Winston shook his head with a sigh as he looked into the hospital room, watching Peter’s tense frame hover protectively over Egon’s pale form on the bed, a pale form that hadn’t wakened in the three days after the bust. Peter was cradling Egon’s hand in both of his, absently chafing it as if it would rouse the physicist. His green eyes were locked on Egon’s face, never straying from the pale features even when Ray came in with more coffee.

"Excuse me, Mr. Zeddemore?"

Winston turned around to see a middle-aged man in a white doctor’s coat and a clipboard held in one hand. "Yeah?"

"Dr. Spengler should do just fine. He’s suffering from heavy smoke inhalation, so it may take a while for him to fully recover from it. Still, I’d hope for the best." He spared a look at the strung-out psychologist sitting in the chair next to the bed. "However, I don’t think I can say the same for your friend there." He gave Winston a serious look. "He really needs bed rest. Caffeine isn’t the best solution for him."

"You don’t know Pete, Doc." Winston shook his head, his eyes wandering to watch the anxious psychologist again. "When one of us is hurt on the job, he doesn’t sleep."

The doctor shook his head. "You two really need to keep an eye on him. From the way’s he’s acting, you’d think the other half of his soul was on that bed."

Winston was about to reply to that when he stopped himself. *The other half of his soul?* he thought to himself. Yeah, Peter and Egon had a friendship that was so complicated and full of opposites that it seemed almost an impossibility that the two would even tolerate the other’s presence. Yet, they not only disproved that misconception, they had such a strong bond between them it was difficult for Winston to fully understand it, much less put it into words. Winston sharpened his gaze on the two in question.

Egon lay as motionless as when the EMTs had drove the unconscious man to the hospital three days ago. His face was paler than usual, almost as white as the sheets of his hospital bed, and the hand held so gently in both of Peter’s looked as fragile as a bird’s foot. The blond hair was still the tangled mass it was when it had been disturbed when the fire-demon had ripped off the gas mask, tumbling in unruly waves and curls to the pillow limply. From time to time, the breeze coming in through the open window would ruffle the thick, blond tresses, but that was the only movement that shifted the physicist’s hair. The dark blue eyes were closed, and the serious expression that Egon had schooled his face into had been smoothed away by unconsciousness, leaving a younger, idealistic scientist who appeared to be merely resting

Egon’s self-appointed protector was another story. While everything about Egon’s still form spoke of an ominous peacefulness, Peter’s spoke of an almost electric tension which almost threatened to spark off onto any unfortunate enough to be close by when it did. The dark brown hair hung in limp, frazzled waves that framed a face that was almost as pale as the unconscious scientist’s. Green eyes with dark smudges underneath of them rested on the blonde man’s face, sometimes traveling down to the elder man’s chest and hands, only to snap back to the face, desperate for some sign, an imperceptible shift against the pillow, a soft sigh that meant Egon was only dreaming, anything. For three days, the psychologist had been living on coffee and breathing in Egon’s still form as if it were enough to live on.

The doctor was right. Under the dark brown jumpsuit that seriously needed to be changed for something else, Winston knew that Peter had been neglecting food, eating only small bites of any food that Ray or he had brought up for the silent psychologist. The dark-skinned man knew that Peter needed a decent meal and a night’s rest, with possibly a long, hot bath, but as Zeddemore examined Peter’s face again, he knew that his chances of getting the stubborn green-eyed scientist were next to nothing.

"Winston?" He turned to see Ray, who offered him a cup of coffee as he looked at him with a worried brown gaze. "Are you okay?"

Winston shook his head in response, accepting the warm mug and taking a sip. He could feel a slow warmth spread down throughout his body as hot coffee traveled down his throat. "Peter’s taking it hard."

"Yeah…" Ray’s expression grew somber, turning his helpless gaze to the brown-haired Ghostbuster.

"Ray, we need to get him back to the firehouse."

Ray snorted with a rueful smile. "He’s not going to leave Egon alone here."

Winston shook his head as an idea began to take form. "Egon won’t be alone. I’ll be here. You and Peter head home, and we’ll take shifts watching over Egon. Did you talk to Janine?"

Ray nodded. "I made sure to ask her to reschedule the busts we’ve got lined up for next week. The only bust I’m really worried about is that one on Long Island."

Winston sighed. "It’ll hafta do for now, but we can’t go on like this for too long..."

Ray gave Winston a long look. "He’s going to wake up, Winston. I know he will."

"I’d rather see him up and walking around myself." Winston told him softly.

"I know." Ray agreed just as softly. "But Egon’s gonna pull through. He has to."

"The doctor said that it’s heavy smoke inhalation, but the hospital’s not sure."

Ray nodded. "I went back to Steven and Greg’s house to check for any residuals, but…"

"Nothing?" he asked. The engineer gave him a rueful smile and nodded.

Winston shook his head. "I don’t like how that thing just vanished." He had a *bad* feeling about this.

"You think it’ll come back?" Ray asked with an alert frown.

"I dunno, homeboy." Winston sighed and turned a half-worried half-wondering gaze on Peter and Egon. "But I do know that if Egon doesn’t wake up soon, Pete’s gonna be an even bigger mess than he is now."

