The day Peter left, none of us believed he meant what he said. The famous Venkman ego would rebound before the day was over, right?

We were wrong. I guess none of us realized quite how bad it shook him that he could have so misread that kid. He blamed himself for his mistake, a mistake that almost got two people killed.

Of course, Egon, Ray, and I recognized that it was a mistake, and understood all too well how he came to make it. Later, though, as I replayed in my head the words he said just before he left, I wasn't so sure that Peter did.

Still, Egon had said to let him go, and he knew Peter best. He's usually been right about that kind of thing in the past, so I kept my thoughts to myself and paid attention to my other two friends.

Ray fretted and watched the doorway, sometimes going downstairs to look in Peter's office. Egon appeared to be fully engrossed in his latest experiment, but I noticed he twitched nearly every time Ray or I moved.

It was a long evening, and Peter didn't come back.

The day started harmlessly enough. We all got a good night's sleep for a change; the load had been light for a few days. Even Peter, last one up as usual, managed coherent words before his first sip of coffee. Really. 'Course, what he said was, "Hey! Where's my cup?"

When you're used to getting "mmrmph" instead of good morning, believe me--any coherent words get your attention.

After breakfast, I was working on Ecto's timing. Peter was in his office, paying bills, while Janine muttered something about chipping a nail. Ray and Egon had their heads together in the lab over their latest gadget, and Slimer was pouting because no one would pay him any attention, and there was no food out for him to slurp up.

Then the kid came in. Who knew what trouble he'd cause?

He was a skinny white kid, about twelve maybe, who hadn't really started growing much yet. I'd never seen him before. He went skidding right past me to tell Janine in a breathless voice that he needed the Ghostbusters, quick.

She looked at him doubtfully, and said she'd just get Dr. Venkman for him. Peter had already noticed his arrival, and was emerging from the door to his office. He didn't look all that happy to see the kid. He called him by name, Justin, I think he said, and asked him what he wanted.

The kid said, "You gotta come quick, Dr. Venkman. Marcia is really in trouble!"

Peter scowled, and Janine said she would tell Ray and Egon there was someone here, and she headed off to the lab. Peter asked the boy if he was telling another tall tale.

Justin turned sullen, and said, "I should have known you wouldn't believe me." He added something else I couldn't quite hear, but it made Peter flinch.

Oh, you might not have called it a flinch, I suppose, but I've known the man long enough to know when someone scores on Peter Venkman. I'd been hanging back, letting Pete handle it; but now, I started moving closer, easing up to give Pete some support.

He just said, "We'll discuss that later. For now, what's your story?"

The kid was silent for nearly a minute, and I watched him stand there. I could see why Pete would think the kid could be lying--his face was sullen, and he looked like he was trying to make up something quick that would get us to come. At the same time, though, he looked uneasy--putting his hands in his pockets, and taking 'em out, jigging from foot to foot. It was hard to tell.

Ray and Egon came clattering down the stairs about then, and the kid finally blurted something about cutting school with a friend named Marcia. She had found an old spell book, and wanted to call up a demon, so they had tried it in his foster parents' house. Turned out she got more than she bargained for, of course, and the demon was threatening to get loose and do some real damage, he said. Ray asked why she would want to call up a demon. He was curious, but also pretty puzzled.

The kid said she didn't believe in demons, so she thought if she tried the spell, and nothing happened, he would see that she was right.

Peter's face changed again. I realized later that he had caught onto the rest of Marcia's reason; seems Justin was a real Ghostbuster wannabe, and if she could prove that demons didn't exist, she could prove that we were liars...

Ray of course wanted to get going right away; but Justin apparently could tell from Peter's face that he wasn't inclined to believe the kid's story, so he said he had to get back and help her even if we wouldn't, and turned around to go.

The three of us all looked to Peter. It was obvious there was something going on that we didn't know about, and it kinda seemed it should be his decision. He grimaced, but asked the kid for the address.

