By Elaine Batterby

That day dawned overcast and dismal. The temperature had not gone down much during the night, so even before mid-morning, the heat and humidity hung in a heavy haze on the horizon. People on the street looked
sullen as the heat radiated from the sidewalks, and everywhere around the city tempers were short.

"Is Peter up yet?" Egon Spengler demanded in harsh tones as he entered the kitchen. "He didn't take the garbage out before he went out on his date last night."

Auburn-haired Ray Stantz looked up in surprise. "He must have taken it out when he got in, Egon, 'cos it's not here."

"Since when do you expect Pete to be up before noon on a Saturday when we don't have a bust, anyway?" asked Winston Zeddemore. He meant it to come out humorously, but he was not entirely successful.
Uncharacteristically, the lanky blond had been on the psychologist's case for the past couple of days, and for things that would ordinarily have produced only amused exasperation. Winston couldn't understand what was going on, but he knew he didn't particularly like it.

Instead of replying, the physicist merely tightened his lips, as if he suspected one or both of his companions of covering for the target of his ire.

"Is something wrong, Egon?" Ray asked. "I know the heat is getting to all of us, but you really seem, well..." His voice trailed off.

Spengler resettled his red-framed glasses and said tersely, "I'll be in the lab."


The sun peeped out from behind the clouds around ten-thirty, but no one in the old firehouse saw it. The brown-haired Venkman was still abed, Egon did not come out of his lab, and Winston washed Ecto-1 while Ray recharged their proton packs.

By eleven-thirty, the glimpse of sun was gone, and a strong wind had come up, sending tree branches flailing against the sky. People in the street and thirsty window boxes and kitchen gardens looked up, hoping that
now it would rain; but, although the sky muttered and grumbled all around them, no drops fell.


At ten minutes past noon, Peter Venkman came slowly down the stairs. A dark purple bruise over his right cheekbone stood out sharply against his pale face, and he looked tired. The psychologist yawned widely, then winced and fingered his cheek with a sigh.

Yawning again, a little less extravagantly, he stumbled into the kitchen in search of coffee. Reaching fumble-fingered for a cup, he noticed that a fresh pot of coffee started by some kind-hearted soul was just dripping its last few drops from the brewing basket. Gratefully, he poured himself a cup of the steaming dark liquid.

Winston, who had had his head in the refrigerator, ostensibly trying to figure out what to make for lunch, frowned when he got a look at his friend's face. "You and Julie have a disagreement last night?" he asked
lightly.

"Ha, ha," said Peter with a grimace. He took a restoring slurp of coffee. "As a matter of fact, Julie and I played chicken last night with a drunk driver who wanted the sidewalk." Gingerly, he touched his cheek,
then rolled his green eyes. "The sidewalk won."

"Good grief!" the black man exclaimed. "Is Julie all right? Are you all right?" he asked, gesturing Peter to a chair.

Venkman shrugged. "Julie got a run in her stocking and chipped a nail," he said indistinctly as he sat down and buried his face in the steam rising from his mug.

"Poor Julie," Zeddemore said wryly. "And you?" he prodded. "Anything else besides that nice, shiny bruise?"

The brown-haired man drank the last of his first cup of coffee, then looked up, green eyes wide with feigned indignation. "You know," he declared, "in all those stories about heroes rescuing fair maidens, they
never once mentioned that the hero was stiff as a board the next day!"

Winston gave a little snort of laughter and shook his head, pouring his friend another cup of coffee, eliciting a mumbled "thanks".

"What do you want for lunch, Pete?" he said. "We have leftover pizza, leftover pizza, and peanut butter."

"Which means it was Peter's turn to do the grocery shopping, I presume," said Egon, sounding annoyed as he entered the room.

"Actually, big guy," Winston said as he dropped one dark hand lightly onto Peter's shoulder, "it would have been my turn, except you traded with me last time so you could go see Slime Molds of the Kalahari or something, remember?"

"Hey, guys! Is it time for lunch yet? I'm starved!" cried Ray Stantz as he bounced into the kitchen. Then he stopped dead in his tracks. "Gosh! Peter, what happened to your face?" he demanded.

"It's just a bruise, Ray," Venkman said as he sat hunched over his coffee cup.

"He got intimately acquainted with a sidewalk last night when he pushed his date out of the path of a drunk who wanted to drive there," Winston explained.

"That's terrible!" Ray exclaimed.

"It was a real circus," Peter said, yawning again. "Somebody called 911, so we had the police there and an ambulance, then a couple of news crews. The drunk guy got about a block away before a telephone pole jumped out in front of him." He grimaced and drank some of his coffee. "My favorite part was listening to Julie wail about being on TV with runs in her stockings."

"Then your date wasn't injured?" asked Egon stiffly.

Peter shook his head, then looked like he regretted it. "Not unless you count a broken fingernail."

"Gosh, Peter, why didn't you wake us up when you got in?" asked Ray, frowning with concern.

"To do what, Tex?" Peter said affectionately. "Ooh and ah over my boo-boo?" He shrugged slightly. "I just wanted to get some sleep. It felt like it took the cops hours to wrap things up so I could get out of there."

"And what if you'd had a concussion?" demanded Spengler sharply. "Imagine how we would have felt if you hadn't awakened."

Green eyes narrowed, the psychologist gazed at his friend appraisingly, but his tone was insouciant. "Lighten up, Spengs. I told you an ambulance showed up; the med techs checked me out - no signs of concussion." He drained his second cup of coffee, and held the empty cup out to Winston, who was nearest the pot. "Do you think maybe we ought to go out to lunch?" he asked in an obvious effort to change the subject.
"If we're going to have pizza again, I for one think it tastes better when it's hot."

"We could always go to the diner and let Cindy ooh and ah over your boo-boo," Winston said slyly, aiding Peter's effort to lighten the atmosphere as he poured a third cup of coffee for the psychologist.

"Do you feel up to going out?" Ray asked. "We could bring you something."

"Don't coddle him, Raymond," Egon said. "You can heat up some of the leftover pizza in the microwave while I go do the grocery shopping." He turned and left the kitchen.

"Gee, I wonder what's wrong with Egon," Ray said worriedly after a moment's silence. "He's been so cross lately."

"Yeah, and especially with Peter," Winston added. "So, homeboy," he said, looking at the silent psychologist, "have you done something to Egon lately that we don't know about?"

Venkman put down his coffee cup, his face wearing a thoughtful frown. "Moi? Not hardly," he said. Then, more seriously, he continued, "Since when could any of us keep something like that secret around here, anyway? No, Winston, I'm afraid I have no clue what's biting Egon's butt," he said with a sigh. "I'll have to try to talk to him later to see if I can figure it out." He turned his coffee cup around and around. "It does seem like more than the heat."

