Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Oh for Christ's sake…" 

Rose hissed in pain when the book she was flipping through decided it would be a good idea to slice her finger, giving her a paper cut.

"Wonderful," she grumbled, sucking on her finger.

"What's wonderful?" Ray asked, poking his head around the corner. 

Rose shook her head and said, "Nothing. Paper cut."

"Oh, okay.” 

Ray pushed his reading glasses back up the bridge of his nose and went back to cataloging their newest delivery of books. Rose smiled at the sight; she knew Ray was a bit insecure about the glasses he swore he didn’t actually need, but she loved them on him. He had gotten them a few months before they’d gotten married, and she thought they enhanced Ray’s handsomeness by a factor of four at least, which really shouldn’t have been possible given how handsome he already was. 

Closing the book that had cut her and putting it back on the shelf with a sigh, she fell into her thoughts. It had been just over five years since she came to New York, and there she was, a former Ghostbuster and the co-owner of an occult book shop, married to the man of her dreams. A year and a half since they tied the knot, and Rose just kept falling more and more in love with him every day.

Ray came up behind her and slid his arms around her waist, pulling her back into his chest and dropping a kiss to her temple. Rose laughed softly and covered his hands with hers. She looked down and smiled at the wedding band on his left hand. Even now, she could hardly believe Ray was her husband. 

"What are you thinking about?" he murmured in her ear. 

“Oh, just how sexy I think you are,” Rose replied teasingly.

Ray chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest, and he leaned down to press a lingering kiss to her neck, right over her pulse point. Rose felt a shiver run up her spine and she turned around in his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck, looking up at him. He linked his hands behind her lower back.

“I was also thinking about how much time has passed,” Rose said, “and how much has happened. I can hardly believe it’s been five years since Gozer, you know?”

“I know, it’s crazy to think about,” Ray replied, his eyes darkening at the memory no doubt flashing through his mind. Rose knew he tried his best to avoid thinking about Gozer and Stay Puft; he still bore some guilt over accidentally conjuring the gooey monstrosity and the destruction that had followed. The brief shadow that had passed over his face disappeared as quickly as it came, replaced by the warm smile she adored. “Five years since I fell in love with you. A wise move on my part, I think.” 

She grinned and leaned up to kiss him. “Mhm, I’d say that worked out pretty well for us.” 

“Oh, definitely,” Ray agreed, smiling cheekily. He pulled her in closer and kissed her soundly. She melted into him and had just been about to suggest they go fool around in the back office, when the bell over their door jingled. 

Rose grumbled with displeasure; they’d been dead all day - it was the day after Thanksgiving, and Rose figured most people were sleeping off their turkey comas - but of course a customer would waltz in right at that moment. 

Reluctantly, they pulled apart and emerged from the shelves to go help their poorly timed customer with whatever it was they needed.

But it wasn’t a customer at all, Rose realized with a smile. It was Winston. 

“Hey!” she exclaimed when she saw him. She walked right up to him and gave him a hug. “It’s good to see you, Win. Been awhile.” 

Winston returned her hug, smiling fondly. “Hey, sweetheart. Yeah, it’s been real busy lately. Trying to get as much work done before the weather changes on us, you know?”

Winston had been back working demolitions - or ‘strategic destruction’ as he and Rose jokingly called it - for a few years, while he worked on getting his degree in finance. He was really very good at both his job and his studies, although she knew he missed being a Ghostbuster as much as any of them. 

“Yeah, I hear you. It’s getting cold out there,” Rose said. She released Winston and hopped up onto the checkout counter. Ray grinned and shook Winston’s hand when he approached. 

“So what’s going on, Win? What brings you to our humble shop on this fine November afternoon?” Rose asked. 

Winston looked at Ray meaningfully. “You didn’t tell her?”

Rose looked over at her husband. He was grimacing, like he’d just realized he’d left the stove on at home, and she raised her eyebrows. “Tell me what, Ray?” 

“I-I forgot,” Ray told Winston. “I completely forgot. It’s today, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah.”

“Shit…”

Winston snorted and shook his head.

“Raymond. Beat of my heart. Love of my life,” Rose said sweetly. “Tell me what?”

Ray chuckled awkwardly. “We, uh…we got booked for another birthday party.”

Rose’s heart dropped and she narrowed her eyes at Ray. “Who is ‘we’?”

“Me and Winston,” Ray said nervously. He gave her his best, most hopeful smile, which admittedly was very charming. “And you?”

“Nope,” Rose replied, hopping off the counter. “No. Not happening.” 

“Rose…”

Aside from running the book store, Rose and Ray had in the last few years teamed up with Winston as birthday performers for a little extra income. Money was money, she knew, but it was a massive sell-out and she hated it. 

“Ray, I said the last one would be my last and I meant it. I’m tired of getting called bullshit by a bunch of snot-nosed teeny boppers who don’t know their asses from their elbows!” Rose exclaimed, throwing her arms up into the air in frustration.

Winston suppressed a laugh and turned away to examine the shelf dedicated to books on the practice of witchcraft. He pulled one out and began flipping through it with more interest than Rose knew he had in the subject.

“I know, I know,” Ray tried to soothe her. “I’m not all that fond of them either.”

“It’s humiliating!" Rose groused. She shook her head. "No, you and Winston go if you want, but if I have to stand there and listen to some jackass kid tell me I’m washed up one more time, I swear to God, I’m going to kick him straight out a window.”

“Honey, they booked all three of us,” Ray said gently. “They asked for you specifically, by name.”

“Why…what…I mean, who even has a birthday party the day after Thanksgiving?!” Rose whined. 

“The kid whose birthday it is, I’m guessing,” Ray said, barely suppressing a smirk.

“Oh, ha ha,” Rose replied sarcastically.

“Sorry,” he said, sounding not the least bit apologetic. “Rose, please?”

She sighed and closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. When she opened her eyes to see Ray smiling hopefully at her, she felt her resolve crumbling. She wanted desperately to say no, tell her husband to forget it, but how could she, when he was looking at her like that? 

“God damn it,” she grumbled. “This is ridiculous. Fine. I’ll go. I’ll go.” 

“Thank you, I love you!” Ray said breathlessly and pressed a kiss to her cheek. Rose had to fight back a smile; he could be so easy to please. 

“I love you, too. But I mean it, Ray, this is the last time,” she said firmly, pointing at him. “No more. If anyone asks for me again, you tell them I’m unavailable. I’m out of the country. I’m on the moon. Use whatever excuse you have to, just…no more.” 

“Understood,” Ray said, looking contrite. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask you first, and I’m sorry I forgot to tell you. It really did just slip my mind.” 

Rose sighed deeply and shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s just get this over with.” 

Ray nodded and closed up for the day. The three former Ghostbusters walked out to the door and Rose locked it behind her. She turned and followed Ray and Winston over towards the Ecto-1. Ray took great pains to ensure their Caddy stayed in top form, and his efforts showed; she was gleaming as brightly as ever in the winter sun. 

“Hey, maybe afterwards, we can go bother Egon. I’m sure he’ll be back at the firehouse by the time we’re done,” Ray said cheerfully, reaching into the back seat and handing out their jumpsuits.

Rose’s suit still bore the name 'Venkman' on it, and she never saw the point in changing it; after all, it wasn’t like they were getting their injunction lifted anytime soon. She sat down on the edge of the backseat, facing the sidewalk, so she could unlace her beloved Doc Martens and toe them off.

“He might,” Rose said, pulling on her suit and putting her boots back on. “We haven’t seen him in a while. And it would be nice to hang out at the firehouse for a little bit.” 

Egon had officially taken over the firehouse as his home and lab right after the Ghostbusters disbanded, mostly to keep an eye on the containment grid - or so he claimed. That was certainly part of it, but Rose thought a bigger reason was that he was just sentimental towards the old place. Ironic, she thought, considering how critical of it he’d originally been. 

She understood, of course; she suspected Egon wanted to be in the firehouse for the same reason that Ray held onto the Ecto-1 and insisted on doing the damned birthday parties, and for the same reason that Rose had gotten a small cartoon sheet ghost tattooed on her ankle. 

Whatever Egon’s motives, she was happy to keep the firehouse in the family, so to speak. Even though her and Ray’s permanent residence was in Islip, the firehouse was still their go-to hangout spot (aside from the shop) and the occasional crash pad, when the weather was bad or when they didn’t feel like trekking back to Long Island for whatever reason. 

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Ray said decisively as he zipped up his suit. 

“Okay!” Rose replied brightly. “I’m sure Egon will be happy to see us.”

“Yeah, especially you, Rose,” Winston remarked. She raised her eyebrow at the assertion and he smiled playfully. “Oh, come on, don’t act surprised. We all know you’re Egon’s favorite.”

“Oh, please,” Rose said, rolling her eyes. “Egon doesn’t have favorites.”

Ray and Winston grinned at each other in amusement and shook their heads. 

“Okay, honey. If you say so,” Ray said.

Rose narrowed her eyes suspiciously at his tone. 

“Except Egon does have a favorite and it’s most definitely you, sweetheart,” Winston added with a laugh. 

Rose rolled her eyes. “Alright, fine, I’m his favorite. Whatever. He's my best friend, what do you want? But he doesn’t treat me differently than he treats you guys. That’s what I meant.”

“Alright, I’ll give you that one,” Ray conceded. “He doesn’t treat us differently.”

“Thank you,” she replied. She climbed back into the rear seat of the Ecto and stared up at them. “Now can we get this birthday nightmare over with, please?” 

“Sure,” Ray chuckled.

He circled around to the other side of the Ecto-1 and got in the driver’s seat, while Winston climbed in the passenger side. Once everyone was in place and all doors were shut, Ray turned on the ignition and pulled away from the curb and into the flow of New York City traffic, switching on the lights and sirens. 

Thankfully, Ray's driving had improved over the years, if only just enough that she and Egon wouldn’t be in danger of accidentally concussing each other if they rode in the back seat together. Of course, Egon had hardly set foot in the Ecto since the Ghostbusters disbanded. Save for his continued residence in the firehouse, he had largely divorced himself from anything to do with their former life. 

Rose understood that, too: sometimes the reminders of what they’d all once been just hurt too much. 

For her, the ache was never more present than when she had to deal with the whole ‘dress up and entertain the kiddies’ crap, which was partially the reason she hated doing it so much. Every time she put on the suit and strapped on her pack, knowing full well that she was no longer truly a Ghostbuster - and never would be again - she died a little inside.

They all missed it, and whether they said it out loud or not, they were all harboring a hope that maybe one day the city would decide it needed them again. 

If that day ever came, they’d be ready. Until then, they just had to carry on and live their lives as happily as they could. 

As the Ecto-1 pulled up to their client's townhouse, Rose sighed quietly and tried to put on a happy face for the kids. Some of the kids were actually pretty sweet and occasionally the ones who were old enough to actually remember them were fans, which Rose couldn’t deny was gratifying, but many of them were just rude, little monsters.

She, Ray, and Winston climbed out of the car, and retrieved their packs from the back; as she strapped into her pack - which still bore the scratches of her tussle with the subway serial killer ghost five years previously - another little piece of Rose’s dignity crumbled into dust. 

Winston took one look at her face and nodded. “I feel the same way.” 

“Yeah,” she sighed. She took a deep breath and plastered a friendly, professional smile on her face. “Showtime.” 

The three former Ghostbusters approached the front door of the house, which was decorated with a lovely Christmas wreath, and knocked. 

“Bit early for Christmas decorations, isn’t it?” Winston asked idly. 

“Eh, Thanksgiving’s over, why not?” Rose said, shrugging. 

A couple seconds passed by before a curly-haired blonde woman about Rose’s age answered the door, looking stressed. 

"Oh great, you're here!" she said, taking in their appearance with a relieved smile.

For just a moment, a glimpse of their past life flashed before Rose’s eyes, and she could almost believe they were here to trap a ghost. 

Almost. 

"How many of them are there?" Ray asked as the woman led them inside.

"Fourteen," she answered. Rose groaned internally and shared an apprehensive look with Winston as they followed the woman towards the living room. "They're in here. I hope you can handle it, it’s been like a nightmare.”

"We'll do our best, ma'am," Rose chimed in, although she wasn’t all that hopeful. Rambunctious kids hopped up on birthday cake were impossible to control. 

"How big are they?" Winston asked. It was a fair question; the really little kids were usually easier to control. If there were teens around, they were usually so uninterested that they just sat there, unless one of them happened to be a fan. The ten to twelve year old bracket, however…those kids were often the most troublesome. 

The woman hummed in thought. "Four feet."

The three of them grimaced at each other. Four foot tall kids fell pretty perfectly into the danger zone, and either Rose was getting grumpier, or the kids were getting more obnoxious. However, a job was a job, she reminded herself, and she was a professional. They all sighed quietly and simultaneously, and moved forward towards the living room.

It was utter pandemonium inside. The kids were running rampant, playing with balloons and screaming their little heads off. The woman walked right into the crowd of children, and Rose felt a rush of admiration for her; she clearly had nerves of steel. 

It wasn’t that Rose was afraid of children, per se - she just didn’t have the patience to deal with most of them. Some of them were alright, though. Like Dana’s son, Oscar. Rose had adored Oscar from the moment she’d seen him. Other kids, however…Rose took them on a case by case basis. 

She could still hardly believe that Dana was a mother. More to the point, she could hardly believe that Peter was not Oscar’s father. Peter should have been the father and likely would have been, too, if he hadn’t been such a commitment-phobe. 

She knew Dana still cared for Peter, of course; even after she’d married Andre and had Oscar, the tone of her voice whenever she asked Rose how he was doing proved that much. She also knew that Dana had considered reaching out to Peter after she and Andre got divorced, when Oscar was only three months old, but she never did. As far as Rose knew, the last time they’d even seen or spoken to each other was at her and Ray’s wedding, and by then, they’d already been broken up for a year. 

It was a shame, really; Rose would’ve liked to have Dana as a sister-in-law, but she supposed it just wasn’t meant to be. Not that it made much of a difference in the end: as far as Rose was concerned, Dana was a part of her family, and always would be. 

"HEY, HEY, HEY!" the woman shouted, trying to get the children's attention. Rose shook herself from her thoughts, refocusing just in time to watch in amusement as the children heeded her, quieting down for a moment. "Listen up, listen up! Look who's here!"

To his credit, Ray gathered all the enthusiasm in his body and started waving and smiling at the kids. Rose and Winston tried to follow his lead and succeeded for the most part.

"Oh," one little boy groaned. "I thought it was gonna be He-Man."

The rest of the kids groaned along with the little boy but Winston quickly interrupted and said, "Hey, I know! Let's all sit down and we'll have fun!"

She could tell Winston was fighting the urge to turn around and walk out of the house, and she felt the same. Happy-go-luckiness was Ray’s natural state, not theirs.

Rose looked around and noticed a little girl in a dainty pink dress who was much quieter and much more well behaved than the rest, sitting off by herself. The little girl seemed approachable, so, in the spirit of not acting like a show pony, Rose went over and crouched down beside her. 

“Hi there,” Rose said. The little girl blinked up at her with the biggest pair of doe-brown eyes she’d ever seen. She couldn’t have been much more than five years old, and Rose had to wonder what she was doing there, when all the other children were so much bigger and older than her. 

"Hi," the little girl replied shyly.

"My name's Rose," Rose said. "What's yours?"

The little girl beamed excitedly. "My name's Rose, too!" 

"Wow, really?" Rose exclaimed. “That’s pretty neat!”

Little Rose nodded and said, "Yeah, my mommy said she named me for the only lady Gos…gost…Ghostbus’er."

Rose nearly lost her balance. "She did?"

Little Rose nodded. "Yeah. She told me she always liked the lady the bestest.” 

A feeling of pride swelled within her. "Well, you wanna know something, Rose?"

Little Rose nodded her head enthusiastically and Rose smiled. 

Rose leaned in and said quietly, "Okay, I'll tell you. I'm the lady Ghostbuster."

Her eyes went as wide as saucers. "You are?"

"Yep. See, look at my suit," Rose said, showing Little Rose the no-ghost patch on her arm. The little girl stuck her tongue out as she ran one tiny finger over the ghost and then pointed to her name patch. 

"Rose...Ven'man?" she asked, struggling a bit with the pronunciation of Rose’s maiden name. 

"Yeah, that’s me!” Rose replied. “Well, my name isn't Venkman anymore."

"S'not?"

"Nope,” Rose said to her. She pointed at Ray across the room, who noticed her and waved, a cheerful smile on his face. “See that guy right over there? The one who’s being kinda silly?"

Little Rose giggled and waved back at Ray. 

"That's Ray,” Rose told her. “He's another one of the Ghostbusters, and he's my husband. So my last name is Stantz now, since that’s Ray’s last name.” 

"Oh,” Little Rose replied. Rose had no idea if little girl had understood what she’d just said, but she nodded so seriously that she couldn’t help but smile at her. 

"So, Rose,” she said to the little girl. “You don't look like you're having much fun here."

Little Rose shook her head. "No…this is my big brother's party. These are all his friends. And they don't like me very much."

"Why not?"

"Cause I'm littler than them. Too little to do fun stuff."

"Yeah, sometimes the big kids can be mean, huh? But you know what, here, come with me," Rose said, standing up and taking the little girl's hand. She brought her over to the crowd of older kids and sat her down with the rest. "Now, you stay right here. The three of us are going to do…something fun."

Little Rose nodded and Rose rejoined her husband and Winston in front of the children.

"I see you made a new friend," Ray said, amusement twinkling in his eyes. 

Rose smiled and tried not to laugh. "Yes, I did, as a matter of fact. Apparently that little girl is named after me."

Ray looked both stunned and impressed. "Wow, really?"

"Yeah. This is her older brother's party…and apparently, her brother and his friends don’t like her very much because she’s too little to play with them.”

Ray scoffed, but somehow managed to retain that semi-fake smile he put on for the parties. “That’s rude.” 

“Right?” Rose said. “Anyway, we'd better get on with it, huh?" 

She and Ray focused on getting the rest of the kids seated, while Winston got their boombox set up. Just as the last kid got settled, one boy – about twelve years old, by the look of him – walked right up to Ray, looking smug and confrontational. 

"You know, my dad says you guys are full of crap,” the kid told him.

Rose blinked and bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from verbally reacting.

A woman - most likely the boy’s mother - turned to look at him, mortified. “Jason, hush!” 

All traces of happiness - real or otherwise - vanished from Ray’s face, but he remained even-tempered and simply said, "Well, some people have trouble believing in the paranormal."

"No," Jason argued. "He just says you guys are full of crap and that's why you went out of business."

Rose clenched her fist, her nails digging into her palm through her gloves, and she turned to look at Ray. To anyone who didn’t know her, she might have looked calm and unbothered. Ray, however, knew better; Rose was sure her eyes told her husband exactly how badly she wanted to punt this kid out onto the front sidewalk. 

Ray very calmly turned to Winston and said, "Song."

Winston, also clearly barely suppressing the urge to dropkick their naysayer, obliged and hit play on the boombox. As their theme song began playing from the tiny speakers, Rose took a deep breath and started getting on with their routine. The dance was the part she hated the most. But when she looked down and saw Little Rose smiling up at her expectantly, she vowed that this would be the best performance she had ever done – but only for this little girl.

Rose started moving in time to the song and the kids started clapping, but only because their mothers were trying valiantly to get them into it. Even Jason started clapping. 

And then the words came.

"When there's something strange, in your neighborhood…who you gonna call?!"

The correct response would have, of course, been 'Ghostbusters!' but, naturally, that wasn't what the kids shouted.

"HE-MAN!" they yelled in reply. 

That got them into a chant, calling He-Man’s name over and over again. Realizing they had completely lost control, Ray, Rose, and Winston stopped dancing and just stood there as the kids scattered to go do something else. Rose would bet good money that they were probably going to watch He-Man and the Masters of the Universe, and she couldn’t blame them: she’d seen a couple episodes, and it was definitely more entertaining than watching three adults in flight suits dance around, making asses of themselves. 

"When there's something weird," the song said.

"And it don't look good," Ray and Winston grumbled.

"Let's go…get a beer, alright?" Ray said. Winston and Rose agreed vehemently, and Ray went to settle up with the mother of the birthday boy. 

As Rose waited around with Winston, a little hand caught onto the leg of her suit. She looked down in surprise and smiled when she saw her new friend, Little Rose. 

"Oh, hey there, Rose. What's up?" she asked, crouching down. 

"Nothin’,” Little Rose replied shyly. She huffed a little, once again looking so serious Rose couldn’t help but smile. “But if I saw s-somethin’ weird, I wouldn't call He-Man…I'd call you.” 

