Chapter III: The Dinner

Night often came early to New York City, even in the middle of summer. The towering, close-knit buildings provided their own climate once the sun sank below the rooftops, crashing the temperatures in minutes. The Financial District could be in early evening at three in the afternoon, and by six the neon signs of Times Square were overtaking any natural light still leaking through the streets. The smell of restaurants cooking up their dinners vied with the metallic tang of cars and the thicker scents of warm concrete and steel. The trees of Central Park, so close to the roads, couldn't quite overcome the sounds of footsteps and impatient horns as commuters struggled to reach home before dinner...or the news...was on. So it was a loud and fragrant world that Erica Crane stepped into when she exited the Museum of Natural History. After an appreciative glance at the huge building that provided her with enough income to live in this massive city, she headed east on 59th St, circling Central Park. She smiled at the trees and rolled her shoulders, shaking off the pressure of the day's work, and trying to forget the truly awkward start she'd had this morning. If she was lucky, she'd make it back to her apartment before Peter got back to his. The thought sped her up.

She hurried into the high-rise apartment building and threw a smile to Frank, the super, who was lounging behind his desk. She paused by her mailbox, checking to see if there was anything other than flyers lodged in there. No dice. She was expecting a letter from her great-aunt Muriel any day now. Muriel was a New Ager, pretty much ignored by most of the Catholic-raised family, but Erica had always been fascinated by her perspectives on everything, from God to life to the Golden Rule. The two had been in touch for pretty much Erica's entire life, and over time Erica had developed the feeling she was the only member of the family Muriel spoke to. Maybe there's a phone message upstairs. She headed up, digging out her key.

As she rode in the elevator to her floor, her mind wandered to the reason the morning had been so awkward. She knew Peter Venkman. He was Dana Barrett's boyfriend, and Dana had been Erica's first friend in New York City. She knew Peter was the leader of a group of men called the Ghostbusters. And she knew that Peter was manic, excitable, full of energy, almost a personification of New York City. She hadn't really known he could be kind or charming. And she definitely hadn't known that he could be afraid. That was what he had been this morning: afraid. He'd kept that smile on his face and that light in his eyes but every other aspect of him had been tense, worried. He'd looked around as though something was about to attack them, and he'd gotten so defensive when she asked him about the previous night. She knew it was personal, but to see such a change in him had worried her. She'd wanted to help.

She had a feeling she hadn't. Instead, she'd made herself vulnerable, taking him along to Ray's bookshop. Ray. One of the Ghostbusters, and a man whose smile she had seen on TV on New Year's Eve...and in her dreams every week since. She went by his bookshop a couple times a week, convinced that maybe she could pass him her number on a receipt. And every time she saw him, her mind went blank, her mouth went dry, and her body glued itself to the ground.

And now Peter knew about it...

"Watch out!"

The voice broke through Erica's thoughts, bringing her back to the pale hallway and the chilly, air-conditioned interior of her apartment building on East 77th St.

"You were daydreaming."

Erica blinked and looked up, finally realizing she'd been staring at the ground as she walked. Dana was inches away from her, struggling to open her door while carrying two large grocery bags. Erica reached out immediately to help relieve the woman of one of her burdens. "I'm sorry! Thanks for waking me up!"

"It's all right." Free of one bag, Dana easily opened her door. "Who were you thinking about?"

Erica could feel the blush crawling into her face and she hid behind the bag, following Dana into the apartment. "Oh um...no one. Uh, nothing!"

Dana opened her refrigerator, throwing a quick glance inside as though making sure there was nothing in there other than food. It was a habit Erica suspected would never go away. "Uh-huh. And what's No-One's name?"

Well there was no way Erica was going to confess that. "I don't know," she lied. "Just some guy I've seen around the city."

Dana smiled. "Well, the next time you see him, try asking for his name so I know who to charge for my loss of groceries." Her eyes sparkled a little and Erica chuckled. Dana had definitely gotten a little sillier in the last few months and given what she'd seen of Peter this morning, Erica was pretty sure she knew why.

"Sure, I'll ask his name after a few shots of tequila. Or something." She chuckled again, this time nervously. I'd never be able to talk to him to a bar. And forget dinner! Crowded restaurant, so many people, too loud to hear...or private and too soft to hide conversation...not a chance.

Dana shoved the eggs into the refrigerator. "How is the exhibition coming along?"