"Do you think maybe one of us should try to talk to him, Peter?" Ray asked. "I mean, since he's mad at you..."

"I might make it worse?" Venkman interrupted, eyebrow raised. "No, I might as well - no need to get him mad at somebody else besides me."

"Good luck," Winston offered dubiously.

It wasn't a fun afternoon. After returning with the groceries, Spengler retreated to his lab, claiming that the heat had diminished his appetite. "Leave him alone," Peter advised. "Maybe if he has a good sulk he'll get it out of his system." Privately, he didn't feel that was very likely, but he thought he would wait until his headache had dulled a bit before he tackled a cranky Egon.

Winston decided to spend some time with his family as Ray began to do the laundry and Peter dozed on the couch. Egon never came out of his lab until Ray went to fetch him several hours later for the simple dinner of
hot dogs, potato salad, and frozen peas that Peter had prepared.

Ray made a valiant effort to engage Egon in conversation at the supper table, but the physicist's replies, while reasonably civil, were uncharacteristically monosyllabic. Winston, who had returned in time to watch the news, pushed his peas around his plate, watching Ray's hopeful attempts, Egon's evasiveness, and Peter's silence.

The normally voluble Venkman had been mostly mute since they had seen the evening news. His face in the news footage had looked washed out and exhausted, his date scattered and shrill. The 'drunk', the report said, hadn't been a drunk, but a diabetic, and he had died at the hospital during the night of injuries received when his car careened into the telephone pole.

Egon retreated to the lab again immediately after eating. After a moment, Ray followed, saying he wanted to find out what Egon was working on. Winston got up and began clearing the table. "Did you get a chance to
talk to him?" he asked Peter.

"Nah," said Venkman. "'Course, I didn't try real hard. I figured tomorrow when I have less of a headache might be better."

"So what did you do this afternoon?"

Venkman shrugged. "Took a nap, worked out a little so I wouldn't stiffen up completely, did up a couple of letters for Janine to type on Monday, took another nap... How're your folks?"

"Mom's fine. The nieces and nephews were having a great time in the wading pool." Winston grimaced. "Everybody else...." It was his turn to shrug. "Dad hates the heat, so he's driving everybody crazy."

Peter raised an eyebrow. "Got on your case again, did he?"

"Yeah," admitted Winston as he ran water in the sink to do the dishes. "I should have expected it."

The psychologist sighed. "Maybe that meteorologist will be right, and the weather will break tomorrow."

"Yeah, right," Winston replied sarcastically. "Just like he said it was supposed to break this morning."

"We can always hope," Peter groused. "By the way, Winston - I hate to mention it because it was so nice not to have goo on my pillow, but where's Slimer? I haven't seen him around since before my date yesterday."

Winston grimaced. "Egon snarled at him last night, and we haven't seen him since..."

The psychologist's eyebrows went way up. "Oh, great."

"Never mind, Pete. You know he'll be back in a day or two. He's probably raiding garbage cans somewhere."

"Yeah, but Ray will miss him, Winston," Venkman said.

"Sure, Ray will." Zeddemore grinned knowingly.


Peter sat bolt upright in the dark. Well, that was a fun dream, he thought, fighting to control his breathing. He looked around the familiar room, banishing the vision of a dark car coming toward him, while its
driver moaned for help.

Winston had come up to bed shortly after he had, but Ray and Egon had still been in the lab when he fell asleep. Ray was now slumbering deeply, holding on to Mr. Sta-Puft, but Egon's bed was empty. The psychologist frowned, and got stiffly out of bed.

Egon was sitting at the kitchen table, staring at a glass of milk that sat in front of him. I suppose it is too hot for cocoa, Peter thought as he stood in the doorway. "So, Egon," he said, "you wanna tell Uncle Peter
what's wrong?"

Spengler jumped, startled, and nearly spilled his milk. "What makes you think something is wrong?" he asked after a moment.

"Well, it's three o'clock in the morning, for starters," Peter said as he turned a chair around to straddle it. "Ouch," he grumbled as he sat down. "I didn't know I had so many muscles to ache."

"I was unable to sleep because of the heat," Egon stated. "Would you like some milk?"

Venkman gave the physicist a look to let him know that he wasn't buying that excuse at all, but Spengler just got up and got another glass from the cupboard, pouring milk for his colleague. "Why are you up at
three o'clock in the morning, Peter?" he asked.

"Egon, you're always telling me if I sleep all day, I won't be able to sleep well at night," Peter answered mildly. "What's your excuse? And please don't say it's the heat again. We both know there's something more
than that."

"We do?"

Grimacing, Peter took the glass of milk Egon handed him. "Come on, Spengs, talk to me. Ray is worried about you, and Winston is starting to get upset. You don't want that, do you?" He took a sip of milk, leaving
behind a white mustache. "If it were just me, I could handle it, of course," he said, shrugging nonchalantly, "but I kinda hate seein' Ray all concerned; and Winston's Dad is bugging him again, so he doesn't need more
aggravation right now. That's why yours truly got delegated to find out what's frosting your butt so bad lately that you haven't got a good word for anybody, especially not for poor moi." He raised his eyebrows
inquiringly. "So what's up?"

Spengler sighed. "I didn't realize it had been quite that bad," he admitted, turning his glass around and around, watching the wet ring it left on the table.

"Bad enough that Ray volunteered to talk to you so you wouldn't eat me alive if I tried," Peter said whimsically.

Egon winced, and sighed again. "Peter, I really don't know what to tell you," he said evasively. "I've just been ... out of sorts lately. I've been putting it down to the heat." He gulped at his milk. "Maybe I
should try again to get to sleep," he said, beginning to stand up.

Frowning, Peter put a hand on his arm. "You sure there's not something else? Have I been talking in my sleep again? Did Ray put starch in your shorts again? Is there something I was supposed to do and didn't?"
He let go of Egon's arm and leaned back away from his turned-around chair. "Or does it maybe have something to do with our last bust?" he said in sudden realization.

"Our last bust was quite routine," Egon said with a frown; but he hesitated before he spoke.

"That's what I thought," Peter said, his tone complacent, but his eyes watchful. "If by 'routine' you mean I was my usual brilliant self when I talked that domineering S.O.B. into deresolving peacefully so his widow
wouldn't have to tell their little boy Dougie we busted his Daddy, of course." He took a sip of milk. "Still," he added consideringly, "it was Thursday night that you started acting cantankerous instead of just oblivious."

"Thursday night?" Egon echoed. "Do you think so?" he asked, then turned away abruptly.

"Yeah, I do," Peter answered to his retreating back. "You know, now that I think about it, Dougie kinda made me think of you," he added, watching Egon closely.

