PART TWO

For the first time in four years, Peter Venkman felt safe. Safe, warm, protected. He was surrounded by his real family, his lover, his home. Everything felt as it should be.

So, why the hell am I jittery? Peter frowned.

"Would you like some cocoa?"

Peter looked up at Egon, whose arm had snaked its way around his waist almost reflexively. "Sure. You might have to let me go so that you can make it, though." He grinned.

"Never." Egon replied with a tiny smile, sneaking in a quick kiss before heading into the kitchen. Peter almost laughed when he saw that Egon looked back quickly to make sure he was still there.

His gaze left the kitchen door and traveled around the rec room and spotted what looked like a photo album sitting on the coffee table. Spurred by curiosity, he walked around the wrap-around couch and reached out to pick up the book.

*FLASH*

Sadness... Grief… Heart-rending despair…

*FLASH*

Peter gasped, snatching his hand back as if he had been struck by lightning. "What the hell…?" He shook his head vigorously and reached out again. Seeing nothing happen, he opened it to the middle of the album.

The wedding. Peter grinned as he sat down. The one picture that took up one whole page by itself was of the ceremony itself, where he and Egon had just kissed. They were dressed in different colored tuxedos, Peter wearing traditional black with a bow tie, his hair a little messy from Winston giving him an impromptu noogie during their little pep talk. He had his arms around Egon’s neck and one of them had snuck into Egon’s hair.

God, Egon looked great. Peter remembered smiling when he saw Egon waiting at the altar in a white, pristine tux with a dark blue bow tie. He had changed his red-rimmed glasses for ones with blue frames that had a tendency to want to slip down his nose even more than his regular pair did. In the picture, Egon had his arms around Peter’s waist, and they were looking into each other’s eyes with a very Norman Rockwell feeling, full of "happily ever after", "I love you", and "We’ll be together forever.".

The very cynical part in Peter’s mind snorted. Yeah, right. Bet "happily ever after" never applied to the Netherworld.

He turned to the very last page of the photo album, surprised to find one of his own letters to Egon tucked into the pocket in the cover. Sure, they had just realized how much they really loved and were in love with each other, but that didn’t stop real life from rearing its ugly head. With classes and seminars and such to attend, Egon came back to the apartment the three shared at very late hours, or they’d always just miss each other. Well, he had been horny and getting very desperate, so Peter had resorted to love letters.

As Peter’s fingers brushed the yellowed paper…

*FLASH*

Someone sighed deeply. The world was weighing down on their shoulders so much that the bones couldn’t have possibly handled the strain.

Blur.

A tear drop?

Clear.

Remember what he said, Petey. Focus. Find the visual impressions.

Lines swathed themselves at seemingly absurd angles through the splash of colors, creating light and shadow, flat and wavy, giving movement and depth to the picture.

Egon… A faraway voice that Peter barely recognized as his own.

Yes, it was Egon. An Egon with tears running down his face unchecked, nose angry and red. His blue eyes were very dark, almost a blue-black color, devoid of hope, full of despair. An Egon that Peter never wanted to see.

The tear-streaked Egon spoke once, but nothing was heard. The view was obscured briefly by a weakened, gentle hand.

A flash like a camera that was too close to Peter’s eyes blinded the observer, replacing Egon with another man. Rust-colored hair fell in a disheveled mess, dark brown eyes that were black in the dim lighting peered down with a mixture of wonder and guilty curiosity.

There was a peculiar unfolding quality, like the onlooker had been holding his coat closed, and someone had firmly taken the lapels and opened it as wide as it could go, and a more intense stare from the man. From the dark red that suddenly splashed itself on the young man’s face, Peter could tell immediately this was Ray.

Ray looked up from the letter to glance around nervously, afraid he’d be caught by one of the guys, and seeing nobody, he turned back to the letter.

What did I write in the letter? The watcher asked. Taking a deep breath, he switched bodies, as it were, with Ray.

Spengs,

I can’t wait. I want you. I need you so badly, I can’t think straight at all. Yeah, you’d come up with some witty comment about how I never think straight at all, but I mean it. Ray’ll be at that spooks seminar tonight, so we’ll have the apartment to ourselves. Just think of the way I’m going to touch you, taste you, smell your skin. I’m going to make mad passionate love to you, and you’re going to like it, Egon. I’ll be waiting.