New subject. Thank you. Erica eagerly sat on the couch. "We open in two weeks! I'm so excited! I thought the Rose Center would do an exhibition of the first images from Hubble, since they focus so much on the science of space, but with the flaw in the Telescope, we're probably not going to get a lot of really clear images yet so...anyway, the exhibition's got information on Mercury, Gemini, Apollo...oh, but did you know the Russians have had men in space for a year on Mir? It's the current record! Vladimir Titov and Musa Manarov, 1987 to 1988." She stopped to take a breath and noticed Dana's slightly blank, teasing smile. "Sorry."

"Don't be. It's great to be around someone who's so passionate about their work." Dana disappeared into the fridge, trying to make room for a carton of milk. "Oh, Erica, by the way...I'm meeting Peter and the others for pizza later on tonight. Would you like to come along?"

Peter...and the others? Was she reading my mind? "You mean the Ghostbusters?"

"Yes." Dana's voice sounded unsure, and after a moment she added: "They're not movie stars, you know. Just a bunch of guys who happened to save the town a couple of times..." She trailed off, her expression changing. "All right, I can see why you're hesitating. But really, they're ordinary people. Winston teaches karate, Egon spends most of his time at Columbia University running experiments, Peter has that ridiculous television show, and Ray's got his bookshop. They're just trying to live like all of us. Plus, I think you and Ray would get along. You're both unbelievably enthusiastic about what you do and I know he's interested in just about anything to do with science and history."

Erica's breath caught and she felt the ridiculous smile beginning to spread across her face. Hide it! Star-struck! Act star-struck! "It's...not that they're famous," she said, an awkward laugh in her throat. She didn't trust herself to meet Dana's gaze. "It's just..." I met Peter this morning and he found out...because I was a stupid idiot and couldn't tell him to leave me alone. If only I was braver! She began to twist her hands together, though unaware she was doing it. "...I'm not comfortable with large groups of people." It was a true statement, even if it wasn't the only reason she was hesitant about going. The unspoken social pressure of a group larger than two usually had her silent and staring the whole time, which tended to be off-putting to most.

"You moved to New York City," Dana answered.

Erica felt a sting of frustration. She was never quite sure what to do with that type of response. The unspoken part of it was 'well you put yourself in this position' or 'why are you here if you don't like it'? Peter had asked her the same question this morning and she had snapped at him.

"I did," she replied, her slight anger giving her a small boost of confidence. "My job was here. Which means I had to move here. Which means...I...should...probably come to dinner with you and the guys so I'm not 'that eccentric workaholic down the hall.'" That was a fair enough way of answering, accepting the invitation while defending herself a little bit.

Dana smiled. "If you decide to come, be back here in forty-five minutes. Oh, and if Mr. No-Name is with us, wear a little eyeliner."

Erica's mouth dropped open. Dana's smile was positively wicked now. I'm just as transparent as everyone else, aren't I? "Um...I...I'll...see you in forty-five minutes."

**o0o**

"C'mon guys, if we don't go now, we're gonna show up smelling like old, dusty bookshop! No woman likes the smell of old, dusty bookshop!"

"On the contrary, Peter, I've found that women are more attracted to older or more faded scents. It activates their curiosity, which in turn activates their interest."

"Huh. No wonder Old Spice works so well."

"Well you guys can go if you want, but if I'm going to open back up in a couple days, I can't stop for dinner. Someone bring me back a slice."

"Will anyone please tell me where I can set down this thing? It weighs more than our car!"

"Winston, put that back where you found it. If anything is moved or damaged further, Raymond's insurance claim may be denied."

"Oh, right. Sorry. Oof! And by the way, it's not the smell of old, dusty bookshop. We've got something like fifteen different incenses scattered around here. We're going to make people sneeze for hours no matter where we go!"

The Ghostbusters bustled around the shop, navigating carefully through the mess caused by the excitement of the morning. The front door of the shop was open, fans lining it, trying to remove the lingering odors of patchouli, sandalwood, cedar, and rose. The 'due to haunting' addendum to the "CLOSED" sign had been hastily crossed out. Now, a messy, bright scrawl spelled out: "The Ghostbusters were here". The lights shone down on the four men, three of which were on their feet, inspecting broken shelves and glass. The fourth man was lazily sprawled on the floor, thumbing through a copy of True Predictions by Carnival Fortune Tellers.

