Originally published in Remote Control 18

Peter

I don't know where I am.

Well, I do, but only where my body is. I can see it, lying there on the ground. Normally I'm kind of a pale guy, but I don't think I've ever seen my face as white as it looks right now. Like I'm...dead.

It all started the way trouble always starts for us Ghostbusters, as an ordinary bust. Okay as 'ordinary' as any Class Seven ever is, but this Class Seven that was terrorizing the Garment District didn't look nasty. No dripping fangs, no foot-long claws. Just that weird sense of power it gave off, like a Jaguar engine revving up. It had a face that was close enough to parody human, so close it made you uncomfortable, like looking at the apes at the zoo and wondering if everything shifted just a fraction, they'd be the ones looking at us in cages. Been there, done that. This demon had a knowing eye, like he'd seen a printed list of all our sins, and he arched a pointed, Spock-y eyebrow at me when he saw me and shook his head.

"He's got you pegged, Pete," Winston caroled as he drew a bead on Mister Vulcan. "Better watch out. Maybe he's here to harvest a soul or two." He threw me a grin. Why does everybody always think I'm the one who's marked down wrong in the Book of Good and Evil?

"Oh, thanks, Zed, but I'll pass. It's not my turn. I got tagged to be the sacrifice in that ball game against good and evil that time. Paid my dues already. One of you can be the victim of choice this time."

"Gee, Peter," Ray cried as he tightened the focus on his thrower, "you're not going to fling yourself into the breach to save us? I'm crushed." His mouth spread wide in a happy smile as he plunged after the demon. Time to rein him in again before he got into more trouble than he could handle.

"You will be crushed if he comes for you, Tex, so stay light on your feet--and don't get too far away from the rest of us." I glanced over at our fourth teammate, who stood in the middle of the street, his attention focused so narrowly a marching band could have tramped past playing Seventy-Six Trombones and he wouldn't have heard it. "Oh, Egon! Time to put the meter down and start blasting."

"But these readings are extremely peculiar, Peter." Egon didn't even look up for the P.K.E. meter's screen. "I don't think I've ever seen such unusual permutations in a Class Seven before." He shoved his glasses into place with an impatient forefinger before they could migrate right off his nose.

That didn't sound good. Egon has this irritating way of delighting in the prospect of doom and gloom. "You mean he's more powerful than the usual demon?" I shot a quick blast at Eyebrows to keep him from getting any ideas of sneaking up on Egon while his attention was caught. No, he was over there playing tag with Ray's stream instead. I caught Winston's eye and nodded at Ray, and he moved off to cover our eager occultist.

"Not more powerful, Peter, just...different." Egon struggled for the right word, and that was bad because Egon's the most articulate guy in the known universe. Always knows the right word, even if the word is one that hasn't been used since the Twelfth Century in an obscure monastery in Transylvania or one that is so specialized that nine physicists in ten don't get it.

"Different how, Egon?" yelled Ray. He fired again, but Spock-y was fast and zipped aside at the last possible second, the way a bullfighter will whip the cape aside when ten tons of angry bull are about to gore him. Insulting how easy Eyebrows made it look. I half-expected the crowd in Herald Square to yell, "Olé!"

"Aw," cried Ray in disappointment and took another shot. Eyebrows slid sideways fast. I decided right then and there that this bust wasn't going to be fun.

Egon didn't even notice our Class Seven's irritating agility. "There's a form of power here I have never seen before. The meters don't translate it properly."

That sounded bad. Egon can make the meters sing and dance. This time, they were dancing to a different drummer. If Egon can't figure it out, how could anybody?

"You mean we can't read it right?" Winston ducked sideways as the demon made for him almost as fast as an SST. He had to throw himself flat to avoid the long arm the ghost reached for him. A long arm with claws. I sent off a hasty blast. Eyebrows wasn't gonna get my buddies if I could help it. Thank goodness the energy from my stream and Ray's made the demon alter course at the last possible second and soar up a couple of floors. It hovered up there glaring down at us--biding its time.

For a second, Winston didn't move, just long enough to send our adrenaline up. "Winston!" Ray and I yelled, but he bounced up and waved his arm to show that he was okay.

Okay, that had been too close. It was war.

"Egon, you can study him after we trap him," I shouted. "Power up, big guy."

I wasn't sure if he'd even seen Winston's spectacular nosedive. "No, this is important, Peter. I can't explain it, but I feel like I must learn what these readings mean. There are unusual shadings...."

The demon swooped down a floor and hovered closer, like it was deciding which of us to sample for its mid-morning snack. It picked up on Egon's concentration, and the brow slid up his forehead like he'd used some WD-40 on it. It was like in the toons Ray watches on Saturday mornings, where a big light bulb pops on over the character's head when an idea hits, and it gave me a really bad feeling that Egon's ass was grass. Move it, Venkman.

When the demon charged Egon, I was already running, waving my thrower and trying to get a clear shot as I jumped in between Mister Meter Fixation and Eyebrows. Ray charged in yelling from the other side but he was too far away to do any good, and Winston was behind the demon so he could never get to Egon in time. I got off one shot, and it brushed the Class Seven across the arm. I might as well have hit it with a bagel for all the harm it did.

It changed direction in mid-zip as if Newton's Laws didn't have a thing to do with it, not away as if the particle stream had bugged it but right at me. Suddenly, it seemed bigger, huge. Did I say it wasn't nasty looking? Okay, I'll take it back.

There wasn't even time to duck. The main entrance to Macy's was behind me, full of cowering shoppers. I couldn't even yell a warning at them. Not that they were its targets, not when it could take out a Ghostbuster. The demon hit me hard with its whole body right across the face and shoulders. I rocked back on my heels and sat down on my ass so hard I had only a split second to think that my butt would be black and blue. Then a shocking sensation of incredible cold flowed through me, starting at the point of impact and spreading outward, down through my chest, along my arms, down my legs, and it was bitter, icy. Cold as fire. It was like I'd stepped outside at McMurdo in Antarctica wearing only my jockeys. Every bit of warmth leached away, leaving me quivering with chill. I think I dropped my thrower. I couldn't feel it in my hand any longer. I couldn't even feel my hand.

That wasn't the worst of it. Suddenly I experienced a horrible yanking sensation, and the next thing I knew I was looking down at myself as my eyes rolled back in my forehead and my body pitched over to the unforgiving concrete. With a panicked shout of, "Peter!" Ray dived for me and thrust his hand under my head, or I'd have probably started spilling my brains all over the pavement, but I didn't feel any of it--not the fall, not Ray's last-second save. I just saw it from up above, like a witness to an accident that was happening to somebody else. Oh God, what's happening to me?

"Peter!" Egon lunged for my body. I knew the sound of that yell. It's his dear-god-Peter-what's-wrong-with-you yell, or, worse, his don't-you-dare-be-dead-Peter yell. It scared the hell out of me because I couldn't help wondering if I was.

Dead.

He loomed at me, and then there was a horrible snap. It wasn't something I heard with my ears but something I felt inside, a crazy, disconnected feeling. Even if I've never felt it before, I knew what it was. I'm a parapsychologist and I did a lot of research into out-of-body experiences at Columbia. Or was this maybe a near-death experience? There wasn't any tunnel and there wasn't any brilliant light, so maybe not the near-death thing. I don't want to die. But when somebody leaves his body, there's a spirit cord that tethers him to it, a way to get back home. Psychics and people like that say they can drift on out of their bodies and wander around wherever they like and then follow the silver cord back home when they're ready.

The snap I'd just felt had to be the breaking of my cord. The severing of any ties with my body. The end of my chance to get back where I belonged. People whose cord was severed...died. They had no way of returning home. They just drifted around out in the ether and got thinner and thinner and less connected until, poof, they were gone. Maybe the guys could reconnect me if they did it fast, but they didn't even know what had happened. Would the readings tell them?

My vision went funny, like I was seeing double, and I couldn't control where I looked. All I could see was my own body lying there with a white-faced Ray cradling my head as he raised desperate eyes. He seemed to look right at me, but I knew he couldn't see me. There wasn't a trace of recognition in his face, only that horrible panic and desperate need for reassurance.

"Oh, god, Egon," he wailed, "I think he's dead."

Winston

A routine bust, that's all we thought it would be, just another routine bust like any other. I've been a Ghostbuster for about five years now, and I guess it's true you can get used to anything. When I signed on with these three mad scientists I thought it was just a quick ticket to a steady paycheck. I didn't even think the fad would last. Then I got a full ghost trap shoved in my hand, and I knew there was something in it I didn't even want to think about. My first bust convinced me ghosts were real--me, who'd always been a skeptic.

Five years of facing down things like Gozer and the Bogeyman and Samhaine sometimes make us a little blasé. We have a lot of near-misses on a job. We even get banged up periodically, but most of our jobs aren't that dangerous. Class Fives are annoying and messy, and I've grown used to washing ectoplasm out of my hair after a tough bust. There are worse ghosts than Class Fives--demons and elementals, and they're pretty bad, but we don't really meet that many of them. Four of us can usually take down a demon, especially when Egon's the smartest guy I ever met and Ray knows everything there is to know about the occult and supernatural. Then there's Pete, who fast-talks ghosts just like his con-man father fast-talks people. That leaves me to be the voice of reason. Sometimes it's an uphill battle.

Even when we got to Herald Square and figured it was another Class Seven, the job didn't seem like it would be too tough. The ghost wasn't hulking and mean like some demons. It was almost wispy. Should be a snap to bust, even if it was fast, and one stream didn't much faze it. We'd let it run a little, tune in to its moves and its style, then we'd snag it in the streams and suck it into a trap. No problemo, as Pete would say.

Egon got interested in his P.K.E. meter, but that's par for the course, too. Every so often we get one with weird readings and Egon climbs into the meter screen and goes incommunicado for what seems like hours but is usually no more than about ten minutes. He can figure out settings from those readings that will help us pin down the entity. He's great at coming up with last-chance solutions on the strength of those readings. When that happens, Pete and I will move in to cover him practically automatically.

Like Pete did this time....

The demon came for me and I had to do a racing dive into the pavement--lost some skin on my knees and the palm of my left hand but better than ending up as Zeddemore Demon Chow. But it put me in a bad place when the demon went for Egon, with only Pete to offer front-line resistance. Ray was off to the side, too far away to help, and he couldn't get a clear shot at it for fear of zapping Egon. He started running, but I knew he couldn't get into position in time, any more than I could.

We've all been hit by ghosts and demons before in the course of a bust, but usually it only gives us a nasty coat of slime. Sometimes, if the demon has claws, we can get a little cut up from a swipe by the demon's talons, but this one didn't even do that. It just gave Pete a full-body block, and Pete dropped like he'd been heaved off the roof of Macy's. Ray leaped for him, and Egon lost color in his face, yelled his name like he was sure Pete was dead and then raced for him. The demon swarmed past Egon and gave him a swat in passing, but Egon didn't collapse; he just jerked hard for a second and kept on coming. Maybe you had to get the entire contact, not just a sideways brush for the complete effect. Egon's face was ultra-white as he lunged, but he was on his feet and his eyes were alert--no, I had to say they were a little confused. Whatever weird readings Egon had picked up on the ghost made it pretty clear it hadn't done Peter any good. Or maybe Egon, either. He might just have a slighter reaction because he'd only been grazed, or it could simply take him longer. He didn't even kneel down beside Pete, just stood there giving a classic performance of a guy in shock. Finished with the day's performance, the demon made a scornful sound and went straight up. This time, it didn't hover or turn. It just kept going. I checked because I was the only one even thinking about a return engagement, and one of us had to. The meter in Egon's hand stopped reacting entirely. Gone. I vowed to keep my head up in case it came back.

Ray kept Pete's head from hitting the pavement and splitting open like a melon. By the time Egon and I got there, he had Pete propped against his shoulder, one arm encircling him, while his fingers sought out a pulse. "I think he's dead," he moaned, then he must have found what he was looking for because his breath went out in a whoosh that was half a sob and he added hastily, "No, he's alive. But...."

I understood why his voice trailed off. Pete still looked dead. I never saw such pallor on a healthy person before. Even if Peter was breathing--and I could see his chest rising and falling--the demon had done something bad to him, some weird paranormal thing that we had never run up against before, something that had to tie into Egon's strange readings. Pete's body looked empty of personality, like he didn't live there anymore.

Peter has left the building.

I ripped my eyes off him and surveyed the people who emerged cautiously from Macy's and crowded close like ghouls. Freaks, like the ghouls who rubbernecked at car accidents. I gestured at them to move back, but they ignored me. There was no trace of the demon. Either it had gotten tired of toying with us and messing with Peter or it had decided the throwers were no fun and had taken its toys and gone home. Shit. If we couldn't study it, how the hell could we figure out what had happened to Peter?

I raised my voice and put authority into it. "Somebody call 911, now!"

"Already handled," an older man in the crowd called back. He proudly displayed a cellular phone. Pete says they're the wave of the future. Damn it, focus, Zeddemore. I nodded at the guy to go on.

He didn't notice my momentary distraction as he bulled his way to the front of the crowd like a guy who's used to going where he wants to. Everybody moved aside for him. "They're coming. I figured we needed to watch out in case that thing came back, so I designated a couple of men to post watch." He gestured at two younger guys who were busy scanning the sky.

Drill sergeant. I recognized that tone all too well from my service days. This guy might be retired but he'd never lost the attitude. "Good man," I said. "We're counting on you."

He pulled himself to attention as if I'd been a general. PFC Zeddemore with a field promotion. I half-expected the guy to salute me.

"Any doctors here?" I asked hopefully. Figured there wouldn't be or somebody would have come forward. A few people called, "No," but that was it. So I turned back to the guys, my thrower at ready in case the demon came back.

Ray had settled Peter comfortably against his shoulder and watched him like a hawk. He brushed the hair back from Peter's forehead. "There's no slime," he said in surprise. "It didn't slime him."

"It sure did something," I responded. "We need to get some readings." Long as Pete was breathing and in no distress, I figured there wasn't much to do besides that except watch for signs of shock, keep him warm, maybe elevate his feet. He didn't have any apparent wounds, so maybe it would do him--and Ray--good for him to stay there. I watched his chest rise and fall and it was nice and regular, the way I wanted it to be. Ray's arm tightened around his shoulders.

"Peter, come on, Peter, wake up," he urged hopefully. "You can do it. It's gonna be just fine."

Peter might have been a log for all he answered. He just went on breathing in and out, but that was the full extent of his response. God--and that was a prayer, not a curse--he looked like he was dead. In spite of the breathing and the pulse Ray had found, he looked so damned dead....

Then I turned to Egon.

I know Pete always says Egon is the first real friend he ever had, but we don't always stop to realize the reverse is true, too. Egon had been too busy studying before Peter came along to think about how much a guy needs a buddy. I learned that lesson in 'Nam, but these guys learned it in college. Pete and Egon knew each other even before Ray showed up at the university. When you know a guy that long, you can get almost psychic together. Some of the guys in my platoon and I could do that when we were out on patrol together. Being a Ghostbuster is like that, too. The best part of it. Egon had that going with Pete even when we're not out busting.

But it wasn't even his shocked reaction that had me going. The ghost had sideswiped Egon, too, and that worried me. He stood there looking down at Peter, and his face was vague and disconnected. Whatever the ghost did, it couldn't be good for him. Maybe he wasn't down and out like Pete, but he wasn't at Egon-normal, either. Could have been just shock, but one of the first things we learned on a job was that no matter how desperately we were worried about a downed teammate, we had to face the fact that busting the ghost needed to come first. Not only an injured teammate but an innocent civilian might pay the price if we took the time to fuss over whoever was down. Unless he was pumping blood so fast that we had to stop it to save his life, we had to check out the ghost first. We all hated that, but it was a fact. Ray had saved Peter, but I'd seen his eyes tracking the sky above Macy's, and his thrower was in easy reach of his hand. But Egon had forgotten the safety rule, and Egon just didn't.

That meant not just that Egon's oldest friend was down--Pete had been down before--but that something was up with Egon, something the demon had done. First cop that showed up, I'd have him put out the word to warn people not to allow any physical contact with the demon. We'd have to rush and bust it, if any calls came through. Assuming Egon wasn't about to keel over like Peter had....

"Egon?" I prompted.

He didn't turn his head or answer. His attention was focused so completely on Pete I wasn't sure at first that he heard me. Then he lifted his head ever so slightly without turning and said, "Winston? The demon?" That had taken waaay too long. The paramedics needed to check him out, too, when they got here. And maybe I could snatch the meter and take some readings myself if he couldn't snap himself out of it.

I made a disgusted gesture skyward that he didn't see. "Took off. What about you? It got you, too."

He made a dismissive gesture. "Backlash only."

I caught his arm. Didn't turn him around, though, because I could tell he needed to focus on Peter. "Egon, level with me, man. You didn't get the full dose like Pete did, but you got some of it. Are you gonna keel over, too?"

He shook himself slightly. It alarmed me that he had to concentrate to answer my question. He was affected; I could see it just in the slightly delayed responses. Then he made a negative gesture with the P.K.E. meter. "No, I feel no urge to 'keel over'. I admit to a rather strange, vague feeling, but I am certain it will pass." He was silent a second, then he added viciously, "It will pass," and I knew he insisted because if his eerie sensation went away, it would mean Pete would be fine, too.

A vague feeling? Egon was never vague about anything to do with busting. He might be vague about remembering his turn to take out the trash when he was working in the lab, but when the chips were down, he was always focused. He's the one who usually throws us into the breach when we're up against a Class Eleven mega-specter. Right now, I had to pry answers out of him, and that wasn't normal. My stomach reacted unhappily. If this didn't wear off....

"Come on, Egon, what are your symptoms?" I persisted.

He gave an impatient tug to free his arm from my grip, but when I didn't let go he surrendered to it and didn't try again. "I am slightly dizzy. My vision is affected."

"Blurred? Double?"

"Something of both. It's easing a bit now. The touch was enervating, but in another sense it was as if the ghost were forcing its psi energy upon me. I can't explain more fully." Egon, guy who had twenty-seven theories about every ghost we encountered, and he couldn't explain. Bad sign. I saw Ray gaping at him and knew that he realized it, too. Egon was not himself.

"Like getting an electric shock?" I prompted. Would that account for the way Pete went down? I lifted an eyebrow at Ray, who shook his head doubtfully.

"I don't think it affected Peter like an electric shock," he put in. "Or even the backlash we get when a thrower brushes us by accident. Peter's not reacting like that at all." He hugged Peter tighter. Peter didn't respond.

Egon flinched, then he forced himself to concentrate. "No, but perhaps it would parallel that. A psi shock?" He frowned, but I didn't think it was because he'd become caught up in a new science problem. He was too focused on Peter. I moved around so I could get a better view of his face, and his eyes behind the red-framed glasses were all weird like he was seeing everything sideways. I wondered if Pete's eyes would look like that, too, if I went over and lifted one eyelid. How the heck could a quick brush from a demon affect a man's vision? Something to do with those weird readings Egon had taken with the meter? If he could figure out what they meant, could he reverse it?

"Hey, what about biorhythm readings? How's Peter reading?" Ray asked. Normally, Egon would have thought of that the minute Peter went down, but he'd been given a little of the same nasty medicine as Pete and some of his gears were misfiring. He wasn't coming up with his usual theories. That meant Ray and I had to prompt him whenever we could. I hadn't thought of biorhythm readings, either. I wasn't sure what we'd do if they were off, though. We don't use them much; meter's not designed for them, but Egon is always inventing something new to use them for. Surely, all they'd tell us would be if Peter were okay or not.

"Of course." If I hadn't still been holding his arm, Egon would have slapped his forehead in disgust. He raised the meter and I let go of him so he could work. I checked out the sky. Once the meter was adjusted, it wouldn't be picking up demon readings.

"Keep watch for the demon to come back," I warned the crowd. "Egon's resetting the meter and it won't be able to warn us for a few minutes."

The drill sergeant sketched a salute at me. "Yessir." Definitely a field promotion. I'd leave sentry duty in his capable hands.

While Egon made a careful adjustment--to Peter's specific readings, I saw, I said, "Ray? How's he doing?"

"He's the same, Winston. No change." Ray's eyes were huge, like an anime character's. "He's breathing. He's alive." The way his chin firmed up told me Pete would stay that way if Ray had any say in the matter. Ray's stubborn. He can dig in his heels and resist anything from Peter's wheedling to the threats of a major entity like Gozer.

"You hang onto him while Egon takes readings," I instructed. "Monitor him. Tell us if anything changes." We all knew CPR and were certified to give it. A thrower accident in the field could stop a guy's heartbeat--it had happened to Peter once, right in the firehouse, and Egon had given him CPR and saved his life. If we needed to give it to him this time, I didn't want one second's delay.

"Okay, Winston." Ray's answer was so automatic I could tell he was giving me only enough attention to get by on. He held onto Peter the way a child holds onto a toy he thinks is about to be stolen. Poor Ray. Pete was so much his big brother that there would be a huge hole in his life if Pete never came out of this.

Damn it, Zeddemore, I told myself savagely, don't be such a doomsayer. This might be a temporary effect. Pete might open his eyes in the next minute or two and be fine. Don't assume the worst.

But look at Egon whose hands trembled as he adjusted the meter. He was making awfully heavy work out of a routine task that should have been a snap. As I watched him, he succeeded in setting the meter. "There," he said. "What is wrong with me?"

Rhetorical question all the way. I didn't even try to answer it. Instead I put my hand on his shoulder and squinted down at the screen.

Pete's readings were weird. I mean, they were there, and they were strong--Egon was no more than two feet away from him--but there was something peculiar about them. I wasn't sure what it was, but they were definitely off. Meter reading's not my main job. Ghosts I can figure out, but this was different. I didn't have a clue.

"Oh dear," Egon murmured. Not what I wanted to hear him say.

"What's wrong, Egon?" Ray's eyes got even bigger. Shouldn't have been humanly possible, but they did. "Is he okay?"

"I have never done as much with the biorhythm readings as I should."

"Come on, Egon." I tightened my fingers on his shoulder. He didn't usually waste time with what wasn't important, and we didn't need excuses now. We needed answers. "Not like we have a lot of call for it, or tons of free time. What are you getting?"

"I don't understand it." He frowned fiercely. We count on Egon so much for the techie answers that I suspect he buys into it, too. I had to stop and remind myself that he had a lesser dose of whatever it was that had put Peter down for the count. I hadn't seen any sign that he was getting worse, or Pete, either, but neither had there been a trace of improvement. The EMT's would need to check out Egon, too, when they got here. I hoped they hurried. To make him focus on what he was reading, I gave his shoulder a little shake. At least it would keep him from dwelling too much on nasty thoughts like the ones that buzzed around in my brain, thoughts like, 'Will Pete ever wake up?'

"His readings are...disconnected," Egon replied. "Biorhythms are natural human readings, and the meter doesn't read them well, even after all the modifications and boosting we've done. While it is possible to design more, er, bells and whistles into a meter, the more it's refined in that direction, the less effective it would be on a normal bust." He realized he was babbling and made a disgusted sound. "Peter is alive. His physical condition appears to be stable, but it's at a depressed level. The readings indicate that his...consciousness--" he evidently found the word alarming-- "his awareness, no, his very essence--the part of his mind that makes him specifically Peter is...."

Gone? Destroyed? I hesitated to speak either word. My stomach threatened to go on rebellion. I swallowed hard.

Ray gazed up at Egon in horror. "You mean it...destroyed Peter's mind?" he gasped.

"No." I've never heard Egon sound so determined. "No. I don't mean that at all. But the conscious--and subconscious--mind is what makes an individual distinctive. The readings do not address that specifically. There's not a separate function within the meter to break down the differences between autonomic responses and the conscious mind. Yet...." His voice trailed off and he passed me the meter long enough so he could massage his temples. "Why can't I think?" he asked fretfully.

"Just say it simply, Egon," I urged him. "Nobody's keeping score here."

He tore his eyes away from Peter long enough to meet my gaze. After the most fleeting of contacts, his eyes fell. I thought he was almost ashamed to look at me when he knew he had bad news to impart. I felt my stomach scrunch up even tighter. Great, Zeddemore. You'll help the world here if you spew.

"It is as if Peter's conscious mind and his autonomic responses aren't...connected any longer," he admitted. He risked one quick glance at me to see if I understood what he meant, but turned back to Peter immediately.

Yeah, I understood what he was saying--well, sort of. If Peter's mind and body weren't working together anymore, no wonder he was out of it. Was this your standard coma or was it a coma with occult shading? Would he come out of it on his own--or at all? "Okay, simple question. How do we link them up again?" Maybe it didn't have a simple answer, but I had to throw it in there. In the distance, I heard the wail of an approaching siren. Even if it felt like a year since the call had gone out, the paramedics were making good time.

Egon blinked at me. "I don't know."

