and here."

Ray poured over the graph, his eyebrows coming together in a frown. "It doesn't look like a pattern that would indicate a seizure waiting to happen. Gosh, that would be awful if it happened."

"Quite," Egon quietly agreed as the image of his friend in the throws of an epileptic fit flashed through his mind. Such a result would mean an end to Peter's Ghostbusting days. Ray flipped through the pages of squiggly lines and reached up to rub his chin.

"Something about that spiking pattern seems familiar," he finally said as he looked up and snagged a sandwich of his own. "I know I've seen it somewhere..."

"You have." Egon opened a file and pulled out another EEG graph. "Remember Thomas Markam? The dowser we tested at Columbia?"

Ray's face brightened. "Of course! The one who let us hook him up to an EEG while he was water witching!" The dowser had been somewhat of a coup for the parapsychologists in their academic days. In their attempts to investigate paranormal phenomena, it had been a challenge to find a subject who not only had a reliable, consistent ability, but was also willing to "go under the microscope" as it were. Thomas Markam, an accomplished water witch from the Catskills, was both. Ray snagged the printout and laid it next to Peter's. "This is great! That spiking pattern is almost identical. Only...." His voice trailed off as he traced the patterns with one finger. "They're not in the same place."

Egon nodded, his mouth pressing into a thin line. "That's correct. Thomas had spiking mainly over the sensory strip of his brain. Peter has it occurring in the lower section of the sensory cortex, part of the temporal lobe and deep within the midbrain."

"Wow..." Ray breathed. "So maybe the experience has enhanced Peter's psi-sensitivity.?"

"That is a possibility. We've all developed some minor psi-ability from our constant exposure to psychokinetic energy. Our ability to anticipate phone calls, for example."

Ray snapped his fingers and his eyes lit up with excitement. "And Peter's been the one to do that the most! I even think he was the first of us to do it. Egon, this might tie in with what Slimer told me. It took a while to make sense of what he was saying, but you know how ghosts have abilities to sense forms of energy? From what I can tell, they rely on this to sense the world almost more than they rely on what we would consider conventional eyesight. When Slimer said he could see Peter better, that he was somehow `brighter'; well, that's exactly what he meant. Peter's life energy, essence or whatever you want to call it has either intensified or switched to a wavelength ghosts can more easily `see'."

Egon pondered this for a moment, then glanced down at the biorhythm readings. "Hmmm...I believe the switched wavelength theory may be more plausible. If Peter's overall energy levels were intensified, I would expect a greater change in intensity with his biorhythms. That is simply not present here."

"That makes sense," Ray agreed. "After I got that straightened out I tried to get him to do comparisons. According to Slimer, if Peter's `light' was a flashlight yesterday, then today it's that high-intensity lamp we use downstairs when we're doing inspection on the containment unit." Ray leaned forward, fairly bouncing with excitement. "But this is the wild part. I got an idea to have him compare Peter's `light' to other people Slimer knows. You know what? If Peter was a flashlight yesterday and a floodlamp today, then the average person is a Christmas tree light. And I'm a penlight. That goes for you, Winston and Janine, too."

Egon's eyes widened behind his glasses as realization sank in. "So if Peter was easier for ghosts to `see' from the beginning..."

"That's why he gets slimed so much," Ray finished with his trademark enthusiasm. "He stands out from the rest of us. Isn't it great?"

"Or else they are somehow attracted to the `light' like moths." Egon mused, his lips twitching into a wry smile. "This is fascinating. However, I doubt Peter will consider the revelation that he has always been a `ghost magnet' and is now even more of one to be `great'."

Ray shrugged. "I guess he wouldn't." Abruptly, the auburn-haired man's face fell. "But I guess that doesn't do us much good with the big picture. Janine and I still haven't been able to find anything resembling the entity responsible in my books."

"Don't be impatient with yourself, Raymond," Egon said, reaching across the table to clasp his arm. "I know for a fact that you haven't gone through even half of your reference material."

"Well, no I haven't," Ray confirmed. "The trouble is that this creature is so contradictory. If I could even conclusively nail down whether it's a malevolent or benign entity, it would help." He waved a hand at the notes of Peter's encounter. "From what Peter says, it didn't want to hurt him. I don't know. Maybe it's a benevolent entity who's being forced into this by another entity."

"Somehow, I find that theory even less reassuring," Egon murmured. "Dealing with a malevolent entity powerful enough to coerce a Class Eight would be most unpleasant."

Ray winced and doggedly finished off the remains of his sandwich. "Well, I'm going back to my books," he said as he headed for the door. "I figure I can get another couple of hours before either Janine or Winston drags me to bed."