Ray's camera shutter clicked repeatedly, documenting the damage to his beloved shop. He'd spent most of the day on the phone, using all his wiles as a New Yorker and a Ghostbuster to get the insurance adjuster to come out and assess the damage as soon as possible. The best he'd gotten was 'eh, sometime in the next couple days'. Peter considered going down and giving the man a piece of his mind, but Ray, exhausted from the fight, had simply shaken his head and accepted the response, hanging up and pulling out the camera and a notepad, scribbling down as much information as he could. Egon and Winston had jumped in, eagerly wanting to help their friend. Peter had withdrawn after the first couple of hours, his desire to help no smaller but his brain simply too bored with the task to continue.

"Raymond, I believe you're going to have to replace your crystal collection as well." Egon held up a number of glittering shards.

Ray groaned and waved at him. "Put those down so I don't have to add additional human injury to this list." He paused to rub his eyes. "Just a couple of days and I'll be open again..."

"Additional human injury?" Winston asked.

"Janine," Ray sighed. Egon's head jerked up, his eyes focused intensely on Ray. Peter couldn't establish the emotion behind them, but Egon didn't blink as Ray continued. "She's all right, she just has a couple of bruises." He pressed his hand to his forehead. "I'm so glad she isn't suing us."

"She wouldn't sue us." I hope. Peter tried to brush off the worry he felt building in the room and in his chest. "Janine knows the kind of work we do. Really, we're lucky the ghost picked her instead of some random person." Janine had been through a lot with them, surely she wouldn't pull some kind of move. Ghostbusting wasn't the richest career path and being sued would probably ruin them this early in their reestablishment. He didn't think their redheaded secretary would turn on them like that. Especially not with her history with Egon...

"She's all right." It wasn't a question...or at least, not an obvious one...coming from Egon. But it was clear he needed a reply.

"Yeah, I mean, I don't think she's coming to work for a couple of days, but yeah, thank goodness," Ray answered.

Egon stared for another few seconds and then his shoulders relaxed just a little. He turned back to work, his face impassive. Peter made a mental note to ask him exactly what had happened that caused him and Janine to split, just in case it came up in court later. If she sued them. Damn it, now he couldn't stop worrying about it...

"Ray!" he called. "Admit it! Whatever that ghost was, it's got you going in circles for a few days! Let's go and get something to eat. Besides, I told Dana we'd meet her at seven!"

"Seven!" Winston whirled on him. "You never mentioned a time before. Where are we going?"

"Jake's!" Peter grinned.

"That's below Bleecker Street!" Winston groaned. "It's twenty minutes from here if we left now. There's no time to go and change!"

"Like I said, if we leave now, maybe we won't smell as bad!"

Winston threw a book at Peter, who ducked it expertly.

"Okay, okay!" Ray yelled. "Let's go before Peter destroys the shop all over again! Winston, put that book back!"

Peter bolted for the front door, taking in large gulps of the warm, salty, metallic-tasting city air, looking down St. Mark's at the subway station. Behind him, the other three came out, holding various bags. Ray switched off the lights and closed the door, locking it securely, and pulling the metallic grate across the storefront. The four started walking.

"Raymond, at last count, you've lost a hundred percent of your incense and crystal collection, forty percent of your tapestries, suffered extensive damage to sixty percent of your shelving..."

"Egie, I can't right now..." Peter looked back to see Ray, his face twisted in worry, walking shakily with his eyes aiming at the ground. The shock was setting in. Maybe he'll start realizing he's not going to open up any time soon. It was getting hard to listen to his frantic, desperate self-consolations.

Egon immediately stopped talking, and tucked his notebook away. His expression was blank but he took a step closer to Ray, offering him comfort in his own subtle way. Peter smiled a little and faced front again, striding confidently towards the subway and the promise of food.

**o0o**

Erica was almost instantly overwhelmed as she slid nervously onto the cracked plastic of the booth. Even though it was a Monday night, Jake's was still nearly packed to bursting, with Phil Collins blasting over the radio and conversation filling the spaces between songs. The bright lights shimmered down on the neon clothes and big hairstyles, and air conditioning chilled the room to a gooseflesh-raising temperature. Erica shot a look at the Hall of Fame on the wall, showing pictures taken of celebrities that had come through for a slice. Not surprisingly, the Ghostbusters were on there, and she had to bite her lip and look away. It's not that they're famous, she'd said earlier. But really, they kind of were. And of all the people she could have met when moving to New York City, she'd met the girlfriend of one. Regardless of how you feel about Ray, you're still star-struck by the Ghostbusters. Even after this morning. Didn't Peter annoy you enough to get over that?

Apparently not.