While we were getting our stuff together to go, he told us that he knew the kid from the orphanage. Egon and I exchanged a look on that one; we hadn't known he was still visiting there. Anyway, he said the kid had a reputation as a 'cry wolf' kind of kid, and that he, Peter, had caught the kid telling tall tales to the others at the orphanage about all the busts he'd helped us out on.

Egon said it was only logical to check out Justin's story; even the boy who cried wolf told the truth at least once. Peter was already zipping up his jumpsuit; he just shrugged and started loading stuff in Ecto.

Ray hoped to have the boy ride with us in Ecto so he could ask what the demon looked like and about the book Marcia had found, but the kid had already taken off down the street. The address he had given wasn't far away, so I didn't even turn on the siren.

I don't think anybody said much on the way there. The kid was waiting for us in front of the door of one-half of a double house, waving for us to hurry. We all got out as soon as I parked, and loaded on our throwers; but, although we didn't exactly dawdle, we didn't move with quite our usual urgency, either.

Then the kid flung open the door, and there they were, in the middle of the living room--a red-haired girl of about thirteen, and a big, ugly demon. The girl was shrieking, and her face was so white you could count her freckles.

I saw 'em over Egon's shoulder; he'd gotten to the door first. I could hear the kid behind us saying bitterly, "See? I told you there was a demon."

Give us credit; we've been at this quite a while now. I don't think it was even a full second before all four of us powered up.

Naturally, that was when the demon, who had apparently been trying the limits of the circle time after time, broke free. Ugly sucker grabbed the girl by the hair, and raised its other hand, long wicked claws extended to tear her guts out.

Only one of us could get through the door at a time, and Egon couldn't get a shot at the demon because of the position of the girl. He let out a bellow of rage--I swear I've never heard him make a noise like that before!--and dove for the girl.

The demon still got a pretty good swipe at the girl, and she lost a little hair when Egon yanked her away, but it was nowhere near as bad as it would have been--poor girl had been just about frozen with terror. I guess at that point, she believed in demons.

As I was yelling at Egon to move, I could hear Pete telling Justin to stay outside, out of the way. The kid protested, naturally. "But I need to help Marcia!"

Man, it all happened so much faster than I can tell it! The demon was really ticked off when Egon pulled the girl away, of course; it roared and seemed to grow even larger, backhanding Egon across the room.

With both Egon and the girl down, I had a clear shot at the demon. I moved in, and triggered my thrower. Alarmed, Ray was shouting at Egon to find out if he was all right. Egon moved a little, but didn't answer. We couldn't get to him, you understand; the demon was sorta demanding our attention. Ray triggered his thrower and his stream joined mine.

Peter was still trying to push at the kid, to keep him out; he knew the sound of the throwers even over all the noise that blasted demon was making. As Ray moved in, Peter got a better look inside, and I could hear him telling the kid to find a phone and call 911 for an ambulance, now. The kid went.

I remember Ray yelling to Peter to hurry, but Peter's thrower was already kicking in and a third stream struck that angry motherhucker. The place was getting pretty well trashed, and we were having a hard time keeping the demon away from the girl. I still wasn't sure we were gonna make it, but just then Egon stood up, minus his glasses, and added his stream to ours.

That did it. Not right away, of course; it still took some shouted coordination to move the cussed thing to where someone could throw out a trap. Finally, though, Pete was able to toss his out directly under the demon, and he stomped on the trap hard.

In the sudden silence, we could hear the siren of the approaching ambulance.

When Justin came flying through the door, I was trying to clear a path for the ambulance crew, Ray was checking Egon over, and Peter was on his knees on the floor beside Marcia. He didn't even give the kid a chance to say anything, just asked him if he knew where his foster parents kept a first aid kit.