-Peter

PS. Don’t you dare think about blowing yourself up in another of those experiments of those!

The observer jumped. Huh? Ray?…!

"Peter, please." The thought continued uninterrupted, like a tape recording. "Please, come back. Peter, Egon’s… he’s-he’s"

*FLASH*

"Peter."

Peter’s head jerked up, surprised to see Egon looking down at him, two mugs of cocoa in his hand. The album fell to the floor with a thud.

"I’ve been trying to get your attention…Peter?" Egon stopped when he saw that the psychologist was shaking. "Are you all right?"

Peter blinked, looking at him with a confused expression on his face. "Huh?"

Egon sat down, picking up the album and setting it on the coffee table absently. "Peter, you’re sweating and you look pale. Are you well?"

Peter took a few calming breaths and then heaved a deep sigh. "It’s nothin’, Spengs." He shook his head. "Just a little dizzy is all." Egon frowned, but didn’t call him on it.

Ahh, shit. Peter cursed mentally. He knows I’m lying, and he knows that I know.

"Well, I finished the cocoa." Egon offered him a mug, which Peter accepted gratefully…

*FLASH*

"Egon, you can’t keep going on like this." Soft voice. His own?

"I do not know what you are talking about."

"Bullshit!" The observer could feel a rattle. The mug must have been disturbed. "Egon, you’re walking yourself ragged. You haven’t slept in three days, and you haven’t eaten in two. Now, dammit, you tell me what’s wrong, or I’m gonna pop you one so hard, you’ll be feeling it next Tuesday!"

Oh, how smart is that? Egon doesn’t respond to physical threats that well, idiot.

"You will find that I am not as easily intimidated as I appear."

"Look, I know I still have outsider status, but c’mon! At least talk with Ray or Winston about it, if you’re not gonna talk to me. You need to be able to—"

"May I ask where this line of questioning is heading?" Egon drawled condescendingly. "I see no reason why this concerns you."

"Translation, stay the fuck outta your business. Yeah, right." The voice got lower, like he was closer to Egon and whispering in his ear. The surge of heat from the stranger’s anger made it uncomfortably hot for the onlooker. "Ray was almost killed today because you were so goddamned tired."

There was an injection of guilt that spiked through the wave of heat, the ice-white pick stabbing through the dark red.

"Pete—Jason!"

Huh? What the hell is going ON here?! The onlooker blinked.

The red wave of anger flared into a blaze of frustration. "I’m not him, Egon. I’d appreciate it if you at least remembered my name."

"Jason, I apol—Jason!"

The sound of a door thrown open. The watcher got the sensation of a mist of flames as the head poked through the door again. "I’ll come back when you get your head out of your ass and rejoin the real world."

"Jason, come back here!" Egon said sharply. SLAM! "Jason!"

*FLASH*

"Peter!"

Peter looked up at Egon again, who was now frowning at him with no small amount of concern. "Yeah?"

"I insist you tell me what happened." There was no arguing with that voice. Egon must’ve been perfecting it since college.

"Egon…" Peter started slowly, taking a deep breath and setting the cocoa down untouched on the coffee table. He blew out his breath in frustration, and turned to the scientist, who was now sitting down next to him.

"I’m listening, Peter." There was no mistaking the bite from irritation in his tone, but it was smoothed a little by the gentle look of concern.

"Don’t get me wrong, Spengs. I want to tell you, I really do." Peter started, feeling like an idiot even as he spoke. "But, I can’t." He turned away to lean forward and rest his arms on his knees.

"How so?"

"It," Peter stopped uncomfortably, and then abruptly shook his head. "Well, let’s just say that a lot happened when I was gone."

Egon’s expression grew tighter with worry. "Like what?"

Peter squirmed a little. "I can’t, Egon." He whispered, shaking his head. "I… I don’t want to think about that now."

Egon sighed. "Peter, I have a feeling that you will need to overcome your fears. When you do…"

Peter turned to give Egon a reassuring smile. "You’ll be the first one I turn to, Spengs."