Dana seemed perfectly at ease. She'd chosen a large booth in the back corner and given Erica the seat closest to the window, facing the door. Erica was silently thankful; she was able to see the comings and goings of people and she had silence on one side and behind her. If I get overwhelmed, I can just look out the window. She looked at the empty seat next to her and her heart rate picked up at the sudden thought of who might sit there. She grabbed a menu and opened it, trying to pick something out so she could look cool and collected when the time came to order.

A few seconds later she put the menu down to see Dana smirking gently at her. Jake's was remarkably simple: single slice or pie with toppings. "Can you tell I've never been here before?" she asked.

"Just relax," Dana smiled. "If it's too loud in here I'm sure the guys won't mind walking somewhere else."

Erica flinched. There was no way she was going to make everyone change their plans just because the assault of noise and lights were one good flash-bang away from giving her a panic attack. You're in New York now. Handle it! "I think I'll just go to the bathroom. Stewart's Cream Soda if the guy comes back, okay?"

"Sure."

"Groovy." Erica nearly bolted for the bathroom.

Bathrooms were a strange oasis in any restaurant. Anyone who came in was pretty much in there for one good reason, and consequently there tended to be a level of isolation and quiet respect given from person to person. The bathroom at Jake's fit the profile: neutrally-colored, faintly smelling of potpourri, and cut off from the music and conversations filling the busy restaurant. After the door shut, Erica took a moment to shiver off the noise from outside and look closely at herself in the mirror.

As usual, her eyebrows were too thick, her mouth was too wide, and her dark brown hair lay straight and flat on her head, which just made her chin stick out more. She'd taken Dana's advice and figured on a little makeup, a brush on the cheeks and dab on the lips. But the one feature she'd made stand out was obviously not having its best day. She could see the bags under her eyes and began regretting her choice of eyeliner and mascara. How did I forget to pluck my eyebrows? Her pale skin seemed exceptionally white under the bathroom light, and she groaned, glaring at herself. Today is not my day for meeting new people.

All right. New people. New friends, maybe. Maybe. Just be yourself. Or don't. Don't be yourself, be someone they'd like. Someone he'd like. Someone who will make him smile like that.

She swallowed and eyed the dark blue scoop-neck blouse she wore over white leggings. White. Why did I wear white leggings to a pizza place? Nice move, McFly. She frantically ran her hands through her hair, trying to shake it up and give it a little more bed-ruffled look. Within a few seconds she was pulling her fingers through it, straightening it and flattening it all over again. Okay. Enough!

She wobbled out of the bathroom. Her eyes swept the booths in the restaurant and her heart stopped. Where was Dana? She couldn't see the woman anymore. Wait, where were we sitting?

An arm swinging through the air caught her eye and she looked at the booth in the corner. It was full – or almost full – and she recognized the people sitting there. Oh...

The Ghostbusters had shown up while she was in the bathroom. Peter was swinging his arm around Dana's shoulders, and Winston was settled peacefully next to them. Egon and Ray were sitting on Erica's side of the table and had their heads together, clearly looking at something. Erica stood there for a moment, watching, well aware that she could just bounce. Egon and Ray wouldn't recognize her and Dana had her back to the entrance. She didn't have to do this tonight. Sinead O'Connor was playing over the speakers now. I'm on stage for the whole world to see. I've got to go. I can't do this right now.

And then it was too late.

"Erica!"

No...

Peter was waving wildly, proving that subtlety was absolutely nowhere in his vocabulary. Dana was patting his chest and his arm, trying to get him to stop. The other men at the table – and at a few other tables – had all looked up in her direction. If anything, the music seemed to get louder as Erica helplessly met each of their eyes. When she spotted Ray, her throat seemed to dry out and she could feel her lips trying to pull up in an awkward smile. His expression suggested he didn't remember her at all, and from the looks of it he seemed vaguely annoyed. Oh God, stop smiling! She tried to force her lips back to a normal position.

"Come on!" Peter called. "Don't be shy!"

Bite me.

She somehow managed to make it over to the booth without tripping on anyone or knocking over any chairs. Egon slid closer to Ray as she got to them, opening up a space on the edge. Ray jumped as he was pushed against the wall, and Erica felt her knees wobble as he pulled her purse out from under him. He held it out to her, saying: "Oops, sorry." His expression didn't change when she took the bag. Up close, she could see now that he looked extremely tired. His lips were drooping and his eyelids were low. Something's wrong. What's wrong?