"I can't imagine why," Spengler said stiffly. "Aside from the fact that he is quite bright and wears glasses, our situations had nothing in common."

"Really? Oh," Venkman said, shrugging with exaggerated nonchalance. "Well, maybe we could stop over there some time and see if we can teach the kid how to play ball now that his old man is gone."

His friend was no longer listening. "You really think it was Thursday night?" he asked, frowning prodigiously. "Perhaps I should cogitate on this in the morning. Good night, Peter." The lanky physicist left the kitchen, leaving Venkman sitting alone at the table.

The psychologist sighed. "Great," he said. "That didn't work so well, and now I'm wide awake..." He got up, poured the rest of Egon's milk down the drain, rinsed the glass, and turned out the light. Taking his glass of milk with him, he went and turned on the TV. "Maybe I can find Amazon Women on the Moon..."

He settled on the couch, and reached for the remote, clicking through the channels, then clicking the television off again, putting down his milk with a frown as he thought he heard banging noises from downstairs. "What the dickens?" He rose stiffly and headed down the staircase.

Someone was pounding frantically on the outside door. "Ghostbusters! Are you in there? Help me, please! You've got to help me!"

"All right, all right, I'm coming," he grumbled, moving more quickly. He opened the door a fraction of an inch. "Don't you know what time it is?" he demanded, then opened the door wide as the street light outside
showed him a distraught young woman, slender, barefoot, and in a nightgown.

"Please!" she said. "Jerry is going to kill Kevin! You have to come now!" she said, pushing red hair impatiently out of her face.

"Hold on a minute," Peter said, putting a hand on her arm in an attempt to calm her. "We're the Ghostbusters, not the police..."

"You don't understand," she interrupted him despairingly. "Jerry is a ghost. I killed him by accident three months ago when he tried to kill me after I broke up with him. He's been going after any guy I've dated since
then, scaring them off; but Kevin wouldn't scare, so Jerry says he's going to kill him! Please, you have to come now!" She caught his hand and began trying to tow him after her.

He tugged back, saying, "Wait a minute! We need the other guys, we need our equipment..."

"What is it, Peter?" Winston asked from behind him. All three of the other Ghostbusters were awake and regarding the young woman with varying degrees of sleepy curiosity.

"We've got a bust, guys," Peter announced. "The lady says her dead ex is trying to kill her current boyfriend."

"Oh, no!" exclaimed Stantz.

"Please hurry," she pleaded, looking beyond the psychologist to the others. "It's not far."

The men exchanged glances, and Ray, Winston, and Egon went for their jumpsuits and their proton packs.

"Wait right here." Peter disengaged his hand and patted her shoulder gently. "We'll get our stuff and then you can show us the way." He followed after his friends.



They had had a lot of practice getting ready for a bust, so it didn't take them long to get to the young woman's apartment; but, when they arrived, neither the ghost nor her boyfriend were in evidence. The small
apartment, however, had tipped-over lamps and furniture in every room, and several shattered mirrors.

"Wow!" exclaimed Ray, his eyes wide. "What a mess!"

"There's no blood anywhere or anything," Winston reported after looking around all the rooms.

Egon regarded the PKE meter he had taken out immediately upon arrival. "Hmm," he said, "high residual readings. Class four." He frowned and directed his gaze at the horrified young woman. "Perhaps, miss, you could tell us more about the circumstances of your late boyfriend's demise?"

"Never mind him," Peter told her as she stared at Spengler blankly, distraught at the absence of her current boyfriend. "He always talks like that. Do you have any idea where Kevin would be?" he asked gently.

"I've got to call him," she said in sudden alarm. "I ... He said he would never leave just because of some ghost." She fumbled for the phone, finding it wailing on the floor. Dialing the number with shaking fingers,
she said, "I never should have let him stay. I should have known better than to try to get on with my life..."

"Don't talk like that," Peter chided her, taking the phone carefully out of her hand. "You have a right to a life, and we'll make sure Jerry doesn't keep bugging you, okay? Just let me talk to Kevin while you sit
down before you fall down." He smiled at her, covering the mouthpiece of the phone as he listened to the ringing on the other end. "By the way, what's your name?"

"Oh," she said, embarrassed. "I'm sorry. It's Janna - Janna Delelys."

Winston quietly handed her a glass of water as Ray sat down next to her on the small couch he had just righted. "Egon's correct, though, Janna," he said. "We do need to know more about Jerry."

Her expression turned wistful. "He was so sweet at first, you know?" she confided shyly. "For our first date he took me to see Phantom of the Opera. The second time, he brought me roses. And he didn't pressure me
when I didn't... I mean, I didn't want to right away, and... Well, it got so I was only going out with Jerry, because I only wanted to be with Jerry. Things seemed so perfect," she whispered.

"What happened?" Ray inquired gently.

She raised one shoulder in a kind of shrug, took a sip of water, and wearily brushed dark red hair out of her face. "One day he saw me talking to my best friend's younger brother, and he just went crazy, demanding to
know who he was and how long I'd known him and why I was talking to him," she said in a hopeless tone. "That was the start of it - he was jealous every time I even looked at another man, even if it was just an admiring glance at somebody on TV." She started to cry again, quietly, like a tired child.

Peter, who had come up behind them when he finished his telephone conversation, put his hand softly on her shoulder. She looked up at his touch. "Kevin?" she said, wiping futilely at her face.

"He's okay," Peter replied. "He said he had a few bruises from flying furniture and a couple of cuts from broken glass, but he's all right."

"Are you sure?" she demanded querulously. "Didn't he want to talk to me?"

"Not right now," the psychologist said carefully, handing her a tissue and taking the drinking glass. "I think he needs a little time to sort things out."

"But..." As she bent her head to wipe her face and blow her nose, Venkman grimaced at his friends over her head. "He's not coming back," he mouthed. Out loud he said, "So you finally told Jerry you couldn't stand
it any more?"

She nodded and put her hands in her lap. "It was terrible. I met him for lunch at McDonald's, thinking he wouldn't want to cause a scene in public. But he was furious, demanding to know who it was who broke us up. He just wouldn't understand that there wasn't anyone else, that the only problem was him." She sighed. "The manager ended up throwing him out to make him leave me alone. I was so embarrassed."

"It must have been really awful." Ray's voice was full of sympathy.

Janna nodded again, her hair falling down to hide her face. "The next day he started calling me all the time, talking real sweet, sending me flowers... I told him it wasn't going to work, to leave me alone, but he
wouldn't. I started hanging up every time he called, and refusing his flowers. I told people where I worked that I didn't want to talk to him, and he would curse at them when they wouldn't bring me to the phone for
him."