Anyway, it turned out the girl's injuries were bloody and messy, but not that serious; I think they kept her overnight in the hospital more because she wasn't over being terrified yet. Egon had had the wind knocked out of him, which was why he didn't answer us, and his glasses were broken; but, other than a few technicolor bruises, he was okay.

Pete, on the other hand, wore a very closed expression on his face. I knew something was up with him, but I couldn't tell what he was thinking at all. He made sure that Egon was really all right, and then he didn't say much of anything at all.

After the ambulance left, and while we were waiting for the kid's foster father to get there, I saw Justin go up to Peter like he wanted to say something. I figured the kid was going to lay into him for not believing him, and I started over that way, but all the kid said was, "Why didn't you come check on me like you said you would?"

Pete looked at him for a minute, then said, "Kinda hard to do that without a forwarding address."

I don't know what the kid would have replied to that, because right then his foster dad walked in the door and about croaked when he saw what was left of the living room. First words out of the guy's mouth, though, were to ask the kid if he was okay.

Back at the fire house, once we were unloaded Pete went straight upstairs to find Egon's spare pair of glasses for him. "Sorry, Spengs," he said.

Ray was busy speculating out loud about what demon it might have been that we had tangled with. The demon didn't give us a name, you understand, just made a lot of noise and cursed us out for messing up his game. So Ray went off to check in Tobin's Spirit Guide.

I remembered that it was Egon's turn to cook, so I volunteered to get lunch and left Egon to Janine's tender ministrations. Pete went back in his office, saying something about the bills not paying themselves.

Pete didn't eat much at lunch time, and the way he teased Ray and his gripes about the food sounded kinda half-hearted, so Egon followed him back into his office when the dishes were done. Egon came back out a few minutes later, shaking his head.

"He thinks he screwed up this morning," Egon said.

"Why? Because he didn't believe that kid right off the bat?" I asked. "Neither did I."

"Then I screwed up, too," Janine insisted. "I didn't hit the bell, did I? I know I thought the kid looked like he was up to something as soon as I saw him."

"Gosh, Egon," Ray said, "it was a mistake anybody could have made." He looked really worried. "I mean, Peter's not a mind reader, and even I could see why he would doubt Justin if the boy had a history of telling fibs."

In the end we decided to leave him alone for a while. He really looked like he was getting a lot done in his office, for one thing, and for another, when Pete's in one of his moods, pushing at him will just make him close up more. So Egon went up to lie down for a little while, Ray went back into the lab (rather reluctantly), and I checked out our packs after the morning's use. It was a very quiet afternoon.

Supper didn't go much better, but it wasn't until after he had taken the garbage out that Pete dropped his bombshell and left the three of us gaping at him with our mouths hanging open. Janine had already gone home.

First he said that he had paid all the bills, and brought all our financial records up to date. It wasn't until he told us that he had made notes on everything that might need taking care of in the next few weeks that I started getting uneasy. Then he just said he was going to go away for a while.

Ray was the first to recover his voice. He wanted to know where Peter was going, and why, and for how long... "Is it because of this morning?"

Pete nodded gravely, and said, "Yes, in part." He sighed. "Ray, I have some thinking to do, and some people to talk to."

"You can talk to us," Ray said earnestly.

I remember Pete smiled at him, and ruffled his hair. "I know I can. I just..."

When he trailed off, Egon tried to tell him that what had happened that morning was a perfectly understandable mistake, and that no lasting harm had been done. Ray had called the hospital that afternoon to ask about Marcia, so we knew she was going to be okay. He said that none of them had believed Justin, either.

"But don't you see, Egon, that's just the point," Peter said, which confused heck out of me. "You each contribute something unique to the team--Egon, you're real good on the theory side, and Ray knows the occult, and he can translate your theories into working gizmos like nobody's business. Winston keeps Ecto running smooth even when our budget only allows him paper clips and spit to do it with. The only unique thing I bring to this team is my so-called knowledge of applied psychology. Maybe I should have been able to tell that Justin was telling the truth for once," he said.