Dana gestured. "Everyone, this is Erica Crane. She works at the Museum of Natural History. Erica, you know Peter. This is Winston, Egon, and Ray." She pointed to each man in turn. Erica smiled at each of them, not trusting herself to speak. Ray and Egon both nodded back, Winston shook her hand with a smile.

"Come on, guys, let her sit by the window!" Peter urged. "Go on, her drink's there!" As the two men moved to get out of the booth, he threw Erica a wink. She longed to pick up Egon's drink and throw it in Peter's face. Instead she glanced at his shoulders. He still had the tension from this morning, and his forehead was wrinkled. She didn't know Winston or Egon well enough to guess their moods but Egon's eyebrows were drawn together and he was moving stiffly, as though in pain. There also seemed to be a slight pall over the table, despite Peter's enthusiasm.

"Are you going to sit?" Ray's voice was very close to her ear and Erica jumped, realizing she'd been staring at Egon, who was looking back at her with a curious look in his eye and an almost-smirk on his lips. The lines in his forehead had not changed. Way to go. "Yes," she said quickly. "Thank you. Sorry." She dropped into the booth and scooted over hurriedly, not wanting to inconvenience them further. Her hand slipped, knocking into the glass holding her cream soda, sending it flying towards Dana.

Peter's hand appeared out of nowhere, snaking around the glass, catching it smoothly before too much of the drink spattered across the table. Erica quickly began pulling out napkins, trying to mop up the mess, deciding that after cleaning it up she wasn't going to look at anyone or do anything for the next five minutes. Her radar perked up as Ray's warm body brushed against hers while he got comfortable in the booth again, and her arm went numb from electricity. She scrabbled at the ground with her feet, pressing herself into the corner, one hand still gripping her purse, the other full of wet napkins. "Sorry," she murmured. "I'm sorry."

"Naw, everyone's a klutz in heels," Peter replied, throwing her a smile. "You should have seen me the first time I put them on. We were chasing this ghost through a woman's clothing store and it slimed all over my feet! So I couldn't run because my shoes had no traction. The only thing to do was put on a pair of heels and keep going because I wasn't going to catch that thing in my socks!"

The snorts around the table were indicative of a group of people used to a storyteller's performance rather than actual memories of a moment. Erica didn't believe a word of it but was thankful Peter was willing to try and take some of the pressure off. Her eyes slipped to Ray, who was staring at the beer in his hand, his eyebrows drawn together now as well. Next to him, Egon had taken out a notepad and was scribbling on it, completely oblivious to the world. Across the table, Dana's lips had pursed and her eyebrows were together too. Now that she was settled in the booth, Erica realized her nose was also picking up a strange new scent mixing with the delicious smell of pizza. The new scent was something old and musty and sweet, almost cloying. It smelled like Muriel's home whenever she had gone to visit. It also smelled like something new, something she'd smelled recently.

If you want to know, just ask.

"What happened?" she asked.

Peter grinned. "Oh well, I turned a corner too fast and one shoe went one way and the heel went the other..."

"No..." Erica gulped with the boldness of cutting him off. It's okay. "No, I mean...your shoulders are still tense and Dana's frowning and...so are you." The last part was to Ray, who had looked up at her. Up close, she realized the light had not been playing tricks on her. His eyes... The difference between his green eye and brown eye was striking, enough so that she caught her breath and coughed. They're beautiful. She tried to look somewhere else but his lips were too soft and brought her thoughts to a place they didn't need to be. She looked away. "I mean, I don't mean to be rude, but the only one smiling around here is Peter. The rest of you look...serious. And you smell like you spent a week in my great-aunt Muriel's house."

"I'm always serious," Egon spoke up, looking up to fix her with an intense stare that literally made her stop breathing for a moment. Wow. He's not kidding. She looked at the others. They were looking at each other, clearly deciding whether or not to include her in the situation. This is why I hate large groups. Erica began to shrink backwards into the seat, lowering her eyes to the table and interlocking her fingers, twisting her hands together. I shouldn't have said anything.

"Ray had a bad day at work," Peter suddenly said. Erica looked up at him, unable to hide her surprise. His face was serious now, no mirth. "A ghost showed up and wrecked the place."

"Oh no!" Erica felt her stomach drop at the same time the connection hit her. The bookshop! That's where I know the smell from. It's old books and incense! "What's...is it okay?" Oh my God did I just ask that? "I mean..." she looked at Ray, "are you okay?" Would he be here if he wasn't?

Ray gave her a look that suggested he didn't quite know how to react to her questions. I don't blame you. "It's not good." He shook his head. "I don't know how I'm going to stay open."