She smiled and reached out to ruffle Little Rose's hair, earning a bright smile in return. "Well, I'm happy at least one of you believes in us. That's enough for me. You be good, okay, Rose?” 

Little Rose nodded. “Okay.”

“And remember…don’t be afraid of no ghosts,” she said, winking at the little girl, who giggled and ran off, presumably to find her mother.

Rose stood and turned back towards Winston. 

“Cute kid,” he said. “Too bad it wasn’t her party.”

“Yeah,” Rose agreed. 

“You think you’d ever want one?”

Rose frowned in confusion. “What, a birthday party? I mean, I had one last month. You were there.” 

Winston shot her a look of exasperation. “No, genius, a kid.”

“Oh,” Rose said, laughing at her own misunderstanding. She shook her head. “No. Ray and I have talked about it, and neither of us really want them. Besides, you know how I was in the delivery room with Dana?” 

“Sure, yeah. That husband of hers was in the middle of a rehearsal or something, right? So you stepped in,” Winston recalled. “Got her to the hospital.”

“Yeah, yeah. The little guy wasn’t even supposed to come for another two weeks. He was eager, I guess. Anyway, let’s just say seeing what Dana went through during labor…if I hadn’t already known I didn’t want kids, that would’ve pretty much sealed the deal. I am all set, thank you very much.”

“And Ray really doesn’t wanna be a dad?” Winston asked. “I would’ve thought he’d be jumping to have a whole houseful of kids.”

Rose shrugged. “You can ask him yourself if you want, but to be honest, he doesn’t feel any particular way about it. He’s not against the idea but he’s not for it, either, and that’s the kicker. Ray and I had pretty different childhoods, but we both think that if someone’s gonna have a kid, they should wanna be a parent more than anything. And we just don’t. We like our life the way it is.” 

“Hey, fair enough,” Winston told her. “I’m with you, don’t have ‘em if you don’t want ‘em a hundred and ten percent.” 

“Exactly,” she responded.

Ray returned, now holding their payment and two party hats in his hands. He already had one strapped on his head and he handed the others to Rose and Winston. 

“Your little friend wanted us to have these,” Ray said, smiling and pointing to the hat on his head.

Rose grinned and put on her hat, waving to Little Rose when she saw her watching them from behind her mom’s legs. Winston didn't put his on but he did smile at Little Rose and wave, so Rose didn't hold it against him. 

As they walked out the door, Ray said, "Thank you! Call any time!"

Rose and Winston both shot him a glare the second that the door closed but Ray didn't notice; the mother had paid them in cash, and he was too busy counting out their respective takes.

Rose sighed and pulled the party hat off her head.

"That's it, Ray, I've had it,” Winston told him. “I’m with Rose, no more parties!"

"Here's your share,” Ray said cheerily, ignoring Winston completely.

"Look, I'm tired of taking abuse from over-privileged nine year olds," Winston told him as they walked down the stairs and over to the Ecto-1. 

Rose threw her hands up in the air and said, "That’s what I’ve been saying!"

"I know, Zee, but we can't quit now. The holidays are coming up. It's our best season," Ray said, sounding far too happy about it. Winston opened the back of the Ecto and pulled out the pack rack. 

“Uh, excuse me, Ray, yes, we can quit now,” Rose said to him. She knew her tone was a bit snippy, but she’d had quite enough of this. “And I am quitting. In case you’ve forgotten, dear, we all have other jobs.” 

"Ray," Winston said, gently pulling the hat off Ray's head. "Man, face it. Ghostbusters doesn't exist.”

Ray's expression fell, and as irked as she was, Rose’s heart twinged painfully - she hated seeing Ray upset or downtrodden. Winston tossed Ray’s party hat into the back of the Ecto and moved to help him out of his proton pack. 

“A year from now, those kids won’t even remember who we are,” Winston told him. 

Ray cast a look at the house behind them. "Ungrateful little yuppie larvae. After all we did for this city."

Rose smirked, pulling off her own pack and placing it on the rack. 

"Yeah,” Winston scoffed, as Ray helped him out of his pack next. “We conjured up a hundred foot marshmallow man, blew the top three floors off an uptown high rise, and ended up getting sued by every state, county, and city agency in New York."

"Yeah," Ray agreed, smiling wistfully, pushing the rack back in and shutting the back door. "But what a ride."

Chapter Text

Thanks to Ray’s driving, they got to the firehouse in record time. It had been a while since she’d had time to hang out at the old place, and she stared up at the giant brick building with a fond smile as they approached. 

The holiday season was always busy for the shop - what with people buying books for the New Age-y folks in their lives, or the local witches stocking up for their Yule celebrations - and Rose had been spending most of her time organizing their shelves and tending to the customers. She absolutely loved the shop, but it was always nice to have a minute to breathe and just hang about the firehouse. 

Rose and Ray invited Winston to hang around and have a beer with them, but he declined, saying he had other plans, so he said goodbye, climbed out of the car, and went off to catch the next train home. Ray flicked a switch in the middle console and the big doors to the firehouse opened, and he backed the Ecto into the garage bay. 

He flicked the same switch back down and the doors closed behind them. 

“Egon? You here?” Rose called as she climbed out of the car. She walked over to the wooden lockers along the wall and pulled off her suit. She stowed it in her locker and adjusted her t-shirt. “Egon?” 

No answer. 

She stuck her head down to the basement, and called his name again. Silence. She shrugged and headed for the stairs. “Egon must still be at the Institute.” 

“Yeah, probably,” Ray said, pulling off his own suit and following her up to the kitchenette and den. He went over to the fridge and pulled out a couple beers, while Rose flopped down on the couch tiredly. Ray handed her an open bottle and went to turn on the television in front of them. Peter’s show would be coming on soon, and even though it was truly god-awful, Rose liked to tune in when she could to support her brother. 

“Thanks,” she said, taking a sip. Ray fiddled with the TV. The picture was a bit fuzzy and he gave it a good smack. It cleared up, and he grabbed the remote, cycling through until they got to Channel 10. 

Ray joined her on the couch and took a sip of his beer. He stretched his free arm over the back of the couch, and Rose snuggled up next to him. 

The intro to Peter’s show started, and Ray shook his head. On screen, Peter began speaking with his guest, who promptly began spouting off about something to do with the world ending on New Year’s Eve. 

“Why do we watch this again?” Ray asked, taking another sip of his beer. 

Rose sighed. “To support Peter.” 

“Yeah, but it’s bad.”

“Awful,” she agreed. “He’s lucky we love him.”

“You know,” Ray said conversationally. “I’m surprised he never wanted to come with us to one of our party things. He would have been a big hit, I think.”

Rose straightened up and looked at Ray incredulously. “Are you serious? Look, Peter might be a showboat, but he’s not in the business of humiliating himself.” 

Ray gestured to the TV. “Are you sure about that?”

Rose rolled her eyes and settled back down against Ray’s chest. “Yeah, okay, fair point. But still, Peter would sooner jump off a bridge than perform at a kid’s birthday party. Besides, you know how hard he tried to move on from Ghostbusters, and then it got even worse after things with Dana fell apart. No way would he go anywhere near one of those parties.”

“It’s been what, two and a half years since they broke up?” Ray asked. Rose nodded. “I thought he’d be over it by now.”

“Well, he was in love with her, you know? And I mean, let’s be honest, he still is. But he fucked up,” she replied, shrugging sadly. “He was scared to commit and he lost her, and it broke his heart. So he’s tried hard to distance himself from it and move on, because what else can he do?”

“Yeah, okay, you’re probably right about that,” Ray acknowledged. “But what does that have to do with hanging out with us here? We barely see him these days, and I don’t even know when the last time he saw Egon was.”

“Well, it’s not all about Dana,” Rose said, huffing a laugh. “He is pretty busy trying to keep his show running, and besides that, losing Ghostbusters hurt him, too. I think he just tried to put it all behind him and keep it there. He didn’t want to cling to the past because it just hurt too much. Same as the rest of us, to be honest. You know that’s why Winston and I don’t like the parties, right? It hurts too much.”

“Yeah, I know,” Ray said quietly. “It hurts for me, too. I guess I just wasn’t ready to let go yet.”

“And that’s okay,” she assured him. “It’s okay not to be ready. But I think maybe for Peter, coming to the firehouse is like reopening the wounds all over again. But it isn’t like we never see him. We do. Not as often as I’d like, sure, but we do see him. And as far as Egon’s concerned, he’s been busy, too, and you have to admit, he hasn’t put much effort into seeing Peter either. It’s a two way street.”

Ray sighed. “I know. I know you’re right. I just miss him. And I miss Ghostbusters. I miss us all being here.” 

“I know, Ray, so do I,” she said, leaning up to press a kiss to her husband’s cheek. “Hey, didn’t Peter’s book come in today?” Ray nodded. “So we’ll see him when he comes to pick it up. Maybe we can all grab dinner or something soon, too. We’ll invite him, Janine…the whole gang. Okay?”

“That sounds great. We haven’t seen Janine in what, four months?” 

“Yeah, something like,” Rose replied, thinking back. “She couldn’t make it to my birthday thing, so yeah, probably sometime over the summer was the last time.”

“Yeah…”

“So it’s settled then,” Rose said. “We’ll get everyone together, and we’ll go out and have a family dinner night.”

Ray beamed at her and leaned forward, capturing her lips in a warm kiss that left Rose humming with happiness. 

“Now,” she said when he pulled away, looking at her lovingly. “You wanna see if we can catch an episode of Miami Vice or something?”

“Yes, please,” Ray said with a relieved laugh, handing her the remote. “You know I love Peter, but anything would be better than this train wreck of a show.”

Rose smiled and changed the channel. 

They were a little over halfway through the episode of Miami Vice they’d managed to catch, when Rose heard the door creak open downstairs and the telltale sound of Egon’s footsteps echo off the walls. 

“Hi, Egon!” Rose shouted loudly. 

“Hello!” he called up. “I’ll be down in the basement if you need me!” 

“Okay!” she called back.

About fifteen minutes later, the episode ended and Rose patted Ray on the leg. “I’m going to go see how Egon’s doing.”

“Okay. I’ll be down in a few,” he replied. “Gonna see if there’s anything interesting in the news.”

“Sure.”

Rose walked over to one of the fire poles and hopped on, sliding back down to the first floor. Her boots thudded heavily on the concrete floor as she landed and she straightened up, walking over to the basement door and trotting down the stairs. 

Sometimes she thought Egon would live in the basement if he could. Luckily, it was too small to accommodate him. 

True to his word, Egon was sitting at his little desk, munching on a Twinkie and studying some data, likely something he’d brought home from the Institute. He’d been working on a theory he and Ray had shared for years, regarding whether or not a person’s emotions had an effect on the physical environment around them. It was interesting work, to say the least, and lately Egon had been knee-deep in sociological and psychological experiments. 

"Hey, Egie," Rose said, walking up to him. “Good to see you.”

He looked up from his data. "Hello, Rose."

She bent down and pressed a kiss to his cheek in greeting. He tensed for half a second, but otherwise didn’t bat an eye, and just smiled up at her.

Rose was often freely affectionate with Egon, usually hugging him or dropping a kiss on his cheek like she’d just done. At first, he’d been somewhat surprised by the frequent gestures, so she had offered to stop if he didn’t like them. Egon, however, had been emphatic in assuring her that his awkwardness was due to his being unaccustomed to physical contact, rather than an outright dislike of it. None of the guys were particularly affectionate with each other - except Ray, on occasion - so it wasn’t really until Rose reentered their lives that Egon had anyone who would be physically affectionate with him on a regular basis.

Over time, he’d grown more comfortable with Rose’s affection, although he never really seemed to expect it whenever it happened.  

"How was work today?" she asked, straightening up and stepping back. 

"It was productive. We got some very promising readings off today’s experiments.” 

“That’s good,” Rose said lightly. “It was the marriage counseling test this time, right?”

“Yes. And the happiness index with the puppy.”

“Aw, puppy. Was he cute?” she asked him. He looked away from his readings and raised his eyebrow at her, and she chuckled at herself. “What am I saying, he’s a puppy. Of course he was cute.” 

“Yes…oh, and then Dana stopped by,” Egon said. 

He spoke so casually that Rose almost breezed right past what he’d actually said, but her brain screeched to a halt the moment she processed the words. “Come again?”

"Dana stopped by,” he repeated. He paused and then added, “Dana Barrett.”

“Yeah, I figured that part out, Egon, but thank you. So why did she come by? I didn’t think she even knew where to find you.”

Egon swiveled in his chair and stood up, walking over to the containment grid terminal to check the readings, and Rose followed him over, leaning up against the wall, waiting for an answer.

"She came to ask for my help with something,” he replied after a moment. “Apparently, she was pushing her baby in his stroller and she looked away for a moment and then whoosh."

"Whoosh?" she repeated, her eyebrow lifting. 

"Yes, the carriage just took off. Went down the sidewalk, out into traffic, and then it stopped."

"Oh my god, is he okay?" Rose asked urgently. 

"Hm?"

"The baby, Egon, is he okay?"

"Oh yes, he's fine, according to Dana. He wasn't hurt. Probably just scared him, if anything, but Dana doesn't want to take any chances where her son is concerned, so she asked me to look into it."

"And?" she prompted. She loved Egon dearly, but getting details out of him could be like pulling teeth sometimes. 

"And I'm gonna look into it,” he said lightly. “I'd like your and Ray's help, if you don't mind."

“Sure, of course. Anything for Dana,” Rose replied. She cleared her throat. “But, uh…what about Peter?”

Egon looked at her sharply over the tops of his glasses. "She asked me to keep Peter out of this. And I think that request would extend to you and Ray, as well…"

Rose held her hands up in surrender. “Hey, if Dana doesn’t want him to know, I won’t say anything. It’s her life, and her kid. Not Peter’s business.” 

“That’s my view, as well,” Egon responded, nodding. 

“You just better hope he doesn’t get a hold of Ray,” Rose said, folding her arms. 

"Egon better hope who doesn't get a hold of me?" Ray asked, coming down the stairs. “Hi, Egon.” 

“Hello, Ray.”  

Rose turned to look at her husband, who sat down on the bottom stair. 

“What were you guys just talking about?” he asked. 

"Peter," Rose replied. "Apparently, Dana showed up at the Institute today and has asked for our help looking into some freaky shit that happened with her son."

"’Some freaky shit’? Is that a scientific term?" Egon asked wryly.

"Spengs, was that a joke I detected?" Ray asked, chuckling. 

“Perhaps,” Egon said flatly, although the tiny smirk on his face confirmed he was, in fact, joking. 

"Listen here, Egon, I will have you know that is a very scientific term, okay?” Rose said, trying and failing to suppress an amused smile. Egon was really quite funny when he wanted to be. “Don't make fun of me. What would you call it?"

"An unexplained phenomenon," Egon replied confidently. Ray snorted and broke into laughter. 

"And how is that different from what I said?” Rose asked. “Aside from the swearing, I mean.”

Egon smirked at her. “It sounds more professional.”

"Oh for the love of - fine. ‘Unexplained phenomenon’, then. You’re lucky I love you,” Rose said, rolling her eyes. She turned her attention over to Ray. “Anyway, yes, Dana has asked for our help. With one little condition."

"Let me guess, that we keep Peter out of the loop?" Ray predicted. 

"Yes," Egon replied.

"Oh boy."

"Yeah," Rose agreed. It wasn't going to be easy, keeping this from Peter. Granted, with how infrequently they saw him, it might not even come up in conversation until long after it was said and done. If they did happen to see him, and if it did come up in conversation, well…she and Egon were more or less inured to Peter’s information gathering techniques, but Ray - gentle heart that he was - was decidedly not immune, even after all the years he’d known Peter. 

He was, of course, capable of keeping a secret from Peter - the early days of his and Rose’s relationship was proof of that - but he couldn’t hold up under sustained questioning, and Peter rarely stopped pushing until he found out what he wanted to know. It was part of what made her brother a great psychologist, but it also made him a giant pain in the ass. 

"Okay, well, we'll just have to be careful not to reveal anything, won't we?” Ray said, standing up. “If we even see him, that is."

"Yes, we will have to, Ray," Egon said pointedly. 

Ray’s eyes narrowed and he crossed his arms. “What are you implying, Egon?”

"He's not implying anything, honey,” Rose told him. “He's saying it loud and clear. We all know that of the three people in this room, you are the one most likely to spill the beans. And Peter knows it, too. So all Egon’s saying is, you know, watch what you say around him, okay?"

Ray looked a little miffed for a few moments, but then nodded. “Okay. So, when do we get started?"

Rose looked at Egon. “You have to work tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow is Saturday, so no.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Please, like the weekend ever stopped you from working.”

Ray smirked at Egon, who merely nodded in acknowledgement. “Fair point.”

“Thank you,” she replied. “Anyway, why don’t you come by the shop tomorrow morning? We’ll have all the books we could ever need right there at our disposal. It’ll be a research party, like old times.” 

“Good idea,” Egon said. “And we should go over to Dana’s, take a look at the baby. Make sure there’s nothing strange about him in particular. She gave me her number. I’ll give her a call, and let her know we can come by around noon or so. And since you’re already here, why don’t the two of you just spend the night? No sense in you driving all the way back to Long Island just to turn around and come back the next morning.” 

“Sounds like a plan,” Rose told him. “I’ll order some Chinese food.” 

“Yes. Don’t forget the -” Egon started.

“Egg rolls, I know. You got it, Egie.”  

Ray beamed. “Now it really will be like old times!” 

"This one's interesting, Ray," Egon said, emerging from the bookshelves. Ray looked over briefly, but he’d been busy manning the register, so he hadn’t been able to help them research. Rose had stuck with Egon, pulling out books on telekinesis, unexplained migrations, and spontaneous object upheavals. 

She set her books down on the counter and peered at the page Egon was looking at. He tilted the book over so she could see it better. 

"Berlin," she read aloud. "1939…a flower cart took off by itself, rolled half a kilometer…three hundred eyewitnesses. Damn!” 

"My best to the coven!" Ray called after their most recent customer, one of their regulars; he came in every other week or so to stock up on the herbs they kept behind the register. Egon turned to look at the man curiously as he exited.

"Coven?" he asked Rose quietly. 

"Yeah, that’s Jon, he’s a witch,” Rose explained. “He’s really nice. We get all sorts in here, it’s best to just roll with it.” 

“Ah,” Egon said and nodded.

“Berlin, huh?” Ray said. Rose leaned on the counter and gazed at her husband. He looked especially adorable today. His glasses were perched at the end of his nose, and he had layered his ever present black t-shirt underneath a red button up, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a tan knit vest. He looked like such a librarian and Rose loved it.

She even loved the pipe he had taken to smoking. He had promised he was going to quit, and tried, but he had been unsuccessful. He had cut down a ton, though, and stopped buying cigarettes once he switched over to his pipe. It wasn’t really any better for him, but she couldn’t deny it lent him a bookish, professorial air that Rose adored. 

"You know," Ray said, moving out from behind the counter. As he did, the door opened behind them, letting in a brief gust of rainy, chilly air. "We should also check Duke University Mean Averaging Studies on Controlled Psychokinesis."

"I pulled it," Egon said, nodding. 

Rose smiled at her boys. It amazed her how in tune they were sometimes. If she didn't know better, she'd say that they had some sort of psychic link, although it wouldn't surprise her if they did. 

Ray stuck his pipe in his mouth as he scoured the bookshelf for other references.

"Perhaps you can help me," a nasally voice said from behind them. The three of them turned around and Rose grinned when she realized it was Peter. "I'm looking for a love potion aerosol that I could spray on a certain Penthouse pet to obtain her total submission."

Ray puffed on his pipe, pulling off his glasses and letting them hang around his neck by the cord he’d attached to them, and smirked at Egon. 

"Hello, Venkman,” Egon said. 

"Hi, Pete, how's it going?" Ray said cheerfully, moving back behind the register. 

“Very well,” he responded, still in that silly voice. Peter turned to smile at Rose and opened his arms. Rose grinned and rushed towards her older brother, enveloping him in a delighted hug.

“Hi, Pete! It’s so good to see you!”

"Hey, Rosie. Good to see you, too," he said, laughing as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders tightly. “That brother-in-law of mine still treating you right?"

"Of course,” Rose replied. “He’s the best husband anyone could ask for. Except no one else can ask for him. He's mine."

"Till my dying day, sweetheart," Ray chimed in.

"And it better stay that way, mister," Peter joked, releasing his sister. He removed his jacket, tossing it on a nearby chair.

"Oh, it will, Peter," Egon assured him flippantly, opening a book he picked up off the shelf. "I've never seen two people more in love than Ray and Rose."

"Hi, Egon,” Peter said, moving towards him. “How's school? Bet those science chicks really dig that large cranium of yours, huh?"