We all protested at that, saying that he was only human and that sort of thing, and mentioning how many times he had been right, and really made a difference for us. He just nodded.

"Yeah, I've been right a lot. So maybe I stopped remembering why they call psychology one of the fuzzy sciences and started thinking that I was always gonna be right," he said. "Think about it, guys. If I had believed Justin, or even given him the benefit of the doubt this morning, we would have left right away. Which means we would have gotten there while the circle still held the demon, Ray would have figured out how to send it back where it came from, Marcia wouldn't be hurt, Egon's glasses wouldn't be broken, and the Aldriches wouldn't have an unevenly charbroiled living room." He grimaced. "Anyway, I said it's just for a while. It's not like I'm gonna disappear and never come back."

Nothing we said seemed to change his mind, so Ray and I followed Egon's lead after a while, and just told him to take care and keep in touch, and not stay away too long.

He just said goodbye then, sorta avoiding looking us in the eye, and left, without even a suitcase in his hand.

That's why it seemed easy enough to believe that Egon was right when he said Peter wouldn't be gone long. I noticed that night in the bathroom that Pete's toothbrush was gone. Certainly nothing else seemed to be missing.

The next morning Janine got there before we came down. Looking up from the papers Peter had left on her desk, she said, "Where's Dr. V? I can't believe how efficient he's getting!"

We exchanged glances, and let Egon tell her. I don't think she believed him at first. Not that she thought for a minute that Egon would lie to her, but it seemed so unlikely...

While they were talking, I looked at the notes Peter had said he'd left. It made me nervous when I realized that he had written out the due dates for every bill we could expect for the next three months. I put the papers down, casual-like, when I saw Ray looking over to see what I was doing. He was unhappy enough.

When the third morning came, and we still hadn't seen or heard from Peter, Ray couldn't stand it any more, so we called the police.

I was glad Frump wasn't the one who came; he and Peter have never gotten along, so he probably would have said good riddance, and been, oh, less than helpful, I guess.

The guy who did come was polite and attentive, until we told him what Pete had said about going away for a while. He started shaking his head then, so I told him nothing of Peter's was missing except a toothbrush, and reminded him again of how long Peter had been gone.

The officer thought about it for a minute, then said he'd do a little checking and get back to us. He called the next day to tell us that Peter had taken money out of his account at an ATM near the train station, which probably meant it was a voluntary. He was sympathetic, though--he had said that his kid was a fan of ours--and told us he had asked the bank for videotapes from that ATM to make sure it really was Peter who made the withdrawal and that he was okay when he did it. Then he said he'd get back to us.

Ray decided it had to be his fault--if he hadn't gone away when he thought he had killed Jennifer that time, Peter wouldn't have gotten the idea that he should go away. Egon and I did our best to squash that notion fast; Peter Venkman never needed anybody to give him ideas.

When word came back a day or two later, that it had indeed been Peter, Ray wanted to start calling all of Peter's friends, and trying to find where he had gone. A part of me agreed with him; I kept remembering what it had been like while Ray was gone, and a couple of times I caught an expression on Egon's face that told me he was probably thinking the same thing. But this was different.

Then, Ray had left without goodbye, and we didn't even know if he'd ever come back. Peter had told us he was leaving, and said that it was just 'for a while'.

I asked Ray if he really wanted to do that, to call around and check up on Peter. I reminded him that Pete had at least implied that he was coming back and asked him if he wanted him to think that we didn't trust him to keep his word.

Ray was horrified, of course; it hadn't occurred to him that it might look that way to Peter. So we didn't call anybody, and anybody who called for Peter got told that he was away on a leave of absence.

It wasn't fun around here, let me tell you. Pete can be as exasperating as heck sometimes, but he's sure guaranteed to make you laugh several times a day. None of us have quite his way with a quick quip.

Business was kinda slow, which was good and bad. Good because none of us care for handling big busts when we're short-handed, but bad because it left us too much time to think about why we were short-handed.