"Won't the insurance cover it?" Dana asked.

Ray shook his head. "Unfortunately that's not the problem. Insurance will cover most of the damages but I still have to pay the deductible. Plus fixing the shop up and replacing shelves and stock...I lost my first edition copy of Tobin's Spirit Guide." He sighed and pressed his thumbs against his nose, groaning. "I'm such an idiot. I never thought this would happen to me."

"It's not idiotic," Erica said without thinking. "Everyone thinks that. And what with you being the reason all the ghosts are getting caught, it'd make you a prime target. It was probably only a matter of time before..." Ray was glaring at her, "...one of you...got..." Not helping. At all.

"Statistically, she's right," Egon spoke up. "Dana's been attacked twice but none of us have had any targeted paranormal experiences."

Ray's eyes slid sideways and he inhaled deeply, shifting in his seat. "Spengler's right, Peter," he continued. "This was an attack. Not a ghost doing what it usually does."

"That's what I said this morning," Peter replied.

"No, you just said the ghosts were evading our traps better. And we agree with you."

"So...what? You're at the top of this ghost's hit list?"

"It felt like it."

"Well, Ray, not to be petty, but the ghost did turn Janine into a human pinball. Ever think that maybe it was after her?"

Ray paused for a moment. On his other side, Egon's eyes widened.

"Maybe," Ray admitted. "It's not out of the realm of possibility. But it didn't go after her until I told her to get the trap from under the desk. It knew what I was telling her to do. That's when it started throwing her around and causing all those pressure changes. It was trying to disorient me so I couldn't get to the trap to help her." He shook his head. "The ghosts are getting smarter."

"Our actions simultaneously make the world a better place for New Yorkers, and a worse place for the spectral denizens of the city," Egon said, closing his notepad. "Given the amount of spiritual turbulence and imbalances we've created in the paranormal energy flow, it's no surprise that we are beginning to encounter adaptation and resistance. Nature will always try to balance itself out."

"Nature?" Erica asked. "Ghosts are natural?" Even as she asked the question, she felt her throat closing in an effort to stop the words from coming out. Of course they are.

"Of course they are," Ray said. "Supernatural activity on our plane is a by-product of any number of actions in the physical or ethereal plane."

"Be nice, Ray," Peter interjected. "I'm not sure ghosts would like being called a by-product."

Ray pushed on. "Ghosts and other paranormal beings existed long before humans did. But once humans started looking for things greater than themselves, they opened the door to the ethereal plane and consequently began to influence it with their own thoughts and desires and auras." He looked back at Peter. "I'm not being dismissive. But humans can and have had an influence on ghosts. Just look at the slime."

Dana shivered. Peter patted her arm. "Okay. No slime talk. We're here to eat. Speaking of which..." he looked around and put his arm up to wave again, bringing a waitress to their table. "Everyone's okay with sharing a pie? Winston? Erica?"

What else was she going to say? "Groovy." Belatedly, she realized her hands were still full of purse and napkins. Her body was also beginning to ache from the frozen position she had been holding during the conversation. I have to relax. As Peter put on his most charming smile and placed an order for two pies, one normal cheese, one with everything, Erica forced herself to drop the purse to the floor, put down the napkins, reach out, and pick up her cream soda. The edges of the glass were sticky, and she tried to wipe it down with more napkins. They stuck, and she tore them off, wadding them all up and jamming them next to the napkin dispenser. Trying to keep calm, she took a gulp of pop. The sweetness gave her a burst of energy and she looked back over at Ray. With a deep breath, she gently touched his arm. His skin was hairy and warm, and the contact sent a little electricity through her. "Ray?" she asked quietly, a thrill of excitement shooting through her at the sound of his name on her lips. Her heart rate picked up again when he looked at her. "I'm...I'm sorry about the bookshop, really."

A tiny little smile pulled at the edges of his lips, and the angry frown lines in his forehead eased just a touch. "Thanks," he answered quietly, keeping the exchange private between them. Erica felt a smile spreading across her face and held it for another couple of seconds before pulling her hand away from him. Doing her best to keep casual, she looked up at Dana across the table.

Dana was smiling, her eyes darting between Erica and Ray. Yep. Secret's out.

"So, Dana," Ray spoke up, his voice a little lighter. "Are you bringing Oscar to the carnival this weekend?"

"I hadn't even decided if I was going," Dana answered, throwing Peter a look. "After all the excitement over New Year's Eve, Oscar's started to get a little fussy in large groups."