Egon met Peter's teasing gaze undaunted. "I think they're more interested in my epididymis."

Rose snorted and shook her head at the rather crude anatomy joke. Peter chuckled softly, frowning as he looked down at the floor, as though trying to puzzle out what the hell Egon had just said.

A powerful rumble of thunder boomed outside and as Peter turned towards Ray, Egon looked at Rose and smirked. He knew that Peter didn't understand the joke, and it made it all the funnier that she did. 

"Ray," Peter said. “Let's close this place up so you can buy me a calzone."

"We're working, Peter," Rose said without looking up from the reference book she had cracked open. 

"Yeah, I can't really do that right now…we are working on something. But your book came in," Ray replied, his glasses down at the bottom of his nose yet again. Rose looked up and almost cooed at how cute and bookish her husband looked at that moment. He handed Peter his book with a raised eyebrow. “Magical Paths to Fortune and Power."

"Thank you," Peter said, smiling at the book. 

"Oh, good luck with that, Venkman,” Egon said dryly. Rose and Ray both laughed a bit derisively at Egon’s well-timed sarcasm, but Peter didn’t pay them any mind. 

"Will you put this on my account, please?" Peter said.

"Sure," Ray responded before finding a book in front of his face, courtesy of Egon.

"Ray, take a look at this.” 

"Oh, yeah," Ray answered, taking the book from the taller scientist and peering at it carefully.

"What are you guys working on?" Peter asked. 

Rose and Egon both shot warning looks at Ray, who swallowed nervously and said, "Oh, we're just kind of…"

"Ahem," Egon coughed conspicuously, staring at Ray from behind the medallions that hung from a decorative trumpet they had suspended from the ceiling. Rose met her brother’s pointed gaze evenly when he looked over at her, resting her chin on her hand, completely unbothered.  

"…checking something out for an old friend.”

"Neat," Peter said, clearly undeterred. "Who?"

"Ah…um…" Ray stammered. Luckily, he was rescued by the shrill ringing of the phone, which he picked up quickly and happily. Rose hoped for her husband's sake that the caller had some awfully complicated problem that they needed help with, but it was not to be.  "Ray's Occult…seven o'clock on weekdays, midnight on Saturdays. Thank you."

Ray placed the red phone back on its receiver and turned his attention to the book in front of him. Peter placed a hand under his chin and forced him to look him in the eyes. 

"Who?" he asked sweetly. 

"Who?" Ray repeated. Peter nodded. "Ah, just someone we know."

Rose kept her expression strictly under control, but inside she was grumbling in exasperation. Ray would need to do a lot better than that to throw Peter off the scent. 

"Oh…" Peter smiled and reached over the counter and grabbed Ray by his ears, pinching tightly. "Who?"

Ray yelped in pain and said, "I can't, no, no!"

“Peter!” Rose scolded her brother. “Stop it!”

"Yes, you can! Who?" Peter said to Ray, completely ignoring her. 

"Nobody, nobody!" Ray insisted.  

"Damn it, Peter, I said knock it off!” Rose growled at her brother. Egon turned around from the shelf of books he had wandered to, and looked at her in resignation.

"Just as soon as he tells me who this person is!" Peter exclaimed, twisting Ray's ears painfully. Ray rose up on his tiptoes, squirming. "Can you tell me now?"

"Ah, Dana Barrett!" Ray ground out. Peter’s expression dropped in shock, and he stopped torturing Ray, who began rubbing at his now sore ears. "Ow.”

"My Dana Barrett?" Peter asked.

"She isn't yours, Peter," Rose said, slamming the book in her hands shut. There was nothing in there anyway. 

"You know what I meant,” Peter said testily. “Now, spill. What's going on with Dana that she needs your research expertise?"

"That’s none of your concern," Rose told him, her tone leaving no room for argument. Of course, her brother argued anyway. 

"I have a right to know, Rose! She's my –"

"She's your what, Peter?” Rose challenged, stepping towards him with her arms crossed. “Your girlfriend? Because she's not. Your wife? She’s not that either. Hell, you aren't even friends. When was the last time you two even spoke?” 

"I’ll have you know, we spoke at your wedding,” Peter remarked snippily. “Well, okay, the reception, but still.”

Rose stared at him incredulously. “My wedding reception. That was a year and a half ago, Peter.”

Peter crossed his arms and shifted in annoyance. Egon and Ray were both silent, watching the siblings face off. They had learned by that point, Rose knew, that it was better to let her handle her brother when he got in a huff. 

“Well, so what? I still care about her!" Peter said, raising the volume of his voice a little. “Is she alright?”

"She's fine, Peter," Egon interjected calmly. 

"Okay, great. So tell me what's going on!" he demanded. 

"It is not. Your. Business, Peter,” Rose said slowly. “Dana doesn’t want you involved. Her life, her rules. She asked Egon for help and explicitly told him to keep you out of it.”

"Well, that's just too damn bad, isn’t it?” Peter retorted, his eyes betraying how hurt he was. “I’m getting involved.” 

“Would it kill you to just respect her wishes? You owe her that much,” Rose said coldly. Peter stood his ground and glared at her. She shook her head in disgust and resignation. “Fine. Whatever. We gotta go. Dana’s expecting us. Tag along if you want, but don’t expect her to be happy about it.” 

“Great. Let me grab my coat,” Peter said.

“Fine,” Rose answered irritably. She looked at Egon and Ray. “Let’s go.”

She turned towards the door, leaving her husband and Egon to follow. Peter plucked his coat off the chair and quickly threw it on, hurrying after her as she pushed open the door and stepped out in the cold and drizzly November afternoon. 

“So when did you become Dana’s little defender? ‘Respect her wishes’ and all that?” Peter asked, a bit condescendingly, his breath fogging in the air. He looked over her attire, raising an eyebrow at her leather jacket. “Also, aren’t you cold in that jacket?”

“No, I’m not cold,” she snapped. “And I became her defender right around the same time I became the only person in your orbit that she felt comfortable talking to about the breakup. And then getting pregnant and marrying Andre. And then becoming a mother and Andre leaving, and the divorce, and being a single mother, but let’s face it, she was basically a single mother the whole time, since God knows Andre was useless...are you getting the picture here, Peter?”

“Hey, you know, none of that would have happened if she hadn’t dumped me,” Peter said defensively, crossing his arms. 

“And she wouldn’t have dumped you,” Rose said through clenched teeth, poking her brother hard in the chest, “if you hadn’t been such a baby about taking the next step with her. But no, you thought it would be better to give her the runaround, and, I don’t know, just assumed she’d put up with it. And man, were you wrong. So don’t you get all pissy with us - with Ray - because we tried to respect her wishes to keep you out of her business. At least we’re trying to do right by her, which is a hell of a lot more than I can say for you.”

Peter flinched and looked away from her, looking ashamed. Rose huffed quietly; she knew to hear that would have been painful, and she didn’t relish hurting her brother’s feelings, but they were words he needed to hear. 

Ray and Egon emerged from the shop and walked around her and Peter towards the Ecto-1. Ray, who had shed his vest in favor of his own leather jacket, tossed Egon the keys to the car.

“Spengs, why don’t you drive? This is your investigation, after all.”

Egon looked momentarily stunned - Ray very rarely gave up the driver’s seat to anyone other than Winston - but nodded and got behind the wheel. Rose heard the engine rumble to life and watched Ray climb into the passenger seat.

“What does he mean, this is Egon’s investigation?” Peter asked her, narrowing his eyes. 

“I already told you, Dana went to Egon for help. Keep up, would you?” Rose said impatiently, moving past her brother towards the Ecto-1. She opened the rear passenger side door and slid in until she was halfway to the driver’s side. She leaned forward out of the car to look at her brother. “Well? Are you coming or what?”

Peter started and hurried over to join her, sliding into the backseat and closed the door. Egon pulled away from the curb carefully, and they set off in the direction of Dana’s apartment. 

Chapter Text

The drive to Dana's apartment was tense and would have been completely silent if not for Egon filling Peter in on Dana’s problem while he drove. Peter kept glancing at Rose, but she kept her eyes either out her window or on the back of Egon’s head. She loved Peter more than life itself, but Dana was one of her best friends, and she couldn’t help but feel protective of her. 

Peter’s behavior when it came to Dana was beyond frustrating; it was obvious to her - and anyone who bothered to look, really - that he was still in love with her. The problem was, he was either unwilling or too scared to do anything about it. 

And then, to make matters worse, he just had to insist on getting involved with something that had nothing to do with him, even after finding out Dana didn’t want him to know. It boggled Rose’s mind that Peter could love Dana so much and still show so little regard for her privacy, but then, she supposed she really shouldn’t have been surprised. It was Peter they were dealing with, after all, and he’d always been too curious and stubborn for his own good. 

It was infuriating.  

Ray twisted in his seat to look at her, and she glanced over when she felt his eyes on her. The expression on his face was reminiscent of a sad puppy dog, and it was clear that he was worried she was angry with him. Truth be told, she was a teensy bit annoyed that he hadn’t been able to withstand Peter’s interrogation, but she was mostly upset with her brother for sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. 

"Rose?" Ray attempted cautiously. 

"Yes, Ray?"

"I’m sorry I told Peter,” he said. 

“You don’t have to apologize, honey. I know you didn’t mean to,” Rose replied. She crossed her arms and shot a glare at her brother’s profile. “Peter pulled it out of you. Just like we thought he would.”

Ray scowled at the aforementioned nuisance, and rubbed at his ear absentmindedly. 

Peter rolled his eyes. "He wouldn't tell me. What was I supposed to do?"

"Well, it’s a wild concept, but maybe, just maybe you could have left well enough alone for once instead of being a nosy jackass," Rose shot back. Peter's eyes widened and he fell silent. 

“I hope Dana won’t be mad at me,” Ray said worriedly. Rose put her hand over her husband’s where it rested along the back of the front seat and smiled reassuringly. 

“She won’t. She’s not going to be thrilled, but she won’t be mad at you,” she said. Ray smiled at her, relieved. “She knows how Peter is.”

“Hey,” Peter protested. “I’m just trying to look out for -”

“Shut up, Peter,” she said in warning. Her brother sighed heavily, but didn’t respond further. 

Silence descended upon them once more - only slightly diffused by Ray’s cheerful relief - but thankfully, the ride only lasted another minute or so. 

Egon parked the Ecto against the curb outside Dana’s building, and he and Ray climbed out, and began gathering the equipment they thought they might need from the back. Rose looked at Peter expectantly. He was closest to the curb, and Rose didn’t like opening car doors into oncoming traffic if she could avoid it. 

“Are you gonna open the door or…?” she said. 

Peter looked at his door and then looked at her, anxiety sparking in his eyes. Rose sighed and rolled her eyes, and just opened her own door slowly. She climbed out carefully onto the side of the street and rounded the back of the car to get to Peter’s door, shaking her head. She pulled it open, and Peter looked up at her, clearly nervous. 

“Let’s go,” she said, jerking her head towards Dana’s building. “You put up a big fuss about being involved, so now you’re involved. Get your ass in gear.”

Peter took a deep breath and climbed out of the door and onto the sidewalk. He frowned at her as he stood up. “You’ve really turned into a hard ass, you know that?”

Rose met her brother’s gaze evenly. “Peter, I love you -” 

“Not what I was expecting you to say, but I love you, too,” he replied, one eyebrow raised. 

“I wasn’t finished. I love you and I know that you get a little crazy over anything to do with Dana, but the way you behaved at the shop was unacceptable.” 

Peter sighed and hung his head. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Well, first of all, I’m not the one you need to apologize to,” Rose said, glancing over her shoulder at Ray. Peter followed her gaze and nodded. 

“Ray!” Peter called. Ray popped his head out the car and looked at him expectantly. “I’m sorry about the ear thing.” 

“Oh,” Ray said, surprised. He smiled at his brother-in-law. “Don’t worry about it, Pete. Just…don’t do it again.”

“You have my word,” Peter promised. He looked back at Rose. “Better?”

“Yes,” she replied. “Second of all, you don’t have the right to insert yourself in Dana’s private business if she doesn’t want you there, no matter how much you still love her.”

“I don’t - ”

“Ah, save it.” Rose interrupted, holding up a hand. “Don’t bother denying it. The salient point there was that it’s her kid, her life, her decision whether you get to be involved. Point blank, end of discussion. Get me?”

“I get you,” Peter responded. 

“Good,” Rose said, and opened her arms to him. “Now, come here. And then let’s go help Dana.”

Peter chuckled and hugged her tightly. “Thanks, Rose.” 

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” she said. Peter released her, smiling down at her. “You should come by the shop more often, Pete. Or the firehouse, even - if you want. I know you’re busy but we've missed you, you know?”

“I know. I’ll try,” Peter said. “I’ve missed you guys, too.” 

“Ready?” Ray asked, walking over to them. Egon trailed behind, carrying a hard shell briefcase. 

“Yeah, we’re ready,” Rose replied, smiling at her husband. 

The four former Ghostbusters walked up to Dana's building and the doorman buzzed them in. It was an older building, but the foyer had a simple, clean design. Rose had visited Dana's apartment a number of times since she'd moved in, and in her opinion, although the place had its obvious shortcomings - like any older apartment building in New York did - it had nonetheless retained its charm over the years. 

They walked silently along the entryway and towards the elevators at the end of the hall, their footsteps echoing off the black and white tiles beneath their shoes. When they reached the elevators, Rose pressed the call button, and the doors opened immediately with an almost antique sounding ding. Rose had never paid much attention to the elevator before - as long as it went up and down, that's all she really cared about - but a more studious look at the design of car as they piled into it told her the elevator itself probably dated back to the late thirties. 

Once they were all inside, Egon reached out and pressed the button for the fourth floor, and the doors shut.

“Spengs, how do you know what floor she lives on?” Peter asked, trying and failing to sound casual. 

“She told me,” Egon drawled, like it should have been obvious to Peter how he knew. “I called to let her know we wanted to swing by and check out the baby, and she gave me her address.”

“You have her phone number, too?!”

“Jealousy isn’t a good look on you, Venkman,” Egon said shortly. Rose ran her tongue along her front teeth to keep from smirking. 

“I am not jealous...that, that’s ridiculous, why would I be jealous? Of you? Please. I’m not,” Peter sputtered unconvincingly. The other three occupants of the elevator rolled their eyes simultaneously. 

“Pete, for the love of God, Dana gave Egon her number when she asked for his help," Rose said. "She wasn’t hitting on him." 

“Right. Of course, I knew that,” Peter replied. The elevator dinged and the doors opened to Dana’s floor.

Rose looked over at her brother. "Get it together, would you?"

"Yeah," Peter said, shuffling his feet. 

Shaking her head, she disembarked the elevator and began heading down the hallway, with Ray and Egon following close behind. They came to a stop outside Dana’s apartment, and Ray knocked on the door. Rose noticed out of the corner of her eye that Peter was lingering a little further away. Either he was planning to surprise Dana or he was much more nervous than she had realized. 

Probably both, knowing her brother. 

The door opened, and Dana - looking as lovely as ever in a light blue top and black skirt - stood behind it, smiling at them. 

"Hi, Dana!" Ray said warmly.

"Hi, Ray. How good to see you!" Dana said, going in for a hug. Ray wrapped his arms around her happily and Rose smiled fondly; her husband was such a teddy bear. “Thanks for coming.”

"Hey, no problem. Always glad to help…and hug!" he said, releasing her and walking into the apartment. “Nice place.”

Egon stepped forward, all business, and shook Dana's hand as he greeted her. As soon as he cleared out of the way, Rose rushed eagerly at her friend and hugged her.

“Hi, Rose!” Dana said, her arms wrapped around her shoulders tightly. 

"It's so good to see you, Dana," Rose said. She released her and looked up at the taller woman. "How are you?"

"I’m good. A little worried about this whole carriage thing, but otherwise, I can’t really complain.”

“Good to hear,” Rose said, moving past her to stand by Ray. “Try to not worry too much. If there’s anything going on, we’ll figure it out.”

“I really appreciate your help -” Dana began to say as she went to close the door. 

"Um…" Egon said, gesturing half-heartedly. He was clearly trying to warn Dana that Peter was there, but it was too late. Peter's hand shot out and pushed the door open, causing Dana to lose her grip on the door knob as he barged into her apartment. Both Rose and Dana stared at him in disbelief, and Egon winced, looking away from Peter and at the floor instead. 

“Nice entrance, Pete, Jesus,” Rose said, shaking her head. She turned to Dana, lowering her voice. “I’m sorry. We tried.”

Dana offered her a shrug and small but reassuring smile. "It's okay, Rose. I kind of figured he would show up one way or another."

"Well, I know I'm asking for the big hurt," Peter said, his back to his sister, friends, and ex-girlfriend. "But I thought I'd give us one more chance."

Dana muttered something unintelligible and shut the door with a little more force than was entirely necessary, but her irritation was more than understandable. 

Ray immediately stepped forward, looking apologetic, and stammered, "H-he tortured me. He pulled my ears."

Dana simply looked at him, nodded once, and he moved back next to Rose silently, wringing his hands. 

"Hello, Peter," Dana said in a clipped tone, walking forward to stand next to Egon. She crossed her arms. Peter whirled around to face his ex-girlfriend. 

"Hello, Dana,” Peter said in a low, growly sort of voice. Rose took a page out of Egon’s book and stared at the floor, shaking her head for what felt like the millionth time that day. Her brother obviously seemed to think dropping his voice like that was charming or sexy, but in reality, it was just kind of weird and a little off-putting. 

Dana raised her eyebrows and ignored Peter's tone, turning to Egon. "So, what would you like to do first?"

"We'd like to examine the baby first," Egon said, looking towards the child currently in his nanny’s arms. Dana nodded and walked over to the woman, who handed Oscar to his mother.

"Yeah," Ray agreed, "and anything associated with the baby. Especially, uh, stuffed toys…things with fabrics and stuffing."

Rose noticed Peter had made a face when he saw Oscar and turned away, walking in the opposite direction as the others. She wasn’t really sure what her brother was playing at, but being immature about Dana’s child was not going to win him any brownie points with her. 

“And we’d like to see the buggy,” Rose added.

"Alright," Dana said. "Can I put him over here?"

Rose nodded and Dana moved over towards the kitchen table. 

"And, uh, wherever he sleeps," Ray added, almost as an afterthought.

"Yes," Dana said.

"This will be fine," Egon said, looking at the table. Rose nodded and reached for the little mat that was folded up on the table. She spread it out so Oscar could sit on it and be comfortable. 

"We'll have to lay him down flat," Ray said as he removed his jacket. Rose did the same and placed it with Ray's. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Peter shed his own jacket, although he dropped it on the couch in a very petulant manner.

"Okay, sweetheart, now they're gonna take a look at you," Dana told Oscar, who gurgled happily in response. Rose smiled at the baby and let him grab onto one of her index fingers tightly.

"Whoa, he’s got a grip on him, doesn't he?" Rose said, laughing at the merry sounds the little guy was making. 

Dana beamed and nodded. "He’s gonna be a big, strong boy. Isn’t that right, Oscar?"

“Yes, I bet you are,” Rose cooed at the baby. She'd last seen Oscar only a month and a half ago, and it was really quite astonishing how much he'd managed to grow in the meantime. “You’re getting so big, little man."

"We'll do a cursory medical examination," Egon said, to no one in particular.

"What do ya say?" Ray asked as he rolled up his sleeves. Rose tried desperately not to get distracted by her husband’s arms, and was mostly successful. "Gammill and Pross Infant Acuity Test?"

"Sounds good, and we'll finish with an Apgar Score,” Egon replied.

"It's nothing that's gonna hurt him, right?" Dana said, sounding concerned. Rose shook her head vehemently and Ray made a sound like he was a little offended at the idea. 

Egon looked at Dana for a moment before saying, "No, no. I don't think so. He'll be fine."

"He means he knows so. Don't you, Egon?" Rose said, throwing a meaningful look at her best friend. 

Egon wisely took the hint and nodded. "Yes, that's what I meant."

"Don't worry, Dana," Rose said. "I won't let them do anything that might make Oscar uncomfortable. Just…would you keep an eye on my brother? It looks like he’s starting to get nosy over there."

"Starting? Isn't nosy a perpetual state of being for Peter?" Dana said wryly. 

Rose laughed and nodded. "I suppose you're right. But all the same, if you don't want him playing your cello like a bass, you should probably go keep an eye on him."

Dana whirled around and found Peter doing exactly what Rose had described with her undoubtedly astronomically expensive cello. She grumbled and stalked off towards the man sitting and smirking in her living room. Peter plucked at the strings, staring at Dana. Rose looked at Egon and Ray and the three rolled their eyes in tandem. Her brother was going a little over the top in trying to get his ex-girlfriend’s attention, in Rose’s opinion. 