At our feet, Ray made a distressed sound that hurt me to the core--one that I echoed inside. If we didn't know how to fix what was wrong with Peter, how could a doctor do it? This couldn't be solved by some routine medical quick fix; it was a weird demonesque feature we'd never run up against before. That didn't mean we couldn't figure it out, but usually it's Egon who comes up with this kind of answers, Egon prompted by Peter, who is a zillion times smarter than he pretends to be, and who can come up with just the right questions to make Egon think harder, Egon backed by Ray, who has a much more intuitive mind for science things than Egon's more rational approach. With Egon operating below normal and Peter shut down for the duration, it was going to be up to Ray, with me, your basic non-scientist, to help.

Now Ray's your incredibly smart guy who doesn't show it as much as he could, either. He'd never quit trying to find an answer, and I bet as soon as he got to Tobin's Spirit Guide he'd locate the demon in there and then he could come up with a solution. God, I hoped so. Maybe my B.A. and my night school parapsychology classes would help. And maybe Egon would snap out of it with time. Maybe even Peter would.

The paramedics arrived then, and I pulled Egon back to give them room. He didn't want to go but he did. What surprised me was that he hadn't been down there on his knees at Peter's side, holding onto his hand and ordering him to respond, willing him back, coaching him, cajoling him, insisting he wake up. That he hadn't done that scared the crap out of me.

Were we going to lose both of them?

Peter

Everything was so confused, and I couldn't see right. My vision was edged with weird angles and strange delayed glimpses of things, seen and then re-seen as if my mind couldn't keep up with the fact that I didn't have a body anymore. How could I see at all without my eyes? Was I about to pop into that tunnel with the bright light? Was I dying?

Mama Venkman's little boy is scared.

I couldn't see Egon at all, and that freaked me. The demon had been going for him when it came for me. What if it had kept right on when it was done with me? What if Egon was down, and I was so fixated on my own body lying there like a lump in Ray's arms that I couldn't even make myself turn around and find him? Was Winston with him? Was that why I couldn't see Winston either?

Egon! Egon, where are you? Egon, talk to me.

P-peter?

Egon, is that you? Come on, Spengs, I'm right here. Maybe I'm invisible but whip up that handy-dandy meter of yours and check me out.

But the contact was too fleeting. There in a second, gone again. Come on, Egon, don't go away. You've gotta get me back.

Whoa, where did those paramedics come from? Look at 'em, swarming over my body like lice. If I could have shivered at the image my mind produced I would have, but you need a body to shiver, and I didn't have a body--well, I suppose I had an astral body but it didn't seem capable of shivering, even if I felt both cold and hot at the same time. I've got an astral fever.

I got a glimpse of Winston for a second there, double-edged with pink light, enough to make me really dizzy. He swarmed into my vision and then out again so fast I barely had time to register the alarm in his eyes. He'd been looking right at me, but I didn't see anything in his expression but worry. He couldn't see me. I knew that. There was no, 'hey, Pete,' in his face, only that grim concern. I knew that look. It was his somebody-has-to-be-strong-so-I-guess-I'm-nominated look. When things are chaotic, you can always count on Winston to be there for us all, to yank common sense into the equation. If I ever get back into my body, I'm gonna make a point of telling Winston how much we appreciate him when the chips are down.

Then, whoops, I'm right down beside my body. How did that happen? I'm staring down into my face like I've never seen it before. Geez, is that a grey hair? No, gotta be the light.

Not a bad body. Why can't I just reach out and pop back into it? I want to go home.

I'm staring at myself, and even though I'm right up close, I'm going all fuzzy around the edges. God, can an astral body cry? Because I can almost feel tears. All I want is to be back where I belong, to get back into my body, but I can't even make myself go the last foot. There are hands touching my body. Paramedics. They're doing things. I can see a blood pressure cuff. Can't feel it, though. I can't feel the examination. I can only watch it out here in the peanut gallery.

Whoops, now I'm further back, like I was yanked away. There's gotta be a way to control this, but I can't. I move around but it's not my choice. Drifting with the tide, in and out, in and out. Lost. Peter Venkman is lost. Come on, Venkman, concentrate. You can do it. You can get back where you belong. You've gotta.

Ray's there, but he's not holding onto my body anymore. The paramedics made him pull back. Maybe if he was still there, still holding on, I could find my way home.

Ray? Come back, Ray. I can't see you.

I watched the paramedics moving my body, and even though I don't have the tether to it, I can't help moving with it, following it, up into the ambulance. Wish it was Ecto instead. Ecto was an ambulance for part of its career.

And part of the time, it was a hearse....

No way, Venkman, don't even think that.

I'm not dying. I won't die. The guys need me.

I need the guys.

There's my body, laid out on the stretcher, and there are the paramedics. I can hear Ray and Winston in the background. Not Egon. I know something's wrong with him. Egon! Egon!

Suddenly there's a paramedic right in my face. It's almost like he knows I'm here. He's looking at me. He's looking right at me! Yeah, guy, I'm here. Come on, you see me, don't you?

But there's nothing in his face to indicate that he sees me at all.

Hey, que pasa. My vision is worse. Not just seeing in stereo, but further away. Suddenly the guy's gone all blurry around the edges, and I can't see him right. There's a round circle for the face, hollows for eyes, but he's not that clear. I'm starting to lose it. I'm going to drift away--discorporate. If I can't get back to my body....

The light in my eyes is so blinding that I can't help flinching. I can't look away from it. I've got no control, separated from my body like this. I have to let it blind me because I can't stop it. Besides, I know what it has to be, the bright light people claim to see when they have near-death experiences. This must be the tunnel where people go when they're waiting to cross over. Any second now I'm going to drift away, and I'll never get back.

I'm dying.

Guys? Don't let me go, guys. I don't want to go yet.

I love you guys....

Ray

Peter just looked awful when they took him away. Egon didn't look much better. I was glad they took him, too. Whatever the ghost did to them, it didn't do it as badly to Egon as it did to Peter, at least I hope it didn't. But it was bad enough. Egon wasn't acting like himself at all. I hate to see Egon diminished like that. Gee, I'm scared we're gonna lose both of them.

The demon was gone. Wherever it had vanished to, it wasn't lurking, waiting for a chance to attack. I set the meter to detect its specific readings and headed for Ecto while Winston dispersed the crowd with a warning to avoid the demon like the plague if it came back. A lot of people suddenly decided that Herald Square was the last place they wanted to be. The guy Winston said was a retired drill sergeant jumped in and helped the police clear the crowd away.

Winston and I followed the ambulance to the hospital, our siren wailing a counterpoint to the official one. By the time we parked and rushed in, Peter and Egon had already been whisked away for examination. There were just a few people in the waiting room, but they were prepared to rubberneck like crazy when Winston and I hurried in.

A harried black woman with a computer pounced on us and recruited us for information. She took down every detail of the guys' medical history and their insurance numbers. I know the hospital needed it to help Peter and Egon, but it felt so awful sitting there telling them about the time Peter had his appendix out and the way Egon's allergic to artichokes when all I wanted was to be with them. I don't know how Winston can be so patient. I was sure glad he was here.

I noticed he'd scraped his hand raw when he took that dive and reminded him of it. He shrugged, unconcerned with his own injuries. "Nothing serious, Ray. Let it go."

"No, we'll get you cleaned up while we wait. Come on." I dragged him over to the counter, and displayed his bloodied palm to the woman there. We must have looked shell-shocked because a nurse came in about five minutes for Winston. I sat there while he was gone, my arms wrapped around my ribcage, and tried to think.

What I should be doing is checking out Tobin's Spirit Guide. If I can find the demon in there, I can figure out what it did to the guys. I wasn't sure if Egon was oriented enough to take them and understand what he was seeing, so I repeated the tests he'd taken with the biorhythms before I did my scan for the demon, and I did get readings of Peter. They were almost normal, but not quite. I had watched Egon kneel beside Peter and snatch up his hand and try to talk to him before the paramedics made him move away, and he sounded so lost and confused that my heart just broke for him--for all of us. What if we couldn't get Peter back? What if Egon stayed like that, all lost and vulnerable?

No, that was silly. Peter and Egon were strong, and I knew all kinds of things about the occult. I'd track down the demon and find out what it was that he did, and then I'd figure out how to undo it.

Don't worry, guys, I'll fix it. I promise.

I used the time Winston was gone to phone Janine. I had to break it to her that Peter was out of it and Egon wasn't himself, either. Janine handled it like a trouper, but I could tell she was scared. "I'll be right over there."

"Janine, wait. I need you to bring me Tobin's Spirit Guide. Can you do that? I have to research that demon and see what a demon like that can do, so I'll know how to fix it."

"You bet I will, Ray. I'll bring it right over. Don't you forget for a second how strong Egon and Doctor V are. They'll be okay, even if they need your help to get okay again."

She was right, I thought as I hung up. They were strong. Maybe they needed my help this time, and I'd do anything I could to fix this. There had to be answers. Maybe the doctor even knew of a way. As soon as we got the word from the doctor, I'd have a better idea of what to do.

Winston came back in about fifteen minutes. He had a couple of band-aids on his hand. I watched him walk across to me and saw there were bloodstains on the knees of his jumpsuit, too. I pointed at it.

"Don't worry. Just skinned 'em," he reassured me. He hadn't been limping, so I hoped it was nothing worse than that. At least he'd had it cleaned up.

"You sure?" I asked.

He forced a grin as he settled beside me. "I'm okay. You hanging in there?"

"I called Janine. She's bringing Tobin over."

He caught my eye. "I'd have helped you call her."

"I know. I figured maybe I shouldn't wait. It's okay, Winston. I just need to have her bring the book, and I didn't want her to hear it on the news."

He clapped me on the shoulder. "They should get back to us soon."

But it was forty-five minutes later before the doctor appeared in the doorway. Janine was probably due any minute, maybe held up in traffic. At the sight of the bald man in the white coat, Winston and I popped to our feet like those inflatable figures you can knock over but they bounce back up again. He saw us and came over to join us, and the perplexed line between his bushy white eyebrows sent a skitter of nervousness through me. Winston must have seen it, too, because he grabbed hold of my arm. The doctor saw the gesture, and one eyebrow lifted toward his nonexistent hairline. It reminded me of the way the demon had arched those weird eyebrows like Mister Spock, and I winced.

"They're both alive," the doctor said hastily. I liked his urge to reassure us. He wasn't impatient; the wrinkle was probably frustration. He was an M.D. not a parapsychologist, so maybe this was new ground to him. I hoped it was that, not that the demon had found a way to impose physical harm on the guys. "I'm Doctor Herbert Solomon and I've been examining your friends here in the ER. I must say I'm perplexed. No apparent wounds, no trace of head trauma, in fact nothing physical at all to account for their condition. Heartbeat normal, pulse and blood pressure, all the basic tests, aren't explaining their reactions. I don't like it."

"What is their condition, Doctor?" Winston made an urging gesture that proved he was as impatient as I was.

"Doctor Venkman is unconscious. His involuntary responses are intact, however his body is unreceptive to stimuli and there is no voluntary movement. He does have pupillary response, which is a good sign."

"How so, Doc?" Winston asked. We exchanged a doubtful glance. If Peter wasn't responsive, how did that help?

"In general, in a patient who presents as Doctor Venkman, flaccid with no voluntary responses, my initial assumption would be a stroke."

My heart thudded in my chest. Oh, god, a stroke! Oh, Peter.... "How could he have a stroke?" I demanded. "That's just crazy. He's healthy. He just had his physical last week. He said that Greg--our doctor--says he's in great shape. Besides, we've been slimed lots of times on busts and never had anything like this happen before." I felt my bottom lip thrust out. Counter that, willya? I knew he had to go on the medical evidence, but this was something the demon had done, not a stroke. It was paranormal, not medical. Demons couldn't cause strokes. They couldn't. Could they?

Solomon rubbed his bald pate. The backs of his hands were hairy. "I understand a ghost attacked him. I don't know how that could cause a stroke, any more than you do. Perhaps in a layman, unacquainted with ghosts, the fear factor could trigger a physical response, but I hardly think one of you Ghostbusters would experience a strong enough terror reaction to upset the body so badly, not after as long as you've been busting ghosts. Perhaps its energy affected brain activity. Quite frankly, I'm not sure at this point. I've scheduled him for a CAT scan and MRI. Is there someone who can sign for the tests?"

"We both can," Winston agreed. "We all have durable power of attorney for medical care for each other. Our families aren't always right on hand. We already signed release forms when we were giving the information to the receptionist. Anything you need to do for Pete and Egon, you do it. Are you sure it's a stroke?"

Solomon pursed his mouth as he pondered. "No, I'm not sure, not with the ghost thrown into the equation. It's what I'd assume on any other patient brought in, but it's too early to make a positive diagnosis. We'll run those tests and see what results we get. If they're inconclusive, we'll run an EEG." He frowned. "Frankly, I'd not expect blood pressure within normal range if the entity had induced a stroke, and it's not a final diagnosis." He saw how much he'd shocked us. I was too numb to say anything, just staring at him in disbelief. This couldn't be happening. Winston's mouth was tight and his whole body thrummed with tension. He slung his arm around my shoulders. I was glad of the comfort. It felt nice, but it didn't begin to make up for what we might be facing.

"We'll begin an aggressive course of treatment for Doctor Venkman once the tests are completed," the doctor continued. "Frequent position changes and range-of-motion exercises to maintain his muscle tone. I'd like both of you to assist with that. We've evidence to suggest people react well to family members and loved ones."

I smiled faintly. Peter was family. We'd do everything we could for him. "We want to help."

Doctor Solomon studied us and nodded. He must have seen how determined we were--and how scared. Winston and I leaned against each other. The doctor continued. "I've seen comas, and this resembles a coma, but there's something different, something I can't quite put my finger on. I've been a doctor for nearly thirty years and this just feels...strange to me. Every patient is different, but this seems...outside the normal range I'd expect. I know you're the Ghostbusters, so my first instinct is to ask if the ghost you were dealing with at the time this happened could have caused it. You said it touched him. You tell me. Could that affect him like this?"

He was open-minded. I liked that. We've run up against a few doctors who just wouldn't believe our claims that the paranormal could cause weird reactions. They always go for the medical cause first; I know they have to. But this doctor would listen while he ran his tests. Peter needed that. I didn't want to have to fight the medical profession if I came up with a paranormal solution.

"It was a demon, not a regular ghost," Winston explained, and described the failed bust in a lot more detail than I'd picked up. Once Peter was down, I noticed that more than anything. I hadn't actually seen the demon sideswipe Egon, although I'd known it had happened from what went on--and from the weird way Egon was acting. "Pete got the full impact of whatever the demon did," Winston concluded. "Egon just got a glancing blow. But it made him vague and confused. He wasn't tracking normally once it happened, and he was a lot more off than he'd be if it was just worry about Peter."

"Egon's really brilliant," I explained. "Even when things are terrible--like Peter being out of it the way he was--Egon can focus and come up with answers, or at least reasons. But not today. We had to remind him to check Peter's biorhythm readings with the meter, and that's not right. Whatever happened to Peter happened to Egon, too, simply not as bad. How's Egon now?"

"As you imply, he's vague. I wasn't the doctor who initially examined him, but I'll tell you what I know. He's restless; if his vocal responses and reaction time are sluggish, he's almost reacting with heightened energy. He reports distorted vision. From the way he was responding, both Doctor Barrett and I would have suspected that he'd had a seizure. He reports he did not have a seizure, and the EMT's would have so informed us if he'd had one in transit, just as I'm sure you would have mentioned it if he'd had one before they arrived."

"A seizure?" I felt my mouth fall open. I hadn't expected that any more than I'd expected him to tell us Peter might have had a stroke. "Gosh, no, Egon didn't have a seizure." I didn't even want to think of such a thing, but I couldn't help trying to figure it out. "Oh... maybe we wouldn't have noticed a petit mal seizure, but Egon's never had a seizure before, and I've known him since I was a freshman at Columbia. And it's not like he got hit on the head or anything to cause it. The demon only brushed his arm."

"A petit mal seizure wouldn't be enough in itself to account for his reactions. But as you say, the demon touched him, too, and could have affected him in ways that medical science can't understand. We can only understand the presenting symptoms." He cleared his throat. "That is not an official diagnosis either. Since they were affected at the same time by the same source, we'll want to run the same tests on him as we do on Doctor Venkman. We'll compare the results."

Winston frowned. "But if you say he has a heightened restlessness and responses, isn't that just the opposite of Peter? I don't like this. I still think the demon caused it. I don't think it's medical, not like you think it is."

Solomon grimaced, then he heaved a huge sigh. "I'm not locked into a medical diagnosis, gentlemen. However, I have to assume it is medical, and treat it accordingly until such time as it's proven different. The demon could have induced medical problems on both men and I can't deny treatment on the off chance that I'm dealing with a supernatural crisis."

I shivered. That was so true. Peter with a stroke? Egon with a possible seizure? Egon with brain damage? What if neither of them recovered? "Oh, gosh, Winston," I blurted.

He tightened his arm around my shoulders. "Hang in there, Ray, we'll beat this."

I wished I could believe him. My optimism struggled hard but it wasn't winning. I was grateful for the comfort but it was physical comfort alone. If they didn't recover, nothing would ever be the same.

"Is Egon conscious?" I asked. It was hard to form the words.

Solomon nodded. "Yes, he's relatively alert and asking questions. He says his reasoning is affected, but he seems very intelligent to me, simply perhaps not at peak alertness. He wanted to stay with Peter, so we placed them in adjoining cubicles and left the dividing curtain open. Egon lies there and stares at him, then he sits up and stares at him. He tries to reason out what happened, but becomes frustrated and exasperated with himself for failing to deduce a solution. He will respond to direct questions and he will volunteer information without being solicited, but it's as if he's sustained an unspecified trauma. He's not in shock, at least not in the clinical definition of the word, but he's in a form of mental shock, I'd say. A part of that, naturally, is concern for his friend. That part is blindingly obvious; it's the same expression I see on both your faces right now. The rest must be part and parcel of the same thing that's wrong with Doctor Venkman. If he'd experienced a seizure, I'd expect him to be returning to normal by now, yet there's no sign of him coming out of the reaction." He ran a hand over his protruding belly. "What happened to the demon? Did you catch it?"

"It got away." Winston grimaced. "We had Pete down and Egon wasn't firing anymore, and Ray had broken Peter's fall, so there was only me with a thrower. I couldn't have zapped it on my own. It takes at least three throwers to contain a Class Seven and sometimes all four. It could have taken us out but it just went away. We asked the police to put out a warning for people to avoid it if it shows up."

"I see. Now you called it a demon. I understand you have knowledge of specific demons or a reference source? I saw it mentioned on a television program you did once."

I bobbed my head eagerly. "Yeah. Tobin's Spirit Guide. It's a great book. There are a lot of reference books, but that's the most comprehensive. We called our secretary, Janine, to let her know what happened, and she's coming over and bringing the book with her. She should be here soon." She'd be breaking every speed law known to man to get to Egon--and she'd be worried about Peter, too. "I'll go through it and see if I can figure out which demon it is, or if it's a certain class, what that class can do. I don't remember any demon who could put somebody in a coma like that, or cause a stroke or seizures, either. It's not like a sleep demon or sandman. We'd have gotten different readings on that, and Peter would act like he was asleep. We ran into a sandman once, and it was totally different. Except...." I shrugged. "He's not sleeping. It's just like he isn't...there anymore."

The doctor winced. "That was the feeling I got myself. As if--god, this sounds unprofessional--as if nobody was home. And while we can get a sensation like that from comatose stroke victims, this feels subtly different."

"What about an out-of-body experience?" Winston ventured doubtfully.

I stared at him. I'd thought of that already and halfway discarded the thought. "Well, yeah, but that wouldn't work. I mean Egon's still there. Unless part of him is gone, and I think that would look a whole lot different. You mean like the demon stole Peter's consciousness?" Then I thought of the fallacy of that argument. "No, that doesn't work. Egon got biorhythm readings from him after it happened. The meter reacted right away. Wouldn't they have shown if Peter was gone?"

Then I remembered what Egon had actually said and I felt the color leave my face. My knees lost their starch and I groped for the chair and sat down hard. Winston steadied me, and I saw a flash of alarm on his face, like he wondered if whatever had happened to the guys was catching.

Egon had said the readings made him think Peter's conscious mind and autonomic responses were no longer connected. Gee, that could mean Peter had been forced into an O.O.B.E. His readings might have been as normal as they were because he was hovering right above his body. People who could project themselves out of their bodies maintained a tether to the body, a silver cord that linked them to themselves, that they could follow to go home. Voluntary or involuntary astral journeying worked the same way. You drifted out wherever you were going--another plane, through walls, whatever--and the cord guided you home. I'd never done it, but I've talked to a couple of people who claimed they did it at will, and I'd always thought it sounded kinda neat--until now. If Peter was out of his body and if he was close enough, we'd get those readings. Maybe that was it. We couldn't provoke normal responses from him because he wasn't in there any longer, because his physical form and his consciousness were disconnected.

Winston sat beside me. "Ray?" He slung his arm around my shoulders again. "What's wrong? Come on, guy, don't look like that. We'll figure it out."

"What are you thinking, Doctor Stantz?" Solomon asked. He snatched up my wrist. I felt his fingers against my pulse point, and he glanced at his watch as he checked it. "Hmm. Normal. But you did lose color, Doctor Stantz."

I gazed up at him. "I think the demon forced Peter into astral projection."

Winston groaned. Even though he'd been the one to suggest it, I didn't think he'd really believed it. He might have been just tossing out a suggestion to get me thinking. He does that sometimes. So did--does--Peter. "Come on, Ray, that doesn't happen, does it?"

"Well, not very often," I replied. "Some people believe we're traveling astrally when we're dreaming, and Egon's alpha wave generator that lets us program our dreams is a kind of artificial astral projection device."

"That gizmo that we hook up to with those helmets?" He grimaced. "Weird thing. Controlling our dreams...."

I liked the experience myself; it could really help us to unwind after a stressful day, although we never used it, all four of us at once, not after entities had invaded it while we were sleeping and trapped us in there. Could it help now? We always used at least one of us as a control if we tried it. "We used to do a lot of study on fields like this when we were at the university. There's no actual concrete evidence for claims of out-of-body experiences, any more than there is the tunnel with the bright light that people see when they have an NDE."

"Near-death experience," translated Solomon automatically. "I've talked to four people over the years who claimed that happened to them. Whether it did or not, or whether it was simply an endorphin reaction triggered by chemical changes in the body as it approaches death I couldn't say. As for out-of-body experiences, some of the ones I've heard tell of have no doubt been caused by unwise use of illegal pharmaceuticals. Again, we could have a brain chemical response. Your average parapsychological incident is difficult to prove."

I nodded. "Yeah, we found that out at Columbia. There was usually a more basic, practical reason for a lot of the weird things people claimed. It was the stuff we couldn't explain that was really interesting." I pushed that away. It was neat, but this wasn't the time for it. "Anyway, I don't remember reading about any demons that could force an out-of-body experience."

Solomon wrinkled up his face like it was made of india rubber. Stretching to accommodate a new idea, a whole raft of them? I liked the guy. "Then could the demon have stolen Doctor Venkman's conscious mind?"

I frowned reproachfully at the doctor. Okay, maybe I didn't like what he had to say. I hadn't wanted to admit he could be right, even though the possibility was in my head yelling and screaming for my attention. If that had happened, and if it had taken some of Egon's awareness, too, how could we ever hope to get any of it back, with the demon gone? Even if we could find it, was there a way to draw out what had been lost?

Winston jumped to his feet and held up his hands to intercede. "Hold it, guys. Before you hitch a ride on that train, remember that Egon did get strong readings for Peter. The demon was long gone by then. Egon said Peter's responses might be separate, but he also said the meter wasn't designed to detect that. But he was getting readings that were close to normal, and if the demon had made off with Peter's mind, they wouldn't have been. Come on, Ray, you know that."

Relief pulsed through me. Good thing I was sitting down or I'd have fallen over. The demon hadn't stolen Peter's mind or Egon's. I did know it. There were other possibilities, too, besides the out-of-body experience. Peter's consciousness could have been driven deep inside, shunted away where he couldn't get at it. He might be in there yelling and screaming for attention and unable to break through to us. It might even be a weird form of possession, although we should have still detected demon readings if that were the case. Peter had told us after Watt possessed him that he'd been aware the whole time, just unable to fight it until we'd drawn the demon off him. But the demon was gone, and it hadn't gone into Peter. Winston had seen it take off, and the readings matched that. When Watt had possessed Peter, the readings had been definite. We could prove it was in there. This time, it wasn't. So it hadn't taken Peter's consciousness away, and it hadn't possessed him. And that left...what?

His body had felt so empty when I was sitting there in Herald Square holding onto him. I know that was a subjective evaluation, and Egon's always getting on my case for being too subjective, but it was how I had felt, that Peter wasn't there any longer. Just like I'd felt that something I couldn't define was wrong with Egon.

"I think if I took readings now, I could set the meter to test for an out-of-body experience," I said. "There should be a slight energy field that would represent the connection to the body. If Peter can't get back on his own, we might be able to help." I grinned faintly. "Once we found somebody who'd had an out-of-body experience. Remember, Winston, a year or so ago? That guy in the East Sixties? We thought he was a ghost, even if the readings didn't match a typical Class Three. He was able to communicate to us where his body was, and we helped him get home. I got really great readings of the silver cord, but I had to focus really fine to pick it up. But that means I know just what to look for now. If that's what happened to Peter, maybe we can get him home like we did that guy."