"Well, maybe bringing him to the carnival will help with that. Maybe he'll start associating large groups of people as 'fun' instead of, you know...deadly." Ray didn't sound entirely convinced of his own argument.

"You're right," Dana confessed. "I guess I'm just not sure I'm comfortable with it."

"We'll be there." Winston spoke up for the first time and Erica smiled. He had a voice she immediately liked, deep and ringing with an air of gentle confidence. Hearing that simple statement from him was enough to convince her that if Dana brought Oscar to the carnival, they'd both be perfectly safe.

Dana wasn't as easily swayed. She smiled. "I'll think about it."

"It's going to be a lot of fun. I don't think I've been to a carnival in years! You grow up and you start paying bills and going to college and buying food and you forget how fun it is to eat a funnel cake and go on a Ferris Wheel." Ray's demeanor was changing by the sentence now; the droop on his forehead gone and his eyes sparking with excitement. His smile was infectious and Erica felt the mood at the table changing, lifting.

"Not to mention the endless scientific theories and experiments you can perform at a carnival," Egon added.

"Aw, Spengler, you're not going to turn this into work, are you? Can't we do something not ghost-related for once?" Winston asked.

Egon blinked at him. "We do, every day. You teach martial arts. I study the correlation of music in memory performance. I believe Venkman's television program is still on the air, despite his being labeled a fraud by every credible source in the country."

"Hey, hey, hey, no need to publicize that!" Peter looked around quickly, checking to see if anyone had overheard. Erica hid a smile, recalling their conversation that morning about him trying to get her on the show. Dodged a bullet, I think.

"Also, Raymond may be in need of some distraction now that his bookshop has been temporarily destroyed," Egon continued.

"Oh, thanks, Egie," Ray griped.

"How much more do you have to do?" Dana asked.

"Too much," Peter cut in. "He's got shelves to build, glass to replace, incense to buy, insurance to pay..."

"Which is why I need to go back after we eat," Ray cut him off. "The insurance adjuster might be around tomorrow morning and I need to be ready if I am going to open in a couple days."

Erica knew speaking up was a bad idea. She knew it. But just like with Peter that morning, she couldn't stop herself. "No, I think Peter's right. You aren't going to fix the bookshop in one night or even in two. You should go home after dinner and rest."

"When did you two become my parents?" Ray asked. He didn't look angry, but there was definitely an annoyed tone to his voice.

It should have been a clue, but Erica ignored it. "Ray, a ghost personally attacking your shop and your friend is traumatic, no matter what you do for a living. No matter how used to it you think you are. This was your place and something came in there without your permission and messed it up and hurt someone..." She trailed off as she saw the annoyance in Ray's eyes descend to his lips. She had more to say, more she thought might help and smooth over the awkwardness of the situation, but the look stopped her in her tracks.

"I can rest when I've gotten things taken care of," Ray said, his voice firm and laced with frustration.

"Here we go!" The waitress came back, bearing two large pizza pies, breaking the tension just enough. Thankful for the save, Erica grabbed two slices, and flinched as she burned her fingers on the hot crust. Sticking one finger in her mouth to try and cool it, she dug out a fork and began cutting bite sized pieces. Silence filled the table as everyone began to eat. Erica felt the pressure of her speech and unsolicited advice on her chest. Don't do it. Just eat. A quick glance around revealed no one was really looking at each other. Erica caught Dana's eye and made a small 'whoops' face. Dana shrugged in return, not a comforting sight, and Erica returned to eating. At least this pizza is really good.

I can rest when I've gotten things taken care of. Did he mean tonight? How many things? How long was he going to torture himself? Was he listening and going to go home tonight and rest, or was he going to go back to his store and try to make it like it had been that morning? Why couldn't she let it go? Why couldn't she let it go? Erica fixed her eyes on her plate, her mind screaming. Peter, this morning, had had a mad, exhausted glint in his eye. He hadn't wanted to talk but...he'd needed to. She had felt it. She'd gotten him the hot chocolate and fished around with her words in the hopes that she could identify the problem and then be soothing and helpful. Get him to talk. All it had done was make him upset. And this wasn't her business. It wasn't her business.