"Sounds bad enough maybe you should have called the police," Winston observed.

"I did. But they told me they really couldn't do much about phone calls and flowers," she said, looking up at them with big brown eyes. "I guess what you want to hear about, though, is how he died."

"That would be most helpful," Egon stated dryly.

Tears rolled silently down her face. "It was a Sunday morning. I think he followed me home from church. He pushed his way in behind me when I opened my door, and told me we were going to get this settled once and for all. I tried to tell him it already was settled, but he wouldn't listen to me. He kept telling me he loved me, and that I was his, and nobody else could have me." She twisted the tissue in her hands. "He forced me into the bedroom, and pushed me down on the bed... I hit him over the head with the telephone that sits on the night stand."

"Is that what killed him?" Peter asked after a moment when she didn't continue speaking.

She shook her head. "It just made him angrier. He tore the phone out my hand and threw it, then he ... he really started to hurt me, so I ..." She took a deep breath. "I stabbed him in the eye with a long metal nail
file."

All four men involuntarily winced and closed their eyes, just for a minute. "How did you feel then, Janna?" asked Peter softly.

"Terrible," the young woman answered immediately. "And ... relieved," she added guiltily.

"That's understandable, don't you think?" the psychologist said. "You didn't intend to kill him, but it had to be a relief to know that all his harassment and his phone calls were finally going to stop. It can't have been much of a life for you while all that was going on."

"He cost me my job," she said. "Mr. Becker was really sorry, but Jerry called so many times customers weren't always able to get through, and he told me they were losing too much business."

"So he fired you?" Ray exclaimed, clearly aghast at the man's lack of sympathy.

Janna, however, had turned to look directly up at Peter. "Kevin isn't coming back, is he?"

"No, I don't think he is," Venkman answered honestly. "He --"

"He didn't believe me," she said slowly, interrupting the psychologist. "All that time, and he thought..." The tissue she had been holding was now little shredded pieces.

"You look exhausted, Janna," the dark-haired man said kindly. "Do you think you could sleep if one of us stayed here on the couch?"

"Don't you need to know more about Jerry? I mean..."

"Yes, we will definitely have to know more about the pattern of his appearances, but that can wait until morning. Why don't you go wash your face, and we'll see what needs to be picked up before you can lie down comfortably."

Obediently, she went into the bathroom and closed the door. "I assume you're volunteering to spend the night on the couch," Spengler said to Peter in a studiously neutral tone.

"Why not," the psychologist shrugged, after a second's hesitation. "Her couch looks more comfortable than ours."

"I could stay, Peter," Stantz offered, "if you're not feeling well."

"Thanks, Ray." Venkman smiled. "But I'm wide awake anyway, so I might as well stay. If, of course, that's okay with Janna," he added, glancing at Egon. "So, Winston," he said, changing the subject, "how much
work do you think we're going to have to do in her bedroom?"

The next morning Janna came out of her bedroom already dressed for church in a skirt and sleeveless blouse. She was shy around Peter, who had spent what was left of the night on her couch, suddenly embarrassed at the idea that she had run out and down the street barefoot in her nightgown, and never even put a robe on once she got back to her apartment accompanied by four men. "Would you like some coffee?" she asked bashfully.

"I hope you don't mind," Peter said, "but I already made some. I found your coffeepot..."

"Oh," she said as she suddenly registered the aroma of brewing coffee. "That's fine." She pushed red hair behind one ear. "Are you okay?" she asked as she noticed him wince slightly as he moved to get out of her way into the kitchen. "You look ... awfully tired."

"Just a little stiff," he replied with a smile.

"I'm sorry - if I'd been thinking, I never would have asked that you be the one to stay. I ... I saw you on the news last night. That must have been really scary."

"Nah," said Peter, shrugging, "the scary part was over too fast almost to notice. It was afterward that went on forever - describing what happened about fourteen times to a different cop every time, convincing the
ambulance people we were okay..." He rolled his eyes. "Do you like the bruise?" he asked mischievously, turning that cheek toward her. "I kinda think it gives me a bit of a rakish air."

She laughed in spite of herself, and handed him a mug of coffee, which had finished brewing. Pouring sugar into a mug of her own, she asked, "Is it okay if I go to church this morning before we go back to talking about Jerry?"

"Probably. Has Jerry ever bothered you there? In church, I mean?"

"Oh! No, he hasn't. But I hadn't thought of that - maybe I shouldn't go. I mean, if he shows up there and disrupts everything --"

"If he hasn't before, likely he won't today. But you can sit toward the back of the church if you're worried about that," Peter told her, then yawned suddenly, trying to hide it behind one hand. "Sorry," he said,
wiggling his eyebrows at her, "I'm just not a morning person." He took several swallows of coffee. "Anyway, Ray ought to be here any minute - he'll go to church with you while I go take a shower and clean up a little
before we have our big pow-wow and decide how to handle this. Okay?"

"Aren't you going to need some sleep?"

"Hey, another cup or three of this coffee, and I'll be ready to go dancing!" He winked at her, making her smile and shake her head.

"I suppose I should be glad you're not the one going with me this morning," she said. "We don't dance in my church."



After a shower and a change of clothes, not to mention several more cups of coffee, Peter Venkman sat in his office pretending to be awake and industrious. He still felt more like crawling into bed for a week than
dancing, but Janna Delelys would be there soon, and the four of them would have to come up with a plan of action to help her. He had a feeling he already knew at least part of what Egon would suggest, but the conversation would be interesting all the same.

He hadn't intended to nod off, but he still got caught by surprise when Ray Stantz and their latest client came into the firehouse. Fortunately, he heard them before Ray came into the office to get him for their strategy sessions, and so was able to be writing something carefully on a desk calendar when Janna poked her head in behind the auburn-haired occultist.

"How are you feeling this morning, Peter? That bruise looks pretty awful," exclaimed Ray.

"I'm doing okay, Ray. You guys ready for a little scheming on how to get this jerk?" the psychologist asked, standing up behind his desk.

"All set, Peter. Winston says he put another pot of coffee on."

"I'll probably float away if I drink another cup of coffee, but lead on." He smiled at Janna. "All set?" he asked her.

"I think so, Peter. I've been trying to remember exactly when and where Jerry first appeared any time a guy talked to me or asked me out, and what he said and did."

"That should help," he told her as they headed toward the kitchen. "We'll get you a cup of coffee, and get to it. Unless you want something to eat? I think we could make some edible toast at least," he added with a
teasing glance at Ray.