"How did you get him home?" Solomon gazed at me in utter fascination.

"Well, when we found out who he was, we used a thrower at really low power to guide him in the right direction," I explained. "We couldn't trap his essence or we'd have snapped the connection. But we just kind of steered him in the right direction. It was cool. If Peter's out there and doesn't know what happened to him, we can steer him back along the cord and pop him right in there, where he belongs." Excitement ran through me. "Wow, this'll be great."

It wasn't the answer for Egon, but maybe we could handle only one problem at a time. Egon wasn't out of his body.

If he saw my doubts, Winston didn't encourage them. "Way to go, homeboy." He rumpled my hair. "Let's do it. Let's get Peter back where he belongs."

"Very well," Solomon agreed. "But we'll soon be taking both of them down for their CAT scans. You have until then to check your theories, and I'll insist on being present to supervise you. If you find readings that match the other incident, I'll allow it, with careful modification, subject to halting it if it jeopardizes Doctor Venkman."

That was the best deal we could get. Besides, I wanted the doctor there to make sure we weren't doing any harm. I hadn't seen the guy's body when we were taking his consciousness home. Once he got close enough, he'd just popped in, and was himself before we even reached his door. We'd be there to monitor Peter, and Doctor Solomon could intercede if there were problems. I couldn't make them throw over the CAT scan and MRI just because I had a theory. If the demon had caused physical responses in my friends, they had to run their tests. But we'd run as many of ours as we could before then and with luck, maybe we could fix Peter's problem before it came to that. Then we'd see what to do about Egon. I snatched up Egon's meter that he'd given to me for safekeeping before the ambulance had whisked him and Peter away.

The only bad thing about the theory was the one that would probably shoot it down.

Could just part of a person's consciousness go on an astral journey? And if not, then what on earth was wrong with Egon?

Egon

Was Peter dead?

I knew he was breathing. I could see him breathing. As I lay here on the bed in my ER cubicle waiting for them to come and take Peter and myself for tests, I watched him. I had been watching him since the doctor finished with him and moved out of my way. It was as if I couldn't stop looking at him, as if I would blink and he would be gone. His body would still be there, but it would be empty, a mere shell.

Wasn't that what wat is right now? Doctor Solomon, who examined him, told me he may have had a stroke. Surely he was incorrect. I didn't want to accept that possibility. I wanted the problem to have a paranormal source that we could research and remove. I didn't want to think that everything that made Peter who he was ha been destroyed, that he would never recover. I am not a praying man. I prefer rational solutions. But my emotions appeared to be working independently of my rationality, and I found myself saying, "Please, God, let him recover."

Once or twice, I imagined hearing Peter's voice talking to me, very faint and distant. Was that wishful thinking? Did the demon's attack enable me to respond to Peter, wherever his mind had gone? Was he trapped inside himself, unable to emerge? Was he forced out of his body?

Why had it taken me so long to formulate even a rough theory? Why couldn't I concentrate properly?

I knww it was because the demon's touch affected me, too. Peter was hit harder and he was hit first. Perhaps that touch diluted the effect of what happened to me, or perhaps the fact that Peter had full impact and I had a graze meant that I was affected to a lesser degree.

The demon had wanted me. It was coming for me. Peter jumped in its way to save me.

If he never came back from this comatose state, I would know that Peter died for me.

The pain that ran through me at that thought was like hot ice lancing my veins. No! I would not surrender Peter. There had to be a way to revive him, even if the doctor who examined him was perplexed. The other doctor told me he could not explain my reactions, either. He said they vaguely mimicked those who had experienced a grand mal seizure, but I had no seizure. I was positive that I never once lost consciousness. There was no time distortion, and I did not collapse. There were none of the physical manifestations he would have expected had such an incident occurred--and if it had, Ray and Winston would have mentioned it to the paramedics. Ergo, no seizure.

Peter's body had not moved since he collapsed, except to breathe. His heart was beating normally. I could see the electrodes they attached to monitor him and observed the readouts on the screen over his head. Heart, respiration, temperature, blood pressure. All normal, although his blood pressure might have been slightly lower than normal. He should be awake. He should be conscious. But he was not.

And I know with an inner certainty that I am unable to explain that he is not there any longer.

I am able to arouse him in the mornings when he is determined to sleep in. It was time to use that voice. "Peter? You must wake up. Wake up now!"

Nothing. Not even a flutter of the monitors.

With a shuddery sigh, I sat up. I wasn't weak, although the odd dizziness and peculiar vision persisted. When I turned my head, I saw a series of overlapping images that confused me and distorted my reactions. If I lay unmoving, gradually it would steady, but I couldn't lie unmoving, not when Peter needed me. I had to do something--if only I could think of something to do. My blood pressure was normal, too, and the endless initial tests had discovered nothing that would suggest a brain tumor--suddenly induced through a demon touch to my arm? Highly unlikely. That was what the CAT scan and MRI would help to uncover. I had no fever. No seizures that would account for the odd reaction. Yet I did not feel...right. I should have been able to clarify that observation, but I could not. That was as far as I could take it. I did not feel right.

There had been no decline, though. At least whatever the demon did to me does not appear to be progressive. Small cause for rejoicing there, as I had not improved, either. I could not function like this. My mental abilities have always been vital to my sense of self. Without the normal ability to reason clearly, what is left of me?

What would be left of me without Peter?

I made my way unsteadily across the five endless feet that separated us, and I gripped his hand. His fingers lay unmoving in mine with utterly no sense of familiarity, as if I had grasped the hand of a total stranger, someone I didn't even know, someone who had stopped being Peter. The urge to drop the unresponsive fingers was very strong. It felt as if I'd picked up the hand of a newly dead corpse. Still warm, but ready to cool.

Oh, Peter....

Still warm. I had to remember that. Stop being fanciful, Egon, and think. I squeezed the lax fingers hard. "Peter, you will wake up," I said fiercely, the same commanding tone I had used to force him out of bed when he tried to sleep in on the morning of a scheduled bust. If I put precisely the correct note into my voice, he erupts from his covers like Krakatoa.

No eruptions today. His body lay there, empty. Breathing. Heart beating. No one at home.

If only I could see clearly.

When I turned my head, there were delayed afterimages of everything I saw. There were even pre-images, if such things existed. I felt as if my eyeballs were stretching into new shapes.

I knww there were more tests scheduled for me, as there were for Peter. A CAT scan. An MRI. Those for both of us--I suspected they wanted to compare our readings since we were affected by the same source--affected to such differing reactions. For me, there would likely be tests to examine my vision. If I had been slimed in the face, perhaps that would explain the way my vision shifted and flickered, the way I got a delayed, eery reaction when I turned my head as if the connection between my optic nerve and my brain had a short circuit. A frightening thought. My glasses did not help at all, but when they took them for examination in the ambulance, the sense of utter panic that flooded me made my blood pressure shoot up, and when I insisted that I needed them, although I could not explain my urgency, they gave them back. Blurred and distorted at the same time was too much for my confusion to handle. Doctor Solomon and Doctor Barrett had allowed me to keep them here, too.

The demon hadn't even left a residue of slime on my arm. I thought of that while I was being examined and asked to inspect my jumpsuit. I should have considered it right away. The hospital personnel have been very gentle with me. They have tolerated my odd whimseys and offered simple explanations whenever I asked for them. I know they are confused by my reactions, but they do not know me when I am myself. I suspect they put my reaction down to fear for Peter--and that is most of it, of course. You will not die, Peter.

Trying not to, Spengs.

I jerked as if I'd been poked with a cattle prod and stared down at Peter. He lay there, as inert as before. Had I actually heard that, or was it simply wishful thinking? I should have been able to tell the difference, but I could not. I had to believe Peter can communicate with me at a basic, elemental level. If Peter is trapped within himself, maybe our years of friendship could reach him.

I would do whatever it took.

Peter was not slimed either. The demon impacted against him but left no ectoplasm behind. Was that significant?

If so, I could think of no reason for it. None at all.

Only good thing, I'm not drowning in goop.

Peter? Dear god, that had sounded like Peter. Just like the voice I had believed I heard before. Once might be imagination. Twice had to be real--or insanity? Real, then. I will insist upon it.

I tightened my grip on his hand and held on with all my strength. Peter, please, you have to respond. I will not let you die. I raised the hand I clasped and pressed it against my chest. We will get you back. I just wish I knew how.

Thought...you knew...everything, Spengs.

"Peter!" Had I fantasized it? Was that voice real? What had I done differently? Simply held his hand. Physical contact? Was that it? Time to test it. "Peter, speak to me. I know you can hear me."

Nothing. No response at all. My stomach twisted. I closed my eyes against the distorted vision and struggled to ignore the headache that throbbed behind my closed eyes. It hadn't eased since I was brought in, any more than my vision had. The doctor was reluctant to order me a pain-killer, not even Tylenol, until they completed their tests. But as I clutched Peter's hand and pleaded with him to respond, the pain increased until it became nearly unbearable. My knees felt weak, and vertigo threatened. I forced open my eyes and the headache eased slightly, although it didn't go away.

"Egon!"

At Ray's alarmed shout, I turned to stare at him. He was wearing a proton pack, although Winston wasn't. I wondered if he expected the demon to show up, but then why wouldn't Winston have his pack, too? The sudden turn was a mistake. My vision didn't track as well as I'd hoped it would and I nearly pitched over on the floor. I had to let go of Peter to keep from falling, for fear of pulling him down with me.

Ray and Winston caught me before I could collapse and would have put me back to bed, but I fought them. "No. I need to stay here. I think I communicated with Peter, guys."

"Really?" Ray's face lit up with the ready hope that he manages the best of all of us. "How? Is he waking up?" He let Winston hold me up and pressed up against the side of the bed. When he picked up Peter's hand in the hand that didn't hold the P.K.E. meter, I saw automatic revulsion flit across his face, as he felt the same emptiness I had experienced. But he gnawed on his bottom lip for a second and swallowed hard--and didn't let go. "Peter? Peter, it's Ray. Can you hear me?"

Only then did I realize how my words would be construed. Had I given Ray and Winston false hope? The hand I had been holding had never once stirred in mine. Peter had not responded to me aloud. The monitors had reported no surge, no change at all. Perhaps I had simply imagined his responses out of my extreme need for him to regain consciousness, for him to be all right.

Very carefully, I took his hand from Ray. I saw Ray and Winston--and the bald doctor, Solomon, behind him--respond to the gesture. Then Ray shook his head. "Egon, I need to take readings of Peter. I've got an idea that I want to try. It would be better if you moved back so I could get clear readings." He sounded like he hated to even ask me to let go, and worse, he sounded like he had taken the entire responsibility of restoring Peter on his shoulders. I knew he would try as hard as he possibly could, and I knew he would never give up.

But what if Peter never woke up?

I hated to let go, but before I released him I closed my fingers over Peter's tightly. I'm not going away, Peter. I will be right here. I give you my word of that.

You'd better.

An answer? More wishful thinking? It was evident from the worry and sympathy on Ray's and Winston's faces that they had heard--or sensed--nothing. Perhaps what I imagined or intuited came entirely out of my distorted mind--or from the fact that the demon had attacked us both. Perhaps there was enough demon energy left--residuals?--for me to feel Peter, although I could not be sure the thought was real.

I let go. It was like tearing off my own skin, and I had to fight with all the strength I possessed not to snatch back Peter's hand. If I let go, perhaps he would die.

He didn't die, though. The instruments over his head didn't change at all. If he'd been aware of me inside, surely something should have altered when I broke the grip. When I realized his readings were constant, I allowed Winston to guide me back to my own bed and help me sit down. There were answers here. Ray said he had an idea. That might make a difference. He might have figured it out. There were theories to explore, but my mind didn't want to go that route. All I wanted to do was go back and snatch up Peter's hand again.

"Easy, Egon," Winston soothed me. He sat beside me on the bed, a comforting arm around my shoulders, and I looked down and saw my bare feet dangling down lower than his boots. I wondered vaguely where my boots were.

Ray activated the meter. "I already set it to Peter's biorhythms," he said. "There's something I need to check out. If it works...." He let his voice trail off. Ray was usually so optimistic, but now he sounded scared, as if his idea was a stab in the dark. I half expected him to cross his fingers before he tested his theory. He didn't aim the meter at Peter at all, but held it out in front of him. It beeped reassuringly.

Reassuringly? How could it reassure us when Peter was...was whatever he was? I frowned at the meter's betrayal.

Are you there, Peter?

E-egon?

That one word was so faint and foggy I couldn't be sure it was real. Could Ray or Winston hear it? Ray just kept on moving around, holding the meter in front of him, and it kept right on beeping.

Winston drew breath to speak, but before he could do so, Ray waved his hand wildly for attention.

"I think he's here," he said to the doctor.

Surely that was wrong. "Raymond, of course he is here," I pointed out with exaggerated impatience. "He is lying right before you."

Ray gazed at me sadly and I realized that my confusion had forced me to misinterpret his words. "Egon, we think the demon might have forced an out-of-body experience. That's what I'm testing for right now." The very gentleness of his explanation hurt; it was proof that he knew I was not myself, that I was damaged, perhaps brain-damaged, that I might never be normal again.

If I were not normal, then what hope did Peter have, who had been affected so much worse?

Winston's arm tightened around my shoulders. "Egon?" He sounded doubtful. "I could have sworn I heard Peter a minute ago."

Ray's eyes grew bigger. "Really? You heard him? I wish I'd heard him. What did he say?"

"I think he said Egon's name, but it was so faint I can't tell if it was real or if I imagined it, you know, because I wanted to so badly."

A surge of elation pumped through me so intense that I nearly blacked out. The room swayed before my eyes as my vision did its peculiar dance. "That's what I heard," I said. "Just now, before Ray took the reading." Let it be true. If Winston had heard that forlorn whimper, then I was not insane--and Peter was not dead.

Or...was he?

Yes, his body lived. But the crash cart waiting for it to fail proved the doctors had no confidence that it would continue to do so. I had to fight down the nasty twist of fear in my stomach. An out-of-body experience? Peter would hover near his body. "Ray, can you adjust the meter to detect...." I had to stop and think. "The man we helped return to his body. Do you remember those readings?"

Alarm flashed in his eyes as he realized that I did not. I could not think. Peter might have been forced into an involuntary out-of-body experience, but what of myself? I was still here? Could a man's conscious awareness be split? Was a part of me gone, as well? Was that the part that could hear Peter?

No, for Winston had not been affected by the demon. He was not delusional, he was not brain damaged. He was simply his usual tower of strength, and his admission could not have been influenced by me, because I had not spoken my experience aloud. I was proud of that reasoning, simple as it was. But I could take it no further. I simply could not make sense of it. I could only hold onto the fact that Winston had heard him, too. And that meant that Peter still existed, that more than his body existed. I had to believe that. It was essential.

Ray bent over the meter, concentrating so hard that the tip of his tongue protruded from the corner of his mouth. "That's what I thought of, Egon," he explained. "I remembered that guy from the Upper East Side, the one we helped back to his body. I thought if I checked, if the readings were like that, we could focus on the tether Peter has to his body and guide him home where he belongs." He grew more and more excited as he talked. I could recall that the settings he needed were exceptionally narrow and required careful tuning. No wonder I had been unable to detect such a thing in Herald Square. I had adjusted the meter for simple biorhythm readings.

"So you can guide Peter along the cord with a thrower at low power." That was why he was wearing his proton pack. He had a plan to return Peter to his body. "Well done, Raymond." I didn't want to think that Peter had endured endless...endless what? Solitude? Separation? Surely fear and confusion, simply because I had been unable to think.

"Come on, Egon." That was Winston, right there for me while Ray worked. "Not your fault. Ray and I are here, too. There's a lot of information to process. We're working on it."

He was right, but it didn't make me feel any better about it. Of all of us, Peter hates to be alone. He is always happier with people around him. How very isolated he must be now. We'll get you back, Peter, I promised him.

No response. Disappointed, I turned to Ray. He finished his settings and leveled the meter at Peter. I could feel him willing it to respond. Winston and I focused on the tips of the antennae. They wouldn't stir much for such a faint energy field as the silver cord produced. But they would stir.

They didn't respond at all.

Ray threw himself at the dials. "Gotta work, gotta work," he muttered under his breath. I shuddered, and Winston tightened his arm around me.

Ray tried four separate adjustments to the meter while Doctor Solomon hovered over Peter, his eyes darting back and forth between the monitors over Peter's head and Peter himself. I suspected he was ready to intervene with a medical solution if he thought it necessary. He didn't intervene, though. He simply monitored.

Ray muttered a profanity under his breath, then he heaved a vast, shaken sigh and lowered the meter. When he looked up, his face was white. "Egon, Winston, I can't find it."

"Find what, Ray?" asked Winston. I was glad he'd spoken because I could not form words.

"The tether. The cord. It was the only way I could think of to get Peter back into his body. We could use the thrower to steer him in the right direction. I remember exactly what settings we used to pick it up for that guy. But I'm not detecting it." His shoulders slumped. "I'm just not reading it at all."

"And that means?" prompted Doctor Solomon as an orderly came in wheeling a gurney, a second orderly trailing behind. They headed straight for Peter.

Ray watched them move Peter carefully onto the gurney, and his eyes were huge with distress. "If we're right and Peter's had an out-of-body experience, then the cord that tethers him to his body has been broken," he said. "And that means he'll never be able to get home." He looked as if it would take very little for him to burst into tears.

I flinched as they wheeled Peter away for his CAT scan. Vertigo caught me abruptly and I sagged against Winston, who turned alarmed eyes in my direction, then jumped up and helped me to lie down. The desolation that flooded me was tinged with an unexplained fear, a sense of loss, as if something very important to me was gone forever.

Would I ever see Peter alive again?

Peter

Egon, Egon, where are you? I can't find myself. I'm trapped.

I threw the soundless words out into the nothingness around me. I had vague physical sensations, but they weren't anywhere near normal sensations. They were too distant, too disconnected, and I couldn't control any of them. I was on a giant roller coaster, swooping along, or I was in a runaway car that didn't have a steering wheel. Enough to make a guy dizzy as hell. I couldn't see right, either, but I could see Ray in front of me. He came and went. I hadn't seen him for a long time, but it was so good to see him that I focused on him with everything I had.

I couldn't hear Egon now. And then Ray was gone and I couldn't see anything but a wall, or a ceiling. I couldn't tell which it was. But I was alone there, and I couldn't be alone.

Egon! Help me.

I'm here, Peter.

He was there. I couldn't see him, I couldn't hear him--hard to hear when your ears aren't attached any longer, when you can't find your body, when there's no way home. But as long as I could hear Egon, it was all right. Because I knew Egon would find a way to bring me home.

I don't know where I am. I didn't mean to sound like a crybaby but I couldn't help it. I didn't want to be alone. What if my body was dead? I could never go back. I'd just drift around out here and disperse like a ghost who resolves all his issues. They're always glad to go, but I wasn't. I didn't want to die. I wasn't ready. I needed the guys and they needed me. I didn't want to die like this, alone and scared, without even a chance to say goodbye. I shivered. I know it wasn't a real shiver, but it felt like one.

Egon's mental voice strengthened. How did he do that? He had to be as freaked as I was, but it was like the interference that made this weird telegraph system sputter in and out was gone and instead I could hear him clearly. I don't know where you are, Peter, but you exist. You are here, and we can communicate. I will not let go.

If I'd had eyes, I'd probably have bawled. Egon wouldn't let me go. He might not understand what was happening any more than I did, but I believed him. I trusted him. Thanks, Spengs, I told him gratefully. So, you want to put the great brain to work on this?

He gave a mental sputter of laughter. Not so great a brain now, Peter. I'm affected, as you are.

He was drifting around out in the ether, too? Weird. I wondered where we were. Okay, the not-so-great brain then.

Really, Peter! He collected himself. I could feel it, with a weird sense I didn't recognize except to know it wasn't one of the usual five. Sense Number Twenty-seven? Or was this telepathy? We all had developed a little heightened psi from all our exposure to ghosts. Egon could usually tell what I was thinking anyway. How much different was this? I couldn't reason it out, and didn't care, as long as there was an answer, as long as Egon was here to reassure me, wherever here was.

Hey, I try. I flashed a mental grin in his direction but I couldn't tell if it took. Heck, I couldn't even tell if it was the right direction. Not much help when all I could see was a boring white ceiling with weird angled edges to it, as if its corners overlapped. Do you know where I am? I asked.

The pause was just long enough for me to start getting worried. Then he came back, and he leveled with me. Knew I could count on him for that. Peter, we theorize you may have been forced into an out-of-body experience.

You called that one on the money. Right out in the ether, hanging out without a bod. Gonna be hard to get dates like this.

This time, the pause was filled with emotion. He was agonizing over me and trying not to show it, 'cause he knew it would get me down. When he 'spoke', it was in a deliberately light tone. Only you would think of dating at a time like this. He paused to collect himself. I could feel his unhappiness, and I didn't like it. Peter, I am not trapped out of my body. However, I was attacked by the demon in passing, although not as severely as you were. My...my mind is affected.

He tried hard not to sound afraid, but it was all through him. I felt a savage urge to track down the demon and turn him inside out--and stomp him into jelly. Gonna be okay, Egon. Even if you're upside down for a little while, you can still run circles around the demon--and just about everybody else in the known universe.

At least I don't sleep till noon every day.

I blew him a mental raspberry, and I could feel the ether around me quiver as he laughed. What scared me was my instant recognition that it was the kind of laughter that's next door to tears.

"Egon, what's wrong?"

That was Ray's voice, and it sounded really loud and echo-y. Where had Ray come from? Where was he?

There he was. He was staring at me--but I was pretty sure he didn't see me. Weird. There wasn't any recognition in his eyes, just concern, and that was there by the bucketful.

"Egon, why are you laughing?" I could tell from the way Ray's eyes were so round and shadowy that he thought laughing was way out of line right now--and that he thought if Egon was laughing it was because he was demented. That had to mean Egon was the only one who could hear me, and that was probably because old Eyebrows had given him a zap, too. Linked us up in a crazy psychic hot-line.

I waited for Egon to answer him, and when he did, his voice didn't sound right. I almost didn't recognize it. More nasal or something, like he was struggling against tears. "Ray?"

He shouldn't have to cry for me. I'm sorry, Egon.

You have nothing to be sorry for, Peter.

At least he hadn't gone away. I felt a surge of something I didn't recognize, and then the distorted voice continued. "Raymond, I am in mental communication with Peter."

Ray's mouth fell open. What was interesting was that there wasn't a shred of doubt in his expression at all. "Really? Gosh. Peter, are you there? Can you hear me?"

Loud and clear, Tex.

The telepathy number didn't work with Ray. He waited hopefully, straining to hear, and he got nothing. His face fell.

"He said, 'loud and clear, Tex,'" Egon translated for me.

"Say what?" There was Winston, too, crowding in to stare at me without a trace of recognition. He couldn't see me, either. His face was torn. He wanted to believe Egon was talking to me but I could tell from the shadows in his eyes that he was afraid it might be whatever Eyebrows had done to Egon that made him think it. He was afraid Egon was loony, loopy, ga-ga, and he was trying really hard not to show it. I didn't want Egon to pick up on that thought, but he did.

Sorry, Spengs.

It's all right, Egon. I would have doubts, too, if I had not experienced this communication.

"Where is Peter?" Ray asked. "I'm still getting biorhythms--well, no, it's not really biorhythms, but it's like biorhythms, sorta, and it's got Peter's signature on it. I never saw anything like this before. It's a little like when that guy was out of his body, but different, too. I hope it's not the same as that, because I can't find the cord...."

"Record it, Ray." Egon's distorted voice sounded shaken and weary. "Peter doesn't know where he is, and I don't, either. I am very much afraid that...." He let his voice trail off. Peter. I must give Ray information. Please don't be alarmed.

Kinda hard not to, Spengs. Go ahead. Let it all hang out. I can take it.

Egon collected himself. I could sense it with the weird link we had. "I am afraid that Peter has become...a disembodied spirit."

I'd known he was gonna say that, but it hit me so hard, hearing it voiced, that the world darkened around me. I couldn't see Ray or Winston any longer. I could see nothing, just darkness. God, was I about to disperse?

Egon!

Vision came back, still overlapping and glittering around the edges, and there were Ray and Winston, their eyes full of horror. Egon had just told them I was a ghost. I'd never get back to my body. It would lie there in a hospital bed connected to life support for years and years and I'd drift around out here and fade away until there was nothing left of me...alone.

"No!" Ray pulled himself together and shook off his horror. "That's not right, Egon. You're not thinking clearly. I'd have Class Three readings if Peter were...a ghost. You know I would. I don't. I just have these weird ones. The demon did something, but he didn't kill Peter. I know he didn't." He lifted his head and stared vaguely into the air. "Peter, if you can hear me, you listen to me. You're not a ghost. We don't have all the answers. Janine'll be here soon and she's bringing Tobin's Spirit Guide. Then we'll figure it out and we'll get you back in your body. I promise, Peter. We'll get you back."