"You ever done this before?" Ray asked, once Dana was out of earshot.

"On a chimp," Egon replied. Rose shook her head, not wanting to know why he would have been performing infant tests on a chimp.

"While you guys are doing this, I’m gonna check out the buggy," Rose added, noticing it parked in the corner of the room, gently extricating her finger from Oscar’s fist. “Ray, do you have the…” Ray pulled his PKE meter from his back pocket and handed it to her. She grinned. “Yes, that, thank you.”

“Sure thing, honey.”

Rose walked over to the buggy and began scanning the top half. The meter was silent, unlike her brother. 

"So, uh, whatever happened to Mr. Right, anyway?" Peter asked Dana smugly. Rose listened in on their conversation as she moved the meter over the buggy’s handle and the blankets inside. Still nothing. "I heard he ditched you and ran off to Europe."

Rose barely kept from snorting. Andre, Mr. Right? Not in a million years. That sorry excuse for a man hadn't even been willing to ditch rehearsal to be with his wife while she gave birth to their son. He'd finally turned up in the last two hours, and it had only been because Dana wouldn't let go of her hand that Rose - who hadn't left Dana's side in the nineteen hours preceding Andre's arrival - didn't deck him on sight. 

"He didn't ditch me," Dana replied, taking her cello back from Peter. "We had some problems and he got a very good job offer from an orchestra in London and he took it."

"So he ditched ya," Peter said, and Rose exhaled in frustration at his insensitivity; he could be so dense sometimes. As it happened, though, he was right - Andre had essentially ditched Dana - but saying it out loud was entirely unnecessary.

Tuning out whatever her ding dong of a brother said next, Rose turned her attention fully to the task at hand. The buggy seemed to be remarkably normal to her; or at least until she ran the meter over one of the wheels. The meter whirred softly as it lit up. She ran it over the wheel a couple more times to be sure. It was only a faint trace, but there was definitely something there.

She hummed thoughtfully as she stood and returned to Ray and Egon. 

“Anything?” Ray asked.

Rose handed the PKE back to him. “Slight readings on one of the wheels. Trace energy, I think. Definitely something, though.”

Ray hummed in thought and Rose turned to drop a kiss onto Oscar’s little head. She couldn’t help herself - he was just so damn cute. Her husband smiled at her fondly as he pulled out a tape recorder, leaning down into the table next to Oscar. 

"Okay,” Ray said, narrating their examination. “Subject is a male Caucasian, approximately…"

"Twenty-four inches," Egon supplied as he measured the baby.

"Twenty four inches in, uh, length," Ray said. "Uh, subject weighs approximately eighteen pounds and is about eight months old. Ah, okay…ocular?"

Egon knelt down and shined a little light in Oscar's eyes. "Uh, pupillary response, normal.” 

He stood and put the pen light back into his shirt pocket. Rose stepped around to the other side of the table and kept a gentle hand on the baby’s back, supporting him. He was old enough to sit up by himself, but she didn’t want to take any chances that he might spontaneously decide he wanted to be on the floor instead of the kitchen table. 

"Auditory…" Ray said. He and Egon took turns snapping their fingers near Oscar's ears, and the little one turned his head curiously to find out where the sound was coming from. 

"Normal," Egon commented.

"Capillary reflex…" Ray said. He and Egon took Oscar's arms and lifted them up and tickled him lightly. Oscar giggled softly and Ray smiled brightly at him.

"Appears to be ticklish," Egon said.

"Yep, baby ticklish," Ray agreed. 

Rose leaned forward and kissed the top of Oscar's head gently again. "You're being such a good boy, Oscar. Mommy is gonna be so proud of you, sitting so still for your Auntie Rose and Uncle Ray and Uncle Egon. Yes, she is.” 

“You think he might call me Uncle Ray when he gets older?” Ray asked her, beaming at the idea.

“Maybe. I plan on being around a lot for this little guy, so you might end up being Uncle Ray by default,” Rose replied softly. “Of course, if my idiot brother gets his act together, you might actually be his uncle for real.”

"You know," Rose heard Peter say, "you'd have been better off marrying me."

“Yeah, fat chance of that happening,” Ray responded quietly. Rose snorted and tried to ignore Peter’s stupidity by focusing on the baby. 

"You never asked me," Dana told Peter evenly. "And whenever I brought it up, you'd get drowsy and fall asleep."

"You never got it, Dana," Peter replied. "I'm a man. I'm sensitive. I need to feel loved, I need to be desired!"

If Rose hadn't been preoccupied with the baby boy in front of her, she would have sprinted in there and smacked Peter so hard, his head would have spun around like in The Exorcist. It was obvious Peter was trying to be witty and charming, but he was just being annoying. 

“Let’s lay him down,” Egon said, pulling on the strangest piece of headgear Rose had ever seen. It looked like he had stuck a stethoscope to a strip of metal, and then, for some reason, made it so that the diaphragm stuck straight out from his forehead on a metal rod. Rose snorted as she laid Oscar down on his back gently; the headpiece made Egon look like a unicorn. The whole scene only got sillier when Egon leaned his head down like a horse at a trough and placed the diaphragm on Oscar's chest, presumably listening to his heartbeat while Ray scanned the baby with the PKE.

"Your uncles are kinda weird, huh, Oscar?" Rose said quietly, looking down at him from behind his head. "But they're our weirdos and we love 'em, so it's okay. And anyway, I'll let you in on a secret, little guy - the best people are always at least a little weird."

Ray and Egon were so invested in their tests that they didn't hear a single word she said, and Oscar merely looked up at her, completely unbothered and as content as could be. 

"It was when you started introducing me as 'the old ball and chain'," Dana said in the background. "That's when I left."

Rose looked over her shoulder as Dana approached the kitchen table and Peter hurried behind her. 

"Well, I may have a lot of personal problems, but I'm a total professional when it comes to my job,” he said. Peter peered at Oscar for a moment and then looked up. "Egon."

"What?" he answered, looking at Peter, who craned his neck backwards to avoid being hit by Egon's stethoscope unicorn horn.  

Peter looked taken aback for a moment but recovered and spoke into the diaphragm. "What are we doing?"

Egon winced slightly, having just gotten earfuls of Peter's voice at an enhanced volume, and removed the eartips. "He seems to be fine, Dana."

"Mhmm, he's very healthy," Dana agreed.

"He's okay," Peter muttered. Rose rolled her eyes at him. 

"When he does sleep," Ray inquired, "where do you put him?"

"Uh, right around here, I'll show you," Dana said and she started walking in the direction of the nursery. Ray followed and Rose hung back to wait for Egon. 

“Venkman,” Egon said, handing Peter a Petri dish. “Would you get a stool specimen, please?”

"Business or personal?" Peter asked, only mostly joking. Although Egon had been known to collect strange things, this time he just threw an annoyed look at Peter over his shoulder and walked on.

Rose walked alongside him into the nursery, and noticed him holding a device she had never seen before. It was black and about the size of a Dust Buster, with a large dome on the underside. On the very front were two prongs rotating around. She made a mental note to ask him about it later. 

"It's a little messy," Dana said apologetically as she picked up a few rainbow stacking rings off the floor and returned them to their peg. 

"Well, we don't wanna play with anything," Ray told her, picking up a yellow stuffed triceratops off a nearby dresser and scanning it. "We just wanna sweep for valences.”

"Hm, very cheerful," Egon commented. Rose looked around the room and had to agree. It was bright and colorful. Perfect for little Oscar. "My parents didn't believe in toys.”

“They didn’t believe in toys?” Rose repeated, looking at him strangely. “Not even, like, blocks? Or a teddy bear?”

He shook his head. 

“That’s…wow,” Rose said. Even with how shitty her parents had been, they’d still had the basic kid toys growing up. Nothing fancy, but enough to keep them busy and out of the way. No toys at all just sounded depressing, although she chose not to say that to Egon. 

“Help, he’s gone completely berserk, help!” Peter wailed playfully from the kitchen. Dana shot them all a tired look before going to check on her son.

"Uh oh," Rose, Egon, and Ray said in unison. 

Egon shook a rattle experimentally and Ray walked toward him with the triceratops tucked under his arm. 

"You mean, you never even had a Slinky?" Ray asked curiously. 

"We had part of a Slinky," Egon replied. "But I straightened it."

"Of course you did," Rose said, breaking into giggles. “Egon, you are a treasure. Don’t ever change, okay?” 

“Change is an inevitable part of life,” he replied dryly, looking down at her. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”

“Love you, too, nerd,” Rose said. Egon threw her a mildly annoyed look and she smiled innocently at him. He rolled his eyes, turning away to inspect the baby’s changing table, and she snorted.

Ray grinned at her and handed her the triceratops. She sat down on the floor and hugged the dinosaur tightly, watching her husband get on his back and wiggle under the crib, scanning it for any signs of spectral energy. 

“Well, at least I know what to get you for your next birthday, Egon,” Rose said conversationally, snuggling the dinosaur toy. 

Egon looked down at her, one eyebrow raised at her apparent fondness for the stuffed dino. “I’m almost afraid to ask.” 

“A Slinky,” Rose said. She looked up at him with a completely straight face. “You know, Egon, it really is a wonderful toy. Fun for a girl and a boy.” 

Ray snorted loudly and broke out into laughter from underneath the crib. “Oh, please get him a Slinky.” 

“Please don’t,” Egon responded.

“Well, now I’m definitely getting you a Slinky,” Rose replied, smirking. “Maybe I’ll even try finding one of those Slinky caterpillars. Ooh, or the hippo! Do you remember the hippo, Ray?” 

“Yeah, you should get him the hippo,” Ray said casually. 

“Do not get me the hippo.” 

“Okay, fine, the caterpillar it is, then,” Rose said, shrugging. Ray snorted again. “Or maybe I’ll just go with the normal Slinky. You know, the classic model.” 

“Rose -” Egon started, but gave up at the sight of her cheeky grin. He sighed deeply and half sat on top of the dresser, shaking his head. Peter joined them in Oscar's nursery just as Ray began edging back out from under the crib.

Rose laughed. “Oh, relax, Egon, we’re just teasing you.” 

Peter looked down at her - sitting cross-legged on the floor and squishing a child’s dinosaur toy in her arms - and held out his hands in question. 

“What?” Rose asked him, looking up at her brother.

“I - never mind, it's nothing. What were you teasing him about?” Peter asked. 

“Oh, that I’m getting him a Slinky for his birthday next year,” she replied matter-of-factly. 

“Neat,” Peter remarked. 

“No, she’s not,” Egon insisted, and looked at Ray expectantly before Rose could start tormenting him again. 

"Nothin'!" Ray reported back. 

"So, what, brainiac?" Peter asked. 

Egon sighed and stood up. "I'd like to run some gynecological tests on the mother."

"Who wouldn't?" Peter said. Rose smacked his leg, since she couldn’t reach his arm from the floor. 

Egon rolled his eyes and said, "Let's check the street."

Rose set the triceratops aside and stood up. She walked over to her husband and offered him a hand in getting up. He took it and she heaved him to his feet, and the two of them followed Egon and Peter out of Oscar's nursery. 

Dana handed the baby off to the nanny and she accompanied them outside, to show them where the carriage had evidently stopped. Rose shivered a little at the sudden change in temperature as they stepped out into the frosty air, and Ray wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into him. 

She sighed happily and melted into his warmth. “Thank God I married a human furnace.” 

“Yeah, I come in real handy for the winter, don’t I?” Ray teased her as they walked down East 77th Street towards First Avenue.

“Oh, you come in real handy all year long, babe,” she teased right back, winking at him and thoroughly enjoying the pleased flush that reddened his cheeks.

Dana led them another block or so and then stopped, pointing vaguely out towards the street, which was currently bursting with busy New York traffic. “It stopped right over there, in the middle of the crosswalk.”

"Alright, I can get us out there," Peter said confidently. Before any of them could stop him, he jaywalked right out into the middle of traffic.

"Hey, Venkman!" Ray protested, starting after him. Egon was scanning the air around them, but he started walking and following Peter regardless. Rose and Dana looked at each other and shrugged, following along. 

"Hold on," Peter shouted at the honking drivers. "Hold on! We're scientists, excuse us! Get outta the way! Thanks a lot! Hey, we got another beeper here! Hold on, thanks! Appreciate it!" 

Peter jogged his way around the angrily honking drivers and their cars, holding up his hand. Rose shook her head when he stopped dead in front of a taxi that had been about to take off.

"Are you gonna move outta there or what?" the cabbie shouted at them.

"Hey relax, you're on the meter!" Peter told the man before turning his attention to the other cars and shouting, "Hey, we're scientists, get outta the way!"

“Jesus Christ…” Rose muttered to herself. She looked up at the drivers and waved at them. “Sorry! Just give us a minute, we’ll be out of your way!”

Ray and Egon knelt down in the middle of the crosswalk and started scanning the spot where the carriage had stopped. Ray was using one of their trusty PKE meters, but Egon was using the device she didn’t recognize. 

“Hey, Egie, what is that you’re using?” she asked. He looked up at her and smiled. 

“This,” he said proudly, “is the Giga Meter. I designed it to measure the levels of psychomagnotheric energy in a given physical space. It’s similar to the PKE in that it detects energy, but where the PKE,” he nodded to the meter in Ray’s hands, “will only tell us if etheric energy is present at either minimal, moderate, or excessive levels - and in which direction, similar to a compass - the Giga Meter will provide us with exact readings in terms of how many Giga Electron Volts are generated.” 

“Psychomagnotheric…oh!” Rose said, squatting down to inspect it closer. “So this is what you’ve been using in your trials at the Institute, then? I was wondering how you were measuring people’s emotions. Quantitatively, I mean.”

“Yes, exactly," he answered. "This device has been very helpful in determining which emotions emit the most energy and in turn have the largest effect on the physical surroundings.” 

“Cool,” Rose breathed. “So you’re just using it to see what kind of energy you can pick up, I’m guessing?” 

“Yes. Obviously we don’t know if what happened to Oscar’s carriage was psychomagnotheric in nature, but there are too many variables not to use any and all equipment available to us, especially a device as highly calibrated as this one is.”

Rose nodded. “Makes sense. Gotta try all avenues.”

“Precisely,” Egon responded. He lowered the Giga Meter to the street and began scanning. Ray did the same with their normal PKE meter, and both devices immediately started picking something up, whirring loudly and blinking rapidly. 

"Ohohoho…" Ray said triumphantly. "I think we hit the honey pot. Something's brewing under the street. I've got 1118 on the PKE."

"2.5 GeVs on the Giga Meter," Egon said.

"Well, what does that mean?" Dana asked curiously. Ray and Egon looked at each other, apprehension etched into every line of their faces.

"I can't tell at the moment,” Ray said carefully and Dana sighed. “But we’ll figure it out.” 

“Whatever’s down there, it’s probably what I measured on the buggy,” Rose remarked. “My numbers weren’t that high though, so whatever was on the buggy was a trace amount, at best, like I thought. My guess is that whatever’s down there somehow got up to the street level and the buggy picked it up.”

“You’re probably right, Rose,” Ray agreed. “But are you thinking it’s a physical manifestation?”

Rose shrugged. “I have no idea. I would lean towards yes, since the buggy picked it up on its wheel but not anywhere else. If it was more like radiation or a vapor, I’d probably have gotten readings elsewhere on the carriage, too.”

“Good point,” Ray said, sticking the PKE meter into his jacket pocket. “I wonder what it could be, kicking up this much heat. Hm.”

He stood and offered Rose his hand. She took it and he pulled her to standing, but a moment later, Rose took charge and promptly dragged Ray with her back to the sidewalk. Egon, Peter, and Dana followed close behind, and Peter waved gratefully at the thoroughly irritated drivers as they trundled along. 

The five gathered on the street corner, and Ray looked at Egon, who nodded once, and then turned to the others, his face resolute and jaw set. “If we wanna see what’s down there, we’re gonna have to do it ourselves.”

“How exactly?” Dana asked cautiously. 

Rose took one look at the expression on her husband’s face and sighed: she had a feeling she knew exactly what Ray and Egon had in mind. She looked at Dana. “Something tells me you don’t wanna know.”

Dana nodded. “You’re probably right. Never mind, forget I asked.”

Ray smiled cheerfully at her as the group began to walk back towards Dana’s apartment. “Don’t worry, Dana. We won’t do anything crazy.”

Dana smiled, though obviously not entirely convinced, and Rose turned to look at Egon as they walked along.

“You’re gonna try and crack the street open, aren’t you?” she asked him quietly. The blank stare she received in response only confirmed her suspicions. “Yeah, you’re gonna crack it open. Awesome.”

Chapter Text

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” 

Rose groaned and dropped her forehead onto the countertop with a soft thunk. “For the last time, Ray, yes, I’m sure.”

She picked her head up and looked at her husband, who had begun worrying at his lower lip with his front teeth. He’d asked her that same question at least five times in the last ten minutes, which not-so-coincidentally happened to be when Peter and Egon had called from the firehouse to let them know that they were on their way to the shop. 

Operation Street Buster - Peter’s name for their plan to dig up a portion of First Avenue - was a go. 

With their end goal in mind, Peter had somehow acquired an assortment of construction equipment, and had borrowed the Ecto to transport it all. Rose had no idea how he managed to get his hands on the equipment, although she did know Winston hadn’t given it to him. Peter had asked him, of course, but Winston had refused point blank on the perfectly reasonable grounds that he wasn’t willing to risk his job security for whatever harebrained scheme Peter had cooked up.

She imagined her brother had probably ended up calling in a favor from a friend of a friend, but in the end, she felt the less she knew about it, the better. 

“Okay, but why not just come with us?” Ray started again. “There’s only a few hours left until we close for the night anyway.”

“Ray,” Rose said with an only slightly exasperated laugh. “Honey. We’ve been over this. One of us has to stay here and watch the shop. It’s Friday and, anyway, it’s December now. You know this has always been one of our busiest months.”

“Yeah, but it’s not fair for you to have to stay here while I go off with the guys and do Ghostbuster stuff.”

“I’ll survive,” Rose assured him. “Seriously, Ray, go.”

Ray had been about to protest yet again, but the bell above the door jingled, interrupting him, and in walked Peter and Egon. 

“Hey, guys,” Rose greeted, glancing over at them quickly. She paused, did a double take, and tried to process the sight in front of her. Egon was wearing a thick red, blue, and green flannel shirt and khaki pants. Khakis, of all things!

“Wow, Egon,” she said, looking him up and down approvingly. “I am pleasantly surprised - I didn’t think you even owned anything besides suits and sweater vests.”

Peter snorted softly. 

“Wearing a suit to dig up the street would have been highly impractical,” Egon replied evenly. 

“Yeah, it would’ve,” she agreed. “Casual looks good on you. You should dress down more often.” 

“Thank you,” he said. “I will admit, it is rather comfortable.”

“I bet,” Rose chuckled. “More comfortable than strangling yourself with a tie every day, at least.” 

“Guys, will you please help me convince Rose that she should just come with us?” Ray said, changing the subject as he buttoned up a bright yellow jacket over his black t-shirt. 

“Ray, for the love of God…” Rose grumbled. She stepped out from behind the register and leaned against the front of the counter. “Look, the more people that are hanging around a giant gaping hole in First Avenue, the more conspicuous it’ll seem.” 

“That’s a good point,” Peter said, pointing at her. 

“Okay, so Egon and Peter will go, and I’ll stay here with you,” Ray reasoned. 

Rose shook her head. “I don’t need to be there. You do. You’re more valuable than me for this.” 

All three men rushed to assure her that wasn’t true, that she was valuable, and that they always needed her. Rose held up her hands. “Whoa, whoa! Cool it for a second, guys.”

Egon, Ray, and Peter fell silent. 

“Listen,” she said, crossing her arms over her dark green quarter zip pullover. “I’m not fishing for validation here. I’m just stating a fact. There’s no ghost for me to bust. There’s no literature or history to look into. Digging up the street and seeing what’s down there is more on the scientific exploration side of things.” 

“That’s…also a good point,” Egon admitted. “Although I can assure you, your skills in the field are highly valuable.”

“Thank you, but again, not fishing for validation,” Rose said, smirking. “I know my skills are valuable. They’re just not really applicable in this situation.” 

“Rose, it’s already almost six,” Ray protested. “We’re only open until seven. Just close up early and come with us. I don’t want you to be left out.”

“Is that what you’re worried about?” Rose replied, almost cooing. “That I’m going to feel excluded? Honey, I’m telling you to go.” 