A few minutes later, the five of them were sitting around the kitchen table, Janna nibbling on a piece of toast. "The first time Jerry showed up as a ghost, it was a shock, but I think I was more angry than frightened.
He was supposed to be out of my life, you know?" she said. "Anyway, I had run into Michael, an old boyfriend I hadn't seen since he got transferred to Colorado. We parted friends, so I was glad to see him, and he gave me a big hug. All of a sudden, Jerry was there, cursing at me for being unfaithful or some such thing." She turned her coffee cup around and around. "I told him to go wherever evil dead people belonged."

"I bet that didn't go over well," Peter commented.

"No, it didn't. He swelled up and got all red, and then he asked Michael how he felt about hugging a murderess." She sighed. "Poor Michael - he had only been back in town for a day, so he had no clue what was going on. I was going to try to explain, but he stammered something about only being in town until the next afternoon, so he would call me if he had any time. Then he practically ran across the street to get away from me. Jerry thought that was pretty funny."

"You think Michael would have asked you out if Jerry hadn't shown up?" Ray asked.

She nodded. "Oh, yeah, I think so - if only to catch me up on what had been going on since he sent me a Christmas card."

There was a moment's silence. "At what juncture did the next manifestation occur?" Egon inquired.

Janna looked at him, then at Peter, who smiled at her in encouragement. "There was a guy where I used to work who was always nice to me. Hal called me up to see if I was all right, and we ended up meeting
for lunch at a cafe near his office. It was just friendly, nothing romantic, but as soon as we sat down, there was Jerry. I thought Hal was going to faint when he saw him." She took a sip of coffee. "Hal said he only called me because he thought Jerry was dead, otherwise he would never have dared. So of course I told him Jerry was dead, and he said, 'Oh, so he's too stupid to realize it, is that it?'"

"Hal not too bright himself, I take it?" Winston remarked.

Janna giggled nervously. "Jerry snarled something obscene right in his face, and Hal muttered something to me about being sorry I had gotten fired, and then he just left. I got stuck with the check, and Jerry
thought that was funny, too."

"So," asked Peter, "has this bozo ever appeared when you were alone?"

"No."

"Has he at any time threatened one of your male acquaintances when he was not actually with you?" Egon inquired, frowning.

"No," Janna said again. "I've only seen him when I've been with a man, either on a date, or getting a hug, or something like that. And none of the guys has ever mentioned him bothering them when I wasn't there."

"Okay, why don't you tell us how it happened with Kevin?" Winston suggested.

The young woman gave up on the piece of toast she had been nibbling around the edges. "I met Kevin at a friend's pool party, and he asked me out. I was pretty gun shy by that point, so even though he seemed nice, I said no. A few days later, he called me and asked me again. So I explained to him exactly what had happened with Jerry, and why I didn't really feel like going out with anybody. Kevin said if I didn't go out
with him, I was letting Jerry win. So I let him persuade me to meet him for a picnic the following Saturday afternoon."

"And Jerry showed up?" Ray offered.

"Not right away," Janna admitted. "We got to the park, and found a nice shady spot to sit. It wasn't until Kevin was opening a bottle of wine that Jerry showed up. Kevin asked me if this was the creep I'd been
talking about, and just ignored him. When I wouldn't speak to him either, he eventually went away." She sighed. "Talk about creating false hope..."

"He didn't go away the next time?" Ray asked sympathetically.

She shook her head, looking pensive. "You know, I think I can understand why Kevin might not have believed me. I mean, Jerry doesn't look like a ghost, he looks just the way he used to. And he never appeared with a 'poof' or anything; he just approached us from behind Kevin so it would just look to Kevin like a guy walking up to us and causing a scene. But why would Kevin be so interested in me if he thought I was lying or crazy?" she asked, looking to Peter.

He patted the hand she had extended in his direction. "Maybe he had visions of being a white knight rescuing a beautiful young woman from a temporary neurosis brought about by the depredations of a violently jealous
suitor." He gave her a little lopsided grin. "It's kind of hard to be a white knight when you're caught without your armor by a neurosis-turned-reality that wants to tear you limb from limb."

"So he's embarrassed," she said, almost unconsciously wrapping her fingers around his.

"Among other things," Peter agreed cautiously.

Egon cleared his throat impatiently. "We need to know what happened specifically last night, Miss Delelys."

Janna blushed and snatched her hand back. "Um, Kevin went to church with me the day after the picnic, and Jerry didn't show up. So we met for lunch that Wednesday, brown bagging it, you know, in the courtyard near where Kevin works. Jerry showed up and started haranguing us. We ignored him for a while, but then Kevin finally told him he was a pathetic jerk, and he should shut up and go away."

"That wasn't a good idea," Winston said. "As a general rule, taunting angry ghosts is a no-no. We do it on occasion, or rather Peter does," he added with a grin at his friend, "but that's a calculated risk to lure the
ghost in the right direction so one of us can trap it."

"I can understand that," Janna said. "Jerry was absolutely speechless for nearly a minute, then he leaned in really close to Kevin and said, 'Just wait until you try to get close to the bitch. Then we'll see who's
pathetic.' Then he walked away."

She picked up the now-cold piece of toast and crumbled it between her fingers. "I let Kevin convince me to go on a real date with him on Saturday night. We went out to dinner, and then we went dancing, and Jerry
didn't show up. It just felt so good, you know? To be with a nice guy, I mean. One who didn't bluster and threaten if I happened to glance at another guy, or demand complete details if I mentioned a man's name." She sighed.

"We can understand that," Ray said encouragingly.

"When Kevin took me home, I asked him in for coffee. When he kissed me, one thing started leading to another, and," she shrugged diffidently, spots of high color on each cheekbone, "Jerry still hadn't shown up, so I asked Kevin to stay." She took a deep breath. "I went into the bathroom to change. When I came out, I was nervous and a little shy, but Kevin just told me quietly that I looked beautiful. He was sitting on the bed,
propped up with pillows. I started toward him, but suddenly Jerry was there, between us. Kevin's eyes got huge, and the color drained out of his face. Jerry laughed, a --"

She stopped and swallowed. Peter reached out deliberately and took her hand. Ray, who was seated on her other side, patted her arm. She looked at them gratefully, and continued. "It was a really ugly laugh. He
told Kevin he was going to kill him for trying to steal his woman. Then his face got really red and swollen, and his mouth was full of these gigantic jagged teeth, and his fingernails turned into really lethal-looking claws, and he started going after Kevin. I tried hitting him, kicking him, but I might as well have been a mosquito, or a fly, for all the good it did. He just kept chasing after Kevin, slicing at him with those claws. I remembered you guys weren't that far away, and decided to see if you could help. I tried to tell Kevin where I was going, but I don't know if he heard me." Her breath caught in a little sob. "He probably just thought I was deserting him," she concluded in a small voice.