"And I'll see how Peter's doing." Egon quickly straightened up the papers on the workbench and headed across the hall to the bunkroom.

By the time they had finished the testing and debriefing, the Demerol had worn off completely. Peter had been quite miserable, so much so that he'd only put up a token protest when Egon insisted on him taking the prescribed painkillers before attempting to get some rest. As the blond physicist silently crept through the darkened room, it seemed that the medicine had done its work and Peter was sprawled under the covers, his face peaceful in sleep. Egon sat down on the chair next to the bed and absently checked the alarm they'd set to warn them of any further incursions into their headquarters. Reassured that the device was working properly, he turned his attention back to the younger man.

Egon sighed quietly as he allowed himself the luxury of briefly relaxing his hold on his emotions and letting himself acknowledge the fact that he was worried sick about his friend. They now had an idea what had been done to him, but they were ignorant as to the purpose. What possible goal could the entity have? Increasing psi-sensitivity could facilitate a spirit's ability to work through a living host, but there were far more efficient ways to accomplish this than blasting the victim with psychokinetic energy. Furthermore, by doing so in an open fashion, it had put the Ghostbusters on their guard to that very possibility. On top of all this, was the concern over permanent injury to Peter. They simply did not know enough about psionic wounds to predict what effect it would have on a person in the short or long term. Egon desperately hoped Bethany's healer would have reassuring news on that issue when she arrived the next day.

"You do manage to get yourself into the worst messes," he whispered so softly that he could barely hear his own voice.

"Pot, meet kettle."

Egon blinked, startled. "I'm sorry, Peter. Did I wake you?"

Green eyes slitted open and a faint smile curved on the psychologist's lips. "Why're you sorry now, 'gon. You never had any problem waking me from my beauty sleep before." Peter lifted one hand to push Egon's sliding glasses back up into place. The physicist frowned with half-hearted annoyance but said nothing.

"Don' worry, Spengs," Peter mumbled sleepily. "I've been kinda drifting in and out."

Egon smiled and gently pulled the covers higher over Peter's chest. "Well, enjoy it while you can. I believe I can allow you one morning to sleep in."

"Only one?" Peter whined with mock-disappointment. "I should get at least a week with you guys waiting on me hand and foot."

Egon raised an eloquent eyebrow. "Don't push your luck, Dr. Venkman."

Peter grinned, his eyelids drooping. "You're a hard man, Dr. Spengler." He yawned and snuggled back down into his pillow. "Next time we remodel, remind me to get some better soundproofing on the walls. What was Ray so excited about, anyway?"

"You heard us?" Egon asked, surprised. Although Ray had been displaying his usual exuberance, he'd been doing so in quiet tones out of consideration for Peter. Furthermore, the door of the lab was shut the entire time. The sound which would have filtered into the bunkroom should not have significantly disturbed Peter whom Egon would have sworn was capable of sleeping through a takeoff of the Space Shuttle.

"Yeah," Peter said, yawning again. "Though, maybe you should tell me in the morning. Between the headache and the Vicodin, I probably wouldn't remember if you told me now."

Egon smiled worriedly at the younger man. "It can wait till then, Peter. I think you'll find it most...interesting."

"Why doesn't that reassure me," Peter quipped, starting to drift back off to sleep, his brown hair falling into his eyes. Egon reached down and brushed the hair back.

Those spikes over the sensory cortex, he mused to himself. Perhaps the experience enhanced his senses.

"Like the guy on that program Ray likes to watch?" Peter muttered sleepily. "The Sentinel?"

Egon started and pulled his hand away, startled. What had just happened? "Peter, did you hear that?"

"Yeah, Egon. Stop mumbling to yourself and let me sleep already."

Egon's eyes widened as the implications sank in. Deliberately, he cleared his mind. He needed to make sure. Taking a deep breath, Egon focused on one single thought.

Peter?

Peter stirred slightly but didn't respond. Then Egon remembered they'd been in physical contact when Peter had apparently responded to his thoughts. Very gently, he reached out to brush Peter's hair back from his face again. Peter sighed and leaned into the comforting touch.

Peter?

The psychologist stirred. "What now, 'gon?"

The physicist took his hand away. "It's nothing. Go to sleep."

Egon was grateful for the fog of the painkillers which kept his friend from picking up on his mental state as he very carefully walked from the bunkroom and headed back to the lab.

The psychokinetic energy did enhance his psi-sensitivity. Well, enhance is an understatement. Peter's right. I do seem to have a tendency for that. He abruptly shook himself and forced his thoughts into line before they could start going in purposeless circles. Oh, God! Peter's a telepath.