“I know, but…”

Rose dragged her hand over her face in mild frustration, suppressing a smile; she couldn't bring herself to be too annoyed with Ray, after all -  not when he was just being his usual sweet, considerate self. She looked back up at her husband and sighed. She moved forward and put her arms around him, linking her fingers behind his neck loosely. On instinct, his hands came around and linked together at the small of her back.  

“Alright, how about this,” she suggested. “You three go and get started. I will stay here, finish out the night, and close up, and then I’ll come meet you. Okay? It’s gonna take you longer than an hour to get there, break through the street, and figure out what’s down there, anyway.”

Ray considered her proposal for a moment and then nodded. “Okay. Just promise me you’ll be careful getting to First Avenue. It’s going to be cold and dark.” 

“Yes, I’ll make sure no big bad wolves lead me astray, Raymond,” Rose teased. “I will endeavor to avoid any witches with gingerbread houses.”

“Oh, sure, make fun of your concerned husband who just wants you to be safe,” Ray pouted. “Nice.”

“Aww, poor Ray…” Rose laughed quietly. She went up on her tiptoes slightly to press a gentle kiss to his lips. Ray hummed happily and pulled her in a little closer. 

“God, you two are sickening,” Peter commented. “Can we go bust a hole in the street already?”

Rose pulled back to see her brother staring at them in mild discomfort, while Egon had busied himself with the same book on witchcraft Winston had flipped through a week earlier. She rolled her eyes, but nodded. 

“Yes, go on,” she said, releasing her husband and stepping back. “Get out of here. I’ll see you in a little bit.” 

“Okay. See you soon. I love you,” Ray said, heading for the door with Peter and Egon. 

“I love you too. And be careful, all of you. Try not to get arrested.” 

“Oh, we will,” Peter assured her. She raised both her eyebrows and he shook his head slightly. “Be careful, I mean. And also not get arrested. Definitely going to try to avoid that.”

“Good,” Rose said, stepping back behind the counter. She nodded her head towards the door. “Now go. Figure out what the hell is going on under there.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Peter mock-saluted her and pushed Egon and Ray out the door. 

Rose shook her head in amusement, turning her attention to refilling the jars of sage sticks they had on the counter. 

It was a little past seven thirty, and Rose was closing out the register by candlelight. The power had gone out unexpectedly just as she was finishing up with their last customer, leaving her to close up for the night in near total darkness. She had a flashlight around somewhere, but there was something atmospheric and wonderfully eerie about lighting a few candles that Rose just couldn’t resist. 

The power outage was strange. It had been a clear night and while it was cold, it was not frigid enough to freeze the power lines. She had checked the breakers, found none had tripped, and had then stuck her head out the door, only to discover that every block as far as she could see was dark.

She retreated back inside the shop, left with a sinking suspicion that the outage had something to do with Peter, Ray, and Egon. The power going out the same night they dug up First Avenue just seemed like too much of a coincidence to be unrelated.

She closed the register drawer and had been about to blow out the candle nearest to her, when the red phone next to her rang shrilly, breaking the silence and nearly scaring the living daylights out of her. 

Frowning, Rose picked it up, thinking it was probably just a potential customer unaware of their hours. “Ray’s Occult Books, this is Rose speaking.”

Her brother’s voice crackled over the phone, sounding disgruntled. “Rose! Thank God you’re still there.”

“Oh, hey, Pete. How’s it going? I was just about to close up the shop and -”

“We got arrested,” he cut her off. Rose’s heart dropped. 

“You what?! Are you alright?”

“Yeah, we’re all fine. They’re taking us to Central Booking.”

“Okay, I’m on my way,” Rose told him, and was about to hang up the phone when Peter’s voice stopped her.

“No, don’t do that,” he exclaimed. “Listen, there’s no point in coming down here. We won’t even be able to make bail until tomorrow morning. Egon just got off the phone with Janine, and Ray’s trying to call Louis right now.”

“Louis? What, Louis Tully?” Rose asked incredulously. “Why on earth -?”

“He’s gonna be our lawyer.”

“Peter. He’s an accountant.”

“Yeah, I know, but he has his law degree and it’s not like we have a ton of money to hire a fancy lawyer. He’s the best we can do on short notice. I don’t know how long it would take to get a public defender down here, and we need out of here pronto. They impounded the Ecto, Rose.”

Rose sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Shit. Fine. Okay. What do you need me to do?”

“For now, go to the Firehouse,” Peter told her. “Janine is already on her way over, she’ll meet you there. Come down to Central Booking tomorrow and hopefully you’ll be able to bail us out.”

“Okay, sure. No problem.”

“Thanks, Rosie. And try not to worry, we’ll be - ah, shit.”

“What? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just…Ray’s right next to me, he couldn’t get a hold of Louis.”

“Damn. Alright, I’ll see if I can get in touch with him when I get to the Firehouse. If I can’t tonight, I’ll call him again tomorrow. In the meantime, don’t say a word. None of you, you hear me?”

“We won’t,” Peter promised. “They got our info and that was it. We’re not saying anything else.”

“Good. Okay, I’ll head for the Firehouse right now and I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you. Tell Ray I love him.”

“I will. Love you, too. Bye.”

“Bye.”

The line went dead with a click and Rose put the receiver back in its cradle. Of course they’d been arrested. In hindsight, she didn’t know what they’d all been thinking, herself included. They’d torn up part of First Avenue; of course the police had taken notice. The Ecto being there just made things so much worse. It easily and loudly identified them as the Ghostbusters, and its presence at the scene of a crime was probably enough to constitute a violation of their injunction, and that was without all the equipment they had stored in the back.

“Son of a bitch,” she muttered to herself. “Alright. Firehouse, it is.”

She scratched out a note informing potential customers they’d be closed for a few days and taped it to the front door, and made sure to lock it up tight. Shaking her head in disbelief, she gathered her belongings, blew out the candles, and headed for the back door.

It was going to be a long night. 

About half an hour later, she was pushing open the door to the Firehouse. The lights were all completely out, and it was pitch black, except for a small collection of candles that had been lit and placed on various surfaces. A pink VW Beetle was sitting in the garage bay, looking hilariously small in the spot usually occupied by the automotive mammoth that was the Ecto-1. Rose could only imagine that it was Janine’s car. 

Janine herself was sitting at her old desk, filing her nails by candlelight, wrapped in a thick cardigan. She looked up as Rose walked in. 

“I called ConEd,” Janine said by way of greeting. “They’re trying to get the power back on right now, but I have no idea how long it’s gonna take. They said it’s the whole city, Rose. How the hell is that even possible?”

“Hi, Jay,” Rose said, walking towards her. Janine sighed and stood. “It’s good to see you. I like the new hair.”

Janine had long since grown out her pixie cut, but the last time Rose had seen her, her hair had been halfway to her shoulders. Now, however, her hair had been dyed ginger red and cut into a bob that ended just above her jawline. She had also traded in her pink translucent glasses for a pair of round black frames. It was a marked change, but it worked for her. 

“Oh, thanks, hon!” Janine said, wrapping her arms around Rose as she approached. “Just got it done a couple days ago. And it’s nice to see you, too. You look good.”

“Thanks,” Rose replied. “And thanks for coming.”

“Of course,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “Doesn’t matter what I’m doing, if one of you calls for help, I’m there. Speaking of, I got a hold of Winston. He’s gonna meet us here tomorrow morning. I tried getting in touch with Louis, too, but there was no answer.”

“Yeah, Peter said Ray couldn’t get a hold of him either. I hope he’s alright,” Rose said, gnawing at her bottom lip in concern. 

“I’m sure he’s fine. Now,” Janine said, leaning against the corner of her desk and crossing her arms. “What the hell happened? All Egon said was that they’d been arrested. Does the power outage have anything to do with them?”

“It’s kind of a long story, and I’ll fill you in, but first I want to check on the grid. Make sure it’s holding up.”

“Sure, of course. Why don’t I head upstairs and pour us a couple drinks? I still have that bottle of whiskey Peter got me for my birthday stashed away up there. I have a feeling we’re gonna need it.”

Rose laughed. “Probably, yeah, when you hear what they were doing. I’ll meet you up there in a few.”

“Sure, hon. Take your time. Not like we’re going anywhere.”

“No kidding,” Rose scoffed. Janine reached for the candle on her desk and headed for the stairs, while Rose retrieved the flashlight she’d borrowed from the shop from her bag and turned in the direction of the basement. She suspected the grid was doing fine, but she wanted to make sure for Egon’s sake.

She clicked on the flashlight and marched downstairs, shivering a little in the chill of the basement. She pulled the zipper of her pullover all the way up to her chin and shined the beam of her flashlight on the containment grid once she stepped off the last stair. 

The terminal was dark, but all seemed quiet, and given that the firehouse itself was intact and there wasn’t a gigantic ectoplasmic geyser spewing from the roof, Rose felt confident that the grid was, in fact, holding up just fine. 

Satisfied, she nodded to herself and went back up to the ground floor, heading immediately for the stairs to the upper levels. The second floor was dark, but Rose spotted a glow of light coming from the third floor doorway, so she jogged up the last set of stairs and rounded the corner. 

Janine was sitting at the kitchen table, sipping on a glass of whiskey neat. An identical glass was waiting for Rose, right across from Janine. The bottle sat in the middle of the table. 

She smiled and sat down across from her, picking up the glass. “Thanks.”

“Sure,” Janine replied. 

Rose took a sip and sighed heavily, enjoying the trail of fire the liquor left in its wake as she swallowed. A ball of heat settled in her chest, warming her from the inside. “Okay, so, what exactly did Egon tell you?” 

“It’s Egon, so…” Janine replied dryly, taking a sip of her whiskey and swallowing it. “Not much.”

“Well, they were calling from the precinct. Probably didn’t want to say too much, just in case the line was being recorded,” Rose mused.

Janine hummed in thought. “Good point. I didn’t think about that.”

“Yeah,” Rose said and took another sip of her whiskey. “Anyway, this whole thing basically started when Dana showed up at the Institute and asked for Egon’s help…”

It took nearly an hour, but Rose recounted the whole story to Janine, from the buggy taking off on its own, to the slight readings she got off the wheel, to the intense readings Egon and Ray got off the street.

Janine was appropriately horrified that poor little Oscar had been whisked out into traffic, but relieved that he’d been unhurt. 

“So,” Rose said, “long story short, the guys decided the only way to find out what was going on was to dig up the street itself.”

“They didn’t,” Janine gasped. 

Rose nodded and drained the last of her whiskey. “They did.”

“And you let them?”

She shrugged. “Not my finest moment, I know. I don’t know what any of us were thinking.”

“Wait, so why weren’t you with them?” Janine asked, her brow furrowed in confusion. 

“I was at the shop,” Rose explained. “But I was going to meet them once I closed up. I guess it’s a good thing I was running a little bit late.” 

“Yeah,” Janine agreed. “Otherwise, you woulda probably been nabbed, too.”

“Did Egon tell you the Ecto got impounded?”

Janine’s eyes went almost comically wide. “No!”

Rose nodded gravely. “Yep. The proton packs are still in the back. Traps, too. They are absolutely gonna get slapped with violating the injunction. Between that and the destruction of the road, and the power outage…Janine, they’re fucked.”

“Well, do we even know if the power outage was their fault?” Janine asked nervously. Rose leveled her with a look and reached for the bottle of whiskey to refill her glass. Janine sighed. “Yeah, what am I saying? Of course it was them. No way the city goes dark the same night they burrow into First Avenue and it isn’t their fault.”

“Yeah, we’re not that lucky,” Rose said, taking a big sip from her glass. She shook her head and sighed, dropping her head onto the table. “I should've talked them out of it. I don’t know why I ever thought they’d get away with it. I don’t know why they thought they’d get away with it.”

Janine reached over and patted her hand comfortingly. “Hindsight’s a bitch. But they’ll pull through. They always do. We’ll get ‘em back home tomorrow and then we’ll just take it one step at a time.”

Rose scoffed softly and picked her head up to look at Janine. “I even told them to try and avoid getting arrested. Maybe I jinxed it.”

“Rose, it’s New York. There are cops everywhere,” Janine said firmly. “The chances of those three digging into the street and no cop noticing…that was never gonna happen. You didn’t jinx anything.”

Rose sighed heavily and nodded. “You’re right. I know you’re right. It’s just…I really hate the idea of them spending the night in jail.”

“I’m not wild about it myself,” Janine admitted. The candlelight flickered across her face, throwing the concerned frown on her face into sharp relief.

“At least last time I was with them, and it was only for like, an hour. Not overnight. But Mayor Lenny can’t yank ‘em out this time,” Rose said regretfully. She drained the rest of her glass. “Anyway…how have things been with you? Where are you working now?”

“Oh, I’ve been temping for a law office for the last few weeks. Nothing special, but it’s alright.”

“Yeah? You seeing anyone?”

Janine snorted around the rim of her glass. “Hardly. A couple dates here and there, but nothing all that promising. I’m not worried about it right now. The right guy will come along.”

“Or maybe he already has, and he needs to stop being a big dumb nerd about it and open his eyes,” Rose countered, thinking of Egon. 

Janine laughed. “Egon just isn’t interested in me like that, I don’t think. And I’m okay with it, really. I…I’ve moved on. It’s kinda pointless to pine over someone who isn’t even really in my life anymore. Tonight was the first time I’ve spoken to him in almost a year.”

Rose sighed. “Yeah, time seems to get away from us, doesn’t it? I told Ray last week that we should have dinner. All six of us. Just to get together and catch up.”

Janine smiled at the idea. “That’d be nice. I miss everyone. Even Peter. And I miss this place. Even if it didn’t last very long, it felt like we were doing something that mattered.”

“I know exactly what you mean, Jay. I miss it, too.”

“But at least you and Ray have the bookshop. That’s something.”

“It is,” Rose agreed. “And I love the bookshop to death. But it isn’t the same. Ghostbusters was special.” 

“It sure was,” Janine replied. “And who knows, maybe it will be again.”

A skeptical noise escaped from the back of Rose’s throat, not entirely of her own volition. “I doubt it. Especially after tonight.” 

“Stranger things have happened,” Janine said. “Anyway. Maybe we should turn in for the night, huh? We’ll wanna be up bright and early to bring our boys home.”

Rose nodded and stood. Her legs felt a little wobbly, courtesy of the whiskey, but she wasn’t so unsteady she couldn’t make it down the stairs back to the second floor. Janine followed behind her carefully. 

As she reached the landing, she heard the phone ringing on the first floor. 

“I’ll go get it,” Rose told Janine. “Might be Louis.”

Janine nodded and patted her on the shoulder as she passed by, walking in the direction of the sleeping quarters. Rose continued down to the first floor and managed to get to the phone just in time. 

“Hello?” she answered. Her voice was a little croaky, so she cleared her throat and tried again. “Sorry. Hello?”

“Rose? It’s Dana.”

“Oh, hi, Dana. Is everything okay?” 

There was silence on the other end, and Rose worried for a moment the call dropped. 

“Dana?”

“Sorry. Yes, everything’s fine. It’s just…something strange happened a little while ago and I don’t really know what to make of it.”

Rose sat down in Janine’s chair. “Okay. Did something happen with Oscar?”

“No, no. Oscar’s fine. He’s sleeping. I just got him down a little while ago.”

“Wait, what time is it, anyway?” Rose asked. She hitched up her sleeve to squint at her watch, but gave up when she realized she couldn’t make out the numbers in the dark.

“It’s about nine thirty.”

“Oh, okay, thanks. So what happened?”

“Um, you know my boss, Janosz Poha?”

Rose shifted a little uncomfortably. She’d met Poha a couple times, and couldn’t say she cared much for him. He was a little too intense around Dana for Rose’s liking, for one thing, but something about him just gave her the creeps. 

“Uh, the squirrelly guy with the accent? Sure. What about him?”

“Well, he just showed up at my apartment.”

Rose blinked. “Come again?”

“He just showed up at my apartment,” Dana repeated. “Completely out of the blue. Said he was in the neighborhood and wanted to see if I was okay, if I needed anything.”

“At nine o’clock on a Friday? During a citywide blackout? I don’t think so,” Rose scoffed. “Does he even live near you?”

“I have no idea, but even if he was just working late, the museum is nowhere near my apartment.”

“That’s pretty weird.”

“No, the weirdest part is…Rose, I don’t remember ever telling him where I lived.”

Rose’s blood ran cold. “Do you think he followed you home?”

“That, or he got my address off my employee file. Either one scares me. And he’s been acting really strange lately, too. Stranger than usual, I mean.”

“Do you want me to come over?” she asked.

“Oh, no. No, that’s alright,” Dana said. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking, I’m offering,” Rose replied firmly.

“No - I appreciate it, but no. I’ll be alright. It just freaked me out, and I wanted to tell someone about it.”

“Okay,” Rose said reluctantly. “If you’re sure.”

“I don’t think he’ll be coming back tonight.”

“Alright. Call me here if you need anything, okay? I’ll be here all night, and probably most of tomorrow, too.”

“Is everything alright? You sound stressed,” Dana asked carefully. 

Rose sighed. “Well, I don’t want to worry you, but Ray, Peter, and Egon got arrested a few hours ago.”

“What?! Are they alright?”

“Yeah, I think so. Peter used his phone call to tell me, he says they’re being taken to Central Booking, but they won’t go before a judge until tomorrow morning at the earliest.”

“Why were they arrested?”

“They dug a hole in First Avenue,” Rose said bluntly. “And probably also caused the blackout.”

“Oh no! They were digging in the street because of me, weren’t they? Rose, I’m so sorry." 

“Dana, this isn’t your fault. They made the decision to crack into the street, you didn’t tell them to.” 

“That’s true, but still…”

“Besides, I don’t think anything would have stopped them from helping you,” Rose added. “Especially not a few laws, and especially not with Peter involved.”

“Well, if there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know.”

“I will. Thanks, Dana. Just get some rest and stay safe. And call me, if that weirdo boss of yours comes back.”

“I will,” she promised. “Good night, Rose.”

“Night, Dana.”

Rose hung up the phone and climbed back upstairs, and poked her head into the boys’ sleeping quarters. Janine was already asleep, all curled up in Egon’s bed. 

She smiled to herself; she wasn’t so sure Janine was being truthful about having moved on. Rose suspected Egon probably harbored some feelings for her, too, but he would never allow himself to act on them. Romantic entanglements were likely the furthest thing from his mind.

It was a shame, really - Egon and Janine would be good together. 

Rose retreated to her old room and changed into her pajamas just before turning out the light. She climbed into bed, slipping under the covers and closing her eyes. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to sleep all that well without Ray, but she was hoping the whiskey would help with that. 

She drifted off reasonably quickly, but unfortunately, her dreams were fitful at best, filled with images of Ray being dragged away from her in chains, and violent flashbacks to her near-death experience in the subway. Stress always brought those particular nightmares out of her, and often left her with a phantom ache in the faded scar on her forehead. 

After she woke up for the fifth time, feeling out of sorts, she decided with a huff as she rolled over that if her brain wouldn’t let her stay asleep, she might as well start mapping out a plan of attack. 

Rose woke the next morning, feeling so drained she may as well not have slept at all. There was one spot of good news, though: as Rose stumbled out into the kitchen, she saw Janine was making coffee and had the news on the TV across the room with the volume turned down low - the power was back on. 

“Morning,” Rose said around a yawn. Janine turned to look at her and smiled. 

“Morning. How’d you sleep?” 

“Not great,” she replied with a shrug. “No surprise there.”

She began rummaging around in the cupboards for something to eat and smiled to herself when she found a box of Cocoa Puffs. Of course Egon would opt for a box of sugary breakfast cereal - his sweet tooth would have demanded it. 

She grabbed a small bowl and poured herself some cereal and retrieved the milk from the fridge, which thankfully hadn’t expired yet. Egon had been known to get so involved with his work that he just tuned everything else out, including replacing old groceries. 

“How about you?” Rose asked as she poured the milk into her bowl. “How’d you sleep?”

“Probably about as well as you,” Janine said. The coffee machine beeped at her to let her know it was done brewing. “Coffee?”

“Sure, why not,” she said. She grabbed a spoon and sat down at the table. “If I can’t be well rested, I might as well be jittery.”

Janine laughed and poured them a couple mugs of strong, dark coffee before coming to join her at the table.

“Thanks,” Rose said, accepting her mug from Janine. “What time did you get up? What time is it, actually?”

Rose looked over her shoulder at the clock on the wall: it was eight thirty a.m.

“Oh, I woke up around seven. The phone was ringing downstairs, so I got up and answered it.” 

“Who was it?”

“Louis. He was returning my call from last night. Apparently, he couldn’t answer the phone because he was stuck in an elevator during the blackout.” 