Then we got a postcard from Peter.

It was an oversized postcard, with a picture of a biker bar somewhere in South Dakota on the front, and it was addressed to Egon. The handwriting was definitely Peter's even if it was scrunched real small to fit everything in. It read:

Dr. Egon Spengler

Ghostbuster Central

New York, NY 10013

I'm here, wish you were beautiful. Whoops! Wrong postcard - that was supposed to be my message for Frump! Wanted to let you know I'm okay and keeping track of the news from the Big Apple, so I know you haven't blown up the lab yet, you mad scientist, you. Tell Slimer not to get too used to eating my share of the pizza. Ray: I haven't pumped gas for Bill Murray yet. Janine: Hard to believe, I know, but I miss you. Winston: Take care.

P

The last two words were written with a different pen, and it looked like he'd started to write another word after 'take care', but it was too scratched out to read. The only signature was a small 'P'.

That buoyed us all for a while, especially Ray. But Peter still didn't come back.

One evening I happened to be the one who answered the phone when Mrs. Faversham called. She wanted to know if Peter was going to be able to take her to the orphanage the following Saturday as they had planned. I don't think I hesitated too long before I told her that Pete was out of town for a little while, and that he had asked me to substitute for him this once.

"Oh, dear," she said, "the children will miss him. Not that you won't do splendidly, I'm sure, Mr. Zeddemore, but he does get along very well with the children at the orphanage."

We set up a time for me to pick her up on Saturday, and she thanked me and hung up. Of course as soon as I got off the phone, Ray wanted to know who I had been talking to. Egon was curious, too.

"Maybe Mrs. Faversham can tell you a little more about Justin on Saturday," Egon suggested when I had finished explaining.

Bless her heart, she told me lots of things that were really interesting to know, and I didn't even have to ask her many questions; she just talked about Peter and the various times he had taken her to the orphanage to see the children. Seemed to me a couple of the times she mentioned coincided with times Pete had told us rather smugly that he had a date; I'd have to keep that in mind for future reference, I thought, smiling at Mrs. Faversham.

"Of course, he was terribly upset the last time we were there," she said confidingly. "We had had to miss a visit because the four of you were so busy, and Peter was rather anxious to speak with one boy in particular, Justin I believe his name was. But Justin had been placed with a foster family in the meantime, and that new man in the front office, Tuttle or Tudwell his name is, told Peter that he didn't believe it was in the best interests of the child for Peter to have his foster parents' address." She sighed and shook her head. "I felt rather badly for Peter; he was trying very hard to hold on to his temper and explain why it was important, but that wretch wouldn't give him any information at all."

That explained a few things.

I had fun visiting the kids, even if I did get asked more times than I could count where Dr. Venkman was, and Mrs. Faversham clearly had a grand time. I could understand why Peter brought her there.

When I took her home, she thanked me very nicely, and asked me to ask Peter to call her when he got back. I said I would.

But Peter still didn't come back.

I was working on Ecto again when I remembered something I had seen in a TV movie once. A little checking at the library proved it true, too. Seems practicing psychologists periodically visit another psychologist themselves for a sort of, well, call it a reality check, I guess. They're trained to recognize that they're not going to be very good at applying what they've learned to themselves and their own problems. That part certainly sounded like Peter.

If by 'practicing psychologist' they meant strictly someone with an office and a couch and a string of weekly patients, then Peter probably wouldn't qualify. I thought the definition should be a little more flexible; ever since I'd known him, Peter had been watching people and applying what he'd learned to make 'em feel better. Heck, at least half of his outrageous behavior around us was some kind of therapy for whatever blues or blahs or guilts Egon or Ray or I had gotten into. That's why we put up with it!