I wanted to believe him so bad I could almost taste it--or I would have tasted it if I'd had any taste buds. Ray meant it; his sincerity was so intense that Doubting Thomas would have believed him. I think Egon did, too. But it was hard to see, all of a sudden. My vision went even more blurry than before, like a water-color picture that's been left out in the rain, and Ray and Winston slid sideways into a confused jumble.

Egon?

I'm sorry, Peter. I didn't mean to doubt. Of course we will bring you back.

Vision went away again. In the background, I could hear Ray and Winston making distressed noises, and I realized that poor old Egon was crying. He's always so strong it was hard to remember he'd been affected, too. He'd been carrying that burden, afraid his mind was going, afraid I was lost forever, afraid the world was changing. Egon never cried, at least not in public, but there were times when it was just too much to bear alone. I knew it as clearly as if Egon had explained it to me in little words. I could feel his pain, as clearly as my own. It was my own.

It's okay, Egon. Let it go. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. God, I hope I can keep that promise.

You will keep that promise, Peter.

I hadn't even thought it to him. He'd just known. That was my Egon, even if he was a little discombobulated by whatever it was the demon had done to us. His strength and his heart weren't affected.

Or your courage and stubbornness, Peter.

And something happened then that filled up the emptiness so much that he wasn't the only one crying. He was there, in my mind, and I was in his, and I wasn't alone.

And it was...great.

I heard Ray and Winston calling Egon's name in the distance, and they came back into view after a second, hovering. I wished they could see me, but I knew they couldn't.

Ray can see you with the meter, Peter.

'Meter, Peter'. Hey, Spengs, you're no Shakespeare.

And we laughed, together.

Togetherness. I wasn't alone.

But I wasn't where I belonged, either. Come on, guys, help me go home.

Winston

Janine showed up right after they took Egon for his CAT scan. I looked up and saw her in the door to the waiting room, her face crowded with anxiety, the huge book tucked under one arm, pulling her slightly off balance. Her face was white with anxiety as she studied us, trying to tell from our expressions how Egon and Pete were. Ray looked up, too. and saw her, then he jumped to his feet and raced to take it from her. "Gosh, thanks, Janine. I really need this."

I followed him and gathered Janine in. She wrapped her arms around my waist and clung to me, shivering, until she recaptured her control, then she backed away. Janine was like that, one of the strongest women I'd ever met. She's like my mama that way. "So, how are they?" she asked. I liked the way she stood tall and brave while she waited for our answer.

"Well, the demon did something to them," I admitted. "Go ahead, Ray, see what you can find in the book. I'll fill Janine in."

He went over to the couch where we'd been waiting and opened the book on his knees. The two women on the far side of the waiting room feasted their eyes on us. I imagined them composing their stories for the National Enquirer.

I described what was going on as gently as I could. It wasn't pretty news, but I knew she'd stand up to it, no matter how much it hurt. When I told Janine that the doctor said Peter might have had a stroke, her face turned even paler than before and she pressed her hands to her mouth. In spite of the way she and Peter get on each other's case and ride each other, I knew she really loved Peter like a brother, but I'd never seen her caring displayed more vividly before.

Then she shook her head fiercely. "Not a chance. It's a ghost thing, not a stroke. You'll see, I'm right. There's no way Doctor V could have had a stroke. He's too tough to...." She let her voice run down before she could finish the sentence. Both of us imagined Peter, paralyzed, his speech affected, his mind affected, never normal again--assuming he improved even that much.

I put my hands on her shoulders and gave them a reassuring squeeze. "Well, girlfriend, we don't know what the demon could have done. That's why Ray wanted Tobin, so he can figure it out." Assuming the demon is even in there. Not all demons were, and we knew it. "We thought maybe it's an out-of-body experience, but if it is, we haven't figured out yet how to put him back where he belongs."

"You will. You guys do impossible stuff every day of the week. You'll figure it out."

She sounded so determined I had to go along with her. "I know we will," I said. I almost did know it. It was just that little edge of doubt that bugged me. Gotta keep that quiet. I don't want her or Ray worrying over me, not when Pete and Egon need us to concentrate on them.

"What about Egon?" she demanded. "If the demon did the same thing to him as it did to Peter, how come they don't think he had a stroke? That proves it's not a stroke. The doctor just needs to start thinking."

"We think Pete might have been forced into an out-of-body experience," I repeated.

"Well, that's not so bad. Is it? Just figure out how to get him back in his body. I know there's a way. That makes more sense than a stroke, and you know it. You guys helped that man who got lost on the astral plane before. Just do that to Doctor V."

"We're trying. It's not easy. We do get biorhythms, but we can't quite find the link to guide him back. If he's close enough for biorhythms, then we should be able to trace the 'cord' that ties him to his body, but Ray couldn't get readings like that guy we helped had. We're afraid the link's broken."

Her eyes widened. "But doesn't that mean...his consciousness will just...disperse." Horror wrote itself across her face. She grabbed for my wrists and held on tight. I could practically feel the bruises forming where her fingers pressed.

"Well, the biorhythm readings are just as strong now as they were at the site," I said. "If that's gonna happen, there's no trace of it yet. He's still here, somewhere. The readings aren't normal, though."

"But aren't biorhythms just proof that his--his body's alive?"

I hadn't wanted to think that or to remember what Egon had said in Herald Square, that Peter's consciousness was separate from his body. Biorhythm readings weren't that specific, anyway, at least not the way we took them with the meters. No matter what I said to reassure Janine, I couldn't give her the answers all of us wanted, because I simply didn't know. The simplest explanation is usually the right one, and the simplest explanation might be that the demon's contact had done something to Peter's brain that had induced a stroke. I hoped those involuntary eye reflexes kept right on going and that they didn't find any bleeding in the brain. I just wasn't ready to accept a stroke as the cause of Peter's coma.

"What about Egon?" she asked. "Ray said on the phone that he was conscious, but that he was in shock or something?" I could see her steeling herself to face still more bad news.

I hated to tell her Egon insisted he could talk to Peter in his mind. Those two are closer than most brothers, even though you'd never think it if you took them at face value, but last I heard they weren't telepathic. Sure, sometimes they could finish each other's sentences, but we could all do that a little. Comes from knowing each other so well, not from demons making us psychic.

Janine wasn't the type of woman you could keep secrets from, though. She let go of my wrists and poked me in the chest. "Go on, what's the rest? What's wrong with Egon? Ray said on the phone that he was a little out of it."

Yeah, that was probably a kind way to put it. Somebody who didn't know Egon might not even pick it up, but he wasn't operating at his usual level of brilliance. He was thinking and reasoning, but more down on the level with us ordinary mortals. "He says he can't think clearly," I admitted. "But the demon did something to them when it touched them. Maybe it just short-circuited their brains for a little while. Maybe it will wear off or maybe the tests will figure out what it was and fix it. And if that doesn't happen, if it's paranormal like we think it is, Ray will figure it out."

We both stared at Ray who flipped a page as we watched. He traced a line of text with one finger, and his lips moved soundlessly as he read the words. Then he shook his head impatiently and flipped another page. Janine and I exchanged an uneasy glance.

"There's more," she said. "You guys couldn't keep a secret from me if your lives depended on it. Come on, give."

I grimaced. "Egon says he's in touch with Peter mentally."

She stared at me. I wasn't sure whether she was really upset and holding it in or what. Then she made a face and gave a little snort of exasperation. "Is that what you found so hard to say? I think I'll faint." Her lips twitched. "Why not in mental contact? If the demon did something to them, maybe he just cross-wired their brains. Don't you get stuck buying into the medical-only explanation, Winston. We're talking about a demon here, one that affected both of them. Why couldn't it make them able to talk telepathically? What does Peter tell him about where he is? Geez, men! You'd think you'd have been asking Peter all kinds of questions so you could figure this out."

"We were just starting to question him when they came and took Egon away for his CAT scan. Peter's had his already. I haven't heard the results of it yet. I don't think you get them back in the next five minutes." I grimaced. You'd think they could rush them through, but then everybody whose loved ones were down probably wanted results right now. We got the same treatment as everybody else. It was only fair--but it was frustrating. "They're doing that for both of them and MRI's, and if they can't find anything with Pete, they'll do an EEG." I remembered the stark misery on Egon's face when he said he thought Peter had become a ghost. I wasn't about to tell Janine he'd been crying. If I did, she'd break every hospital rule ever written to go to him, and, much as we all love Janine, I thought a dose of her loving-kindness might overwhelm him, the way he was right now. Once the tests were over, we'd all talk. Maybe, by then, he and Peter would have figured out answers. Even if Egon was screwed up a little, Pete could help him. They'd solve it. Somebody would solve it. If not them, Ray would find something in Tobin. Leave it like this? No chance.

She hesitated, then she put into words a question I'd rather had not been brought up. "Winston, are you sure he's talking to Peter in his mind? He's not just imagining it?"

I won't deny I'd thought of that, but I shook my head. "No way, Janine. Besides, I thought I heard him once myself."

"I wish I had," Ray said without looking up. The pages kept ruffling. I wanted to tell him to concentrate on the book, but I didn't say a word. He had enough on his plate without me faulting him.

"What did Peter say when you heard him?" Janine demanded.

"Just Egon's name." I didn't want to tell her how lost and scared he'd sounded. It wasn't fair to Pete, and if what I'd heard was real, I sure didn't mean to let Janine know how vulnerable he was, even if I knew the rules were different now, and she wouldn't use it against him later.

She scrunched up her face in concentration, then her expression cleared. "So, let me get this straight. You heard Peter say Egon's name. And were you maybe, like, touching Egon when this happened?"

Ray's head came up so fast I thought he'd get whiplash. "Winston! You were! You had your arm around Egon's shoulders. Gosh, I should have thought of that."

"What, that Egon's turned into a touch telepath and all I had to do was touch him to pick up on it?" I liked the idea, but surely it was too simple. We'd all touched Egon since this had happened, and that was the only time it had come through. "Why did it take so long for it to happen?" I asked.

Janine frowned and tapped her toe. "Maybe because they were both pretty disoriented from the demon's attack, and it took a long time for them to connect? Maybe the demon dumped Peter's consciousness in Egon's body or something." She shrugged. "I don't know. You guys are the parapsychologists, not me. Geez, secretaries always have to save the day for their bosses. Just ask any secretary if I'm not right."

Ray put down the book on the couch and advanced on Janine. To our total astonishment, he grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her full on the mouth. When he let her go, she stood there in shock, probably trying to decide if she wanted to belt him or hug him.

"Uh, Ray...." I prompted.

"That might be it," he said, and he glowed with eagerness. "Wow, Janine, you might have hit it right on the money. I was just reading about a class of demons that take out people's consciousness and dump it somewhere else. There was a guy in the middle ages that had his mind dumped into his horse, and it could communicate with his wife by tapping its hoof." See what rabbit I pulled out of a hat, he seemed to say.

Only Ray would produce a story like that. The image of Peter making Egon kick out yeses and noes was too weird to contemplate, but then a horse doesn't have a human mind to enable it to understand and relay comments to the victim's friends. Could that crazy theory be right? Could that be why Peter was giving off readings, because he was still there, trapped within Egon--and Egon and Peter had been together every time we had taken readings? Maybe Egon was mixed up because suddenly there were two people in his mind, and he just didn't know it. It was crazy. Things like that didn't happen, did they? But why else could Egon hear Peter when none of us could?

My mind pointed out a reasonable answer; because Egon was disoriented and hearing what he wanted to hear. But I wasn't disoriented, just upset over my buddies' troubles, and I'd heard him too. Only once, but right when I happened to be in physical contact with Egon.

"Are you sure, Ray?" I asked.

He gazed up at me, his eyes full of hope. "Gosh, no, I'm not sure, Winston, but it could be. If the demon is that type, then it could have done that. It really whacked Peter hard, lots of direct physical contact, and Egon said it had weird readings, remember? A different kind of power than we're used to. Then the next thing it did after it hit Peter was touch Egon. So it could've hauled Peter's consciousness right out of him and dropped it off in Egon. Egon was taking readings of Peter when Peter was down, but he was right there next to him, just a few feet away. He said Peter's consciousness and his body were separate. He was too close to Peter for the meter to pick up a distinction. I'm positive he didn't have it set directionally, just for proximity. He'd definitely have gotten readings if Peter's consciousness was inside him, not inside Peter."

"But wouldn't he have known?" Janine asked. She had switched back to playing devil's advocate, and her brow wrinkled up as she thought about it. "I mean, just because Peter's in there, too, doesn't mean Egon still isn't brilliant. Doctor V is a heck of a lot smarter than he wants anybody to think, after all. Don't tell him I said so," she added automatically.

Ray's face scrunched up, too. He glanced back at the book, then he darted over and lugged it back to us. "This says it wasn't easy to establish contact when it happened," he explained as he deposited the heavy book on the table next to the lamp. I saw the two ladies in the corner crane their necks to get a good look at it. Maybe they thought it had dirty pictures in it. "I don't think Peter and Egon had any actual contact right away. They wouldn't expect that, and I bet Peter would be really disoriented. Hey!" He snapped his fingers. "Gee. The weird vision."

"Huh?" Ray has more tangents than a trigonometry table. I gave him a nudge to encourage an answer.

"Egon said his vision was funny, kind of overlapping. If Peter's in there, too, he might be seeing what Egon sees, but he wouldn't be quite used to seeing out of Egon's eyes. I bet what they see wouldn't quite match up. I wonder if that's possible. Wow!"

"You didn't say anything was wrong with Egon's vision," Janine accused.

"I didn't get to it yet." I shrugged. "This is really out of left field. None of us are thinking straight."

"Well, here's what I think." She folded her arms across his chest. "I think you need to get Peter out of Egon and back into his own body and do it fast." She focused on Ray. "So, what do we need to do it?"

Ray stared at us and the light of eager enthusiasm trickled out of his eyes, leaving them empty of anything but panic.

"I don't know," he said miserably. "I just don't know, Janine."

We stared at each other in shock and doubt. There had to be an answer, and if anybody could figure it out, Ray could. Once Egon was back from his tests, we'd run it past him, too. Maybe Peter would even have some ideas, if they could communicate better now. I had to hope they could. Because the thought of Egon and Peter sharing one body was too weird for words. Could anybody do that, even two guys as close as the two of them were, without going insane?

Then there was Peter's body itself. The doctor had talked about repositioning and range of motion exercises. Which mean that, without a lot of care, Peter's body could deteriorate if it was left empty. If we waited too long, even if he hadn't had a stroke, maybe there'd be as much damage as if there had been one.

"Then we'll figure it out," I said grimly, "and we'll figure it out fast. Because even if this means Peter still exists, it's not over until we get him back where he belongs."

Egon

I had a CAT scan once before and found it claustrophobic and unpleasant. That time, I had rationalized it, as I always do unpleasant situations. This time, my emotions were closer to the surface. Could that be due to the awareness of Peter?

Because I found that, this time, I was not alone in the tube. Peter was with me, in my mind. Was he actually present inside me? The awareness we shared would seem to indicate that.

Geez, Spengs, anybody ever tell you that you analyze everything to death?

You, Peter. Frequently. But it is important to understand what has happened to us.

He didn't immediately respond, and I felt his doubt, his anxiety--and his reliance on me, his readiness to trust what I had to say. It was a strangely humbling experience because, instead of believing I knew what he was thinking, it was almost as if I were thinking it with him, and I knew without any need to read his expression or body language or tone of voice just how much he valued me.

You're making me blush here, he thought to me. And anyway, it's not like you aren't an open book, too.

I was startled and then I realized that there was no reason to be. If he were open to me in this way, this strange knowing that went so far beyond words that it was an absolute, then why wouldn't the reverse be true? Why wouldn't Peter know without words how I had come to rely on him to ground and center me, to give me balance, to prod to life my sense of humor, and to offer me the unstinting support and companionship that enabled me to function without having to stop to figure it into the equation--because it was there, it was real? Peter and I had come to know each other more deeply than I had once believed two people could. Of course we exasperated each other at times, because our habits and behavior, even our interests were so different that strangers didn't expect us to be friends and were always surprised to learn that we were. But Peter and I had long overcome any surprise, except for the odd reflective moment when we might pause in the middle of a gathering, a bust, or simply the daily routine, and share a look of amused understanding. To know you were trusted utterly, to know you were valued, and that you trusted and valued in return, was a blessing. All four of us had it, but I have long suspected that it ran a little deeper between Peter and myself.

You called that one, Spengs. It was as if he'd been with my every thought. As if we'd stopped being Egon and Peter and become a new hybrid, EgonPeter--

PeterEgon, he corrected, and I felt not only his amusement at the thought but also his understanding of the concept.

Egon, where are we? That question arose out of his anxiety, but it was one we both wanted to know. Level with me, Egon. Am I dead?

No. Your body is alive, Peter. We know that.

But it went away. I can't see it anymore. And it looked dead.

It had felt dead, too, when I touched him. Rather than that, it had felt empty. But that was a valid sensation because Peter wasn't in his body.

Was he in mine?

Whoa? Double occupancy? I could feel him testing the possibility. Hey, Spengs, much as I love ya, I don't think I want to be a passenger. I mean, how can I get dates when you're the one the babes will see? And what if you and Janine want some nookie? I get the feeling you're not into threesomes.

Peter! But I couldn't help amusement. That was simply Peter, irreverent and irritating as usual--and I wouldn't have him any other way--except back where he belonged, in his own body.

I felt the question even as he asked it. It was both of us thinking together, in a jumble of images that weren't even like normal speech. Was Peter's essence trapped within me? Were my confused reactions the result of the 'double occupancy'?

Hey, Egon, I bet that's why I could never see you. He 'sounded' excited. I could see my...body lying there, and I could see Ray and Winston, and some doctors and nurses and the paramedics, but I never once saw you. I just heard you, and you sounded funny; your voice was kinda different.

It would be, Peter, if this theory is true. You'd be hearing my voice with my ears. We all sound different to ourselves than we do to each other. And it would explain what you could see.

He didn't respond immediately, then he 'gasped'. Egon, Egon, the light. The light at the end of the tunnel.

Light? What light was he talking about?

When I was in the ambulance. All of a sudden, everything got really blurry and there was this bright light in my eyes. I could feel his mental shudder as he recalled it. I thought I was...was in the tunnel, you know, where you go in one of those near-death experiences. I thought.... His mental communication trailed off.

That he was dying? Dear god, had it been as close as that? And then I knew. A simple answer, one that he must already have reasoned out, or he wouldn't have mentioned it for anything. Not even to me does Peter admit his deepest vulnerabilities. I know most of them, just as he knows mine, but this was something outside our normal experience.

It wasn't the light in the tunnel, Peter. It was the paramedic checking my eyes. We were in the ambulance. He made me take off my glasses. That would explain why you couldn't see clearly. Your normal vision is practically twenty/twenty. Mine, without glasses, is not.

He was silent, processing that, then he plunged into communication. Yeah, I thought of that just now, Egon. I didn't know where I was then. I just knew that my body was lying there like a lump. And this light was so bright. I freaked.

As I would have done. Peter, you are not dead. You did not go into the tunnel. You are here, with me, and we shall find a way to return you to your own body. I know we will do this. Do you trust me?

What kind of question is that? You know I do. He reinforced it without words. There was a soothing reassurance to it, a knowledge that he did trust me, in spite of his difficulties in that area. I couldn't let him down. I would not allow this to fail.

We were silent together, sharing the awareness, then suddenly I was moving.

Egon, what....

I suddenly realized the CAT scan was over and let him understand what had just happened. I had scarcely been aware of it taking place. But Peter let out a mental 'whew. Glad that's over.

We must talk to Raymond immediately, I insisted. And then we did that linking of thoughts that was both terrifying and natural. We knew we had to recruit Ray for the process of restoring Peter to his own body, and we knew it must be done quickly. I was afraid that if we waited too long, it might become impossible. I tried to censor that thought, but it is impossible to censor anything from another part of oneself. That was what Peter had become.

Thanks, Spengs. He hesitated. Kinda nice. And then I felt a rustle of amusement that I knew was intended to conceal his fear. Just not forever. Talk about cramping a guy's style.

Far be it for me to interfere with your love life, Peter.

Well, you would. Amusement flared through us both. I can just picture Shelley's response if you showed up at her door and claimed to be me.

Suddenly the orderly wheeled us back in the examining room, and there was Peter's body. We stared at it together--our vision was starting to coordinate better, although it still had the lag-time and peculiar blurring around the edges. In a way it was good to have it improve, but in another, it worried me. Suppose the link became perfect. How then would we separate one of us from the other?

The others arrived in a rush, and they had Janine with them. Ray carried Tobin's Spirit Guide tucked under his arm, and its weight made him slightly lopsided as he countered it for balance. His eyes were eager and excited, and I couldn't help wondering if he had reasoned it out, or if something in Tobin had filled him in on the demon's peculiar capabilities.

Janine rushed at me, her eyes full of alarm. "Oh, Egon, are you all right?" Her hands gripped mine urgently. I curled my fingers around them. They felt warm and alive.

Let me, Spengs. I could feel the wicked humor flood through Peter, and I 'stood aside' even though I was certain it was not a good idea. It was peculiar to hear my own deep voice rumble out and not control it, "Hey, babe, your place or mine?"

Peter!

What the heck, Egon, you pass up so many chances. Thought I'd put a good word in for you.

Janine was so startled she let go of my hands and jumped backward a step. "Egon?" she ventured doubtfully.

But Ray's face blazed with elation. "I was right. I knew I was right. Peter? That's you, isn't it? You're in Egon. Is Egon there, too?"

"I'm right here, Ray. You understand? We've just realized ourselves."

"It was in Tobin. That class of demon can remove a consciousness and implant it in another body."

"Yeah, and Ray knew of some guy who got implanted in a horse," Winston put in. He grinned wryly at us. "Hey, Pete. Good to know where you are."

"In a horse? The true origin of Mister Ed." That was Peter all the way. "I bet his owner didn't have a clue. 'A horse is a horse, of course, of course....'"

"That will be enough, Peter," I said sternly. He didn't sing any better in my voice than he did in his own. "The doctors would be sure to think I was demented, talking to myself.

"'And no one can talk to a horse, of course....' Okay, okay, don't get your shorts in a knot, Egon. Come on, Ray, tell Uncle Peter you can fix this. Egon's my buddy and I'd share anything with him--except bodies."

Janine's mouth hung open. "That is so weird," she muttered. "I can always tell which is which."

"I should hope so," I said. "The utter logic and clear precision of my voice, compared to--"

"The laid-back, smart-mouthed Venkman." Peter saw what I saw, the looming Doctor Solomon, whose eyebrows had lifted almost to his non-existent hairline, and added, "Doc, you're never gonna believe this."

Ray held out the P.K.E. meter at me--at us--and it beeped accommodatingly. "Doctor, Peter's consciousness is in Egon. The meter proves it."

The bald man stared at us in disbelief. "You've used the meters before. What makes this different? I'm sorry, but what you say is basically unbelievable." I think he would have been happy to turn and walk away and never come back, but he was too good a doctor to abandon a patient.

Ray beamed. "Before we didn't have the meter set directionally. I was picking up readings from Peter, but only when Egon was here, too. This time, I've set the direction as fine as it will go and I'm aiming it right at Egon--and see, look here, Doctor, that's Peter's reading." He pointed at the meter, and the doctor leaned in to study it. "Now watch." Ray turned the meter toward Peter's body. At once the antennae lowered. "See, the reading fades. Now look." He turned it back toward me.

"And that is definitely the reading you'd expect to get from Peter?" He rubbed his bald pate doubtfully. "I've believed in your work but this is...this is...."

"Unbelievable," Winston confirmed. "Yeah, Doctor, it's freaking us, too."

"No," said Ray. "It's not Peter's complete reading. I'd been working on it before Janine showed up with Tobin. Since I was getting such fragmented readings, I found a way to split them a bit. See, look." He adjusted the controls and pointed it at Peter's body. "This is simply the physical." The device responded accordingly. "Now, I set it back to the part that would measure...well, what we'd call the mind. And this is what I get." The readings strengthened when he aimed it at me.

Doctor Solomon frowned. "I believe that you believe what you're saying, and such a theory would actually account for the symptoms if I were willing to go out on a limb. But what alarms me, gentlemen, is, if true, I know of no way of restoring a 'mind' to a body."

"Ray and Egon will figure it out," Winston said quickly. He wanted to get that in before anybody could doomsay it. "They're good at weird stuff like this. I've worked with them for five years. I know."

Whistling in the dark, Peter told me.

We have not yet begun to theorize.

He made a rude mental sound and focused expectantly on Ray. We stared at him together.

Ray must have felt the weight of all the hopeful attention because his shoulders bowed slightly. "Well, gee, I know there's something," he said.

"What if Egon touched Peter?" Janine asked. "Wouldn't Peter's consciousness automatically go back to his own body?"