"Thank you."

Peter leaned back and leaned against the blond physicist, smiling as Egon’s arm snaked around his waist again. He rested his head on the scientist’s shoulder and sighed in contentment before his thoughts wandered back to the flashback.

"Spengs?"

"Yes, Peter?" Egon snuggled closer to his lover, brushing his cheek against the dark hair.

Peter reached out and touched the ring that hung around Egon’s neck. Egon didn’t miss the movement and brought up his left hand to hold Peter’s right and stroke it soothingly.

"Did you guys have any trouble with any ghosts while I was…gone?"

"We had some difficulties, but nothing that we couldn’t handle."

"What about the ghosts that demon released? There must’ve been at least five that needed all four throwers, and those were some of the easier busts before Big and Ugly made his first appearance." Peter looked up with a small frown. "Did Janine go with you guys to bust the rest of them?"

Egon looked down at him and shook his head. "She was too busy answering calls to come with us."

"Louis?" Peter asked, preparing to wince.

Egon smiled at the almost frightened look on Peter’s face. "No, we made sure to send him on vacation to make sure he would not be in danger. We would have done the same for Janine, but she was most insistent that she remain here."

"That’s our girl." Peter quirked a smile. "So, who took the fourth thrower?"

When Egon grew quiet, Peter snuggled closer into his side and lifting his head. "Egon, it’s all right. You guys needed someone to take the fourth thrower. I know that you guys wouldn’t want to, but you couldn’t have done the job with just the three of you. Hell, that’s why we hired Winston in the first place, remember?"

Egon sighed, the arm he had wrapped around Peter’s waist tightened noticeably. "Peter…" He frowned, doubt and worry evident in his eyes.

"Shhh…" Peter quieted him, lifting his hand that still held the ring to Egon’s lips. "Spengs, I wasn’t here, with you. I was trapped in the Netherworld, and I sure as hell couldn’t do much good to anybody there. I didn’t die, but I was as good as dead to you and the guys. You didn’t know how I was doing, if I had even survived or not. You guys needed to keep busting ghosts. It’s what we do, and I think that if any of us died in the line of duty, they’d want the other three to keep going."

Egon’s eyes darkened. "Peter…"

Peter shook his head gently. "Hang on a sec, Spengs, lemme finish. I wanted you to know that I’m not surprised. Considering how dangerous the goobers were before we met with their boss, it was either get another full time Ghostbuster, or risk our secretary." Peter grinned. "And you can just imagine how mad she’d get if she broke a nail because a Class Five sent her flying."

Egon smiled a little at that.

Peter sat up a little to rest his forehead against Egon’s. "Don’t blame yourself for finding another Ghostbuster, Egon." He was about to say something more when someone trudged up the stairs, carrying a lot of shopping bags and grunting. When the new arrival caught sight of Egon, he sighed in frustration.

"Egon! There you are!" Surprised, Egon turned to face him. "I yelled that I was back from making the food run, or was I—"

Then his gaze landed on Peter.

Peter turned as well, sweeping over the man with an appraising eye.

Green-grey eyes widened at him, looking frightened but at the same time almost elated. He was built like an athlete, with shoulders that were a little broad and a trim waist. Hair that was more brown than auburn hung in limp, wet strings that hung down his back in a tangled mess. The stranger was wearing a Columbia sweatshirt and a pair of faded jeans that Peter recognized as his. If Peter was surprised, he wasn’t about to let it show.

"My God…" The man whispered, dumping the bags on the floor and walking closer as Peter stood quickly. The man was a little shorter than Peter, but only by an inch or two. The man glanced at Egon for a second. "When you said we looked alike, you weren’t kidding, were you?" He turned back to Peter. "You’re Peter Venkman, aren’t you?"

"Maybe. Who the hell are you?" Peter snarled. He didn’t like this; it made him nervous, and he didn’t like feeling nervous. "And why are you wearing my clothes?"

Egon sighed, gently touching Peter’s arm. Peter didn’t miss the bewildered look in the guy’s eyes. "I believe some introductions are in order. Yes, Jason, this is Peter Venkman. Peter, this is Jason McFellan. Our fourth Ghostbuster."