“Well, yeah, that would do it. So what did he have to say?” Rose asked, taking a sip of her coffee. She blinked at the bitter taste. She wasn’t much of a coffee drinker - she generally preferred tea - but she needed the caffeine boost. 

“Well, Ray left him a message, too. So he was calling to let us know that he’s headed down to Central Booking to talk to the guys. And then about five minutes after I got off the phone with him, Winston called. He said he’d be here, well, right around now, actually.” 

“I still can’t believe they’re getting Louis of all people to be their lawyer,” Rose said, rolling her eyes. “I know it’s faster than waiting for a public defender, but still. He’s an accountant, not a criminal defense attorney. I like Louis, I do - he’s a sweet guy, but they need, I don’t know, Perry Mason. And not that he’s dumb, but Louis is more Gomer Pyle meets Mr. Rogers, you know?”

“I know, but I’m sure he’ll do his best,” Janine said reassuringly. “You know how much he looks up to the guys. He doesn’t want to let them down.” 

“Yeah. Anyway,” Rose said, swallowing the last spoonful of her cereal and sucking down the chocolatey milk from her bowl. “I’m gonna go get ready. I wanna get down there as soon as humanly possible.” 

Rose rinsed her bowl out in the sink and dashed off to the bathroom. She took the quickest shower she’d ever taken in her life, dried her hair in record time, and dressed so fast she was half-surprised she hadn’t put her pants on backwards. She hopped back out of the living quarters on one foot, pulling her boot on the other, ten minutes after she left the kitchen, wearing the same pullover and jeans she’d worn yesterday.  

She only stood still long enough to tie her boot laces, and then immediately latched onto the pole and slid down to the first floor.

“And there she is!”

Rose looked up when she landed and smiled. Winston had arrived in the ten minutes she’d been getting ready. 

“Hey, Win! Good to see you. Thanks for coming,” she said, going over to him for a hug. Winston wrapped his arms around her shoulders and squeezed her tight, and Rose felt some of her tension ease. “Wish it was under better circumstances, but…”

“Yeah, I hear you, sweetheart. Janine was just filling me in on the details,” Winston said as he released her. He looked down at her with his eyebrow raised. “They really tore up part of First Avenue?”

“Yeah, they really did,” Rose said with a sigh. “I should have stopped them, but what’s done is done. All we can do now is bring them home.”

“And on that note,” Janine said, buttoning up her coat and wrapping a scarf around her neck. She gestured to her car, and Rose could see what looked like three garment bags in the backseat. “What do you say we get down there and see about getting our boys out?”

“Yeah. Rose, get in the car. I’ll open the garage door for you,” Winston said. “I got my own car with me out front. I’ll just drive over there myself. We’re not fitting everyone in that bug on the way back. Not happening.”

“Good point. Thanks, Win,” Rose replied appreciatively. She climbed into the passenger seat of Janine’s car and eyed the bags behind her curiously. “Jay, what’s with the bags back there?”

“Suits," Janine answered, settling into the driver's seat. "For the guys. I put them together after Louis called. He said the guys were going to their arraignment at ten, so I thought I should bring some professional looking clothes for them to change into. Might help their case if they don’t look like they spent all night in jail.”

“Good call, I wasn’t even thinking about that,” Rose said. She smiled gratefully at Janine. “What would we do without you?” 

“Fall to pieces, I imagine,” Janine teased her. “I’m just glad Ray and Peter left behind some of their nicer clothes here.” 

“Yeah. I don’t think prison orange will be all that flattering on them,” Rose commented. 

"It's not really flattering on anyone," Janine said, turning the key in the ignition. Her little pink bug rumbled to life, purring steadily. 

As soon as Winston had opened the door and cleared out of the way, Janine reversed them out and onto the street. They idled along the curb until Winston got behind the wheel of his Oldsmobile and started it up. After a minute or so, he rolled down his window and gave them a thumbs up to let them know he was good to go, and Janine took off down the street. 

Central Booking for Manhattan was only about a five minute drive from the Firehouse, thankfully, but as Janine's Beetle zipped along the street, with Winston’s Oldsmobile following close behind, Rose couldn’t help but feel that it was going to be the longest five minutes of her life.

Chapter Text

If Rose thought the drive to Central Booking was painfully long, the wait to see the boys and hand off their suits was agonizing. 

They had checked in with the desk sergeant, who had redirected them to the courthouse part of the complex, and a bailiff had shown Rose, Janine, and Winston to a conference room the guys would be brought to before their arraignment. It was in this room that they had sat for the last forty minutes, waiting to clap eyes on the other half of their team. 

Rose heard footsteps and looked up eagerly as the door opened, but deflated a little when she realized it was only Louis. 

She clutched the garment bag that contained Ray’s suit a little tighter and stood to greet him.

“Hey, Louis. How are they? Have you talked to them?” she asked. 

“Oh, sure,” Louis said. “They’re alright, you know. They wanna get this over with. They’re on their way up.”

Rose looked Louis over. He had not changed at all in the last five years. Same glasses, same slicked back hair, same slightly stooped posture. Although he could be a bit of a doofus at times, Louis was a good guy, and he was coming through for Ray, Peter, and Egon in a big way.

“Listen, you should know, I talked with the prosecutor a little earlier,” he continued. “It's pretty clear her boss wants the guys to go to prison real bad. They’re not even offering a plea deal. The guys were gonna plead not guilty anyway, but my guess is the trial is gonna happen real soon. A lot sooner than normal.” 

“Jesus. Okay. Thanks, Louis,” Rose said sincerely. “I know you’re not a defense lawyer, so really, thank you.” 

“Aw, it’s the least I can do for you guys, after what you did for me!” Louis told her cheerfully. 

Rose couldn't help but smile at Louis' eager loyalty. Although they had tried to assure him he was under no obligation to them, Louis considered himself indebted to the Ghostbusters for the remainder of his natural life.

Ever since they had defeated Gozer - and thereby freed him from possession at the hands of the Keymaster - Louis had made it his personal mission to do anything and everything he could to help the Ghostbusters. Until now, they hadn't required his services, except for the occasional free bit advice come tax season. 

Louis was really much stronger than any of them gave him credit for. Very few people could have gone through the kind of supernatural ordeal he'd endured and come out the other side psychologically intact, and fewer still would have willingly dedicated their lives to a group of people who tended to face off with the paranormal on a regular basis. 

But there he was, ready to go to the mat on their behalf against the long arm of the New York judicial branch. It was entirely possible - likely, even - that Louis' defense tactics would be ineffective, but all the same, Ray, Peter, and Egon were lucky to have him in their corner. 

The door opened behind Louis and Rose's eyes snapped up: a single bailiff stepped through the door, leading Ray, Peter, and Egon in, one by one. They were each dressed in orange jumpsuits, with white t-shirts underneath, and their wrists were cuffed in front of them. They looked exhausted, but they were there and safe and whole in front of her, and that was all Rose cared about. 

Ray beamed when he laid eyes on her and she almost started crying. 

“You have ten minutes,” the bailiff informed them, undoing their cuffs. “I’ll be outside the door. No funny business.”

“Yes, sir,” Ray said, rubbing at his wrists. Just the sound of his voice sent waves of relief crashing through her body. It had been less than twenty-four hours since she last saw her husband, but it may as well have been six months. 

“I’m going to give them some privacy,” Louis said to the bailiff. “Could you tell me which courtroom we’ll be in?”

“Sure, come with me.”

Louis and the bailiff left the room, and closed the door behind them, leaving the five Ghostbusters and Janine alone. No sooner had the door clicked shut than Rose dropped Ray’s garment bag on the table unceremoniously and bee-lined straight for her husband, throwing her arms around his neck. Ray sighed softly and wrapped his arms around her waist. 

“Rose, I am so happy to see you, honey,” he murmured in her ear. She fought back tears and squeezed him tightly before pulling back so she could look at him. 

“I’m so happy to see you,” Rose told him. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m okay. We’re okay,” Ray replied. Rose framed his jaw with both hands and pulled him into a quick kiss. Stepping away from her husband, Rose looked at her brother, shaking her head. 

Peter sighed. “I know, I know. You don’t have to say it. We did try not to get arrested. Just…didn’t pan out that way.”

“Forget it,” Rose said, and went in for a hug. “I’m just so glad you’re alright, Pete.”

“Me, too,” Peter said, squeezing her tightly. He released her and Rose immediately turned to Egon, sliding her arms around his waist. 

“Hi, Egie,” she said. “Glad you’re okay.”

Egon wrapped a single arm around her shoulders and squeezed her once before letting go. She smiled up at him when she stepped back and he nodded at her, a small smile crossing his face. 

Winston moved forward and shook each of the guys’ hands in greeting. 

“Nice to see you, Winnie,” Ray said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Bet you’re glad we didn’t call you up for this one.”

“Ray, if I had known the specifics of why Peter wanted that equipment, I would have smacked you all upside the head for even thinking about doing what you… allegedly did,” Winston told him seriously. 

“Yeah,” Ray said, chuckling self-consciously. He rubbed the back of his neck. “It was pretty stupid. But you won’t believe what we found!”

“So you actually found something?” Rose asked. 

“Oh, boy, did we!” Ray said excitedly. “I’ll tell you all about it later. Promise.”

Janine stepped up to them next, shaking her head. Her expression was caught somewhere between exasperated and relieved. 

“Hey, Red. Long time, no see,” Peter drawled. He looked her over. “This is a new look for you. The bug eyes aren’t actually as bad now.”

Janine scowled and smacked him on the arm. 

“Ow! What was that for, it was a compliment!” Peter whined. 

“That was for being a smart ass.” She turned to Ray and smiled. “Hi, Ray.”

“Hi, Janine,” he said, going in for a hug. Janine kissed him on the cheek in greeting as they embraced. “Thanks for helping us out. We really appreciate it.”

“Oh, of course!” Janine said and turned to Egon. He leaned down to hug her, and if Egon held onto Janine a little longer than he had Rose, well…Rose just smiled and pretended not to notice.

“Thank you for your help, Janine,” Egon told her, pulling away. “It’s greatly appreciated.”

“My pleasure, Egon,” Janine said. She reached up and patted him on the cheek fondly. “I’m glad you’re alright.”

Peter frowned. “Hang on, why do Ray and Egon get hugs, and I get abused?”

Janine turned and thwacked Peter on the arm again. 

“Ow.”

“And that’s for getting arrested,” Janine told him. She moved towards him, looking like she might hit him again, and Peter put his hands up defensively. 

“Red, I’m warning you. Two free hits is my limit.”

Janine rolled her eyes, pushing Peter’s hands down and out of the way so she could kiss him on the cheek and wrap her arms around his shoulders. A look of shock came over his face - Janine wasn’t typically outwardly affectionate with him - and Rose and Ray chuckled at the sight.  

“I’m very glad you’re okay, Peter,” Janine said fondly. Peter blinked and wrapped his arms around her waist. 

“Aw, see? I knew you loved me,” he teased her. Janine grumbled and pulled away from him. 

“Don’t press your luck, Venkman. I owe you at least two more smacks,” Janine told him, pointing at him. “One for blacking out the city -”

“- that was actually Ray’s doing,” Peter interrupted. Rose looked up at her husband, who laughed nervously and shrugged. 

“- and one from Rose,” Janine continued furiously. “She barely slept last night, she was so worried about you! About all of you.”

Ray deflated a little and looked down at Rose. “I’m sorry, honey. About all of this.”

Rose put a hand on her husband’s arm. “It’s okay, Ray. We’re gonna get through this.”

“Speaking of, you need to get changed,” Janine said, gesturing to the garment bags on the table. “I figured it might be better when you go before a judge if you don’t look like you just spent the night in a jail cell.”

“Thank you, Janine,” Egon replied. Janine nodded and handed his bag to him, before handing the other two bags to Ray and Peter. 

“We will get out of your hair, and we’ll see in the courtroom,” Rose said. She pressed a kiss to Ray’s lips. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Ray said. “See you in there.”

Rose, Janine, and Winston made their way back out into the hallway, and the bailiff outside the door directed them to the courtroom they’d be in. The three went inside and quietly sat down in the first row behind the defendants’ table.

There were a few people already milling around, including Louis, who was sitting at the defendants’ table, looking nervous; a sharply dressed woman with a quick, discerning look about her; and a few reporters. 

Even five years later, any news to do with the Ghostbusters piqued the media’s interest. 

Rose remembered there had been a few articles published when she and Ray opened the book shop. The publicity had, admittedly, been great for business in the early days, but the resulting stream of people wandering into the shop who were more fascinated by the Ghostbusters than they were books on the occult had eventually gotten tiresome.

In Rose’s view, the press were useful about as frequently as they were a nuisance, especially where the Ghostbusters were concerned. Shaking her head, she drew her attention away from the reporters and back over to the woman in the sharp business attire. 

Louis noticed Rose watching her and leaned backwards over the barrier separating the front of the courtroom from the gallery.

“That’s the prosecutor,” he told her quietly. The prosecutor was speaking to a taller man, who wore a bureaucrat’s suit and a smug smirk. Rose instantly disliked him. 

“And who’s he?” she asked, nodding to the smirking man. 

Louis shrugged. “I don’t know.”

A door at the front end of the courtroom opened, and the bailiff that had been outside the conference room led Ray, Peter, and Egon - now dressed in their suits and looking much more themselves for it - over to their table. Ray smiled reassuringly at Rose as he sat down, and she managed to smile back. She noticed his tie was crooked and she gestured for him to come a bit closer. 

She reached for his tie when he leaned over, and fixed it, smoothing it down the center of his chest. 

“There,” she said, smiling and patting his chest right over his heart. “Now you look more like yourself.”

He beamed at her and caught her hand in his, bringing it to his lips so he could kiss her knuckles. 

“Thanks,” he said. “I tried my best to get it straight, but you know. No mirror.”

“You did good. It was only a little crooked,” she told him. He chuckled, but a moment later his expression turned serious. 

“I’m glad you weren’t there, Rose,” Ray said softly. He glanced over at the prosecutor and lowered his voice even further. “I don’t think I could have taken it, knowing I got you arrested and you spent the night in that place.”

“It was that bad, huh?” she asked. 

Peter turned around in seat to face her. “Let’s just say they call it the Tombs for a reason, and leave it at that.”

“I don’t ever wanna go back there,” Ray said, shuddering. 

“If it makes you feel any better, Ray,” Egon interjected, “had Rose been arrested with us, she wouldn’t have been put in the Tombs. Only men are held there. She would have been transferred to a women’s facility somewhere else.”

Ray blinked and thought for a moment. “You know, oddly enough, that does actually make me feel better. Thanks, Egon.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Of course, it helps the most to know you weren’t arrested with us, and no matter what happens to me, or us, you’ll be free,” Ray told her, gazing at her softly. Rose just about melted, even as guilt gnawed away at her. 

“I never should have told you to go,” she said sadly. She too kept her voice as low as possible. “I should have put a stop to the idea in the first place.” 

“This wasn’t your fault, Rosie,” Peter said firmly. Egon turned to look at her, nodding in agreement. “Even if you had told us not to do it, we probably would have done it anyway.”

“Oh, gee, so nice to know you listen to me,” Rose said sarcastically. 

“What Peter means,” Ray said, shooting her brother an annoyed glare, “is that there was no other way for us to see what was down there, so even if you made us promise not to, we probably would have gone ahead anyway.”

Rose chuckled and patted his hand. “That’s not really any better, but I appreciate the effort, sweetheart.”

Ray smiled and leaned over the barrier to kiss her, but had to quickly pull away and turn around when the bailiff announced the entry of the judge. 

“All rise!” 

Everyone in the courtroom got to their feet as the judge, an older woman with short silver hair, took her seat on the bench. 

“The Honorable Judge Ellen Davenport presiding.”

“You may be seated,” Judge Davenport told the occupants of the courtroom. Rose returned to her seat and tried to keep from fidgeting. She wished she was a little more dressed up, but then, she wasn’t on trial, and the guys were only here to find out the charges against them, enter a plea, and figure out if they would be granted bail. 

Janine reached over and grabbed Rose’s left hand, holding it in hers tightly. Rose smiled at her friend, grateful for the support. 

“Alright. We are here for the arraignments of Raymond Stantz, Peter Venkman, and Egon Spengler,” the judge said. “Before we get started, I’ll ask that counsel approach the bench and identify themselves for the record.” 

Rose noticed for the first time a woman sitting just to the left of the judge’s bench, tapping away rapidly on a stenography machine. The prosecutor rose from her seat and walked to the middle of the courtroom, where a podium had been set up about six feet from the bench. She turned to look at Louis impatiently when he did not join her.

“That means you, Louis,” Peter hissed quietly. 

“Oh!” Louis jumped a little and scurried over to stand next to the prosecutor. Rose squeezed Janine’s hand a little tighter. 

“Janet Matthews, for the People of New York, Your Honor,” the prosecutor introduced herself. 

“Uh, Louis Tully, for the defendants,” Louis said, and then hastily added, “Your Honor.”

“Thank you,” Judge Davenport replied dryly. “You may be seated. Mr. Jefferies, if you’d kindly call the session.”

A young man sitting to the right of the bench stood and rattled off the court docket number, and then announced loudly, “The People of the State of New York versus Doctors Raymond Francis Stantz, Peter Charles Venkman, and Egon Spengler.”

“Would the defendants and their lawyer please rise and approach the podium,” the Judge said. Ray, Peter, and Egon stood and walked over to the podium, with Louis trailing behind. 

“Doctors Stantz, Venkman, and Spengler,” Judge Davenport began, looking down at papers in her hand. “The complaint brought before this court alleges that last night - December the first - the three of you did willfully destroy city property by digging up a section of First Avenue, thereby exposing an air duct and damaging city power lines, which in turn caused a city-wide power outage. The complaint further states that by your actions, you violated the terms of your permanent injunction to cease any and all business practices associated with your former enterprise, Ghostbusters, which took effect in August of 1985. As such, in addition to being charged with violating that same judicial order, you are being charged with willful destruction of public property, fraud, and malicious mischief in the second degree.” 

Rose’s heart sank; those were not light charges. She hadn’t expected they would be, but a conviction on even one had the potential to put the guys away for years. Judge Davenport looked up from the complaint and stared at Peter, Ray, and Egon. 

“Gentlemen, how do you plead to the charges against you?” 

“Not guilty, Your Honor,” Peter answered. 

Ray and Egon repeated and confirmed their pleas. Rose swallowed past a lump of anxiety in her throat. 

“Let the record reflect that the defendants have entered a plea of not guilty,” Judge Davenport said. “Now, onto the matter of release pending trial. Attorney Matthews, what is the People’s position on the matter of bail for the defendants?”

“We are petitioning the court to hold the defendants without bail until trial, Your Honor.”

Rose’s heart thudded painfully and Janine squeezed her hand. She kept her eyes on the back of Ray’s head. She wanted so badly to bring him home, bring them all home. She didn’t care what she had to pay to do it.

Judge Davenport looked curiously at the prosecutor. “What is your reasoning?”

“Your Honor, given their past history of willful destruction of both public and private property, and their apparent disregard for the governing laws of this city, county, and state, it is our opinion that the people of New York would be best served if the defendants remain incarcerated until trial.” 

“Understood,” Judge Davenport replied sternly. “However, given that the defendants lack a history of violence, it is this Court’s opinion that holding them until trial would be an unnecessary strain on the city's resources and an undue burden on the taxpayer. Furthermore, given the ties to the community guaranteed by their current professions - Dr. Stantz and his wife are small business owners, Dr. Spengler is a university lecturer and researcher, and Dr. Venkman is a local television personality - it is this Court’s opinion that the defendants constitute an exceedingly low flight risk. With these considerations in mind, I am ordering the defendants released on their own recognizance.” 

The prosecutor grimaced in displeasure, but Rose’s heart leapt, and she heard Janine inhale sharply next to her. She dared to look over and saw her barely suppressing a delighted smile. She felt as though she was witnessing a Christmas miracle come early: her boys would be coming home and they didn’t even have to pay bail!

“Gentlemen, the terms of your release are as follows,” Judge Davenport said, looking sharply at Ray, Peter, and Egon. “At no time during the duration of your trial are you to leave the city or state of New York. The only exception to this condition is that Dr. Stantz is allowed to travel to his permanent residence in the town of Islip on Long Island. Additionally, if any of you are arrested or charged in connection with any other crime throughout the duration of your pretrial release, that release will be revoked immediately and you will be taken into custody. Finally, you must appear for any and all court dates. If you miss even a single appearance, you will be held in contempt of court. A warrant will be issued for your arrest, and you will be remanded to state custody. Do you agree to these terms?”

“Yes, Your Honor, we do,” Ray answered. 

“Yes, Your Honor,” Peter and Egon confirmed, one after another. 