That should have been another clue. But the pressure was too much. "I'm sorry, Ray." She had to help him. "I know it's none of my business. It's just...from what I can see here it seems to me like you're still dealing with the moment of the crisis, the ghost in the bookshop. The ghost is still there and you're doing everything you can to clean up after it and finish the day like it's normal, like it's any other day, where you had a problem but you didn't have to go to sleep before you could finish dealing with it. I know because I deal with things that way. I hate to leave something unfinished or admit that a hard thing happened to me. But if you don't accept that the hard thing happened, it will...drive you batty. So I just...I think it's best to accept the hard thing and go home. You have a lot of work to do and there's likely no way at all you're going to be open tomorrow, or the next day, or likely even by the weekend." Better. Maybe that will help. A great weight lifted from her shoulders and chest as her brain let go of the speech it had been holding in.

For a long moment, no one said anything. Then, Peter cleared his throat. "Wow. You really don't know when to stop, do you?"

The words drove the air from her lungs. I was wrong. I was wrong to say that. She'd pushed again and she'd pushed way too far, even worse than with Peter. She didn't dare turn her head to look at Ray, though she could sense his stillness. Now I really do have to get out of here. Oh God, why couldn't I let it go? Why can't I let things go? I just want to help! She took a bite of pizza and a gulp of pop, trying to enjoy the flavors but finding them almost tasteless in the end. She reached down and pulled out her purse, yanking open her wallet. She dropped a couple of bills on the table and said: "Excuse me." To her horror, she heard her voice come out squeaky and warmth flooded her eyes. No!

She could see concern on Winston's face as she slid out of the booth. No one was saying a word, which only heightened the shame and embarrassment. No one was stopping her, which meant they were letting her go, which meant she had said something wrong enough that no one wanted her around. She opened her mouth. "I'm sorry. I'm..." Her voice was shaking now, and squeaking even more. Her eyes landed on Peter, who was staring straight ahead, his shoulders tense, his lips pursed. I'm so sorry.

Then one tear leaked out of her eye and she spun and headed quickly out of the restaurant.

**o0o**

"What was that all about?" Dana asked.

Peter sat with his hands in his lap, staring at the empty spot where Erica Crane had been. Egon was shaking his head. Ray still looked like he'd been punched in the stomach. Winston and Dana were both looking at him. "What?" he snapped. "Nothing! She did the same thing to me this morning. She obviously gets it in her head that she knows someone and just starts nosing into their business and telling them how they feel. Someone had to tell her to back off."

"No, you're right. That was very rude of her, and it's certainly not what I would expect her to say," Dana agreed. "Maybe she's having a bad day, too."

"I doubt it," Peter muttered. "She was fine this morning, except for her little panic when I caught her watching Ray open his shop."
"What?" Ray lifted his head.

"Your shop. We were down there this morning. Oh yeah, by the way, she watches you open your shop. Been doing it for days. Or hell, I don't know, weeks." He didn't know how often she'd done it, but her behavior suggested it had been more than once, at least. Good enough. He was vaguely aware that he needed to stop talking but he couldn't. "I tried to make her go in there today but she wouldn't. She just stood there and tried to make me drink hot chocolate because she thought I had a bad night last night. Which I didn't. I'm fine!" I watched my parents die last night. Again. But I'm fine. "I just didn't want to see her get all high and mighty on you while you're dealing with the whole 'a ghost ruined my life today' thing."

"You did have a bad night last night," Dana said sharply. "You were sweating and crying out most of the night. And you've been doing that for days. I can't wake you when you're like that."

Peter wheeled on her, his eyes wide and his mouth partially open in surprise. How could she just...in public? "I'm fine, Dana!" he snapped...except it came out as a shout.

The restaurant quieted slightly, people turning to look. Dana's face hardened and she reached down to grab her purse. "Let me out."

Peter groaned, putting his face in his hands. "No, wait..."

"Let. Me. Out." Dana's voice was stiff and Winston was already out of the booth. Peter reluctantly shuffled over and Dana got out. "I'll see you at home, Peter. Good night, everyone."

"Good night," Winston said softly.

"Good night, Dana," Ray murmured.

"Good night," Egon echoed.

Dana stalked away as well. Peter slowly sat back down.

Silence filled the booth as the Ghostbusters went back to eating. Peter shoved the pizza around on his plate, trying to figure out how this whole thing had become his fault. That's the thing about nightmares. They just ruin your whole day.

After another few moments of silence, Winston shook his head. "Look, guys...we all just need to go home and rest. We got a heavy worksheet tomorrow and Ray's got plenty of work to do at the bookshop, so how about we just call it a night?"

The agreement was muttered and low-key. Within a few minutes, the four men had exited the restaurant into the loud, distracting city night.