"Not possible," I said reluctantly. "In any case, I held Peter's hand earlier and it did not happen then."

Hey, none of this hand-holding mushy stuff, Peter kidded me. I'm a manly guy. I don't hold hands with other guys.

Only in a crisis, Peter, I reassured him, amused.

"Did you and Peter know what was going on then?" asked Winston practically. He rolled his eyes. "Man, this is so weird."

"No, we weren't really in contact yet," I admitted. "Winston. You heard Peter once. At that time, as I recall, you had your arm around my shoulders."

Ray caught on fast. He always does. "Janine asked something like that in the waiting room. I wonder if it works with all of us." He thrust the meter at Doctor Solomon, who took it doubtfully, and snatched up my hand. "Peter, are you there?"

Right here, Ray. He could have said it aloud, but it wouldn't make the point. I concentrated on what I could feel, and on the need to allow Peter to feel what I felt. I don't know if it worked, but my hand closed convulsively on Ray's, and I hadn't done it. It was an awkward grip, but it was real.

You don't hold hands with guys, Peter?

Egon!

Ray's eyes widened. "I did. I heard something. Not a lot, but I'm sure I heard my name. It was really faint, and I suppose I could have been imagining it." He frowned. "If Winston heard more...."

"All I heard was a vague, faint voice saying 'Egon'," Winston admitted.

"Naturally," I put in. "Peter's presence in my body does not automatically make either of us a touch telepath. It's simply that there is heightened brain activity and perhaps it allows something to bleed through. It may be that Peter's consciousness is automatically seeking to return to where it belongs."

Janine edged up and touched my arm. "Then maybe you ought to go over there and hold onto him as hard as you can and see if that's enough."

I doubted it would be, but I was willing to try. I felt Peter give a mental shudder as I looked over at the inert body. I could see his chest rising and falling as it breathed, but I could feel no Peter-ness to it. If we waited too long, would he be unable to return? Would there be brain damage? I tried to stop him from 'hearing' that, but it was like trying to stop myself from hearing it. What I knew, Peter knew.

God, Egon, I want to go home.

I know, Peter.

But I didn't know how to get him there.

Peter

This was beyond weird. Egon was trying so hard not to let me know how worried he was. I'd be able to know even if I was in my own body--but if I was there, I wouldn't need to know. I could always read Egon, even when he thinks he's being inscrutable.

'Thinks', Peter?

Yeah. Come on, Egon. I know where you're at with this. God, don't lie to me. Don't try to fake me out and convince me it's all gonna be peachy keen. It's not. I might be stuck here forever. I might....

Might? I could feel alarm in his voice.

I didn't even want to say it. I might just fade away, blend in with Egon and stop being me. Or drift away altogether. Don't you need a body to anchor the mind? The only thing that keeps me from exploding out in all directions is that I'm not alone.

Hold onto that, Peter. You're not alone.

Whoa, was that my thought--or Egon's? What was gonna happen when I stopped being able to tell?

I can tell us apart, Peter. I am, after all, remarkably brilliant.

I always knew 'ego' was short for 'Egon'.

He was trying to keep me cheered up. God, maybe I did need somebody to hold my hand.

If I had a hand.

The room changed. Egon sat up. I still wasn't used to the way everything moved when he did that. Ray watched carefully, like he was trying to see me through Egon's skin. Scary thought. Winston shot out a hand to grab Egon's arm and steady him as he stood up. I could almost feel the touch, in a vague and muzzy kind of way. God, no real sensation. Vision all funny with trailing edges. Hearing mostly okay but kind of echo-y. Touch, vague and distant.

Egon went over to my body. Did I really look like that? Talk about a major bad-hair day. I looked--I looked dead. I could see that the body was breathing. But nobody was home. Peter Venkman has left the building.

Egon reached out and snatched my hand. I could dimly feel his fingers close around it--but only from his point of view. I couldn't feel his touch from inside my own body. Could I? I concentrated with all my strength.

Peter, do you feel any pull? Any link? An urge to return?

The only urge I had was for him to let go fast so I wouldn't have to feel those empty fingers anymore. I shuddered. 'Course I didn't have a body to shudder with, so Egon shuddered, too. He didn't like touching my body any more than I did, and that hurt in more ways than one. God, I couldn't get back there. If only I could get back.... But there was no way. No invitation, no pull. Nothing.

I'm trying, Peter. I'm trying.

He sounded heartbroken. I felt the urge and knew what he meant to do next even before he reached down and gathered up the unresponsive 'me' and held my body against him. God, it had felt like this when my mom died, and I hugged her one last time, like I wasn't even hugging her anymore, like she'd already gone and I just held onto an empty skin. Let go, Egon, I can't do this.

"I can't do this." It was Egon's voice, but it was my scream. I couldn't make him let me go but I fought like crazy. I couldn't stand it. He wasn't holding me. It was just.... I didn't know. It was just....

"Peter, it's okay, it's okay." That was Ray. I felt him touching me--or was he touching Egon? Egon's eyes were shut, so I couldn't tell. But there were arms there, around me, or around Egon, and it was more than just Ray. It was Winston, too, and Janine. I could hear the doctor in the background, but his words didn't make any sense.

"It's okay, Peter, we'll fix it," Ray said over and over. "We'll fix it. I promise. I promise. Relax, it's okay. It's okay."

But I wasn't home. I wasn't me. How could it be okay? I struggled wildly and Egon's arms flailed out. Had I made him do that? One of his hands bopped Winston on the chin. I could see it, almost clear, in a kind of crazy slow motion.

"Come on, Egon, let go." That was Janine, her voice gentle and sympathetic. "We'll find another way. It's okay."

Then my body was back on the bed, and I was still with Egon. No, that wasn't the answer. Was there an answer? I couldn't stay here. Even if it was comforting to know I wasn't alone, I couldn't do this to Egon. I had to get out of here or I'd take him down with me.

Egon sat down on his bed and put his hands up to cover his face. I could feel him breathing in huge gulps, as if he had nearly suffocated. I couldn't see when he covered his eyes, but I could feel them sting with tears. Our tears, I thought. Egon, I'm sorry.

Sorry? You have nothing to apologize for, Peter.

Sorry I'm ruining your life along with mine.

There was a long silence. I knew he was crying, or maybe both of us were. It was hard to tell where one left off and the other started. Were we blurring together? Did that mean I could never get back where I belonged? There had to be a way to separate us.

No, Peter. He sounded fierce. I do not intend to let you go.

That stopped me for a second. "Wait a minute." I realized I'd said it out loud. I could feel everybody staring at us. I shifted mental gears. Egon, you have to.

He didn't reply at first. Then he said doubtfully, "You think I'm holding you here so you can't return?"

"Gosh," breathed Ray in a doubtful voice. "Egon? Is...could you be doing that?"

Janine jumped in. She's a sharp cookie, Janine. "You mean for fear it won't work and Peter would be...lost?"

I couldn't help the sheer panic that ran through me at the question. Lost forever, if they took me out of Egon and couldn't put me back? Lost in another way if I stayed--and destroyed Egon in the process.

At the question, Egon raised his head out of his hands and stared at the others. They stood there lined up, their faces full of worry, and panic. I could see how much they cared, every one of them, Janine too. If I ever got back in my own body, I'd never let her live it down. But there was fear in their eyes, fear that they couldn't solve this, fear that one or both of us would be sacrificed, fear that I'd be lost and Egon might go nuts from my being here.

Janine's question hit Egon and me like a sock in the gut. Was that it? Or was this togetherness thing compelling in its own crazy way? I wasn't alone, and that was a good thing. I've never been good at the alone gig. But this wasn't the way I liked to be 'together', either. I was messing up Egon's mind, and I hated that.

Still, there was something captivating about it. The link was with Egon, the guy I knew better than anybody else in the universe. What if I didn't want to go back because of some weird subconscious craving or addiction or something the demon had done? Maybe I'd been fighting it and had avoided returning to my own body, even though I wanted so badly to be normal again.

I don't know, Peter, Egon thought to me. I don't believe it's that. But we don't understand the subconscious mind, and we are unaware of the demon influences. He spoke aloud. "Ray, take a normal P.K.E. reading of us."

Ray did, and the meter squawked accommodatingly, but without much conviction. "I'm getting residuals, Egon. Just residuals." Then he frowned. "That doesn't make any sense. Residuals should have faded by now."

"We didn't catch the demon," Winston reminded us. "It got away."

Doctor Solomon shuddered. "You mean it's here? Lurking around the hospital?" His eyes opened wide enough to show a lot of white and he cast a really nervous glance over his shoulder in the direction of the window at the far end of the room. If someone tiptoed up behind him and said 'boo', he'd probably jump a good three feet straight up.

"If it were here, the readings would be a lot stronger," Ray reassured him. "Maybe it's just because of what it did that the residuals are so powerful. I'll have to research it." He set the meter down and went for Tobin that he'd left on the foot of Egon's bed.

"Is there any way to use that?" Janine asked while Ray flipped pages. "The energy you're getting, I mean? Or could you catch the demon and make it put Peter back?"

"Extremely risky," Egon replied. "We would have no guarantee that it would cooperate. It might make the situation worse."

How could it be worse, Egon?

It could put both of us in Ray or Winston. Or in a total stranger. Or it could strand us without a body at all.

Sorry I asked.

"But we have to catch it," Ray argued without lifting his eyes from the book. He looked eager to do so but he didn't sound happy. Instead, his face and poster radiated uneasiness. That was bad. Ray was our team's official optimist. If he wasn't hopeful, then what hope could there be? "Maybe there's a way to use it, if we could hold it in a confinement field and move you through it...."

Winston scratched his head, and he looked even more uncomfortable than Ray did. I didn't like the way his mouth tightened. "Uh, Ray, wouldn't that be bad for them?"

"The energy field could kill us." Egon was frowning, too. I didn't have to see his face to know. I could feel it--physically and inside. "I've had an energy field from a trap pass through me without doing me any harm--at Mrs. Faversham's house when we trapped the demon in her attic, for instance--but at that time, I had not been affected by a consciousness transfer."

"You mean you didn't have a passenger," I said. Winston, Ray, and Janine all turned to stare at my body as if they knew I was the one talking. I had to admit hearing my speech patterns come out of Egon's mouth in bass rather than my usual tenor was spooky. It made me nervous. Was this the only way I'd ever be able to talk again? Would what made me Peter fade away and leave Egon in charge, or would it blend with him so there wasn't Egon and Peter any longer, just a conglomerate, EgonPeter? PeterEgon?

Of course not, Peter. We have only begun. We will find a solution. I promise you that.

Ray had promised, too. Neither of them broke promises, but I wasn't enough of an idiot to think that neither of them could fail. It wouldn't be for lack of trying, but maybe there was no way out of this. We'd been lucky so far, since we became Ghostbusters, but maybe our luck was running out.

I never thought you were a quitter, Doctor Venkman.

Can it with the pep talks. It isn't helping.

His 'voice' rang with sincerity and friendship. I know, Peter. I know.

God, he had to be just as scared as I was. I'm sorry. I know....

"Hey!" That was Ray. "I've got an idea." He abandoned Tobin and jumped right in front of Egon, his face aglow.

Egon and I exchanged a mental 'look'. We'd been through some of Ray's wilder ideas before, and right now neither of us could do much to rein him in. Whatever he had in mind, he'd have to do fast. Pretty soon they'd be coming in to do the MRI for my body.

For you, Peter. Don't separate yourself.

Newsflash, Egon. The demon already did. Haven't you noticed? I'm beside myself. I cast a sour mental chortle his way.

Har har. If only he didn't have to work so hard to sound normal. "Peter?" He spoke aloud, probably so the other guys could hear. "Far be it for me to utter such a cliché, but we are in this together."

"In you together," I sputtered.

"I hate it when they do that," Janine remarked to Doctor Solomon, who looked badly in need of a scorecard.

"I realize you all believe both of them are present in Doctor Spengler, but patients with multiple personalities will sometimes carry on conversations with themselves," the doctor replied. "The speech patterns alter in such instances, too. I know you have your equipment to verify what you claim, but you can see my problem. I am a doctor and I am responsible for their lives. How can you convince me that this wild story is true?"

"I know," I blurted out. "Ask me something only I would know. Something Egon couldn't know. Something you can prove."

They considered it. Excellent suggestion, Peter.

Thanks. I try.

Ray scrunched up his face and tried to think. "Let's see, let's see. Peter. How much did you spend on Mrs. Faversham's groceries last month?"

"I always put aside at least fifty bucks...." I trailed off in consternation. That was supposed to be a big secret. I'd never told the guys I was helping her out. She didn't have a lot of money, but she had a lot of pride. Her pension went only so far, and it's pricey to keep a house in good repair. I laid in supplies when she cooked me a dinner, and I always sneaked in as much as I could and stuck it away in her cupboards where she wouldn't notice it until I'd gone. But I'd never told the guys I did it. How could they know?

Because we know you, Peter, Egon said warmly. Mrs. Faversham has always brought out the best in you. We thought you didn't want us to make a big deal of it, so we never did. But we always knew you helped her.

Egon, I'm blushing here.

"He never told us that before," Winston told the doctor. "I kind of figured he helped her out when he could. She's an elderly lady we busted a ghost for. Afterwards, Peter adopted her as a kind of honorary grandmother."

"She reminds me of my mom," I admitted.

We all stared at the doctor. Egon and I saw him in a near-overlapping image, but it was closer to normal than it had been when we started. Did that mean I was getting used to this, or that I was reaching a point where I wouldn't be able to leave? I could imagine a big clock counting down to zero hour--the point where I would be stranded here forever, the point where I'd lose my identity or fade away.

"Hmmm," said Solomon. "You could have guessed that, but it sounds sincere to me. Doctor Venkman, you felt no compulsion to return to your own body when Doctor Spengler held it?"

I made Egon shake his head. It was an awkward gesture, I could tell from the way Janine and Ray cringed. "No. It was like...."

Ray's voice was gentle and his eyes warmed. I knew he was looking at me and not at Egon in that moment. It made me feel like Peter Venkman was still...real. "Like what, Peter?"

I could scarcely force the words out, even in the face of Ray's caring. "Like holding onto...a corpse."

Ray flinched, even though he tried to hide it. He fumbled for words and couldn't find any. Winston automatically clapped him on the shoulder.

Oh, Peter....

Well, it was. You know it was.

That doesn't mean you won't be back where you belong soon. I know we'll find an answer. Touch transference was never the answer.

Then what is?

Egon spoke up. "Raymond? You said you had an idea?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah! Egon, in a way, it's like you're possessed. If we set one thrower at your metabolic frequency and the other to match the readings I'm getting from Peter inside you, we should be able to separate you."

Winston let out a yelp and tightened his grip on Ray's shoulder. "Hold it, homeboy. That might work to get Peter out of Egon--but how does it put him back where he belongs? We don't want to trap Pete."

Ray's face fell ludicrously. "I know there's a way," he insisted. "We'll figure it out. Come on, Egon, think. You've got to have some ideas."

But did he? He'd said before that he couldn't think properly, and now I knew why. It was because I was here, too, diluting the great intellect.

Never diluting it, Peter. Possibly altering it temporarily. Surely the two of us together can reason this out, with Ray providing input.

Okay, I said, but I couldn't help worrying about it. In spite of Egon's brave words, I knew he was worried about it, too. I couldn't not know.

And that scared me, too.

What if we really were losing our own identities?

Ray

Gosh, this was terrible. I hadn't told Winston and Janine the worst of it, about the man whose intellect was shifted into a horse. At first, he had communicated, but gradually, he'd become more and more horselike until the part of him that had once been human faded away entirely. They'd attempted all kinds of solutions back then, even exorcism, and none of it had worked. Spells and charms didn't have the slightest impact on the blended consciousness. Of course there hadn't been any Ghostbusters back in the Middle Ages, and who was to say the story hadn't been distorted out of proportion or even invented from whole cloth? Still, listening to Egon and Peter talking, seeing the expressions on Egon's face ranging from Egon-normal to Peter-normal and back again, I was afraid that it might work differently for a human/human blend than the human/horse one mentioned in Tobin. Peter and Egon were close friends already and had been for years. What if their conscious awareness blended, the way two ghosts did when you trapped them together? What if it was already too late to separate them?

No! I wouldn't believe that. They still responded distinctly; we could always tell which one of them was talking. If they were blending, the edges would start to blur together and we'd have to stop and think about who was talking. We hadn't had to do that yet, which meant there was still time. It had taken the guy in the horse a few days, after all, and that might have been just because the horse's brain wasn't big enough to hold him. There had to be a way to return Peter to his own body before it was too damaged to function. There had to be a way to separate them.

We'd figured out how to switch Egon and Slimer before when a device of Egon's had shorted out and transferred them into each other's bodies. That was the closest experience we'd had to our current one. Maybe I could modify the cybernetic units so that it could separate them out. If I hooked it up to Egon and Peter.... I wasn't sure if it would work; what if it transferred both of them into Peter's body?

There was always Egon's alpha wave generator, too. I'd thought of it before, when I considered that lucid dreaming was probably similar to astral projection. The machine enabled us to control our dreams and program them for restful sleep. We could use it to go into each other's dreams but only with outside influence. Was it possible to adapt the device so that I could manipulate the dreamers, hook up Egon and Peter's body, and manipulate the fields to force Peter back where he belonged? I was afraid that might be really iffy. We'd taken chances with it before, when we were trapped in there. Slimer had messed with it somehow. Egon had done research on it to understand how Slimer's intervention had worked and finally decided the device was safest when configured for one sleeper at a time. If Egon were thinking with his normal genius, I'd have brainstormed it with him, and it might come to that, but I thought the transfer machine would have a better shot--well, if anything would. I added the alpha wave generator to my list of back-up plans.

We couldn't risk having the demon change them back since it would have no reason to cooperate with us and might do more damage than we had already. We had to bust that demon before it did this to anybody else who wasn't a Ghostbuster and who would never understand what had happened. But the answer had to be in our equipment, not in medical science, even though we'd need medical science to keep Peter's body in shape until we could work it out.

Egon collected himself. I always knew which of them was talking, and as long as I could tell, I thought they could still be separated. I wondered if Peter could override Egon's control, or if Egon ceded to Peter at his request. Not that Egon would have willingly allowed Peter to spring that 'your place or mine' line. Later on, when everything was back to normal, he'd probably find a way to make Peter pay for it. Gee, I wished it was normal again now, so he could.

"Ray, the answer has to be in our equipment," Egon said. "Perhaps in conjunction with the hospital equipment."

Doctor Solomon's face closed away from that possibility. "I can't allow you to risk these men's lives with the hospital equipment," he began.

I turned to stare at him, shocked. "You mean you'd deny us a chance to save them?"

He frowned. "In spite of your willingness to believe that Peter's consciousness is jointly present with Egon's in Egon's body, and in spite of apparent evidence in the way of behavior and readings, I think I would have a very difficult time convincing anyone in our administration that this is the case."

"You know it's true, Doctor," I said. "You've seen it."

"I've seen Doctor Spengler react in the way I'd expect Doctor Venkman to act," he admitted. "I've seen the way all of you react to Peter's present physical state. Egon was affected by the demon as well. His readings have not been quite normal, nor has his behavior. This could be a form of acting out."

"Are you saying that I am displaying evidence of mental instability?" Egon demanded hotly. That was pure Egon. "I assure you...." His voice trailed off, and for a second I felt a thrill of panic. In spite of the readings, Egon knew Peter very well. He could fake Peter's behavior--not that he'd do it deliberately, of course. But then he added gravely, "Yes, I can see how it might appear to a layman."

Solomon blinked. He probably wasn't used to being called a 'layman' when he was in his own setting. "I am inclined to believe," he admitted. "I'm just pointing out to you how this all might appear to others.

Winston frowned at the bald man. "We don't care about 'others' right now. We just care about getting our friends back to where they belong."

"I understand. That's my concern, too. Still, you may be Ghostbusters but you don't understand how our equipment works. You can't design a program with full knowledge or complete safety using hospital equipment, and I would be remiss--and in major danger of malpractice--if I allowed it to happen."

He had a good point. I felt my shoulders sag. That wasn't the answer, even if the hospital would allow it. The answer had to be in our own equipment. This was a demon's fault. We were the only ones qualified to solve it.

"I've got a question, Ray." It was Peter. I knew that automatically.

"Yes, Peter?"

The doctor arched a bushy eyebrow at my automatic knowledge but Janine and Winston didn't so much as blink.

"Well, the demon. It's still out there. You said you had unnatural residuals. Do you think there's a link with it? Think it's gonna pop in and play games with us again, especially if we try a transfer?"

"We do have to bust it," Winston agreed. "We can't let it yank anybody else out of his body."

"You need all four of us to bust a demon," Egon reminded us. "They require the concentrated energies of all four streams to confine them."

"Uh-uh, no way." Winston waved his arms wildly. "You are not going busting, Egon...Peter...whichever. Egon, you said you weren't seeing clearly and you're sure not moving that smoothly. You're getting double images in your brain and it's throwing everything off. You can't go out and fight demons like that. You might blast one of us or an innocent bystander, and the demon might get to you."

"If we did and Janine came, too, we'd have four of us," Egon argued.

"No way, too risky." Winston frowned. "Ray and I and Janine will go, and we can take the atomic destabilizer. That'll make it easier to bust it."

I shook my head. We did have to bust the demon, assuming it was still lurking around in our dimension and hadn't scooted back to the Netherworld. "No, we've gotta get Peter back first. If we could lure the demon here...." My voice trailed off. We couldn't lure a demon to the hospital. There were patients here who would be in terrible jeopardy if we did. Peter and Egon had both been healthy. If the demon did its number on somebody who was really sick, it might kill them. "No, we'll have to lure it to headquarters. If we moved Egon and Peter's bo--Peter back there, then we could do it safely."

"I can't countenance such a move," Solomon disagreed hotly. "You'd be endangering Doctor Venkman's life."

"What if we got our own doctor to come and monitor him?" I wheedled. "It's Doctor Gregory Labraccio. I know he'd come. We've got to hurry. We can't let the demon hurt anybody else, and besides--" No, don't go there, Ray.

Egon and Peter both looked at me. It was spooky. I could see them both in Egon's eyes. "What aren't you telling us, Raymond?"

"Well, it's just theories, Egon," I admitted reluctantly. Why can't you learn to keep your mouth shut, Ray?

"Tell us, Ray."

"I'm sorry, Peter. It's just--that Mister Ed guy I told you about...."

"His consciousness died without his own body, didn't it?" Peter sounded very positive. "Or else it blended in with the horse's body, and he wasn't himself anymore." He shivered--well, Egon did, but I thought it was a joint reaction. Peter added sadly, "Maybe the horse wasn't quite himself anymore, either. Mister Brain Dead, not Mister Ed."

"Believe me, Ray, you aren't telling us anything we haven't already contemplated." That was Egon and he sounded so lost and hopeless that my heart broke.

"Then they've gotta use the throwers and traps to pull me out of here," Peter said. "Right now, guys. Do it."

Egon's eyes filled with shock. "Peter, no. Not until we're sure they can return you to your body. What good would it do to entrap you if they couldn't reverse the process?"

"Egon, listen up. I'm not gonna be responsible for destroying the great brain, messing you up. If I go, it's only one of us who's at risk. If I stay, it's both of us. No contest, buddy. I'm not taking you down with me. Don't ask me to, 'cause I won't."

I stared at Egon in horror. If the story in Tobin's Spirit Guide was true, then Peter was right, for him to stay would destroy both of them. Peter would fade away but he'd be there long enough to change Egon permanently. There'd been no way to measure how the horse was changed, of course, but Peter was probably right, that it had been affected, too. Egon was already affected. He could function, but he wasn't giving off any flashes of his usual brilliance. I was scared that Peter was right--but how could we throw Peter away to save Egon? And on the other hand, how could we let them both be destroyed? If we did as Peter asked, Egon would probably be all right. Did that mean we had to do that? How could I ever choose? I curled my arms around my chest and tried not to shiver at the awesome responsibility that pressed my shoulders down.

"We don't know that I would be harmed," Egon replied. "Peter, don't be absurd." He fell silent and I was sure they were going over it in their minds; they could communicate without speaking and there were a few times when they'd been quiet--and neither of them are ever really quiet men when they have something to say--when I could tell from Egon's eyes that a lot was going on in there. Peter was probably fighting to sacrifice himself for Egon. Knowing Peter, he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he took Egon down. He'd rather die himself than have it happen to one of us. Even after a bust where he's jumped into the limelight and reveled in the fame and glory afterwards, I've always known he's done it to save us. He'd do it for Egon without hesitation.

But could we let him this time?

"Guys," I said urgently. "Listen to me. It's not gonna happen in the next few minutes. We've got time to work out a plan."

Doctor Solomon edged closer. "How long do you estimate before the condition becomes irreversible, Doctor Stantz?"