"I don't believe that," Peter said promptly. "Not if he saw you trying to beat on the creep in his defense just before that."

"Sounds unlikely to me," Winston confirmed. "You seem pretty smart and pretty feisty to me, and we've known you less time than Kevin did."

She gave them all a timid smile of gratitude as Ray continued patting her arm, and Peter kept holding her hand.

"All right," said Egon, "now we have to decide how to handle this ghost. Peter, you can pretend to be Miss Delelys' boyfriend, can't you?" he asked coolly.

Venkman grimaced. "How did I know I was going to get to be bait?" he groused. He squeezed Janna's fingers slightly and winked at her in reassurance. "Is that okay with you, honey?" he asked considerately. "Can you force yourself to pretend that you like me?"

"Oh, yes," she replied immediately. "I mean..." She trailed off, her face pink. "But I hate the thought of you placing yourself in danger to help me," she said with a frown. "Or any of you, for that matter," she added, looking first at Winston, then at Ray. She glanced at Egon, whose face was a mask, then looked back down at the table.

"Oh, don't worry," Winston said with a grin. "Pete may sometimes be a major pain in the butt, but he's part of the team. We won't let anything happen to him. Will we, guys?" he added, looking at Egon.

"We have no intention of 'letting' anything happen to anyone," Spengler said.

"Of course we won't let anything happen to Peter!" Ray cried. "Gosh, this'll be exciting, though, guys - don't you think so?" Stantz' natural enthusiasm, a bit subdued during Janna's recital, returned with a rush.
"How are we going to stage this, Egon?"

It was the psychologist who answered. "I'll wine and dine her, and ply her with my charm," he said outrageously, making Janna smile in spite of herself. "And when she's turned to putty in my arms --" He paused dramatically, one arm outflung. "Jerry will show up, and you guys will zap him. End of story. Right?"

"Essentially correct," Egon responded. "I would suggest, Peter, that you get some sleep before taking Miss Delelys out this evening. Ray and I will work on preparing the appropriate equipment. Winston, would you
escort Miss Delelys back to her apartment now, please?" He rose from the table. "Come, Raymond, there is a great deal of work to be done."

"Well, the grand poobah has spoken," Peter said into the silence that followed.

Ray stood, and patted the young woman awkwardly on the shoulder. "Everything will be all right, you'll see," he said, before going after the departed physicist.

Winston got up then. "Why don't you two decide where and when, and I'll go talk to Egon for a minute, okay? I'll be right back," he told Janna.

Upstairs, the black man caught up to Spengler. Ray Stantz had apparently gone to attend to something else. "What the heck is the matter with you, Egon?" Winston demanded with an angry frown.

"What do you mean?" Spengler asked, pretending not to understand.

"You know very well what I mean," Zeddemore retorted. "I know the heat is getting to all of us, but you've been acting like something out of a bad movie. What was that scene back there? Don't you think you should
have at least asked Peter if he felt up to it? Not to mention asking Janna who she wanted with her."

"I merely made the most logical choice," the blond man answered impassively. "Peter is the best candidate to carry off such a charade, and the rest of us have other roles to play. Also, if he is not feeling well,
it would be better not to have to depend on him to rescue one of us."

Winston looked at him in astonishment. "Whatever bug you've got up your butt, I hope you clear it soon," he told Spengler coldly. "Because right now, I don't think I like you very much."


At the kitchen table, Peter absentmindedly chafed the young woman's fingers between his, his green eyes narrowed in thought.

"Peter," said Janna, "did I do something to make your friend angry?"

"What? Oh, no, I think it's just the heat," Venkman replied swiftly. "Egon hates being hot, and one of his experiments got destroyed yesterday, so he's just being cranky." He smiled at her. "Don't worry - when he's on the job, 'cranky' goes out the window. Everything will be fine; you'll see."

"So where are we going to go tonight?" She blushed again. "I hope you don't mind this -- I mean, being dragooned into being date bait..."

"Why would I mind going out with a beautiful woman?" he asked gallantly. "The end of the date doesn't exactly sound like anything I would purposely plan for, but what the heck -- I intend to make sure that
you have a very good time until Jerry shows up," he said with deliberation. "What's your favorite kind of food?"

"Chinese," she replied shyly.

"Then I know just the place. How 'bout I pick you up about seven? That ought to give the mad geniuses time enough to cook up a detailed plan."

"All right. Seven o'clock," she agreed as Winston reentered the kitchen.

"Ready to go?" he asked.

As she stood up from the table, Peter kissed her hand and winked. "Take her right to her door, Winston," he said.

"You got it, Pete. I'll check the place out before I leave, too."


"Peter, your cab's here!" Winston called several hours later.

Venkman came down the stairs, nattily dressed for his 'date' with Janna. After a nap, a shower, and suitable applications of coffee, he was even feeling relatively human again.

"Do you have your radio?" Ray asked. "Do you remember the signal?"

"Yes, Mother," Peter replied in a tone of long-suffering patience. "I have my radio and I remember the signal. The plan is scribed on the palm of my hand," he added facetiously. "Can I go now?"

"Please stick to the plan, Peter," Egon said severely. "No improvising."

The psychologist sighed a long-suffering sigh. "Yes, Egon." He grinned. "Maybe I'll have Lung Hau bring you some take-out while you're sitting in Ecto."

"We've already eaten, Peter, but thank you," Ray said.


A few moments later, he was at Janna's door. She answered at his knock, and he whistled softly in appreciation of what he saw. Her dark red hair was piled atop her head, with small tendrils escaping here and there, and she wore a summer dress of pale seafoam green. "You look very nice."

"So do you," she told him with a shy smile.

"Yeah, except for this radio in my pocket, spoiling the line of my jacket," he said in mock complaint. "Are you ready to go?"

The cab soon deposited them at a small Chinese restaurant. The Ghostbusters had rid the place of three Class twos a few weeks before, and the owner was more than glad to give Peter and Janna a table in the front window. "The food here is great," Peter said, "and you should have a glass of plum wine."

"What if --" she began apprehensively.

He cut her off gently. "That's what the radio is for. And see," he pointed, "the guys are right there across the street in Ecto. We might as well enjoy ourselves while we can, don't you think?"

She smiled uncertainly. "Oh, why not?" she said. "I'd love to try plum wine."

The food was every bit as good as Peter had said, and Janna liked the plum wine. Ray, Egon, and Winston sat in Ecto across from the restaurant, and watched the two of them laughing and smiling as they ate. "Isn't that great?" Ray commented. "Janna really needed a reason to smile, and Peter is just the person to make that happen."

"They do make a nice looking couple," Winston agreed.