Which led me to think about all the stuff that had happened to us recently, all the things that could throw somebody off kilter--like Nexa, for instance. Peter had said himself that he was three-quarters convinced all three of us had drowned. And Watt, and the Wizard's comic book, the demon in the camera, Ray's disappearance, the spell that turned Peter into a cat, the visit from a werewolf, all the various times one or more of us had been injured, threatened, thumped on, kidnapped, bespelled, or what have you...

The three of us had a skilled psychologist on call, night and day. Who did Peter have?

Don't get me wrong--the three of us were there for him. Egon is real good at sussing out problems Peter is having--if he's paying attention; he gets mad at himself sometimes when he's gotten too caught up in an experiment or something, and lost track of something he should have noticed. Ray has enough empathy for the four of us, so he's always ready to listen if Peter complains. Trouble is, Pete doesn't complain much when it's serious. And me, well, I've been around long enough to know how to cope with most things myself, but I don't always know what to say to somebody else. So, anyway, he had friends, good, solid friends.

But that's not quite the same, is it? As having a psychologist around like we did, I mean.

Peter had said he had things to think about and people to talk to. Maybe it was just one person he wanted to talk to, and that person another psychologist. I certainly couldn't remember any time when he had had the opportunity to do something like that since I'd known him.

Of course, he had been taking Mrs. Faversham to the orphanage fairly regularly, and we hadn't known that; so maybe I was all wet. Which is why I didn't say anything about what I was thinking to Egon or Ray.

I didn't do anything about it for a while, either. But it kept getting gloomier and gloomier around the place, and finally I couldn't stand it any more.

So I checked with Columbia's alumni office to see if I could find out about any of Pete's classmates who had also become psychologists. I was half prepared to be told to get lost, so I was pleasantly surprised when the lady there was very helpful. Soon I had a nice little list of names and addresses.

None of 'em were in South Dakota, but there was one in upstate New York...

I thought about it for a day or two, and then I called Dr. Avalia's office at about ten minutes to the hour. Maybe he'd refuse to talk to me, but it couldn't hurt to try.

I gave my name and said I wanted to talk to the doctor about Peter Venkman, an old classmate of his. The receptionist put me on hold, and I figured that was it.

But, a minute or two later, Dr. Avalia was on the line. "Mr. Zeddemore?" he said. "You understand I can't tell you anything about what Peter and I have discussed."

I nearly whooped out loud, because he'd just told me the thing I most wanted to hear; instead, I just told him that yes, I understood that, I was just hoping that he could help me get in touch with Peter.

There was a silence on the line for a moment, so I said, "Look, I'm not going to bust his chops for leaving, and I don't intend to try to drag him back or anything, but I do need to talk to him."

There was a slight noise on the line that sounded suspiciously like a faint snort of laughter, but Avalia asked, "Is it an emergency? Has one of his friends been injured?"

"No, no, we're all fine," I reassured him, "but I really do have to talk to him."

"Would you be planning this talk over the telephone or face to face?"

I said 'face to face', and then he did laugh. "I should have known better," he said. "I never have won a bet against Peter Venkman."

I had no idea what that was about, but I didn't get a chance to ask, because he was already asking me when I was going to be in town. I said something brilliant, like "Uh..." and then I said, "Tomorrow?"

"Fine," he replied. "Stop into my office about ten minutes before the hour whenever you get here, and I'll be able to give you a few minutes between patients. I'll have an address for you."

Thankfully, we didn't get any calls that night. The next morning I told Ray and Egon that I had a family problem I had to take care of, and that I would be back that night. Both of 'em offered to help with whatever it was, of course, but I convinced them that it wasn't necessary.

The flight to Rochester was short and uneventful. I rented a car, bought a map, and found my way to the doctor's office. When I gave my name to the receptionist, she said that I was expected and asked me to have a seat for just a moment.

Marco Avalia was short, dark, and good-looking in a Mediterranean sort of way, with just a hint of gray at the temples. His grip on my hand was firm when we shook. "So," he said, "you don't intend to 'bust his chops', I believe was the phrase you used, or drag him back if he's unwilling to go."