Put like that, I sure felt like a man in the hot seat. "Gee, I don't know yet. But it said that guy in the horse had a few days before he started to change." Then I caught myself and opted for honesty because Peter and Egon deserved it. "Guys, I don't know if the horse thing is even true. A lot of stories back then are apocryphal anyway, something that got dreamed up because it sounded good or just to make a point, like a fable or fairy tale. But this out of body thing--that's what it really is, and without a concrete focus, people really do....well, disperse." I gazed at them sadly. "I think that you'll have longer than usual, Peter, because you've got a focus; you're in Egon, and you can see and hear and probably experience physical sensation." Egon nodded jerkily. "But we can't waste any time. We have to get to work on it and we have to figure out how to stop the demon, too. Because those residuals are sure to be just like a beacon to it, if it wants to find you again. It's not happy with us, and it might know if we attempt a reversal. The second we start, it might come back, so we'll have to be ready."

Winston grimaced. "Doc, is there anywhere in the hospital we can put Egon and Peter where they'll be apart from other patients, so that if the demon comes back, we won't endanger anybody?"

"I thought we'd take them to the firehouse," I objected.

Solomon frowned. He looked like he'd face the demon himself before he would let that happen. "I can't countenance that, even with your own physician present. I won't separate Doctor Venkman's body from the instant availability of life support."

As if to make his point, a nurse hurried in, blonde and pretty and about thirty, with wide blue eyes and a tip-tilted nose. Under normal circumstances, Peter would have ogled her like crazy, but we couldn't see any trace of Egon doing it for him. She glanced at Doctor Solomon, who nodded at her, then began to reposition Peter's body in the bed. Uneasily, we all watched her do it, and a shudder passed across Egon's face that I wasn't sure was Peter or Egon--or both. She finished her task efficiently, cast a doubtful and speculative glance at Egon, and departed, all without uttering a single word.

"See the amazing Venkman action figure," Peter blurted out. "Flexible joints, completely lifelike. Yours for only forty-nine ninety-five at your nearest Toys 'R Us."

Nobody could think of a single thing to say after that. I avoided looking at Egon. Janine gnawed on her bottom lip. I sent a stern message to my stomach because it had knotted up too tight to be comfortable. Oh, gosh, Peter. I wish I had answers for you.

Winston jumped in and distracted us, and I blessed him for it. I couldn't have found my voice just then. "Egon, Pete, listen. I know you're communicating in there, but talk to us. We have to figure this out."

"You gotta get me out of here," Peter insisted. "Even if you just stick me in a trap until you figure it out. Because I'm not gonna mess up Egon's mind."

"You aren't, Peter." Gosh, it was weird to hear both of them talking in the same voice. Just the pitch and emphasis were different. "Surely you must allow for some disorientation."

"Yeah, but you said yourself you felt like you couldn't think. Ordinarily you'd have twenty-seven ideas, each one better than the last. You're not doing that, and it's because I'm in here." Egon drew a deep breath, and I wasn't sure if the impulse were a joint one or if it were Peter, drawing strength from deep within his indomitable spirit. "Come on, guys. Use the throwers and pull me out. Maybe you can't stick me back where I belong, not yet, but if Egon doesn't have me in there pulling him down to my level, he might be able think up a solution."

"How dare you denigrate your own intellect, Peter?"

"I'm not. I don't even know what that is."

I winced. Hearing Peter put down Egon's vocabulary in Egon's voice was too weird--and it stung.

"I know that you do. You understand me, Peter. Our brilliance may be different, but at this point it is impossible for you to delude me."

"Okay, I'm a brilliant guy--but not for this. This kind of solution isn't my bag. You're the one who figures out things like this, you and Ray. What I figure is how people think. That isn't exactly what we need to get little Petey Venkman back where he belongs, and you know it."

Egon's face tightened. He did know it, that it was Egon's brain we needed to solve this type of problem. Peter's brain worked differently than Egon's did, and the two of them must find it confusing with their wildly different ways of reasoning warring inside them. There was a lot more intuition in Peter than there was in Egon, who took the rational, scientific approach. Maybe, in a strange way, they canceled each other out. They sounded like themselves, but Peter was right, Egon wasn't coming up with theories the way he usually did.

And that left it all to me.

"Peter, we're not going to trap you," I insisted. "We'll try some other things before we come to that. Remember the device Egon designed to communicate with the Master of Shadows when he wanted to destroy the city?"

"The one that switched Egon into the spud's body?" Peter asked and a note of hope crept into his voice. "Hey, Spengs, maybe that would work."

"I think we would need to be in separate bodies to switch Peter back," Egon replied. I could tell he was trying to reason it out. The frustration on his face when he couldn't theorize as usual really hurt to see. Beside me, Janine made a sound of distress and pressed her hands to her mouth to cover it up.

"So, put me in a trap, and then put the trap on my chest," Peter offered. I wasn't sure if he were being serious or not. "Sooner you do it, the sooner we can get the demon, and we won't have to endanger any patients."

"I've thought about the alpha wave generator, too," I pointed out. "What do you think, Egon. Could we use it to draw Peter back where he belongs?"

Egon frowned really hard. I hated it that he had to stop and think like that. "Perhaps," he said at last. "However, I wouldn't like to do it without major modifications since we would need to activate a function that would move one of us and not the other--and my mind will not go around the concept right now. Raymond, you have my notes for it. If we attempted to transfer Peter with the device we used to reverse me and Slimer, and it didn't work, the alpha wave generator may be a possibility, although the modifications I have in mind might take time. In essence, though...."

"We weren't in the wrong bodies when we were in the generator's field," Winston chipped in hastily when Egon's voice trailed off. "We were just in the wrong dreams. I know you said it was like an out-of-body experience, Ray, but I think Egon's right, that there'd need to be a lot of major adjustments to get it to work. We know the other gadget does transfers. It might be better--quicker."

"I'll make a note of the generator modifications in my mind," I volunteered. Yeah, along with the three hundred other things I have to think about right now. I couldn't not think about it, though. We had to have a back-up plan. "But we need to do something quick, before the demon decides to come here and endangers anybody else."

"The risk to other patients is a factor I have to consider, too," Solomon chipped in. He looked like he'd aged ten years since we'd first met him. "How likely is it that the demon will actually come here? Wouldn't it want to be as far away from you as possible for fear you might succeed and trap it?"

"Well, there's that, all right," Winston agreed. He nodded at the P.K.E. meter I held. "But if the readings change at all, we'll need to clear things out. How busy is the ER right now?"

"Average," Solomon said. "We haven't had any major influx of patients today, which is good. How much warning can you give us if the demon comes?"

I glanced at Winston and rolled my eyes. "Not very much."

"I prefer to keep you down here in the ER. We still have the MRI's scheduled, but the more we converse, the more convinced I am that your theories are correct. I'm not certain an MRI would tell us any more than we already know, although I reserve the right to proceed with them if your plan fails. However, I do want to initiate range of motion exercises for your body, Doctor Venkman."

"I can do that," Winston volunteered, "if somebody will show me how."

The doctor took him over to Peter's bed. I knew it wasn't usually the doctor's place to teach someone how to do physical therapy, but now that he believed what had happened, he might not want to risk bringing anybody else in here. He and Winston moved over to the other bed, and Egon turned his head so that he didn't have to watch. I didn't blame him. It would be spooky for Peter to see his body lying there like that. It was spooky for me. I had a really bad feeling that the longer he was gone, the harder it would be for him to go back, even if we could get him back.

"So what about that machine that you guys used last time to do the reversal?" Janine prompted me while Winston started working on Peter's legs. I turned to her gratefully. "Do you think that would that work?"

"It's not really what we want," I said. "But it's worth a try, and I think it's got a better chance than the alpha wave generator does. I'd have to modify it slightly. I know it's still there; we never dismantled it. Egon, I'd really need your input on that. Do you think you can?"

"I think so, Ray. But I'll need you to hurry."

"I'll run over and pick it up. I'll use the siren all the way."

Egon

I tried to reason out the effects of the device after Ray had departed. Ray and Winston had brought our packs with them when they first came since the demon was still at liberty. He took his own with him in case he ran into the demon in transit, and gave Janine Peter's proton pack to wear. Winston put his on as soon as he finished the range of motion exercises, and, after prompting from Winston, Doctor Solomon went out to clear as much of the ER area as he could, and called in a security guard from the lobby. Winston gave the man my proton pack.

"You already know how to use a gun," he said. "If the demon comes, we're going to need firepower, and conventional weapons won't work. This handles a little differently than a gun does, and it's got a real kick to it. Imagine how it feels to fire a rifle without the stock up against your shoulder." He displayed the grip we'd learned gave us the most support. "See, you hold it like this."

The security man was middle-aged but fit-looking. He said his name was Charlie--like Peter's father, I thought irrelevantly--as he slid his arms into the straps and fastened the buckle across his waist. "I never thought I'd get to use one of your proton guns." I detected a slight bounce of excitement in his step.

He won't think that after he's worn the thing for a few hours.

Yes, Peter.

"I'll show you how to control it." Winston drew the man aside and conferred with him. I was just glad he'd finished doing the range of motion. That had been hard for Peter and myself to watch.

Peter can lie inert for far longer periods than this; I knew that the range of motion was more effective since Peter couldn't animate his own body, but it seemed that we should have more time.

We didn't, though. I was afraid that damage would come more quickly, that, any minute, Peter's body would need life support, since he wasn't in it. Could there be brain damage in such a short time? People came out of comas after hours, days, weeks, and were normal, but sometimes they never did. I didn't want to lose Peter's quick, inventive mind.

Geez, I must be great, huh, Spengs?

You know what I mean. Far be it for me to feed your ego, Peter, but we must consider these things.

How about considering what your gizmo will do? After all, if I remember right, it was just a glorified long-distance machine to talk to that Master of Shadows dude.

I tried to project haughtiness into my thought. That is simply because you do not understand it, Doctor Venkman.

Oh yeah? Explain it to me then.

It transmits on a spectral frequency.... I began, and then I closed my eyes. It incorporates a holographic projector.... I couldn't think. The details slipped away from me. Panic pumped through me as I struggled desperately to connect to my normal thought processes. I couldn't do it. The answers I sought were there, but I was blocked from them. What was better, to be deprived of enough intellect that I didn't understand what I was missing or to feel it so close and not touch it? To know I was affected? Only the warmth and encouragement of Peter's presence and the instant ability for him to sense my mood and offer up a wordless support held back the despair that welled up in me.

A device to transmit communications to the 'other side', he projected in a spooky voice. Ghost-to-ghost transmissions. And then more softly, It's okay, Egon. When Ray gets back, if this doesn't work, I'm gonna make them use the throwers and get me out of you. And we've got the alpha wave dream machine to fall back on. You'll be okay once I'm gone.

Suppose we can't return you to your own body if we do that? Tell me then, Peter, how 'okay' I will be. I will not take my own salvation at the expense of your life.

Well, yeah, think I want to spend the rest of my life in here? It was a desperate argument. He could usually do better than that. Live my life with an ongoing bad-hair day? What if I want a little nookie? We gonna set up some new kind of threesome gig? Come on, Egon, pulling me out of you is the only answer and you know it. That way, at least one of us survives.

Why should it be me?

Because I'm the one out of place. You know it. You'd be okay again and you'd figure out how to stop the demon--and maybe how to put Mama Venkman's little boy back where he belongs. He collected himself, and I could feel his courage as he drew strength from some inner well to go on. That way, we cut back on the demon's victory, Egon, don't you see? That way, we just lose one, not two. Let's not give him any bigger victory than that. You know you have to do it.

He meant it. He was willing to throw himself away, to risk nonexistence for my survival. No, I countered. There was no reasoning behind it, no logic, no scientific argument that I could offer up, and it wasn't because the fusion had affected that portion of my brain. It was simply that I could not allow him to sacrifice himself. If it came to that, I would....

Would what, Egon? I'm not being all brave and noble here. I'm just not gonna be responsible for destroying you. I couldn't live with that, and you know it. Don't ask me to. Use the throwers and pull me out of you, and then you'll have your mind back and you can figure out how to return me to my own body. But I won't be the one who destroys you.

Peter, I don't deserve a friend like you. I was so deeply moved I could hardly convey it, but the part of our amalgamation that I cherished made it possible for him to know it without words. I simply projected the feelings, the words I could never speak aloud, the depth of our friendship. For a timeless moment, we shared that, and I knew that, no matter how this turned out, I would always be grateful for this moment. Should we return to normal, no matter how much we might irritate each other, or return to the ordinary routine of life, we would know what we would sacrifice for each other.

And Ray and Winston, too, Peter added. You think I want them to have to choose between us, which of us survives, and then live with that decision? It's my decision, all the way. It has to be.

I didn't see that. I did understand the logic of his argument. He had it down pat, every coldly reasonable factor. It might indeed be possible to restore him from a trap--perhaps even opening the trap against his chest.... Without my 'passenger', I might be able to reason out a solution. But we had no guarantees. Such a solution might doom Peter.

You think this doesn't? Kind of cool to be PeterEgon for a little while, but I don't want to make it my life's work.

He was whistling in the dark and both of us knew it. Oh, Peter.... I caught myself. Don't think I haven't taken some fascinating knowledge from you. The next time you try to sleep in, I shall know precisely how to awaken you.

He gave a mental howl of sham irritation. No fair. Did I say you could read my mind, big fella?

No more than I said you could read mine.

Amusement flashed through him/us. I could tell Janine some great stories here. So none of this interfering with the valuable Venkman naptime. I'm not gonna forget when I get back where I belong.

Blackmail, Peter? Surely not even you would stoop so low.

We couldn't sustain the lightness, of course. Not when I knew Peter would insist on being removed the minute Ray returned. We'd try the transmitter first, of course. Peter wasn't likely to insist too loudly before then. But he didn't believe it would work, and I wasn't certain it would, either. If we had been in each other's bodies, yes, but I could not work my mind around the concept enough to alter the device to cope with our own peculiar circumstances. I should be able to do it. The concepts were there, but they were tantalizingly out of reach. I sought after them but in vain, and helpless frustration beat through me. The alpha wave generator should be easier. I had worked with it on more than one occasion. But I could not reason out a way to make it function in our present need. Would hooking Peter's body to it and connecting me and setting it for two sleepers do the trick? I wasn't sure. Why couldn't I think?

It's okay, Egon. You'll get it back. You'll be your usual genius self as soon as I'm gone. And that's a promise from Doctor Venkman.

And how do you think I shall enjoy it should I regain my mind only to lose my closest friend?

It's not like I want to die here, Spengs.

Then why even suggest it? I had to know.

I could feel his frustration pulsing all through me, along with the warmth of how much he cared. Because I don't want you to die! Don't you get it?

I smiled and wished he could see it. Peter, I do 'get' it. Because my reaction is the same. I would sacrifice anything to keep you alive.

I felt the pain we both shared. I know, he told me. But we can't stay like this, Egon. It's okay for a little while. At least I'm not...alone. But....

We will allow for Ray's brilliance. He is our occult specialist, after all. He understood what the demon had done before we could communicate it. He wasn't surprised when you pulled that disgusting line on Janine. He already knew. This attempt to surrender denigrates Ray.

Not intended to, Egon. You know that. Just to save you.

Then hold on for a little while longer. Give Ray a chance. Nobility becomes you, but I suggest we wait on it, until we know there are no other options. We have not yet begun to fight.

Winston and Charlie the security man moved back into our range of vision, and Winston waved a hand in my face. "Yo, guys. Can I interrupt the meeting of the minds?"

"Yeah, the rest of us are here, too, remember?" Janine added. She crowded in and put out her hand to touch mine. Peter 'smiled' suggestively in my mind and prompted me to take her fingers in mine.

"Is that you or Peter?" she asked suspiciously.

"It's me. Egon," Peter replied.

"No, it's not. You can't fool me, Doctor V."

"What's up, Winston?" I asked. Janine's grip was small and fierce and I discovered I cherished it. For once, Peter didn't ride me about it.

"Ray's on the way. He called on the mobile and I just talked to him. He'll be back in five minutes. He's been brainstorming it all the way. He says he thinks he might have an idea for the alpha wave generator but it would take longer, maybe five or six hours to wire it differently, and he doesn't think it's such a good chance, but he's bringing your notes just in case. We're going to connect your transmitter machine to both of you. When we used it before to restore you and Slimer, Egon, Slimer in your body was physically connected to it, but you weren't. And it still found you--and worked. Ray says we have an affinity for where we belong and that's why it reached out and found you--and didn't transfer Slimer's consciousness into the Master of Shadows, who was closer. So he thinks if it's connected to both of you, it could work."

"I like the sound of this affinity thing," Peter piped up. He gave Janine's hand a squeeze. She narrowed her eyes at me.

"Doctor V, if that's you, cut it out. I don't want to cuddle with you."

"No, just Egon," he said. "Winston.... is he sure?"

Janine's fingers tightened. I knew she'd heard the lost little boy note in his voice--my voice. I wasn't sure which of us she intended to comfort; knowing Janine, perhaps both.

Winston grimaced. "Pretty sure. He thinks it's got a good chance. But he says we'll have to hurry with it because he thinks that the transfer will draw the demon to us, and we'll have to be ready to bust it."

Doctor Solomon appeared behind Janine. "I've been checking other hospitals for symptoms which match Doctor Venkman's. If the demon has affected anyone else, we should hear of it. If your procedure works, we may ask you to duplicate it with other potential victims."

The blonde nurse breezed in and proceeded to reposition Peter's body as if it were weightless without even raising an eyebrow at the sight of our throwers and Charlie wearing mine. I watched her work, conscious of Peter staring, too. He and I winced in chorus. I thought about the way he could lie unmoving all night long and continue sleeping till noon without affecting him. Surely if Ray hurried, if we got him back into his body right away, these few hours wouldn't have induced a permanent, negative effect.

What kind of negative effect, Egon?

I should have known I could conceal nothing from him. I didn't want to answer him, but he took it right out of my mind. A stroke, huh? Like the doc said. Paralysis? All that good stuff? Brain damage?

Not in such a short time, Peter. You know better than that. If there are residual side effects, we shall deal with them. Therapy, whatever is necessary. You know we will....

I just want to be back where I belong. It was the wail of a frightened child, and although it is not the way I generally operate, I wished that I could put my arms around him and hold him. Not the empty body I had clasped before, so disturbing to both of us, but my friend, home, where he belonged. I tried to project a mental 'hug' to him and felt him accept it gratefully.

It will happen, Peter. It has to.

Ray

They had a gurney waiting for me when I screeched Ecto to a halt in front of the ER. I hauled Egon's machine onto the gurney and stacked equipment and books of notes beside it, then with the help of an orderly, we raced it into the hospital. I bet they'd never had any treatment like this offered here before. Now if only it would work....

Don't think like that, Ray. It's gonna work. Gotta work. You can do it. You know you can. After all, you made it work before.

The waiting room was empty. I nodded at it in surprise. "Where is everybody?"

"Doctor Solomon had it closed down. Everybody's being routed to other hospitals until we're sure this monster of yours won't show up here when you do your stuff." He was a tall, lanky guy who looked like he would have been the star center of his high school basketball team. He let go of the gurney with one hand long enough to push back the flip of hair that hung down on his forehead, just like Peter's.

"That's a good idea." I'd left my meter with Winston to keep an eye on things. The orderly would have known if Mister Eyebrows had shown up. Gosh, it made me sad to remember Peter's name for it. We had to get him out of Egon and back where he belonged as fast as possible. I had this scary feeling that, if we didn't, both of them would go crazy. Two people weren't meant to live in one body. It's not as if they were Trills, like on Star Trek. Peter and Egon are both private people. Peter's gregarious, but he's also a kind of loner in spite of it, and Egon can be completely happy working by himself for days in the lab, only coming up for air when Peter drags him out to eat or take a breather. There were all these privacy things, too. How could they have a normal life? Peter liked the ladies a lot. He dates more than the rest of us, and he brags about his great sex life. This would sure put a crimp in that, and if Egon and Janine had anything going--Egon was too secretive about it to ever admit it if they did--Peter being present in Egon's mind would pretty much mess that up, too.

But the problem was a lot more than obvious things like that. I thought that, for a little while, it might be neat to share my mind with a good friend, but just for a little while. A part of me was envious of the way they could communicate while it was like this, but I knew that I wouldn't want it forever, either. Human beings aren't designed to function like this, even with their best buddies.

If only I could come up with some nifty occult solution, a spell, maybe. One of the things stacked on the gurney was The Big Book of Spells, just in case the transmitter device didn't work. Egon wasn't really keen on spells; he always claimed they weren't scientific. But I was sure he wouldn't object if one of them worked. I had Egon's notes for this device, for the alpha wave generator, and a few other of his notebooks, just in case.

We burst into the cubicles. The curtains separating the treatment areas had all been drawn back so we had more space and an unimpeded view of Egon propped up in the bed with Janine glommed onto his hand like she'd never let go, and Winston and the security guard standing there with throwers drawn. Had the demon been here?

No, the P.K.E. meter lay on the stand beside Egon's bed. It was active but it wasn't beeping or anything. They were just being ready, that's all.

"Here I am. Sorry it took so long but I hauled in all the equipment and tools I thought I'd need and your journals, Egon, and a spell book or two for backup. That might work if nothing else does."

Doctor Solomon's eyebrows raced up his forehead. I knew I was pushing his tolerance almost beyond its limits. "Spells? This isn't the middle ages, young man."

"I know," I said and grinned wryly. "But how often do you have to face demons? Yes, it sounds weird, but there are natural laws for spells. It's just that we don't really understand how they work. When Egon's back to himself, he'll tell you all the theories."

"Indeed," Egon agreed. I saw a flash of wistfulness dart across his face and realized he couldn't quite conceptualize them right now.

I hurried on. "But this is more important. Doctor, here are the connectors. You hook them up to Peter--just like electrodes." I hesitated. "I think you really need to make sure he isn't connected to the stuff here when we do this. You can be right beside him and ready to hook him up to life-support if you need to, but I think that'd be a complication. Besides, he's breathing normally."

"Yeah, by remote control," Peter ventured. It was spooky hearing his tone and pitch in Egon's voice. I didn't think I'd ever get used to it. "Peter Venkman on auto-pilot." He sounded bitter.

"Whatever works," Winston said quickly, like he didn't want Peter to think about the implications. "What shall I do, Ray?"

"Help the doctor connect Peter. You remember how it worked when we set it up to reverse Egon and Slimer before, don't you?"

"I sure do." He joined Solomon at the bed and took the leads I passed him. Solomon unhooked the monitors that connected Peter to the readout screens. It was scary to watch them flatline. I stared hard at Peter's chest to make sure he was still breathing, even though I knew all those things had done was record his heartbeat, temperature, blood pressure and stuff. It hadn't been assisting him to stay alive. But still.... I turned hastily to Egon and hoped he and Peter couldn't see what I'd been thinking on my face.

Egon helped me make his own connections. I knew it was just Egon doing it and not Peter without even being told. He didn't fumble them, but he wasn't as deft and sure as usual. I could feel how that affected him, how it affected both of them, and I was scared to death that if this didn't work Peter would start pushing for us to separate them as if Egon were possessed, the way we'd pulled Watt out of Peter's body. I didn't want to do that. I was afraid that Peter's consciousness, without a tether to his own body and without the solidity of Egon to give him form and substance, would just disperse. A trap might hold him, but for how long? Releasing him from the trap, even if we opened it right up against his body, wouldn't exactly guarantee he could go home, would it? The responsibility weighed me down like Atlas with the Earth on his shoulders. Hang in there, Ray. You have to.

When everything was ready I motioned to Doctor Solomon, who stood with his fingers on Peter's wrist to monitor his pulse. "I need you to let go now, Doctor."

Poor Solomon. He was so far out of his depth. I was just glad he believed us enough to let us try. He drew his hand back quickly but left it close enough to grab again in seconds if he needed to. He sent the orderly who had helped me away, called over Charlie, the security guard, and gave him instructions under his breath, and then turned to include the pretty blonde nurse who had followed me in and who must be there to position Peter. They stood there like vampires ready to pounce on a tempting neck, and I knew that they'd be on Peter in a heartbeat if anything went wrong. Charlie didn't have his thrower drawn, but he looked grim and determined rather than scared. I gave him points for his courage.

Gosh, let this work.

"Okay," I said, and activated the device.

Golden light shot out from the machine, running visibly along the cables connected to Egon and to Peter's body. It touched Egon first and he stiffened and jerked as the light limned him. His face twisted.

With a gasp, Janine went to him only to jerk her hands back when Winston yelped, "Don't touch him! Last thing we need is to have your brain in somebody else's body, girlfriend."

She hovered just out of range, her face ashen, and I could tell she ached to comfort Egon, but we couldn't let her. I hated seeing his face all scrunched up like that, too. Was he in terrible pain? Was the device making things worse? What if I made it worse? Gotta hang on, gotta hang on.

The light raced down the cable connected to Peter, who flinched and jerked as spasms racked his body. I was afraid he was being electrocuted, but he lurched and twisted without uttering a sound. Maybe you have to be conscious--or at least in your own body--to know you're in pain. But he was moving. Did that mean he was returning to where he belonged?