'I hope he's paying attention to why he's actually there," Egon muttered.

"Lighten up, Egon," Winston told him. "You know how Peter is about anything with big fangs and sharp claws - Jerry shows up and everybody is going to know about it, real fast."

But the ghost they were waiting for didn't show up during dinner, nor any time before Peter paid the check and suggested to Janna that they go dancing. They left the restaurant and walked down the sidewalk, Winston driving Ecto along behind them discreetly. Or as discreetly as one could drive an old modified ambulance with the no-ghost symbol on it; at least the lights and siren weren't running.

Jerry didn't show up while they were dancing, either, although the other three Ghostbusters sat in their vehicle near the club door, waiting for Peter's signal. The couple danced and danced, having such a good time that Janna almost forgot that it wasn't a 'real' date.

When it was time to leave, however, she put her hand on his arm. "I guess it's time for you to come home with me," she said solemnly. "I'm afraid I'm nervous all over again."

He patted her hand. "Don't be. We made arrangements with the building manager to use the empty apartment across the hall; as long as you don't chain your door shut, the guys could be with us in two seconds flat." He smiled at her. "We're the Ghostbusters, and we're really good at what we do. Besides, I wouldn't let anything happen to a lovely lady like you."

She smiled, too. "Okay, let's hope we can get a cab." With that, they left the dance club.


"This must be one of those days where I live on coffee," Peter noted as Janna handed him a cup before sitting down next to him on the couch in her apartment.

"Well, we didn't have any at the Chinese restaurant." She kicked off her shoes, looking like she wanted to curl up next to him but uncertain whether she should.

"A good thing, too," Peter snorted, shifting position so he could put an arm around her shoulders and let her lean against him. The radio sat beside his other hand. "We tried asking for coffee in a Chinese restaurant
once, and they brought us instant. Only they didn't know how to make it; the darn stuff was so thick you could stand a spoon in it!"

Janna giggled, relaxing slightly as she put her head against his shoulder. "This has been nice, Peter. I mean, you made the evening much easier than I thought it would be. I expected to be so keyed up I wouldn't
even taste what I was eating, and because of you I even had fun!"

"Of course you did," Peter said, deliberately sounding smug. "It would have totally ruined my reputation if you didn't."

The woman laughed again, and they sat together, quietly sipping coffee.


"I hate this," said Winston in the apartment across the hall from Janna Delelys. "The longer that creep doesn't show up, the more certain I feel that something really bad is going to happen when he does."

"What if he doesn't come at all?" Ray asked suddenly. "What if he knows we're here? We can't follow Janna around forever, and he could be just waiting for us to leave." He ran a hand through his auburn hair.
"Poor Janna would be a nervous wreck."

"That doesn't sound likely to me," Winston said when Egon didn't say anything immediately. "Anyway, I'm sure Peter wouldn't mind spending more time with her," he added to make Ray smile.

"We have no idea how long we are going to have to wait," Spengler announced as he sat on the floor. "Perhaps two of us should try to rest while one remains alert for Peter's signal."

"Okay, Egon," Winston acquiesced after a moment. "You two rest. I'll nudge one of you if I start feeling sleepy before Jerry gets her

"Do you think maybe he won't show up until we -- I mean, until..."

"Until we're in bed?" Peter said gently. "Remember, we discussed this possibility this afternoon on the phone after my nap." He kissed her on the tip of the nose. "We'll take turns in the bathroom. You go put your
nightgown on, okay? Just sing out when it's my turn."

Janna got up, then turned around and kissed him on the cheek before disappearing hurriedly into the next room.

A few minutes later, they were both sitting, propped up on pillows, on Janna's double bed, Janna in a modest white cotton nightgown, and Peter in pale blue silk pajama bottoms. Peter sighed dramatically. "This has to be the most unusual date I have ever been on," he declared. "I can't believe I'm actually going to suggest you go to sleep!" he added, eyes wide with mock indignation.

The young woman shook her head at him, smiling again in spite of her tension. "I can't say I've ever been on a date like this before, either. You're quite a character, Peter Venkman."

"So I've been told," he told her lightly. "Okay, the radio is on the night stand here on this side of the bed. Just in case - if you need to get the guys and you can't or don't want to talk, remember - it's two clicks, pause, then one more click." He pointed out the appropriate button, then laughed a little when he saw her expression. "Yeah, I know. But Egon didn't want to come flying in on a false alarm just because I
dropped the radio or something."

"Two clicks, pause, then another click. I've got it, Peter."

"Good. Then I'm turning out the light."

"I don't think I'll sleep."

"Good night, Janna."

"Good night, John-Boy."


Peter lay against the pillows in the darkness, Janna's head a warm weight on his shoulder. Despite her disclaimer, she had fallen asleep almost immediately. Peter, however, was wide awake.

This is ridiculous, he thought. Come on, ghost, where are you?

A few minutes later, he moved carefully away from the sleeping young woman and padded barefoot toward the bathroom. I knew that last cup of coffee would catch up to me sooner or later.

The psychologist left the door partly ajar so he could hear if anything happened in the apartment beyond, but the light he turned on wouldn't wake his sleeping companion. He tended to his business, then washed his hands, grimacing at his face in the mirror over the sink. The usual bathroom lighting made the shadows under his eyes look enormous, and the bruise over his cheekbone was starting to turn rainbow shades around
the edges.

There's a face to inspire confidence, he thought, then nearly yelped as he saw another face in the mirror, over his shoulder.

It didn't look like the face of a monster; it was round and boyish with blue eyes and dark hair. But then, with humans, you can never tell.

Keeping his voice as level as possible, Peter said, "Jerry, I presume?" He didn't turn away from the mirror.

"Isn't she something?" sneered Jerry. "Not even the same guy two nights running."

"That would be kind of hard to do, don't you think? She tells me you keep scaring them away," Peter said mildly.

"She's supposed to be my girl!"

"You're dead, Jerry," the psychologist told him quietly. "Last I knew, most ladies didn't like going out with corpses."

"So now she had to pick a comedian," the ghost jeered.

"There hasn't been a lot to laugh about in her life since you got so jealous, Jerry. Maybe a reason to smile was exactly what she needed."

"Jealous? I gave her everything, and she still dumped me!"

"Everything except trust. That's pretty important in a relationship, you know."

"I suppose she trusts you?" the ghost said derisively.

"Yes, I think so," Peter replied gravely, watching the apparition in the mirror.

"Was it worth it?" Jerry demanded, his face beginning to get red.

Peter tilted his head, watching the transformation with a deep frown. His muscles tensed. "Worth it?" he echoed.

"Being with my girl," Jerry elaborated. "Was it worth - dying for?!" he shouted as jagged fangs sprouted from his suddenly elongated jaw.