“Let the record reflect that the defendants have agreed to the terms and conditions of their pretrial release,” Davenport said. “Gentleman, your counsel will be notified of your trial date within the coming days. With that, I conclude this arraignment hearing and adjourn the court.” 

“Thank you, Your Honor,” the guys said in unison. 

“All rise!” the bailiff announced loudly. Rose leapt to her feet, barely able to keep the tears of relief out of her eyes as she watched the judge exit the courtroom through a side door. “The court is now adjourned!” 

Ray turned to her, grinning. Rose beamed and stepped out into the aisle, meeting him when he stepped past the little gate that separated them. She practically leapt into his arms, throwing her arms around his neck. Ray’s arms wound tightly around her waist and he lifted her off her feet, twirling her around.

He set her back on the ground and smiled down at her, reaching for her hand. She intertwined their fingers and pulled him towards the door to the courtroom. Winston clapped a hand on Peter’s shoulder as they followed her and Ray, and Rose caught sight of Janine wrapping her hand around Egon’s elbow as he stepped past the gate. Louis gathered his things and hurried after them, looking absolutely floored. 

The whole crew decided to retire to the firehouse. It was the closest location, and they needed to discuss next steps and potential trial strategies, but also because Ray, Peter, and Egon each desperately wanted a shower. 

Egon, naturally, had wanted to perform immediate tests on the grid the second he walked through the door, and had disappeared into the basement. The others went up to the second floor, and Ray and Peter rochambeaued for the first shower. Ray had won, and Rose led him towards her room instead of the guys’, since it afforded a little more privacy. 

“Oh, God, please don’t have sex in there,” Peter groaned, loosening his tie and flopping down on the couch next to Janine. 

“Janine, smack him for me, will you?” Rose called over her shoulder. She heard a loud thwack and smiled in satisfaction. 

“Ow! Christ, Melnitz, you hit hard. What, have you been taking boxing lessons?”

“You were asking for that one, Pete,” Winston said, laughing. 

Rose chuckled to herself and closed the door behind her and Ray and locked it. He was grinning in amusement, but his smile turned a little more heated as she approached. She grabbed hold of his tie and used it to pull him towards the bed and into a searing kiss. He smirked against her lips, a chuckle rumbling in his chest, and kissed her a little deeper, wrapping his arms around her waist. Rose pulled away for a second, just long enough to push him down onto the bed. 

He laid down on it, and she slung one leg over his hips, straddling him. Smirking, she undid the knot on his tie, and slipped it from around his neck, tossing it off into the corner and undoing the first few buttons on his shirt. She leaned down and pressed gentle kisses to the hollow of his neck as it was exposed to her. 

“I’m so happy you’re home, Ray,” she murmured against his neck. 

Ray hummed in appreciation and threaded his fingers through her hair, bringing her lips back up to his and kissing her soundly. His other hand drifted down to rest on her ass. She undid the rest of his shirt, exposing his white undershirt, and pulled both from his pants, before reaching for his belt buckle and undoing that too. 

Her husband chuckled against her lips and pulled away, smirking up at her. “Honey, as much as I’m enjoying this - and I am really enjoying this - I do need to take a shower. Besides, we probably shouldn’t fool around in here. Feels a little weird.” 

“Don’t tell me you never thought about it,” Rose said, pressing a kiss to his jaw, just under his ear. He inhaled sharply; that was a sensitive spot for him and she loved the sounds he made when she kissed him there. “Fooling around in here, I mean.”

“Well, of course I have,” Ray responded. “But now - when your brother and the others are literally on the other side of the door - might not be the best time.” 

She sighed and nodded, sitting up. She placed both hands on her husband’s chest. “You’re probably right.” 

She climbed off him and offered him a hand up from the bed. He stood and pressed another heated kiss to her lips, hand floating down to curl his fingers around hers, leaving her breathless in that way only he ever could. He pulled away smirking, gently tugging her towards the connected bathroom with him. 

“Wanna fool around in the shower instead?” he asked, his head cocked to the side mischievously.

“God, yes.”

Ray and Rose emerged from the shower some fifteen minutes later, hair dark and damp from the water and dressed in comfortable clothing, with pleased as punch smiles on both their faces. They rejoined her brother and their friends - minus Egon, who must have still been checking the grid - and Peter groaned in disgust at the looks on their faces. 

“Is nothing sacred to you two?” he asked, shaking his head. “Defiling the sanctity of the shared bathroom…”

Rose rolled her eyes. “Oh, relax, Peter. We didn’t do anything, not that it’s any of your business.” 

“Uh huh,” Peter said skeptically. “So even though you clearly showered together, Ray is grinning like a fool for absolutely no reason.”

“I’m grinning, Peter,” Ray responded, gripping the towel draped around his neck and raising an eyebrow, “because I’m not in a jail cell and I have my wife with me. I’m happy.” 

Peter narrowed his eyes. “Nope, I don’t buy it.” 

Rose left Ray’s side and leaned down over the back of the couch, looking her brother dead in the eyes. “Peter, let me ask you something. Did you hear anything?”

“Well...no,” Peter admitted. “Thankfully.”

“Then that’s how you know we’re telling the truth,” she said simply. “If we’d had sex in there...you would have heard it.”

Winston and Janine both let out undignified snorts as Peter recoiled, looking deeply uncomfortable. Louis, who had been reading through a copy of the complaint he’d gotten from the prosecutor, went bright red and nearly choked on the coffee he’d been drinking. 

“Sorry, Louis,” Rose apologized. He waved her off, coughing a little, and she looked back at Peter. He shuddered a little at whatever thought crossed his mind and she smirked. 

“How weird you feel right now?” she said. “Yeah, remember that the next time you decide it’s a good idea to comment on my and Ray’s sex life.” 

He grimaced. “Noted.”

“Good,” Rose said. She patted her brother on the shoulder and straightened up. “Now go take a shower, before Egon comes up here and steals your spot.”

Peter leapt up from the couch and hurried into the living quarters; evidently the idea of losing his immediate access to a hot shower was enough to override his discomfort. Rose took his spot on the couch next to Janine, just as Egon appeared at the top of the stairs. 

“All quiet on the ghost front, Egie?” she asked him. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and nodded.

“Yes, thankfully the power outage did not compromise the integrity of the grid.”

“Good. I checked it last night, and everything seemed okay, but I’m glad it got your stamp of approval,” she replied. Egon nodded again. 

“Now, Ray,” Rose said, looking up at her husband. “Would you care to tell us what you found under First Avenue?”

Winston and Janine sat forward a little, just as curious as she was. Ray settled himself on the arm of the couch next to Rose, grinning excitedly. 

“It was incredible, Rose,” he began. “So, Egon was the one who actually cracked through the street. With a jackhammer. Peter and I had gone to get coffee.”

“For an hour,” Egon remarked. “They left me alone in the crosswalk with a jackhammer for an hour.”

Rose clicked her tongue in a ‘tsk’ at Ray and shook her head. “Nice.”

“I already said I’m sorry about that, Spengs. But at least we came back in time to deal with the cop when he first showed up.”

“What did you tell them?” Winston asked. “I mean, what was the excuse?”

“Nothing, really,” Ray said, shrugging. “Just some yarn about how we were on schedule and couldn’t be interrupted, and we were being made to work overtime on a Friday. You know, just to get him out of the way. And it worked. For a while, anyway.”

“I believe the phrase Ray used was ‘some diaper bag downtown is making us work on a Friday night’,” Egon told them, leaning up against the doorframe. Rose and Winston snorted. 

“Diaper bag?” she asked, laughing. 

“I was improvising,” Ray explained, chuckling. “You should have seen Egon. Like a deer caught in headlights.” 

Egon rolled his eyes. “Yes, well, forgive me for being uneasy around the police.” 

“You just held up your fist and went ‘YO’,” Ray told him, dropping his voice to mimic Egon’s timbre. Rose and Janine burst into laughter at the imitation. “What the hell was that supposed to be?”

“I really don’t know,” Egon said. “It was the first thing that popped into my head.”

Rose got a hold of herself, letting out a few more giggles. “Oh, I’m sorry I missed that. You three must have put on quite the performance.”

“Yeah, we were pretty convincing if I do say so myself,” Ray replied proudly. “Anyway, the cop drove off, and we got a look at what Egon had done. Turns out, he’d hammered right into an old air shaft, and tell ‘em about the readings you got, Egie!” 

“Intense. Really hot,” Egon explained. “The numbers jumped once the tunnel was exposed. So we decided we needed to get deeper readings.” 

Rose narrowed her eyes and looked between Ray and Egon. “Why do I get the feeling I’m not going to like what comes next?”

“Because you probably won’t,” Egon answered dryly. Ray chuckled nervously.

“They strapped me into a harness and lowered me down into the hole,” Ray told her.

“You did what?” Rose exclaimed. Winston, Janine, and Louis all uttered various sounds of surprise and disbelief. 

“Of all the stupid ideas…” Janine grumbled. 

“I wasn’t all that thrilled about it at first, but then I saw what was down there, and man!” Ray continued unabated. 

“No, I’m sorry, back up,” Rose said, waving her hands in objection. She looked sharply up at Egon. “Let me get this straight. You strapped my husband into a harness and lowered him down into an air shaft you had just jackhammered open, without knowing how deep it went, how stable it was, or what was actually down there?”

Egon blinked at her, looking very much like the proverbial deer Ray had described him as a few minutes previously. “Uh…well…”

The door to the living quarters opened behind them and Peter walked out, towel drying his hair. He stopped short, taking in the tension in the room. “Geez, what happened? I was gone for like five minutes.”

“Peter, good, just in time,” Egon remarked a little too casually. “I think I’ll just go take that shower now.”

“Yes, Peter, great timing,” Rose said testily as Egon slipped past Peter into the living quarters, shutting the door behind him. “Maybe you can explain to me why you thought it was a good idea to drop my husband down an air shaft without knowing that it wouldn’t collapse in on him.”

Her brother froze in place, eyes darting this way and that. “Um…no, thank you.” 

Rose smiled coldly and Peter squirmed in discomfort. “That wasn’t a request, brother dear.”

“Rose, honey, it’s alright, really,” Ray soothed her. He put a hand on her shoulder and stroked his thumb back and forth. “I’m alright.”

“Yeah, he’s alright, Rose,” Peter said, seizing on Ray’s attempt to calm her. “He’s totally fine!” 

“You should consider yourself very lucky that’s the case,” Rose told him. She dragged a hand over her face, sighing. “Fine. You’re alright. Continue.”

“Well, it turns out,” Ray said, shifting a little in excitement, “that we tapped into the old Pneumatic Transit system! It’s still there, just under the city! And I found…slime. A river of pink slime.”

The gears in Rose’s brain screeched to a halt, and she looked at Winston, Janine, and Louis, wondering if she’d misheard. “Did he just say…”

“River of slime,” Winston repeated. “Yeah I heard it, too.”

“River…of slime,” Rose muttered. She looked over her shoulder at Peter, who shrugged, and then back up at Ray. “A river of slime. A river of slime?”

“Pink slime!” Ray corrected, grinning like a madman. “Rose, it was massive. There had to be twenty five thousand gallons of it, just flowing through the tunnel! I got a sample of it, but of course, they confiscated it along with the Ecto and all our other equipment. But then just as I got the sample, these tentacle things came out of the slime and tried to grab me!” 

“Am I having a stroke? Is this what having a stroke feels like?” Rose asked Winston. He snorted, and she looked at her husband. “ Tentacles?”

“Yeah!” 

“And that’s when he started to panic,” Peter said dryly, rolling his eyes. “The cops had just come back, this time with a ConEd guy, and the jig was up, you know, and Ray was down there, just losing it.” 

“You’d have panicked, too, if you’d been down there!” Ray grumbled in protest. “You guys took your sweet time reeling me back in.”

“We got you out, didn’t we? You’re here, aren’t you?” Peter shot back. 

“Well, yeah - ”

“Alright, then, quit bellyaching. Besides, you’re the one who kicked that power line down there. I still don’t know how you managed to find the one line that took out the entire city.”

“That was an accident, it’s not like I meant to -”

“Alright!” Rose interrupted, holding up her hands. “Enough. Do we know what the slime is, or how it got there?”

“No clue!” Ray said. “I was hoping we’d get the chance to test it, but then, well…”

“We got arrested,” Peter said. 

Ray nodded. “Yeah.”

“Which brings us to the next topic of discussion,” Rose replied. “The trial. Louis - you should think about calling me as a character witness.”

Louis jumped a little and looked up from his paperwork, frowning in confusion. “I should?”

“You should,” she confirmed. “I’ve known the guys the longest out of anyone here, and I can testify to the strength of their characters, their credentials, and their intentions.” 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Rose.”

Rose looked over her shoulder; Egon had rejoined their group and he did not look thrilled with her suggestion.

“Why not?”

“Because although what you just said was true, you’re also the only person who knew what we were planning to do,” Egon said levelly. “If Louis calls you, the prosecutor is allowed to cross-examine you, and she can ask if you knew. You’d be under oath, so you’d either have to perjure yourself, or admit that you were an accessory. Neither of which would be ideal. Also, if we put you on the stand, the prosecutor will be free to try and impugn your character. You would be safer not being involved with the trial at all.”

“You have a point,” Rose admitted, “but I think it’s a risk we’re going to have to take. If Louis calls me, I could testify on your behalf before the prosecutor gets a hold of me. And if - or when - I get cross-examined, I can try and make the case that you didn’t violate the injunction, at the very least, and that you aren’t frauds. I can’t help with the other charges, ‘cause you did get caught red-handed, but I might be able to help mitigate things a bit. The only real problem is that if I do take the stand, I won’t be able to plead the fifth once I do. It’s an all-or-nothing right, but I’m not all that worried about that. I wasn’t there that night, there’s no concrete proof I knew what you were doing, and the DA has no reason to come after me, anyway.”

The other six people in the room stared at her with varying degrees of surprise etched onto their faces. 

“What, did you swallow a law book or something?” Peter asked incredulously. 

“What? No,” Rose said, rolling her eyes. “Guys, this is basic stuff. Look, after our first round of court cases after Gozer, I thought it would be a good idea to brush up on my rights, just in case anything happened. And like Janine said, I didn’t sleep a whole lot last night. I was thinking. Planning. And the fact is, you’re going to need all the help you can get. No offense, Louis.”

“No, no, none taken,” Louis replied.

“I’m not real wild about the idea of you testifying, either,” Ray said carefully. He sighed. “But you’re right. We are going to need all the help we can get.” 

“Great,” Rose said. She leaned forward and smiled. “Then let’s get started.”

Chapter Text

Rose’s heels bounced anxiously on the carpeted floor of the courtroom as she looked around. The room was packed with spectators and reporters, and Ray, Peter, and Egon sat just in front of her at the defendants’ table, which was littered with law books, most of them open to potentially helpful passages Rose herself had scoured for. Egon had been pouring over four different books at the same time, scribbling down notes on a legal pad as he went. 

A table to the left side of the courtroom, just behind the transcriber, was covered with the equipment seized from the Ecto-1: each of their proton packs (Rose could make out the silver scratches on hers), traps, Egon’s Giga Meter, a couple PKE meters, and a jar of bright pink slime Ray had recovered from the tunnel, which to Rose looked like someone had injected Pepto Bismol into a vat of hair gel.

Winston sat to her left; they were both in the first row of the gallery. Janine, unfortunately, had not been able to get away from work to attend the trial. The prosecutor, Janet Matthews, was sitting calmly at her table, surrounded by neatly organized papers and legal pads. She was wearing an impeccable gray suit, a white blouse (equally as impeccable), and her brown hair was pulled back in a respectable manner. Her calculating eyes, aided by circular framed glasses, communicated a single-mindedness that Rose wished Louis possessed.

She had been trying to help Louis as much as she could, but she wasn’t a lawyer, and they’d only had a week in which to prepare. So now, there they all were, and Rose found herself wishing for about the millionth time that the guys had just gotten a public defender. 

If their prep sessions with Louis had taught her one thing, it was that he simply did not have the constitution to be a criminal defense attorney, and he would be the first to admit it. Rose took a deep breath and tugged at the hem of her charcoal grey skirt, feeling distinctly out of sorts.

“Would you stop fiddling with that thing, you look fine,” Winston said quietly.

“Sorry,” Rose replied, her voice low. “I’m just nervous.”

Winston reached over and took her hand in his, squeezing it gently. “I know. Everything’ll be okay. We’ve faced ghosts and ghouls and poltergeists. We destroyed a god masquerading as a one hundred foot tall marshmallow man. The guys can handle the courts. You can handle this.”

Rose took a deep breath and nodded. “You’re right. We can handle this.” 

“All rise!” the bailiff announced suddenly. Every person in the courtroom got to their feet as an older, stern looking man in a judge’s robe walked out and took his seat at the bench. “The Honorable Judge Stephen Wexler presiding.”

“You may be seated,” Judge Wexler told the room. Most of the occupants sat back down, except for Peter, Winston, and Rose. 

“I’m a little nervous myself. Gonna walk off some of the energy,” Winston told her. Rose nodded and let him pass, before stepping into the aisle herself and past the little gate towards the defendants’ table. 

Ray smiled up at her as she approached, and she put her left hand on his shoulder. His hand came up to cover hers, his fingers curling underneath hers, brushing against her wedding and engagement rings. 

Peter nodded at her reassuringly, although his expression soured as his gaze landed on something behind her. She turned to look: he was watching the prosecutor, who had begun chatting with the same man Rose had seen at the arraignment, the one she had disliked on sight. Judging from the look on her brother’s face, he knew the man and wished he didn’t. 

“You know him?” Rose asked. 

Peter nodded. “Sort of. That’s Jack Hardemeyer. He’s Lenny’s new assistant. Real jackass. Lenny came to Channel 10 for an interview a couple weeks ago and I tried to say hi, but Hardemeyer pushed me back and told me to stay away from the Mayor. Said being associated with a fraud like me would damage his chances when he ran for Governor.”

Rose scoffed. “What a prick.”

“You said it,” Peter replied, nodding. 

Rose turned her attention to Judge Wexler and tried to get a read on him. He appeared to be made entirely of steel and impatience, which did not bode well for her hopes of leniency. 

“Before we begin this trial, I want to make one thing very clear,” Judge Wexler said loudly, earning the entire courtroom’s attention. He rubbed at his eye with a single finger, his half-moon spectacles dangling from his hand.

“The law does not recognize the existence of ghosts, and I don’t believe in them either. I don’t want to hear a lot of malarkey about goblins, spooks, and demons,” Wexler continued, putting his glasses on as the bailiff and the clerk both handed him different documents. “We’re gonna stick to the facts in this case, and leave the ghost stories to the kiddies, understood?”

Winston approached the guys and leaned down, putting both hands on their table. “Wow, sounds like a pretty open-minded guy, huh?”

“Yeah,” Egon said. “They call him ‘The Hammer’.” 

Rose’s heart sunk and she tightened her grip on Ray’s shoulder. “Oh, good.”

“What can we do?” Ray said a bit despondently, turning towards Egon. Rose removed her hand from his shoulder and instead let it rest on his back in between his shoulder blades. “It’s all in the hands of our lawyer now.” 

As if summoned by magic, Louis appeared and hurried over to the table, depositing six more law books in front of Ray and Egon. 

“I think you guys are making a big mistake,” he told them quietly. Ray looked up at him, resting his cheek on his fist. “I do mostly tax laws and some probate stuff occasionally. I got my law degree at night school.”

Rose bit her lip, swallowing a biting remark that Louis would not have deserved. He was only being honest, and anyway, he had been professing his doubts from the beginning. She just wished the guys had listened.

“Well, that’s fine, Louis,” Ray told him, clearly trying desperately to remain positive. Her sunshine, as always. “We got arrested at night.” 

Louis merely blinked at him, and Ray’s expression fell. He dropped his head onto his arm, thumping against the open book in front of him. Rose sighed and rubbed his back in what she hoped was a comforting manner, trying to ignore the awful voice inside her head that was screaming that her boys were totally, unequivocally, and royally screwed. 

As Louis sat down next to Ray and began pouring over one of the books he’d just dropped off, Rose looked over and noticed Hardemeyer still speaking with the prosecutor. He was leaning in towards her with a smirk on his face. Her anxiety and gloominess were replaced with a wave of righteous anger, and she realized she wanted nothing more than to wipe that smug look off his face. 

Peter stepped closer to Rose as Hardemeyer approached their table, still smirking away. 

“Violating a judicial restraining order, willful destruction of public property,” he said to Peter. Louis stood, watching Hardemeyer cautiously as he got closer. “Fraud, malicious mischief. See you in a couple years, at your first parole hearing.” 