I shook my head. "We're all kinda worried about him."

The doctor smiled. "He told me he had some very good friends." He pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket, and handed it to me. "That's where he's staying. And actually, I think your timing is rather good."

As I was saying thanks, he looked at his watch. "I doubt you'll find him at that address now, however," he said, and, reaching for another slip of paper, he scribbled something else down. "Why don't you try here first?"

It was another address.

From what I could tell from the map, the two addresses looked like they weren't too far apart, so it wouldn't be hard to check both in a fairly short period of time.

The address I was supposed to check first turned out to be on a wide street full of big old houses, and some of the house numbers were hard to find. I had almost driven past the place I was looking for when I realized that I had seen Peter sitting on the front steps of a very large old house painted different shades of brown. In the quick glimpse that I got through the bushes around the house's property, it seemed to me that he looked tired.

I parked the car down the street a ways, and walked back to stand where I could see him but he probably wouldn't be able to see me. He was seated on the second step, leaning back against a porch column beside the steps, with his eyes closed. He did look tired, and his eyes were faintly red-rimmed.

As I watched, a woman came out of the door behind him, and put a hand on his shoulder. When he looked up, she gave him a glass of lemonade. She looked to be about thirty, wearing little or no makeup. She wore sneakers, jeans, and a t-shirt, and a light blue jacket like a doctor or a dentist might wear, and her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She looked tired, too. I suppose I should be ashamed to say it, but I'm afraid I eavesdropped then.

"I don't know how you talked her into coming here," the woman was saying, "but having his mother visit was about the best medicine Joseph could get right now."

"He's still going to die," Peter said after sipping at his lemonade. His voice sounded matter-of-fact, and the woman just nodded.

"Yes, he's still going to die. But he's not going to die alone, and he's doesn't have to be afraid now that he's going to die unloved and unforgiven," she told him. "That's quite a gift you gave him."

Peter sort of half shrugged. For a guy who loves compliments, he never has been very good at handling ones that come because of something nice he's done for somebody.

It was then that I got a look at what I had missed when I drove by: there was a sign over the front porch that said St. Mary's Hospice.

The woman shook her head. "Dr. Venkman, you're exhausted. Why don't you go get some sleep?"

He gave her a faint grin. "I will if you will," he told her.

She shook her head again, took the half-empty lemonade glass from him, and went back inside. Pete leaned his head back against the column again and closed his eyes.

After a minute or so, I walked up the sidewalk to stand right in front of him. I don't think he heard me, because when I said, "Need a lift?" his eyes sure popped open in a hurry.

He blinked a couple of times, but all he said was, "A hand up would be a good start." So I held out my hand, and he took it. I pulled him to his feet.

"Come on," he said, "let me show you my grand domicile."

I followed him out to the sidewalk, but put up a hand to stop him when he turned left instead of right when we got off the hospice's property. "Car's this way," I said.

He shook his head. "Don't need it." He cut between the next two houses, coming out on the next street, and crossed it, going into the third house on the right. It was another building that had once been a beautiful old home, but it had been broken up into apartments and efficiencies.

'Grand domicile' was certainly a misnomer; Peter's place was a one room hole in the wall that barely had room for both of us to stand up in at the same time, but it was neat and tidy. He asked me if I wanted something to drink, and I sat down on the day bed to get out of the way while he got something from the refrigerator.

Now that I had him in front of me, I wasn't exactly sure what I wanted to say. I was still fishing for a way to start when he sat down, too, and asked me if Ray and Egon knew where I was.

I said, "No, I just told them I had a family problem to take care of." His eyes got a little bright at that, and he blinked several times, but he just sort of dipped his head and didn't say anything.

"They're worried about you, Pete."

"I know," he said guiltily. "Look, I've got...a promise to keep, and it'll probably take a day or two. But then..."