Venkman yanked the bathroom door open, doing a fast duck and roll, so the horrific claws, when they scored him from shoulder to waist, did so relatively lightly. The ghost hooted in laughter. "You won't get away from me. I won't miss this time."

"Peter, stay down!" Egon shouted, as light blossomed in the other room, and three streams of energy hit the hideous creature emerging from the bathroom.

"No!" Jerry bellowed as he fought to escape the crackling current that surrounded him. The three Ghostbusters were determined, however, and the ghost couldn't shake their aim.

"Trap out!" warned Winston.

"Janna, don't look into the trap when Winston opens it," Ray warned loudly as the black Ghostbuster stomped on the pedal.

"No, please!" Jerry wailed, his face turning back to its original features. As he was inexorably sucked toward the trap Winston had opened, he screamed, "Janna, I love you!" and he disappeared.

The trap closed, and there was sudden silence. For a moment, the room was like a frozen tableau.

All three Ghostbusters and Janna realized at the same time that Peter still hadn't risen from his spot on the floor. There were several exclamations of "Peter!" but Egon was beside him first.

"I've got to stop doing that," the psychologist said groggily, trying to sit up and rubbing at his nose. "First the sidewalk, and now the floor..."

"Sit still, Peter," Egon instructed. "We need to see how badly you're hurt."

"Gosh, Peter, you're bleeding all over!" Ray exclaimed.

"Oh, no," Peter wailed. "Do you know how hard it is to get blood out of silk?"

Winston exchanged an amused glance with Janna. "I'd say he's not hurt that bad," he said to her sotto voce with a grin.

Janna touched the psychologist's unscored shoulder. "I'll get my first aid kit. Those cuts looks nasty, and we don't want them to get infected." Her voice hardly wobbled at all.

"So what took you guys so long?" Peter demanded. "I was beginning to wonder how long I could keep him talking!"

"Janna signaled us with the radio," Ray explained. "Apparently she woke up when she heard voices in the bathroom and figured it must be Jerry. When we got here, I thought it sounded like maybe you could talk
him into de-resolving peacefully..."

"I thought so, too, Ray," Peter said consolingly. "For about thirty seconds," he added. "He just wasn't going to listen. I was just sort of spinning it out to give you guys a chance to get here."

"Here," said Janna. "I've got some hydrogen peroxide to wash out those cuts." Egon moved aside to let her next to Peter, but he didn't move very far.

"Yipe!" yelped Venkman with wide eyes as she poured some of the hydrogen peroxide carefully down his back.

"Hold still," Janna said. "I can't believe he said he loved me," she told him quietly as she swabbed gently at the still-bleeding cuts.

"That wasn't love, Janna," he said. "That was obsession, and you can't let him make you feel guilty any more." For once, he sounded very serious.

"I understand." She worked on his back in silence for a moment. "How do you feel?"

Peter looked around at the four concerned faces, then he grinned directly at Janna over his shoulder. "I don't think even coffee is going to get me dancing again any time soon," he said in mournful tones.

Carefully she placed a dressing over the worst of the slashes, taping it down gently. "Oh, I think I could stand to let you rest a few days before I drag you out to play Twinkletoes again," she said with a straight
face.


A few minutes later, as the four Ghostbusters left Janna's apartment building, Ray Stantz exclaimed, "Wow! Where did that wind come from?"

"I'm almost afraid to say it, but it really feels like rain," Winston said with a hint of excitement.

"I'll believe that when I see it."

The skies opened up in a torrent of rain. "You had to say that, didn't you, Pete?"

"Peter, hurry and get in. You don't want your bandages to get wet." Egon's voice was sharp, but this time not with impatience or anger, but worry.

"I'm in, Spengs, I'm in," Peter replied, leaning back very slowly. "Can we go home now?"

"Yes, Peter, we can."

The dark-haired psychologist woke himself up around dawn when he tried to turn over from sleeping on his stomach. His breath escaped in a little hiss. He made himself relax again, and listened to the sounds in the room. It was still raining outside, but at a much gentler pace, and the air already felt cooler than it had in days.

Then he realized he didn't hear Egon's snores, and he looked carefully toward Spengler's bed. It was empty. He sighed, and levered himself up quietly.

"I've been sitting here feeling like a fool," Egon said softly without looking up as Peter walked into the kitchen.

"Well," said Peter, "that can be good for a healthy ego sometimes, but you don't want to go overboard." He turned a chair around and straddled it gingerly.

Egon sighed. "I'm supposed to be an intelligent person, but I failed to recognize I was seeing so much of myself in Douglas Thursday night that I resented what you said to his father."

"That's okay, Egon," Venkman said comfortably. "I keep trying to tell you that emotion is seldom rational." They sat in silence for a moment, the psychologist waiting for his friend to speak again.

"Peter, can I ask you a question?" Spengler said at last.

"I dunno. If I answer it, will you get over both your snit and your funk?"

Spengler gave a little snort of laughter and shook his head. After a moment, he asked, "What would you say to my father if you got a chance to talk to him?"

Peter nodded slightly to himself, but kept his voice nonchalant. "You mean if he showed up from the grave like Dougie's dad, you mean?" He pretended to think about it seriously. "That could be a pretty interesting
conversation," he admitted. "Your dad was awfully strict, and he did have some weird ideas about raising a child. But he wasn't a monster," he added, looking directly at Egon. "Was he?"

"No!" Egon's response was immediate.

"Well, then, it wouldn't be the same kind of thing, would it? Besides," Peter added slyly, "if he'd've been different, then you'd've been different, and then where would we be?"

Egon looked at his friend with affection. "I think I have been hanging around you too long," he said dryly. "I believe I actually followed what you just said."

"Aren't you lucky that genius rubs off?" Peter quipped. "Can we go back to sleep now?"

"The sun is coming up, Peter," Spengler said mildly.

"No, it's not - it's still raining. Come on, Mr. Up-All-Night. I had Ray put a note on Janine's desk, so she'll let us get our beauty sleep."

"At the moment, I believe you need it more than I do," Egon opined, rising from his chair.

"Oh, ouch!" said Peter, pretending to be mortally wounded. "You're just jealous 'cos I got asked to go dancing, and you didn't, nyah, nyah." Peter stood also. "Oh, and Egon?"

"Yes, Peter?"

"This time I could do without the escort, okay?" He grinned at his friend, delighted that the physicist seemed to be in a much better mood than he had been in days. "Three guys following me around in that old
ambulance sorta cramps my style."

"We'll have to ask Janna how she feels about that, won't we?" Egon said.

Peter stuck out his tongue. "Good night, Egon."

"Good morning, Peter."

THE END