Egon cried out, once, a wordless yell that held as much confusion and anguish as it held pain. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Doctor Solomon open his mouth and knew if he spoke, he'd tell me to shut it down. Just a few more minutes, I pleaded with him wordlessly. I think it's working.

Then Peter's body heaved up, and his arms wrapped around his chest in a tight, convulsive movement. He yelped with shock and surprise as the light went out, and his eyes opened. I hit the 'off' switch as fast as I could.

"Peter?"

He didn't answer immediately, but he did move. After all those hours of seeing him lie there, inert as a corpse, those vague, random movements were an improvement--but were they enough? His eyes were open but they didn't quite look focused. He stared blankly up at the ceiling and didn't respond to my call.

"Come on, Peter," I coaxed. "Look at me."

He turned his head jerkily, and squinted at me. I could see him recognize me. Consciousness filled his eyes, and awareness. He looked at me and he saw me. No more empty body lying there like a corpse. He was back where he belonged. We did it!

"Peter!" I cried in elation and charged up to his bed. "Peter, it's okay, you're back."

Behind me, Winston yelled, "Yahoo, Pete's back!"

Solomon edged closer, his eyes full of astonishment and took Peter's pulse.

"Ray?" Peter's voice quavered unsteadily, and he lifted his free hand and stared muzzily at his fingers as if he'd never seen them before. "I'm back?" His eyes filled with relieved tears, and he turned his face away so we wouldn't see them. Gosh, he had to be so relieved. I felt like crying myself from sheer joy.

"It's okay," I soothed, and grabbed his hand to squeeze it. It felt so much better than before when he hadn't been home. This time, it felt natural and right. He squeezed back, a little awkwardly, but with enough control to prove he wasn't paralyzed. "It's okay, Peter. I'm just so glad--"

"You called that one." Winston crowded in beside me and grabbed Peter's arm. "Man, it was so weird. Now you're where you belong. No more body hopping, you got it?"

Peter peered at us through the tears. Already they were stopping. Doctor Solomon waved his hand before Peter's eyes to get his attention then moved down to the foot of the bed and flipped back the covers. "Doctor Venkman. Peter? Can you feel your feet?"

"Feel my feet? What kind of question is that? Of course I can--ow! What the hell was that? Where did you go to medical school, Sadism U? He stuck me with a pin, Ray." I couldn't help grinning at the utter outrage in his voice. It was so...so Peter.

Solomon smiled, too. "Well, I had to check your responses, Peter. I should say you passed that one with flying colors. Now, let's see you wiggle your toes."

Peter half sat up, then groaned. "Whoa! Dizzy." Winston and I grabbed him and supported him. He leaned into the circle of our arms, savoring the contact.

"Wiggle your toes, Peter," Solomon instructed.

We all stared at Peter's feet. At once the toes curled then straightened and then wiggled nicely, right on cue. Thank goodness. He was going to be all right. My own eyes stung a bit, but I didn't care, I was just so glad to have Peter back. I disconnected him from the transfer device.

"The dizziness should pass," Solomon reassured him. "Is your vision blurred?"

"Yeah, a little." He blinked hard. I felt his hand curl around my wrist and tighten. "Uh, is that a bad thing? Egon, what do you think? You're being awfully quiet over there."

And then Janine screamed, "Egon!" and we stared.

Egon lay inert, unmoving, on the other bed, his eyes closed.

Oh, no! I got Peter back--but I lost Egon.

Peter

A body. I have a body again. I'm home. It felt like Jordan or Magic had grabbed me like a basketball, dribbled me down the court and slam dunked me right back where I belonged. I've got my body back. I'm me again. At first, that was all I could think. It was so great I couldn't stop the tears from spilling over. Geez, right there in front of God and everybody. But Ray said it was okay, and that's good enough for me. Relief, that's what it was, anyway. Normal.

Arms. Legs. Yep, they're all there. Everybody fussing over me, doctors sticking pins in me? The first part's great. I love a good fuss. But he tries to stick pins in important parts of my anatomy, I'm gonna have to turn the spud loose on him.

I'm still connected up to the machine, but it isn't turned on. Should I pull those leads off or let Ray do it? I didn't want to touch them for fear I'd get yanked away again. Ray must have sensed my quandary because he unfastened me, grinning a mile wide.

I gave the doc a narrow-eyed stare to make sure he wasn't approaching any vital parts of the Venkman anatomy with his torture tools. I'm seeing him kinda double, not as bad as when I was in Egon, but not quite right, either. Doc asked me if I had blurred vision. He must have some kind of doctor radar that tells him about it.

"Uh, is that a bad thing? Egon, what do you think? You're being awfully quiet over there." I tried to look past Ray and Winston, and I got a glimpse of Egon beyond them with a horrified Janine gazing down at him with her eyes wide.

"EGON!"

The truth of the matter hit me right in the gut. It hadn't worked. It put me back, but not Egon. It had yanked me out of him and I was home, but Egon was pulled free, too. That wasn't right. I never wanted to get back if it meant we'd lose him, not for a single second. "Egon, you answer me! Do you hear me, you answer Doctor Venkman right this second or I'm gonna have to come over there and shake you silly."

Nothing, not so much as a twitch. He looked the way I had when I was in him. Dead. The machine had lost him. It had taken me out of him and stranded him somewhere out in midair. I glanced around to make sure nobody else was Egon-ized. Ray and Winston sounded right. Had Janine been touching us when it happened even if Ray told her not to?

"Egon, where are you?" It was a desperate cry. No, this can't be happening.

P-peter?

That faint voice spooked me; it came out of nowhere. At first, I thought it was his ghost answering me, that we'd killed him and he was hovering invisibly nearby, and then the connection flowed back, like water pushing away dammed-up logs, and he was right there, in my head again, just like before. Egon?

Where am I, Peter? I can't see properly.

Like I couldn't before. Suddenly it all came together. Egon, listen. I think we're both in me now.

He didn't answer for a second. I could see Ray and Winston hovering over Egon, taking P.K.E. readings. Ray's shoulders slumped in that way he has when he takes on the world and thinks he's screwed up. Any second now he'll find a way to blame himself, even if he doesn't do that much anymore.

"It's okay, Ray, he's here," I said quickly. "I don't blame you for not getting it. We need a scorecard for all the body-hopping going on around here."

"Uh...Peter is correct, Raymond." Geez, I didn't realize how weird it must have felt for Egon when I talked through him. It was almost like when Watt had taken over my body, except that I wasn't shoved off to one side. I was right there, and my mind allowed it just like he'd allowed it when I was in him. I'd gotten so used to him being there that it wasn't even an invasion.

They all stared at me. "Egon." In a body, Ray, Winston and Janine lunged at me. Ray whipped up the meter and did an Egon with it, checking the settings, his eyes so wide I thought his eyeballs would squirt out in the next few seconds. Winston squinted at me doubtfully, probably checking for signs of physics-speak or weird hair. Janine barreled in and hugged me hard. I was kind of hoping she'd plant a big smooch on me, but she didn't. Instead, she backed away almost immediately as if she realized she didn't like the packaging. You've gotta wonder about that woman's taste.

Ray studied the meter, then his face fell. "Egon, you're there, in Peter."

"As I told you," he agreed.

"Yep, doubled my occupancy." Now that the shock was past, the link with Egon reaffirmed itself, and we could communicate again. But this wasn't gonna work. We couldn't keep hopping back and forth between bodies like this. The machine transferred consciousness. If there wasn't a consciousness there already to transfer, how could it figure out which of us was which?

A wise question, Peter. Perhaps I am rubbing off on you.

In your dreams. But both of us knew we were whistling in the dark.

Solomon turned from an examination of Egon's body. "This is incredible. I am reading the same responses from him as I did from you, Peter. Since you're clearly conscious and talking, I must concede that the device did something. But I can't allow this to continue."

"Gosh, no, we have to get Egon back where he belongs," Ray agreed. "I was kind of afraid of this."

"That we'd both transfer?" I think Egon and I asked the question in perfect chorus. I should have sounded double, but I didn't.

Ray shook his head. "No, there's two things it could be. One is that since there was no consciousness in Peter to effect a transfer, the two of you simply moved to fill the void. There would be nothing to return to replace it."

"We thought of that," I admitted. "What's the other thing?"

Ray's face scrunched up in concentration. "Well, that maybe linking up like that is kind of...addictive. That you've...blended and can't separate voluntarily."

"No," I blurted out even as I understood why he'd think that. There was something...never to be alone. It wasn't what I'd choose for all time, but there was something really...reassuring about it. What if it had felt so good that I'd dragged Egon here with me without even realizing it?

Indeed, Peter. I, too, am aware of the attraction for such a linkage. Not for always, but it is not...unpalatable.

"You believe they have formed an overlapping consciousness?" Solomon's bushy eyebrows jolted up like Spock's--like the demon's had. I shivered.

"No." That was Egon talking. I let him. Even with the overlap or whatever it was, he was still ten times smarter than most people. Thank you, Peter. "Because while there is some...overlap, it is more in communication without words than any type of personality sharing. I feel quite distinct from Peter and always have, since this began. I am simply able to communicate with him more fully."

"Yeah, and I've got no urge to spout twenty-syllable words, and I can't read Sumerian under water in the dark." I shook my head. Not blurred vision after all. Overlapping vision. Since I was where I belonged, it wasn't as bad for me as it had been before. I felt Egon react to it, and knew he was seeing things the way I'd seen them in his body. Clearer, maybe, since I don't wear glasses, but separate.

"But the thing is, we have to separate you before much more time passes," Ray insisted with that earnestness only he can produce. "Because the more time you spend in each other's minds, the harder it's gonna be to separate you. You feel separate and distinct now, but your communication was easier this time than it was the first time. Maybe we really do need the alpha wave generator--and it's too big to haul up here to the hospital." He dithered beside my bed. I hated to see Ray at a loss like that. There had to be an answer.

Doctor Solomon opened his mouth, probably to say he wouldn't discharge us to head over to the firehouse to try the generator thingy. Could Winston and Ray overrule him? If it took hours or days to reconfigure it, maybe we would be better in the hospital.

"You don't know for sure how to separate us, Ray," I reminded him quickly before the doc could jump in and lay down the law. "Egon doesn't think the dream gizmo will work very well unless a lot of modifications are made on it. Maybe we really should get the demon back and make him do the switcheroo."

"We sure it isn't hanging around?" Winston glanced over his shoulder.

Ray pointed to the table next to my bed, where a second P.K.E. meter lay. "No, that's been set to the demon's frequency all along. We'll know if it comes back. Besides, I don't think he's subtle enough to move just one of you out of Peter's body. Even if he did, what if he took the wrong one?"

Oh, now there was a weird thought. Egon and me, both alive but both in the wrong place. Strange. It would not be a good thing, Peter.

Hey. It would be better than when you were stuck in Slimer.

I do concede that.

Ray scratched his head, and then his face lit up. I half expected a light bulb to pop into existence above him, like it did in the comic books. "Oh, gosh, I know. We have to connect you up again."

Egon was still connected. Nobody had taken those wires off. "Whoa, hold it, time out." I gave the sports gesture, one hand atop the fingers of the other hand. I didn't want to lose my body again.

You must let them remove me, Peter.

Uh oh. I knew what he was going to say next and I had to overrule him. Suddenly I knew exactly why he'd shot down my plan before. It was different when I was the one who stood to lose my best friend. We played this game before, I reminded him. You wouldn't go for it then, and I don't go for it now. I won't let you sacrifice yourself for me.

True, but now it should work differently. I have an idea.

An idea? I loved it. Maybe this was the answer. "Hey, guys, Egon has an idea. The great brain crashes through. So tell 'em, Egon."

"I know, I know." That was Ray, bouncing around excitedly, like he was the one mind-linked with our favorite physicist. "Gosh, it's simple. You guys can't switch unless you're in two separate places to transfer. Here's what we'll do. We'll use the throwers to separate you and Peter."

"Wait a minute," I objected. "You said you couldn't guarantee putting me back in my body if you did that before. I'm not gonna have you yank Egon out of here and lose him. No way, Jose."

But, Peter-

Shut up, Spengs, I'm not gonna let you disperse, any more than you would have let me. You can stay here if it's the only way. We'll work it out. Ray just needs a little time and he'll have an answer. One of the two smartest guys I know.

Ray says he has an answer, Peter. Let him finish. And if it doesn't work, I have an idea myself.

"It's not like that," Ray insisted hastily. Egon's and my little exchange had happened so fast we hadn't even cut into the conversation. "No, see, it's really neat. We'll use the throwers and a trap and pull Egon out of Peter. Then we'll hook the trap and Egon's body to the machine, and it should put him right back where he belongs."

Will that work, Egon?

Hmmm, intriguing. A remarkable possibility.

You faker, I thought fondly. That was your idea, too, wasn't it? You gonna let Ray know?

He hesitated. Perhaps later. My idea was slightly different, and I do believe Ray's is better. I will allow him the credit; he did conceive of it. If it fails, then I will explain my own version.

He wanted to support Ray, who had to be weighted down under all the responsibility. I liked that. Maybe it would make Ray feel better to know Egon thought it was right, though.

I see. Yes, Peter, I agree. The process will call for exact timing, however. He raised my voice. "That could work, Ray. I am willing to submit to it, since my idea went along a similar track."

"Great minds think alike," I caroled irreverently.

Egon made a mental face at me. "Peter and I must be in our own bodies. I will not endanger his personality by remaining here, and transferring the two of us back and forth in tandem is pointless."

"Hey, Spengs, I'm not gonna risk you without some guarantees. What could go wrong, Ray?"

He stared at us. "I wouldn't do it if I didn't think it would work, Peter. You know I wouldn't risk your lives. I think it's the only chance, unless I connect you both up, and then abort transfer in the middle in hopes that you'd automatically return to where you belonged, but that could be dangerous. It would assume that you'd return to your natural state, but we can't assume that. Since you've been together, that's the most recent state and you might default together to one body. It could happen, or we could lose both of you, and I'm not gonna do that. This way, we have you and Egon already separate and we do know Egon's machine can facilitate transfers because it's done it several times already. We also know that if there is nothing to transfer it will leave a vacuum in its place, so if we hook Egon to his essence and trigger open the trap when the device functions, it will be the natural application of the machine to pull Egon back where he belongs. It'll work. I just know it will. Besides, we still have the alpha wave generator to fall back on. I think I have an idea how to connect the trap to it if this...doesn't work."

"In order for it to work, you must be able to separate me from Peter first," Egon reminded him.

"That'll work," Ray cried. He waved the meter he held. "That part I'm a hundred per cent sure of. We've done it successfully before, when Watt possessed Peter. I've got your exact readings in that state, Egon. I learned how to filter it when Peter was in you. I can set my meter to it specifically. Winston will set his meter for Peter's metabolic frequency, and then I can draw you out of him. Janine will handle the trap." He glanced around at the security guard, who stood there blankly, staring back and forth at whoever was talking like a spectator at a tennis match.

What do you say, Egon? I'm not gonna risk you if you don't think it will work. I don't want this to be just some noble sacrifice on your part. I want to know if it's the right thing to do, because I'm not gonna lose you here.

Yes, Peter, I want to try. I do believe it will work, far better than my idea of interrupting transfer. As Ray pointed out, that could be far more dangerous. This way, we guarantee your individuality, and we almost certainly guarantee mine.

Uh, Egon, I don't like this 'almost' thing. I've been through too much with you to just toss you away if you're not positive. We don't have to do it this minute. Let Ray crunch some numbers and make sure.

And how long do you think we have, Doctor Venkman, before this link between us begins to blur the edges of our individuality? If Ray doesn't draw me out of you soon, it could happen. The communication is too easy now. We only use words like this because that is how a lifetime of communication taught us. We don't need words, Peter. You know we don't.

After that, the communication flowed between us so effortlessly without specific words that I knew he was right. In this state, we didn't need words. We just felt and knew. He was right. It was a good thing, but it was bad, too, addictive. If we didn't end this soon, the edges of Peter and Egon would blur away and we'd lose ourselves in a joint entity that would be neither of us, yet both. And I didn't want to lose myself--or lose him, not even for this.

"What do you want me to do?" Charlie asked, and I realized all that had happened in the second after Janine was assigned trap duty. A lifetime of caring and regret, of understanding and sharing, and it had taken just a second. In a way, I was awed, but I was scared, and I knew Egon was, too.

"Do it." That was both of us. "Do it, Ray," I added. "We know we have to." But I couldn't help the note of regret that crept into my voice.

Ray recognized it for what it was. Worry flickered in his eyes, then he yanked out his thrower and made adjustments. "Winston, you know the settings for Peter's frequency."

Winston verified them with him and twiddled the dials. I watched them nervously. I'd been through this before. I remembered it hadn't been fun.

The doctor tested my pulse, took my blood pressure, then whipped the cuff away. He nodded.

The streams lashed out and hit me, and I felt like I'd been kicked by a giant. Weird. Slam dunked again, three times in one day; this couldn't be good. Energy pulsed through me, and Egon and I yelled inside, where nobody could hear us.

Egon, it's okay. You're gonna be all right. And if you're not, I'll come hunting for you and yank you back. I promi--

Then it happened, a horrible rending sensation, like my brain was being yanked in two. I screamed. I couldn't help it. With my eyes tightly closed against the glow of the energy, I couldn't see Ray flinch but the pull jerked for a second before it steadied. I knew he hated it that he was hurting me. I jerked and twisted on the bed.

Egon wasn't screaming out loud, but he was there in my head, and it felt like he'd dug in his fingernails to hold on. I grabbed for him with a crazy ability I didn't know I had, and our mental hands clasped and squeezed before they were torn apart.

Egon!

Peter.... The mental touch grew faint and jagged around the edges, then, with an almost audible pop it snapped entirely and I plunged down into a dark abyss toward an invisible bottom. Falling, falling forever. I screamed....

I was all alone and Egon was gone.

Winston

Pete screamed like a steam whistle, and his body arched up so violently I thought he was having a seizure, then his body went limp and fell back against the bed, his face the color of Ecto-1. The only thing that reassured me was the fact that he looked unconscious rather than dead. A weird distinction, but his body didn't appear empty, not after energy poured out of it into Ray's confinement stream. I half expected the glowing field to resemble a miniature version of Egon, but that was stupid. It was just a fuzzy glow. Was that what a human consciousness looked like?

"Stop firing, Winston!" Ray bellowed and I cut power before he finished speaking. At once Peter twitched a couple of times and moaned. He curled up on the bed in a fetal position--man, that didn't look good--and made a lost, whimpering sound that cut through me like a knife. The doctor and nurse converged on him to take off the leads.

"Trap open, Janine," Ray commanded, and she stomped on the trigger pedal. Stalwartly, Ray guided his stream around to the wedge of glowing energy and released Egon's consciousness into the field. We watched the trap's twin doors close over him, and I needed to send my stomach a stern command to stay put at the sight. What if we couldn't get Egon back? What if our actions had destroyed him?

Ray slammed his thrower home, pounced on the trap and grabbed it up, hugging it to his chest for a second. God, he looked scared and vulnerable. "Peter?" he whispered.

Without opening his eyes, Peter moaned, "I'm all alone, Ray." Jesus, it had to be weird for him.

Ray didn't even hesitate. With the trap tucked safely under his arm, he charged over to Peter and gripped his hand. "No, you're not," he insisted. "You're just together differently, the way it's supposed to be." Wise words from Ray. Peter's fingers closed so tightly around Ray's that I saw Ray wince, but he didn't try to pull away. "Winston, Janine, get over here," he urged.

We converged on Peter, and pulled him up into a group hug. He relaxed out of the fetal position, and it made me feel good to see him open up like that. The trap was still balanced in Ray's arm, so it was like we were hugging Egon, too. Peter stretched out his arms and grabbed for all of us. The desperate, aching solitude on his face melted away in the force of our support, but when we let go, Peter was cradling the trap to his chest. He lifted hollow eyes to us. "Get him back, Ray."

"I will, Peter. Right now." Ray took hasty readings of Peter, then he ventured a relieved smile. "Peter, your readings are just like they should be. You're all you again. Not partly Egon, and nothing missing. You probably feel weird because you've been used to having Egon in there with you, but you'll be fine."

"Yeah, if Egon is." Peter shivered. He never was good at the alone gig, and now he'd tasted a brand new form of togetherness. Maybe that kind of mental union was habit-forming. Would he always miss it? Or would it fade away and let normalcy take its place? "You can do it, Ray? Right?" he pleaded.

"It'll work, Peter." Ray's shoulders were squared and purposeful, and only after he turned from Peter to set up the machine did I see the panic he fought to suppress flash vividly on his face.

Still clutching the trap, Peter jumped out of bed. He wobbled for a second, then he caught himself and straightened up. "I'm not dizzy," he admitted, astonished. He wasn't quite ready to let himself be relieved, not till we had Egon back.

"Vision?" prompted Solomon. He had his hand on Peter's shoulder, ready to catch him if he passed out.

Peter blinked and focused. "Uh, okay, doc. Clear. None of that overlapping stuff." He brushed past the doctor. "Ra-ay?"

"Setting it up, Peter. We'll do it fast. Winston, make sure the leads on Egon's body are still attached right. Peter, I'll need the trap now."

Peter surrendered it to Ray as if it were glued to his fingers. He didn't want to let go. Those two had been joined and now they were severed. Only the return of Egon to his own body would set things right.

I went over to Egon and checked the attachments. One of them had come loose in the transfer, and I reattached it. "Done," I reported.

The second he released the trap to Ray, Peter whirled on Janine. "Proton pack?"

She hesitated and shot me a questioning look. "Are you up to it?"

"Give it to me. If the demon shows up, he's gonna do it once Egon's back where he belongs. I'm gonna blast it so hard it bounces." His mouth drew a hard line. Nobody crosses Peter when he looks like that, not more than once anyway. I nodded at her to go for it. Peter needed to be doing something. Janine shucked off the pack without argument, and he settled it on his shoulders and drew the thrower.

Ray hooked up connections to the trap, and reset up the power grid. "This will activate the trap's trigger in conjunction with the machine's activation," he explained. "It will automatically connect to the trap's energy and then to Egon's body. Egon's essence should return where it belongs. Doctor, I want you to stand by but don't touch Egon until I tell you. Then you disconnect the leads fast and do whatever you need to do for him."

"The AMA is going to have my hide for this," Solomon muttered as he took his place on the far side of Egon's bed. His pallor and the lines of strain on his face showed how hard on him this had been. The blonde nurse gave his arm a comforting pat, then looked surprised at herself. He didn't even notice the touch.

"No, we'll stand up for you," I told him. "Thank the Lord we got you. Somebody with a closed mind would have made this go so wrong." I gave the doctor a thumbs-up sign. He shuddered and hovered near Egon, with the blonde nurse at his side. It dawned on me that I didn't even know her name. Even weirder, Peter hadn't ogled her once. She'd done her nursely thing for him, but if anybody, it was Ray she noticed, and he was just too overwhelmed with responsibility to do more than offer her a quick smile when their glances met.

"I'm ready." Ray fastened the last electrode, or whatever it was, to the trap. "I've had to adjust the power levels to compensate for the trap's energy. But there'll be enough power. It'll work. I know it will." He glanced over at Solomon. "Now, Doctor."

Solomon lifted his hand away from Egon's pulse and retreated a half step. "Ready."

"Doctor? Nurse? Don't look directly into the trap."

Ray activated the machine. At once, the trap's doors parted and light glared out. The nurse squeezed her eyes shut and Doctor Solomon averted his head. I squinted at the light beam and saw the field of energy in it that represented Egon's consciousness. Too weird. This was all too weird. Come on, Egon, come on, Egon. It felt like cheering the team at a Jaguars game.

Peter stood beside me, his eyes huge and shadowy, and I slung my arm around his shoulders above the pack he wore. He gave a faint, involuntary sigh and nestled up against me, just like a little kid. Poor guy was probably gonna go through a real touchy-feely kind of thing until he adjusted. Had to be weird to be, in essence, two people for a little while and then be one again. I could imagine it, but I'd never really know what it had been like.

The machine's energy plucked out Egon's essence from the confinement field, just like that. We saw it outlined and yanked away from the trap, which shut down the instant it wasn't in the field any longer. Ray's fingers flashed as he disconnected it to remove it from the loop. Last thing any of us wanted was for Egon to go back there.

"This way, Egon." Janine made a hurried gesture at Egon's body with both hands like a traffic cop in Times Square.

That was when the P.K.E. meter on the bedside stand shrieked to full alert. The antennae shot to their full height and started blinking so fast they seemed to be permanently lit. The poor security guard nearly had a heart attack at the sound.

"No, not now," Ray screeched frantically. He whipped out his thrower and powered up in one lightning movement. I let go of Pete and yanked out my own thrower. Not now! The demon could steal Egon in a heartbeat, now when he was most vulnerable. Peter swore under his breath and his knuckles whitened on the grip of the thrower. Man, this was bad timing.