I punched him lightly on the upper arm. "We'll be waiting for you."

His smile then was about all the thanks I needed. It wasn't full of mischief like it usually was, but it was warm and sincere. "Can I ask you another favor?" he said. "Don't tell 'em yet, okay? I mean, I wouldn't want Ray to be disappointed if he were expecting me at a specific day and time, and I didn't make it because I got hung up here for a day or two." Then he yawned.

It was a big, gaping, uncontrollable yawn, and I chuckled. "If I agree to that, will you get some sleep?"

I stood up, and he yawned again, and started to lie down on the day bed. I made him take his shoes off first, but I think he was asleep about two seconds later. I stopped back at Avalia's office to leave a note saying thanks with his receptionist, and then I caught a flight back to New York. When I got back to the fire house, both Ray and Egon asked me if I had been able to take care of things okay. I told them that things had turned out really well.

It was hard not to tell them, and hard not to act differently than I had been. But I understood what Pete meant, and I had agreed to his request...

Every now and then, though, I caught Egon looking at me like he was wondering about something. At least he didn't ask any questions I couldn't answer.

Let's see, I think it was the third day after I'd been upstate. We had gotten a call about four o'clock in the morning, and we got back to the fire house about ten, tired, dirty, and a little grumpy. Janine was waiting for us, all wide-eyed and excited.

"He's here!" she said. "He was here when I got here this morning!" Slimer came swooping at us about then, so excited his gabble was even harder to understand than usual. We could all tell that he was saying that Peter was back, though.

And Pete was there, sitting in his office, going over the books. He looked up and smiled at us then.

"Peter!" Ray yelled, and went charging in there, with the rest of us trailing behind. Peter stood up when he saw Ray coming, but Ray still nearly knocked him down with the force of his hug. "Are you okay?" Ray demanded. "When did you get back? Are you staying? Gosh, it's so good to see you!"

Peter laughed and ruffled Ray's hair. He looked better than he had the last time I'd seen him, rested and happier. "Slow down, Tex," he said, winking at me. "I'm fine, this morning, yes, and it's good to see you, too!"

I had to laugh then when Ray goggled at him for a second until he figured out that Peter was answering all his questions; then he laughed, too. Peter came out from behind the desk, and Egon gave him a hug, although it was a little more restrained than Ray's. "Welcome home, Peter," he said solemnly.

I waited until Pete was free again, and wrapped an arm around his neck and pulled him close so I could muss his hair up completely. He rolled his eyes at me. "I came back for this?" he complained.

But when I went to let him go, he hugged me quick, and whispered, "Thanks."

"Are you really going to stay?" Ray asked then. "What did you do while you were gone?"

Pete looked at me, then back at Ray. "Let's just say I got an up close and personal look at how tough it can be for a psychologist out there in the real world, and I decided I'm better off right here."

It must have been quite a scene there for while. Pete leaned one hip against the side of his desk, watching Ray, who was eagerly describing every bust we'd been on and every gadget he and Egon had built since Peter had been here last. Pete kept grinning, and encouraging him to go on. Egon looked more relaxed than he had in weeks, and Janine stood near him, smiling and smiling. Slimer hovered around Peter, getting closer and closer until he sort of draped himself around Pete's neck.

"Sli-mer!" he yelled, sounding disgusted, but he didn't even make one of his usual mock threats to make the spud go away. We all laughed when he shuddered at the feel of ectoplasmic goo going down his collar.

Over? Hey, stories get over; this is our life. I imagine there are still a few things we have to talk about.

Anyway, Peter was back to being Peter already--watching our reactions, and gauging his behavior accordingly. I counted three puns and two bad jokes in about ten minutes! Egon would, or more likely

already had, figured out some of the same things I did, so I knew he'd want a few minutes to talk with Peter. But he had to wait for Ray to run down, which would take a while, because Ray had started telling Peter about all the women who called looking for him while he was gone...