Ray didn’t answer, opting for a somber silence that was unusual for him. It seemed as though the pair would have spent the rest of the night standing a silent vigil over Peter and Egon when Ray broke the silence.

"Winston?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you know if Janine’s at the firehouse now?"

Winston shook his head. "I let her go home around five-thirty. She said that there was family trouble, but she should be okay."

Ray nodded, not too sure what to say to that exactly. "Okay."

Winston shot him a questioning look, but the redheaded Ghostbuster only shook his head as if to say, "Don’t worry about it. I’ve got it covered."

Ray stepped back into the room, the usually sprightly bounce in his step a bit subdued when his dark brown eyes fell on Egon’s form. "Hey, Peter."

The dark-haired psychologist didn’t move until he felt a warm, square hand squeeze his shoulder reassuringly.

<God, don’t, Ray.> Peter thought with resignation. <Don’t give me sympathy right now. I swear, I’m gonna fall apart if you do…>

"Peter?"

Peter didn’t have to look up to know the dark brown eyes were gazing at him with concern. He could almost feel the sadness from here. "Yeah, Ray?"

"Are you okay?" Ray winced. It was obvious that the question was pretty stupid, but Peter didn’t seem to hear him.

"You know what he reminds me of?"

"What who reminds you of?" Ray frowned.

"Spengs."

Ray dragged the chair that Peter had abandoned some time ago to sit on the railing of the scientist’s bed. and sat down. "What does he remind you of?" he asked gently.

"There was this one summer. I must’ve been fourteen, maybe fifteen. Anyway, my dad had dumped me off with another carnival, but this year since I was old enough, one of the animal trainers said that I could help him out with the birds."

Glancing to see Ray’s puzzled expression, Peter explained, "It was a traveling fair in Maryland, I think. And since it was one of those fairs like in the Renaissance, there were falconers there that showed off what the birds could do. Well, I got to help train one of them. It must’ve been a little older than a fledgling, but I remember the grip that that falcon had on my arm. Sometimes, I could feel the talons through the leather glove that we had to wear so the birds wouldn’t claw our arms all to hell."

Peter’s gaze seemed lost in the past now, remembering the summers where his father practically abandoned him to various carnivals and county fairs, leaving him prey to the seedier sides of life at such a young age. "Yeah… The bird had a strong grip, like it was scared it was gonna fall off if I swung my arm around too fast. But it was… delicate." He ran his fingers over the soft skin of the physicist’s hands. "Like if I rubbed one of it’s feet, it would snap in half."

Ray looked at him with a frown, his concern growing. "You must be pretty tired from staying here." He knew he was being a bit obvious, but if it took hitting Peter over the head with a food tray from downstairs to get him to go home, Ray would be asking for the heaviest kind they had. "Why don’t we head back home?"

Peter shook his head. "I can’t leave him here alone. What if he wakes up and I’m not there?"

"You won’t be leaving Egon alone." Ray shot a quick glance at the black man, some of his doubt beginning to surface. Winston nodded silently, urging the engineer to continue. "Winston’ll be here in case Egon wakes up while you’re gone." It took a bit of effort to sound assured that Egon would wake up, Ray was surprised to find, but he wasn’t sure if Peter heard it in his voice or not.

"No way, Stantz." Peter said with a firm voice. "I’m gonna make damn sure I’m here for Egon when he wakes up, and if that means I gotta bring his whole mold collection to get him to open his eyes, I’ll cover the whole room in it."

"Egon hasn’t woken up in three days-" Ray grimaced as soon as the words ran out of his mouth. Peter visibly flinched.

"That doesn’t matter." Peter’s tone had more steel in it now. "I’m staying."

"Peter, please…"

Winston shook his head and joined the two. "You need bed rest, and if we leave you here, you’re not gonna get it. Now, you’re about to fall asleep on your feet any minute, you haven’t eaten a decent meal in three days, and you need a shower. Bad."

Peter turned a hard green glare on the black man, but Winston ignored it.

"Now, are you going to go back to the firehouse with Ray of your own free will, or am I gonna have to knock you upside your head until you do?"

Peter’s glare intensified, but when he saw the determination in the other man’s eyes, he finally gave in with a deep sigh. "Okay, okay. Let it never be said that Peter Venkman passes up a free nap." He tried a winning smile, but it came out looking ill.

"C’mon, Peter." Ray urged him with a firm hand on the psychologist’s shoulder. "As soon as you eat something and get some sleep, I promise I’ll bring you back."

"Don’t forget the shower, man." Winston reminded the occultist with a grin. "If he doesn’t change clothes, we’ll hafta burn them just to keep them from stinking up the house. Hey, isn’t it your turn to do the laundry this week anyway, Pete?"

Peter grumbled something under his breath, but before he could do anything else, Ray was already pushing him from behind with his hands on the green-eyed scientist’s shoulders and out of the hospital room. Echoes of "oh, it’ll be great, Peter!" followed close behind a remark that Winston couldn’t hear. His grin turned into a fond smile, but as his worried gaze returned to Egon’s still body, the smile faded.

*Man, I hope you know what you’re doing, Egon. Pete can’t take much more of this... I don’t think any of us can...*