The golden light poured down through the cables and enveloped Egon's body just as the demon materialized right behind Doctor Solomon. The nurse screamed so loudly that Charlie jumped a foot, and then she puddled down on the floor beside Egon's bed in a dead faint. Solomon made an abortive gesture to catch her and then gave it up as a bad job. He whirled around to see the demon and he lost all color. I didn't blame the guy. The sight of that demon looming over me unexpectedly would probably scare me white.

The machine didn't know the demon was there. It went on pouring golden light into Egon's body. It convulsed and shivered, writhing with spasms of pain. He twitched and moaned.

Hurry up, Egon, we've got trouble.

"Blast it!" screeched Peter and fired over the doctor's head at the near-human face. His out-of-body experience hadn't made him remotely rusty, and the adrenaline rush we were all feeling honed his reflexes just fine. He hit the Class Seven full in the face. Way to go, Pete.

Egon's body jumped and shivered on the bed. Then the light went out and Ray snapped off the machine. "It worked! I think it worked! Egon? Answer me, Egon. Come on." He yanked out his thrower. No chance to go to Egon and test him, not with Eyebrows smirking at us menacingly.

No response to Ray's plea, but Egon curled up tight the way Peter had before, shivering. He had to be back or he wouldn't be moving on his own. Like Peter when he'd returned, he didn't look dead anymore, simply vague and shaken. He wasn't quite with it yet, and he was right in the demon's path. Only the unarmed, untrained Solomon stood between Egon and the demon, who didn't look remotely fazed by Peter's stream. I fired in unison with Pete and got a lock on the beast's left shoulder. Any lower and I'd hit the doc.

"Get down, Doctor," Ray cried. He was too close to get a shot without taking off Solomon's bald head.

Instead, Solomon whirled to confront the demon. Brave guy, but there was nothing he could do except get his mind sucked out, and that was the last thing we needed, more musical brains. More worried about Egon than she was afraid, Janine ducked low to avoid the particle streams and grabbed Egon's arms to yank him out of the demon's way. Ray hesitated a second, torn between going to her aid and firing. In the end, he jumped sideways so he wouldn't fry the doc and fired, too.

Suddenly, something moved beneath Egon's bed. Pete didn't notice, he was so focused on protecting Egon, and Ray was at a bad angle. It was all Charlie could do to face down the entity. That left me to check it out. I risked an anxious glance down to make sure the demon hadn't brought back-up, but it was just the nurse, scrambling under the bed toward safety.

The doctor took on stature, and his voice steadied and strengthened. "I abjure you. In the name of Jehovah, Jesus Christ, Allah, the lord Buddha--"

The demon roared. "I care nothing for your pitiful human gods," it spat. "You interfere with my handiwork, and you attack me. All of you shall die. But first I shall steal your pitiful human souls and confine them in scuttling insects. These energy beams of yours are annoying, but no great threat to me."

"Oh yeah?" Peter twisted his dial. "We know how to get people back, even if you put them in cockroaches, so don't think you can take us on."

Poor Charlie finally got his thrower going and he hit the demon not far over the doctor's head. Solomon flinched and ducked, but he whipped out a medallion that hung on a chain around his neck and held it up at old Eyebrows. Looked like a Star of David. I could have told him that wasn't gonna work. Most of the demons we fought didn't react to various religious artifacts unless they were specifically bound to one religion in particular, and a lot of Netherworld demons turned out to be freelance. That meant they didn't buy into any particular church rules. I had to give it to the doctor, though. He was one brave guy. Maybe even a few seconds' distraction would be enough for Janine to pull Egon out of range of old Eyebrows.

The four streams bugged the demon, though. I saw it test the pull with a few surreptitious moves. Janine finally dragged Egon off the bed, down in between it and Peter's bed, where he sat curled up against the stand, his arms wrapped tightly around his knees. Janine whispered to him urgently, and I think he was listening, but he wasn't talking yet. The poor guy had to be shaky. I didn't even try to get his attention. Why remind the demon of him?

The nurse crawled back under Egon's bed toward the demon's side. What the heck was she doing? I hoped she wasn't so out of it she had become turned around. I couldn't even go after her, not without risking losing our lock on Eyebrows. We had the throwers all cranked up at full streams. Not good. There's so much power running through them that you can't let go, even to get a trap without risking losing control of the thrower. We always designated somebody to do that, when this happened, but we had Janine and she wasn't wearing a pack.

"Janine. A trap," Peter caroled right on cue. "Egon?"

The two of them jerked and looked up at him, and I glanced down for the trap Ray had abandoned when he released Egon, thinking to kick it under the bed in range. It looked like Egon was definitely back in his body. There'd been awareness in his glance when he glanced up in answer to Peter's plea. But the trap was gone. Shit. Had the demon done something with it? Hadn't Ray left it right there? I could have sworn he'd put it down as soon as it was disconnected.

Abruptly brilliant light shot upward right at the demon's feet and enveloped him. He let out a bellow of astonishment as the trap's field engulfed him and sucked him down. We controlled his descent, and Egon lunged up over the bed, grabbed Solomon, and yanked him backward so hard he collapsed onto the bed and nearly landed on top of Egon. Janine gave a yell and helped Egon pull the doctor away from the energy field.

In the end, Eyebrows couldn't fight the pull of the trap and four streams--most demons can't. It went down cursing and screeching, struggling like there was no tomorrow. They all do that, too. We didn't release the streams till the last second.

The trap doors slammed shut over the demon, and we all powered down. The security guard shut his thrower down a beat after we did, and the room had one less ceiling fixture as a result. Sparks shot out of it, and plaster trickled down around our shoulders, but we barely noticed.

"Uh, sorry," Charlie muttered sheepishly, only to be drowned out by the rest of us.

"Egon!" it was a joint yell, but Peter got to him first. He didn't even holster his thrower, just let go of it to grab Egon up and hug him so hard I thought Egon would surely suffocate. His arms closed around Peter with the same desperate intensity, and the two of them just stood there hanging on while the rest of us stripped off our throwers and allowed them their moment. I wondered if they missed that mental thing, or if they had their own more normal version of it right now. Peter tightened his grip for a second, then he let go, and they stepped back far enough to look each other in the eye.

"I knew it would work. I just knew it." Ray bounced on his feet. At least he wasn't bowed down by the weight of the world any longer. I've never seen him look happier as he savored Peter and Egon's reunion.

Peter and Egon must have sensed his excitement, because they turned to him as one, and drew him in, slapped him on the back. "Is this guy great, or what?" Peter asked. He caught my eye over Ray's head and drew me in, and I threw myself into the huddle. A definite Kodak moment. We all slapped each other on the back and high-fived each other. Ray threw his arms around Egon and hugged him hard, then he did the same to Peter. The minute Ray let go of Egon, Janine crowded in and hugged him, too. He smiled down at her.

Ray beamed. "Wow, guys, I'm so glad you're back. It was weird to hear you talking in each other's voices."

"Man, you called that one," I agreed. "Hard enough to keep up with the two of you when you're not beside yourselves."

Peter groaned. "Come on, Zed, beside ourselves?"

Egon arched an eyebrow in precisely the way he does best. Ten times more class than old Eyebrows could ever have. "Raymond, I want to go over your theories with you as soon as possible. Your idea to use the trap was brilliant."

"Hey, wait a minute," Peter objected. "I thought the trap was my idea in the first place."

We all turned to stare at him. He held up both hands. "Well, it was," he insisted, abashed. Never mind his idea had simply been to take him out of Egon, no matter the consequences to him. I was glad to have a guy like Peter on my side. It wasn't many people who put their buddies first like that.

Egon nailed him with a look that didn't need telepathy. Peter lowered his eyes before it, then he looked up again. "Never mind, it worked, thanks to the boy genius here." He rumpled Ray's hair.

"Gee, Peter," Ray said, glowing.

We all smiled at each other like idiots, then Peter turned and sought out Egon's eye. "Well, Spengs? You back?" he asked. Poor guy, he needed to hear it said.

"As you can see, Peter." Egon produced a shaky smile. "And you?"

"In the flesh. The great Venkman, gorgeous as ever."

"And showing the entire world." Egon tugged at his own hospital gown to make his point.

Peter's hand crept uneasily around to the back of his gown. He was wearing it, shorts with big red hearts on them, his proton pack, and nothing else. As we watched, color vivid enough to match the hearts spread across his cheeks. One for the record books. It takes a heck of a lot to make Peter blush.

"I see you've got the same tailor, Spengs." Peter's always been good at misdirection.

Egon whirled as he realized Janine was behind him. His bright blue shorts were practically Speedos. Janine must have really enjoyed the view. Her eyes were alight with interest she made no attempt to hide. Poor old Egon turned redder than Peter and, to Janine's great disappointment, sat down abruptly on the bed. Peter followed him and sat beside him, protecting Egon as well as his own image.

"Who triggered that trap?" Ray blurted out as he reached Egon's side. "Egon, gosh, I'm glad you're okay. But you didn't hit the trap trigger, did you?" He waved the P.K.E. meter at Egon and relaxed at the readings he got. Just seeing him relax made my tense muscles loosen up.

Egon blinked up at him and I could tell his eyes were finally focused. "No, it must have been Janine."

We stared at the secretary, who shook her head. She was probably still lost in dreams of Egon in blue Speedos. The guy would never live that one down.

Motion under the bed startled us and the nurse crawled out, her cap askew, her golden hair sticking in odd directions, the trap dangling by its cord from her fingertips. She offered it to Ray with a shy smile. "Here you go, Ray. I've seen you guys on TV," she said. "I figured somebody better do something before it got away. I hate cockroaches."

"Nurse Henderson!" Solomon stared at her as if he'd never seen her before. "Well done. I'm proud of you."

"I'm proud of you, Doctor. You stood right up to it. I never saw anything like it." They grinned at each other, a real mutual admiration society. Then she turned and sneaked a sideways glance at Ray. Surprise and then delight slid into his eyes. Peter, always more aware of female reactions than the rest of us, gave him a surreptitious nudge in her direction. He smiled hesitantly, then with more assurance. I'd have bet ten bucks he'd walk out of here with her phone number.

Charlie bounced on his toes. "Wait till I tell my wife I got to be a Ghostbuster," he gloated. "This is great. Will I get to be on the seven o'clock news?"

"Egon, are you really okay?" Peter prodded. "Are you...you again?"

"Indubitably, Peter. I must say it's a considerable relief to be able to cogitate normally. Your mind was utterly chaotic."

"Yeah, I like it that way." He grinned. "Fate worse than death, to be stuck in the great brain." But he leaned against Egon so their shoulders touched, and we all knew neither of them meant a word of it.

Peter

"Peter and Egon have been awfully quiet since we got home from the hospital," I heard Ray say to Winston after dinner. "Gosh, this was sure a long day with Egon and Peter sharing each other's bodies. So weird, to hear them talking with each other's voices. That had to be scary for them, not knowing if they'd ever be normal again."

"Wouldn't you be scared?" Winston replied.

"Do you think they're okay?" Ray asked hopefully. He lowered his voice to keep from disturbing Egon and me, who were supposed to be sleeping, but I was wide awake and listening and I heard every word. I knew Egon could hear them, too, even if his bed was a little further away. I was glad Solomon had discharged us without benefit of MRI or EEG's or any other part of the alphabet. I don't know about the others, but just being here tonight, home, with the guys around me was the best thing that could have happened. I didn't want to let Egon out of my sight yet. There he was, obviously whole, just like I was, but I wanted to have proof of it for a while.

And a part of me...missed him, the way it had been inside.

"I don't know, but I think they will be," Winston replied to Ray's question. "You don't shake off a shock like that in five minutes, but I think they'll unwind and after a while it won't sound quite so...labored when they're kidding each other." He hesitated. "Remember, they got pitched into something that isn't really...normal. It's not like getting hurt on a bust, where you twist your ankle or break your arm; you can measure how that heals."

"They're both so strong, they'll be okay."

I glanced over at Egon, who arched an eyebrow at me. Ray meant it. Maybe it was part of that optimist thing, but he did mean it. Of course he wanted it, too. He wanted life 'normal' again. We all did.

It was just that...a part of me felt a little...lonely.

Winston drew in a deep breath. "Man, I hope you're right, Ray. I'd never want to go through anything like that."

"Really? I think it'd be...kinda neat."

The voices carried from the lab, where Ray was busy putting away Egon's weird gizmo. It had worked, in its own eerie way, and now Egon and I were safe in our own bodies. Kinda neat? I shared a glance with Egon. Ray and Winston had insisted we have an early night, since the doctor had suggested that as part of his agreement to discharge us. Ray had made a date with Nurse Henderson, but not until the weekend. I think he wanted to hang around just at first to make sure Egon and I were okay.

I don't know about old Spengs, but I was too restless to sleep. I think Egon was, too. I couldn't read his mind anymore, but I would have known how he was feeling before this happened, just from the fifteen years history we had. If I knew things about how he'd react, it wasn't that a portion of him got missed when they pulled him out of me or me out of him. It was because he'd been my friend for such a long time. Ray had taken readings of both of us and assured us we were back where we belonged, that there was no carry-over. Just like Ray to figure we couldn't help but worry.

It was dark in the bunkroom, except from the light from the streetlights trickling in through the windows and a slice of yellow on the floor from around the corner of the door, and Ray had warned Slimer that if he bothered us, Ray would put him in a trap for a week. Slimer had departed in a big rush to raid the neighborhood dumpsters. I'd have to keep that threat in mind. Funny, it didn't bug the spud nearly as much when I said it.

There were no reports anywhere in the city to indicate that the same thing that had happened to Egon and me had happened to anyone else. Maybe the demon pulled his number only when somebody crossed him or maybe it had gone away and come back again when it felt us messing with its handiwork. Whatever the reason, I was glad we weren't trekking over Manhattan putting people back in their own bodies. I don't think I ever want to see that gizmo of Egon's again.

Egon arched an eyebrow. Like me, he was sitting propped against the headboard of his bed. He still had his glasses on, so he had no trouble fielding my glance--not that he ever did. And maybe he knew me a little better now than he had before. I remembered an old British sci fi show Ray liked, where a near-sentient ship's computer had read the pilot's mind, and she had said afterward that there was peace in being fully known. At the time, I'd shuddered at the very idea of somebody tromping through my psyche in hobnailed boots. Now, I realized it had happened, and it wasn't gruesome like I'd thought it would be. It had felt almost natural there for a while. 'Course I wouldn't want just anybody stomping through the weirder byways of the Venkman intellect, but if it had to be anybody, I was glad it had been Egon. I couldn't have handled it with a stranger. But my best friend....

"Neat?" Winston's voice rang with surprise. "To be trapped outside your own body? You're kidding, right?"

I could picture Ray's gesture. I could have handled Ray in my head, too. And Winston. But I didn't think I could have taken anybody else.

He replied quickly. "Well, not that part. But that mental link thing they had might have been nifty. They could communicate without words. It was almost like they were one person. Gee, I think it would be great to try that for a little while."

"Only if you knew you could get home," Winston corrected. "It would have scared me silly. It wouldn't be good with just anybody, either. It would have to be somebody you trusted." Winston nailed that one.

"Well, yeah." Ray sounded surprised Winston had even mentioned it. "Peter and Egon do trust each other. We all do. I still think it would be neat. I wonder if they miss it?"

Miss it? I glanced at Egon. I could read his expression as well as I always could, but I didn't have the entire Egon subconscious mind spelled out for me the way I had when I was hitching a ride with him. Ray and Winston were right, it wasn't meant for always, but for a little while there, it had been...good.

Egon? I tried. Nothing.

So, that was gone. I should have known it would be. All that understanding, that unity, that bond we had shared in there in Egon's mind and in mine for a little while. Gone. For a second, I sat there, my arms around my knees, and felt lost, lonely. When I was trapped within Egon, I hadn't been alone; Egon had been there, and we'd been...nearly one person. Scared the hell out of me. I don't want to lose my identity. Anybody who does isn't normal. But I'm not a guy for being alone, never have been. There were too many times when I've been alone, not by choice, too many times when there was nobody to count on. That had all changed when I met Egon and then Ray, and later Winston, but close as the four of us are, we don't really live in each other's pockets. I've got a lot of friends, not just the guys, but the guys are family. Still, there are times when it seems like I'm alone, when Dad doesn't remember the holidays, when we all go our separate ways, and I feel the urge to go out and find company somewhere.

For a little while there, I hadn't had to do that. I'd had it all. It was gone now, but a part of it had been really special.

"I've been trying the mental communication," Egon admitted as if a corner of his mind had sensed what was going on with me. "It...doesn't work anymore."

"Yeah, I know. I tried it, too."

Egon collected himself. "Peter. A part of me does miss that."

"Yeah, me too. But.... but having you sound like yourself again--"

"And seeing you safely back in your own body--"

"Is worth it," we finished in perfect unison. Then we caught ourselves and grinned at each other.

Maybe that link wasn't gone, just different. Maybe we'd had it all along and only saw how deep it went when we had the chance. Egon and I weren't any less brothers because we were back where we belonged. There was so much caring in the glance we shared that it blew me away. How often did any two people get to know each other so well? How did I wind up so lucky as to have a friend like Egon?

How could I think the link was gone just because we couldn't do the telepathy number? It had never gone. What had happened today was simply proof of a friendship both of us already knew existed. The experience had given us a sharper image of it, that was all. It was still there, even if we couldn't telepath to each other or read each other's minds. I could still pick up signals from him, from his expression, his body language, simply because I knew him so well, and he could read me better than I could read myself, the way he could before I got dumped in there and our psyches got shaken up together the way you toss a salad.

Maybe there was a remnant of the psi link still left because he seemed to read my mind. Yep, he was good at that. Proved my point. "Did it surprise you, Peter?" he asked. "Was there anything in there that was new to you?"

I remembered the union of the two of us in Egon's mind, how great it had been for a little while, even if it wasn't meant to be forever, and suddenly I began to smile. "You know, Spengs, you're right. It was just--just an...."

"Affirmation?" he ventured when I couldn't find the right word.

"Yeah, that."

The smile broadened. Nobody could be alone, not if they had that. Ray and Winston, too. I'd have gotten one of Egon's affirmations from them, too, if I'd been dumped inside one of them instead of Egon. I was the luckiest man in the world. And maybe, remembering the wistful sound of Ray's voice when he'd said he envied it, I'd have to find a way to remind him and Winston that the link we had really included us all. I might have got a psychic vision of Egon's brain, but it was a confirmation of what I already knew. I listened for a second to the sound of Ray and Winston talking in the lab, then I turned back to Egon.

"You are never alone, Peter, unless you wish to be."

I pulled away from the headboard and sat on the side of my bed, staring over at him. "Goes both ways here." And then I thought of something else that had been niggling at me just beyond conscious awareness. "Egon?"

He tensed. Mind reading? Or just an understanding of the tone of my voice? We'd both be jumpy at first, I was sure of it. "Peter?" he countered in a way that implied he'd change the subject if he didn't like what I had to say.

"Was it bad in the trap?"

Whoa. His face just closed away from me. It was like rebounding off a force field. Reaction must have shown in my face, because the barrier lowered just enough to allow me in. "It's over," he said flatly.

Uh oh. I've heard that tone of voice before.

No wonder he'd been sitting there, unable to sleep. We'd been so relieved I nearly hadn't seen it. Maybe, in my hope that we'd be fine, I didn't want to see it--like the time he'd taken a header off a rooftop and then claimed he was fine, and we'd been so freaked at the fall that we took his claim at face value. I don't think I'll be taking Egon at face value for a long time, not after my up-close-and-personal tour of the nether reaches of the great brain.

"Yeah, it is over," I said. "But it had to be rough, especially after our little togetherness number. Come on, Spengs. This is me, your friendly neighborhood shrink-aroo. Pretend you're on the couch."

Egon shuddered. For a second, I thought he was going to back off and deny it, but maybe he realized I knew him waaaay too well to let him get away with it. Suddenly the words spilled out. "It was like non-existence, Peter. One moment, I had not only myself, but I had the unity, reading your mind." No quips about it being as disorganized as my closet. I'd have felt better if he'd slammed me a little, but he didn't. "I suddenly understood--I knew--why you hate to be alone. I'd practically been you. Then I was drawn into the trap. Suddenly, I wasn't myself, or you or EgonPeter. I was nothing. It was all I could do to think."

Like sensory deprivation, I realized, right after something that had been the complete opposite. God, that must have been unspeakably bad. Even if it had lasted only a few minutes, he'd have had no way to measure the passage of time in the trap, not even a heartbeat to listen to. "What did you do?" I asked, and I projected every bit of understanding, friendship and love I had to offer him into that question.

He felt it and relaxed slightly. "I recited the periodic table," he admitted. "Over and over in my mind. Every element, over and over."

I vaguely remembered there were well over a hundred elements in the periodic table, but I couldn't name 'em all on a bet. Maybe I could have come up with them when we were both in Egon's body, but not now. I knew he hadn't been in there long enough to do it over and over--but when I was in his body, we'd had long, involved exchanges in the blink of an eye. Time was relative--wasn't that an Einstein concept? And time without sensation is endless. I shivered.

"Hey, at least you knew the great brain still worked." It wasn't an answer. There couldn't be a simple, glib one, not for this. It was something to live through. I added more seriously, "And you knew we were out there desperately trying to put you back."

He swallowed hard, then he was sitting on the edge of his bed, too, away from the safety of the headboard. I reached out across the intervening space and grabbed both his hands. He glommed onto me so tight it was a wonder my fingers didn't pop off, but I gritted my teeth and let him.

"Yes, Peter, I did know that," he admitted. "After I'd been in your mind, with you offering to sacrifice yourself, to be pulled into a trap yourself to save me, I had absolutely no doubt you would try." He swallowed hard. "I had no guarantee you would succeed."

That did it. I sat beside him and grabbed him in a fierce hug. He leaned against me, shivering with reaction. "Come on, Egon," I encouraged, "we'd have never given up. Ray's the one who got you back when you were trapped in the Netherworld. You could bet on him doing it this time, too."

"I was betting on it," he said against my shoulder. "And on you."

"But I don't know anything about that techie engineering stuff."

"I've been a part of you, Peter, and you have been a part of me. I know beyond all shadow of a doubt that you would never stop trying when one of your friends was in danger. I know this to the soles of my feet."

"Well, yeah, it's not like you wouldn't do the same. Don't forget, I've been part of you, too. I know."

"In between my listing of the elements," he admitted in a voice that quivered with memories, "I said to myself, 'Peter will find me. Ray will free me. Winston will be there for me.'"

"And you were right. You were right, Egon. I know it was hell...."

He shook his head. "No, Peter. Well, yes, of course it was, but it was not the worst thing that could happen."

"What was?" I asked blankly. I couldn't imagine anything more ghastly than being lost in the trap, afraid it might be forever.

"You volunteered to do it, to give up your existence for me. How do you think I would have felt if you had done that?"

Oh, yeah. "The way I'd have felt if you had," I admitted. "Come on, Egon, nobody would have let that happen."

"You offered your life for mine." It was almost an accusation.

"And you haven't done this for me a lot of times? Egon, it's what we do. Not just you and me, all four of us. Don't ask me to stop, because when the chips are down, I'm gonna want to save you guys. And you're gonna want to save the rest of us. Fact, Egon. Natural law." I grinned. "As definite as your periodic table."

"Immutable," he said. He wasn't shaking anymore.

"Egon, that was a bad one," I said. "You're probably gonna have a few nightmares over it. Just remember, Doctor Peter is on duty, ready and willing to be dragged out of my cozy bed in the middle of the night to talk it out over cocoa. Ray and Winston will, too. It'll get better. We're ourselves again. That's good. Because we'll remember what it was like not to be." I eased my grip and he let me. You couldn't give Egon this kind of comfort for too long or he got all embarrassed and flustered over it. I let him go and went back to sitting on my own bed--close enough to reach out if I needed to, because he wasn't the only one that hug had reassured, not for one little instant.

"Thank you, Peter." He smiled suddenly. "And the reverse of that offer is true as well."

"You're good, Spengs. Mind reader." No surprise there. He could do that even before we'd shared a body.

"When your face shows your every emotion, mind reading is not precisely a challenge." I liked the sound of that. Egon, finding himself. I hadn't heard anything from the lab in a long time. I wondered if Ray and Winston had been listening. Just as well if they had. They needed to know where we were coming from. I'd nab one of them in the morning and let them know we were starting to shake off the effects.

"Oh yeah? Well, don't forget I got to wade through the Spengler soul, too. There are a few choice things I found out when I was there. Things that would really surprise Janine if she heard about them."

His eyes narrowed. "You wouldn't?"

I waggled my eyebrows wickedly. "What do you think? You were in my mind, too."

He seized on the option gladly. Trying to distract me from Janine. "Well, if you put it like that, Peter, there was something about the last Con Ed bill--"

"Only five days late, Egon. Five lousy days."

"I think the late fee ought to be reimbursed to our account--out of your personal funds--don't you, Peter?"

I'd really meant to do that. Well, I'd pretty much meant to. "Yeah, okay, Egon, but there's still Janine."

"Peter, you are shameless."

We burst out laughing in perfect unison. "Yeah," I said, "And you love it."

He didn't deny it. And that was enough for me.