As though she had donned a suit of armor, Rose felt a sense of calm come over her, and her frayed nerves were replaced by steely determination. She would not be rattled, she would not be frightened. She was a bulldog, as Winston might say, and she would not let them take her boys without a fight to the proverbial death. 

“I suggest you move along, Mr. Hardemeyer,” Rose said, staring at him unflinchingly. “The mayor’s office really shouldn’t be seen to be prejudicial in matters of law. Especially not when there’s so many reporters around. Could be quite damaging to Lenny’s run for Governor.”

Hardemeyer considered her and sniffed derisively. “I’d worry more about your husband than the mayor, Mrs. Stantz. Marriages are so hard to maintain when your other half is behind bars. Makes anniversaries a real bear.”

Rose smiled coldly, exhaling a mirthless laugh under her breath, and she stepped closer, invading his space. “Perhaps you misunderstood me the first time, Jack, so I’ll dumb it down for you, you insignificant worm. Piss off. Go be an annoying prick somewhere else.” 

Hardemeyer’s smug expression dropped and was replaced by an indignant scowl. He rolled his eyes and stepped away, walking quickly towards the exit. Peter chuckled and stepped past her. 

“You’ll never take us alive,” Peter called after Hardemeyer, almost playfully. Rose smirked up at her brother, and he winked at her, stepping around to the front of the table and back over to his seat. 

Rose turned to see Ray gazing up at her in admiration, his chin propped on his hand. 

“What?” she asked. 

“I really love watching you dismantle arrogant men,” he replied, perhaps a bit dreamily. “It just never gets old.” 

Rose chuckled and leaned down to press a kiss to her husband’s forehead. “I love you very much.” 

“I love you, too, honey.” 

Wexler banged his gavel once, calling the courtroom to order. “Alright, alright, let’s get on with it.”

Rose squeezed Ray’s shoulder one last time before returning to her seat, with Winston seated once more to her left. 

“Defense, your opening statement,” Wexler said tiredly. Louis didn’t respond. “ Defense! Mr. Tully!” 

Louis leapt to his feet at the sound of his name. “Y-Yes, Your Honor?”

“Your opening statement,” Wexler growled. 

“Right. Y-Yes,” Louis squeaked, shuffling out from behind the table and approaching the bench. “Your Honor…ladies and gentlemen of the - the audience. I don’t think it’s fair to call my clients frauds. Okay, so the blackout was a big problem for everybody, okay? I was stuck in an elevator for two hours and I had to make the whole time. But I don’t blame them, b-because one time I turned into a dog and they helped me. Thank you.”

And with that, Louis turned and went back to his seat. Quiet laughter fluttered in the courtroom, and Wexler stared after him like he couldn’t quite comprehend what he’d just heard. Rose couldn’t blame the judge - that had been so much worse than she’d feared. 

“Very good, Louis,” Egon told him as he sat down. “Short, but pointless.”

The prosecutor got up and delivered her opening remarks, although Rose tuned most of it out. It was essentially just a rehash of her statement to Judge Davenport during the arraignment, and Rose had no interest in listening to another attempt to skewer her guys’ reputations and sully their names, but she dialled back into the proceedings as Attorney Matthews fell silent. 

“Thank you, Ms. Matthews,” Judge Wexler said. “Please call your first witness.”

“Thank you, Your Honor. The prosecution calls Officer McNulty to the stand.”

A mustachioed cop was escorted to the stand by the bailiff and was sworn in. She hadn't paid any attention to the prosecutor, but Rose kept a laser focus on the officer; Louis was going to get the chance to cross-examine him, and they needed to be ready.

“Officer McNulty, if you would, please describe for the court the events of December the first,” Ms. Matthews said. 

The officer leaned into the microphone. “Well, I was on my regular patrol route, when I noticed a man in a hard hat and reflective vest cutting into a section of First Avenue with a jackhammer. It didn’t look like there was an officer on duty, you know, overseeing the work, so I had my partner drive over, so I could speak to the guy. Find out what was going on.”

“And can you point to the man you saw and spoke to, Officer McNulty?”

The officer raised a finger and pointed straight at Egon. “He’s right there.”

“Let the record reflect that Officer McNulty has identified Dr. Egon Spengler. Continue, officer.”

“Well, like I said, I went over to speak to him, and asked him why he was cutting into the street. The other two defendants were not present when we drove up, but they rejoined, uh, Dr. Spengler, and he had them explain to me what they were doing.”

“And what was the reason they gave?”

“There wasn’t one, ma’am. One of them, the other one called him Peter, he said that I was preventing them from doing their job, and the other one - Peter called him Raymond - said they were there because somebody downtown had ordered them to work on a Friday night.”

“For clarity’s sake, I would ask the court to note that the names ‘Peter’ and ‘Raymond’ refer to Dr. Venkman and Dr. Stantz, respectively,” Matthews announced. 

“So noted,” Wexler acknowledged. “Continue.”

“Thank you, Your Honor. So, Officer McNulty,” the prosecutor continued, “is it accurate to say the defendants misrepresented themselves as city employees?”

“Well, no, ma’am. They never actually identified affiliation with any company or agency. ConEd, Public Works. Nothing.”

“No identification at all?”

“No, ma’am. Aside from their first names.”

“Very well, continue.”

“Well, so we drove off,” McNulty explained, “and I was gonna go call ConEd and some other companies to figure out who they were. Nobody knew anything about them, so I went back, this time with a representative from ConEd - Mr. Fianella - just in case we needed to assess any damage the defendants might have caused.”

“And what did you see when you returned?”

“The defendants had broken through the surface of First Avenue, and burrowed a hole about five feet across. They had set up a small sort of crane, and when we confronted them, we found out that they had lowered Raymond - Dr. Stantz - down below the surface of the street. I asked the defendants to explain themselves. Peter - or, uh, Dr. Venkman - he told me he had three thousand phones down in Greenwich Village.”

“But there was a problem with that explanation, is that correct, Officer McNulty?” the prosecutor prompted. 

Rose’s heart thudded uncomfortably as McNulty nodded. 

“Yes, ma’am. The phone lines were on the opposite side of the street from where they were digging. I told Dr. Venkman I knew he wasn’t with ConEd or the phone company, and he then attempted to tell me he had a major gas leak.”

“It was lie after lie after lie, wasn’t it, officer?”

“That seems to have been the case, yes, ma’am.”

“It was at that point you took Drs. Venkman and Spengler into custody?”

“No, ma’am. They pulled Dr. Stantz up first, and once he was back on the surface, then I took all three Ghostbusters into custody.”

“Thank you, Officer McNulty. I have no further questions.”

Something occurred to Rose as the prosecutor returned to her seat; the cop had just said Peter, Egon, and Ray had never identified themselves, except for their first names. But then he referred to them collectively as the Ghostbusters…

Rose leaned forward to whisper to Louis. “Ask him if he heard Ray, Peter, and Egon ever identify themselves as Ghostbusters. It’s part of the injunction that we can’t present ourselves under that name.”

Louis nodded. 

“Mr. Tully, do you have any questions for Officer McNulty?”

He stood and took a deep breath. “Yes, Your Honor, I do. Officer McNulty, you testified that my clients never identified themselves with any company, correct?”

“That is correct,” McNulty answered. 

“But then you just referred to them as the Ghostbusters. Did my clients ever identify themselves as the Ghostbusters to you?”

“No, they did not.”

“At what point did you realize my clients had once been known as the Ghostbusters?”

“I saw the car. You know, that big white Cadillac with the ghost symbol on the side.”

“Thank you, Officer McNulty. I’d like the record to reflect that part of the…the injunction against my clients states they can’t conduct themselves under the name Ghostbusters, and as Officer McNulty just testified, they did not.”

“Fine,” Wexler answered. “Any other questions?”

“No, Your Honor.”

Louis sat back down, and Egon looked over his shoulder at Rose. She winked at him and he fought back a small smile, trying to remain stoic. 

The trial carried on in much the same fashion. Louis was given the opportunity to call Egon and Ray to the stand, and individually they testified to their intentions the night of the blackout, with Ray explaining he found the pink slime flowing through the old Pneumatic Transit system. 

The prosecutor cross-examined them, and did her level best to discredit them, but it didn’t quite work. While it was abundantly clear that Judge Wexler was not amused or moved by Egon and Ray’s testimonies, Rose could feel the air start to shift among the gallery. She was pretty sure they were winning the spectators over. It wouldn’t matter if they couldn’t sway Wexler, of course, but it was a confidence boost nonetheless to know the general public was more or less on their side. 

The prosecutor called her next witness: Mr. Fianella, from ConEd. 

“Mr. Fianella,” she said, wandering over to the table with their equipment. “Please look at exhibits A through F, on the table over here. Do you recognize this equipment?”

“Yeah, that’s the stuff the cops took from their truck,” Fianella said. 

“Do you know what this equipment is used for?” Ms. Matthews asked. 

“I don’t know,” Fianella sighed, shrugging. “Catching ghosts, maybe? I don’t know.”

“May I remind the court that the defendants are under a judicial restraining order,” Ms. Matthews said, walking over to her table and retrieving a copy of the order, printed on blue paper, “which strictly forbids them from performing services as paranormal investigators or eliminators.”

The prosecutor approached the bench and handed the judge a copy of the order. Louis had hurried after her, and received a copy as well for his trouble. 

“So noted,” Wexler said, sounding bored. Louis returned to his seat and Ms. Matthews approached the exhibit table and grabbed the jar of slime. 

“Now, Mr. Fianella, can you identify the substance in this jar marked Exhibit F?” she said, handing it to Fianella.  

He took the jar and examined it for a moment, frowning. “Yeah, yeah, that’s the stuff alright. Your Honor, I’ve been working underground for ConEd for twenty-seven years. I never saw anything like this in my life.”

Wexler hummed in acknowledgement. 

“Whatever’s down there,” Fianella said, pointing at Peter, Ray, and Egon, “they musta put it there!”

Before anyone could stop him, Ray leapt to his feet. 

“No we didn’t!” he shouted indignantly. Louis, Peter, and Egon quickly tried to quiet him down and yanked him back into his seat. 

Wexler banged his gavel twice, looking incensed. “SHUT UP!”

Ray fell silent, though Rose could tell from the controlled way he was breathing that he was seething. She wanted so badly to comfort him, but she had to remain seated. Instead she reached for Winston’s hand and squeezed tightly. 

“I know,” he murmured quietly, putting an arm around her shoulders. 

Rose took a deep breath; she knew he was upset, but Ray had to control himself. Too many outbursts like that, and Wexler would only too happily toss him into a jail cell for contempt of court. 

Egon scribbled out something on a legal pad and pushed it down the table for Louis to see. Louis nodded and got to his feet, holding the pad, when Wexler allowed him to cross-examine Fianella. 

“Mr. Fianella,” Louis said, reading directly off the legal pad. “You said you’ve worked for ConEd for twenty-seven years. My client, Raymond Stantz, previously testified that he discovered the contents of Exhibit F in an underground tunnel that was once part of the Pneumatic Transit System. It has been…c-corr-corroborated that the hole in First Avenue did indeed break through to the Van Horne station of the Pneumatic Transit system, which was built in 1870 and then abandoned and sealed up.” 

“Yeah, so?” Fianella asked, shifting a little uncomfortably. 

“My question, Mr. Fianella,” Louis continued, still reading off the paper, “is what part of your work for ConEd would require you to be present in a nearly one hundred and twenty year old abandoned Pneumatic tunnel beneath First Avenue?”

“Well, uh, no part,” Fianella admitted. “I’ve never been down there.”

Rose fought back a smile as she realized where the question was going; Egon had found a hole in Fianella’s testimony and had obviously instructed Louis to exploit it. 

“So, then, if you’ve never been down there, you cannot say with any real certainty that my clients placed the contents of Exhibit F in that underground pneumatic tunnel,” Louis read off, a bit robotically. He looked up at Fianella. “C-can you?”

Fianella sighed. “No, I guess I can’t.”

A titter went through the courtroom and Rose smiled at Winston. That had definitely been a point in their favor. Fianella was dismissed from the stand and stepped down. 

“Mr. Tully,” Judge Wexler said, gesturing to Louis. “I’m going to regret this, but call your next witness to the stand.”

Louis stood shakily and nodded. “Thank you, Your Honor. I c-call Rose Stantz to the stand.” 

Rose took a deep breath and got to her feet, stepping out into the aisle and past the gate. The bailiff came forward and escorted her to the stand. Once she was situated, the bailiff approached her with a Bible and swore her in. Rose watched Louis carefully; she was about to see if any of her prep sessions with him had paid off. 

“Mrs. Stantz,” he said, approaching the stand, “what is the nature of your relationship with the defendants?”

Rose leaned forward and spoke into the microphone. “Dr. Venkman is my older brother, Dr. Stantz is my husband, and Dr. Spengler is one of my closest friends. We’re family, in every way that matters.” 

“How long have you known them?” Louis asked. 

“Well, as I said, Dr. Venkman is my brother, so I’ve known him my whole life. I’ve known Dr. Stantz for eighteen years and Doctor Spengler for fifteen.” 

“And i-in that time, have you ever had any reason to believe that any of the defendants are frauds?”

“Absolutely not,” she answered firmly. “They are in no way fraudulent.”

Louis nodded and seemed to gain a little bit of confidence. “How would you characterize the defendants, Mrs. Stantz?”

Rose smiled lightly and looked at her guys. “They are three of the most dedicated, hard-working, selfless people I have ever known. They are scientists, and they strive to learn as much about our world as they possibly can, which, yes, includes forms of existence that others may dismiss as science fiction, or the stuff of horror novels. The only thing stronger than their curiosity, however, is their desire to help people. Peter, Ray, and Egon are, in every sense of the word, heroes.” 

“Do you think they had malicious intent the night of the blackout?”

“Absolutely not,” Rose replied.

“Thank you. No further questions, Your Honor,” Louis said and returned to his seat. Rose thought that had gone much better than his opening statement, but that had been the easy part; now she was the prosecutor’s to question. 

“Ms. Matthews, would the prosecution care to cross-examine the witness?” Judge Wexler asked. 

The prosecutor stood, smoothing out her suit. “Yes, Your Honor, we would.”

“You may proceed.”

Ms. Matthews approached the witness stand. “Mrs. Stantz, before we begin, could you please state your full name for the record?”

“Rose Lorraine Stantz.” 

“Thank you. How long have you been affiliated with the company known as Ghostbusters, Mrs. Stantz?”

“I was affiliated with the Ghostbusters from its inception in October of 1984 until our forcible dissolution in August of 1985.”

“‘Was’,” Ms. Matthews repeated. “You no longer consider yourself a Ghostbuster?”

“No. I can hardly consider myself a member of an organization that no longer exists.”

“And why is that, Mrs. Stantz?”

“Why do the Ghostbusters no longer exist?” Rose clarified, arching her eyebrow.

“Yes.”

“You yourself stated it earlier, ma’am. We were issued a judicial order which forbade us from operating under the name Ghostbusters and mandated we cease and desist all business practices related to the capture and containment of paranormal entities.”

“Yes, you were. You would agree, then, that the defendants’ actions the night of the blackout constitute a violation of that order, would you not?”

“I would not agree with that assessment, no.”

The prosecutor took a step back, and Rose suppressed a smirk. Somehow, Ms. Matthews hadn’t expected that, and based on the way her eyebrows lifted, it was clear Rose had managed to throw her off her rhythm. 

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that answer?”

“Certainly,” Rose said calmly. She spoke clearly and slowly into the microphone. “I do not agree that the events leading up to the blackout constitute a violation of our injunction.” 

A quiet titter went through the courtroom and Wexler banged his gavel. “Quiet! Mrs. Stantz, I will ask that you elaborate your answer for Ms. Matthews.”

Rose looked over at the judge. “Happy to, Your Honor.”

“Proceed.”

Rose looked back over at the prosecutor and cleared her throat. “I have three simple reasons for my opinion, Ms. Matthews, and they are supported by the letter of the order itself. I am bound by that same order, and because of that, I know its contents inside and out. There are three stipulations in the order: one, that we do not operate or conduct any business transactions under the name Ghostbusters; two, that we do not operate the containment equipment associated with our former enterprise, namely the proton packs and the traps which you have laid out on the table to my right; and three, that we do not engage in the capture and containment of ethereal, ectoplasmic, or otherwise supernatural entities. None of these conditions were violated the night of the blackout. For one, as Officer McNulty testified, at no point did the defendants identify themselves as Ghostbusters, nor did they identify themselves as city employees, or ConEd technicians, or representatives of any other company, for that matter.” 

“Be that as it may, Mrs. Stantz -”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Matthews,” Rose interrupted. “I’m not finished. It is also my understanding that no business transaction of any kind took place. Ray, Peter, and Egon had been asked by a close friend to look into a strange occurrence, as a favor. They did so. No money was exchanged, no business agreements were entered into. Additionally, there is no evidence to suggest that the defendants used the proton packs or the traps that night. In fact, I am testifying under oath that they have not been operated at all since August 1985, when the restraining order went into effect. Mere possession of the equipment doesn’t violate the order. Finally - as Drs. Stantz and Spengler both testified - their actions the night of the blackout had nothing at all to do with the capture or containment of a paranormal entity. It was a scientific inquiry on behalf of a friend.”

“Officer McNulty testified, Mrs. Stantz, that the defendants lied to him about the reason they were digging in the street,” the prosecutor responded testily. “I would argue that constitutes fraudulent behavior.”

“A lie and criminal fraud are not necessarily equatable, Ms. Matthews,” Rose replied evenly. “According to the testimony we’ve heard so far, at no point were Ray, Peter, and Egon asked directly to identify themselves or what company they represented. Officer McNulty might have assumed by their behavior that they were city employees, but I don’t believe assumption of identity or authority is part of the standard for criminal fraud. If anything, the very presence of the Ecto-1 - the white Cadillac Officer McNulty referenced in his testimony - loudly and obviously indicates the defendants’ actual identities. Officer McNulty also testified that at least two of the defendants voluntarily called each other by their real first names. Now it may not be advisable depending on the circumstances, but if a person has not been arrested or lawfully detained, it’s not actually a crime to provide false information to a police officer. So taking all of that into account, I must ask myself, what part of their conduct was criminally fraudulent?” 

Another quiet titter ran through the courtroom, and Rose distinctly heard one woman in the gallery mutter to another that she had a point, which filled her with confidence. Unfortunately, a verdict from the court of public opinion would not keep her boys out of prison. It was a shame there wasn’t a jury: Rose might have been able to sway them, if only on the charges of fraud and violating their order. 

Loathing flashed across the prosecutor’s face, and Rose cheered internally. If there was one thing Rose and her brother were good at, it was being giant pains in the ass for anyone who crossed them, and a frazzled, irritated prosecutor could only help their case. 

“No further questions, Your Honor,” Ms. Matthews said, a muscle jumping in her jaw. 

“You may step down, Mrs. Stantz,” Wexler told her. Rose nodded and returned to her seat. She caught Ray’s eye as she passed, and had to clench her teeth hard to keep from grinning at the proud sparkle in his eyes. 

Louis got up to call his last witness to the stand: Peter himself. Peter rehashed his version of events - starting with Dana’s request for help and ending with pulling Ray out of the air shaft - sounding as casual and disinterested as he’d ever been. 

Rose would have thought it was an interesting tactic, if she hadn’t known Peter really was largely unflappable. With the exceptions of Slimer, Dana, and Rose herself, there was precious little in this world or the next that could render him visibly insecure or unsteady.

“S-So, so you were just trying to help -” Louis said shakily. He did not have Egon’s notes to bolster his confidence this time, and was subsequently practically shaking in his boots. 

“Help out a friend,” Peter muttered. 

“Help out a friend.”

“Who was frightened.”

“Who was a-scared of what was happening to her, and when you’re scared - what?”

Peter muttered something Rose couldn’t quite make out and Louis leaned in close to him. 

“No evil was intended,” Louis announced to the rest of the courtroom. “No malice. Because you live here and when you live in a place and you love it like you do, you don’t want nothing bad to happen!” 

Rose resisted the urge to drop her head in her hands. She thought her own testimony had gone rather well, and Louis had been able to keep it together when he cross-examined McNulty and Fianella, but he was on track to crash and burn in spectacular fashion with Peter. 

“What?” Louis said again and leaned towards Peter, listening intently to his muttering. “Because it’ll never happen again. It’s an isolated incident, it’s a one shot deal!”

The prosecutor got to her feet. “Objection, Your Honor.”

“What?” Louis complained. 

“He’s leading the witness,” she said, sounding about as bored as Judge Wexler looked. Privately, Rose thought it was more accurate to say Peter was leading Louis. 

“Sustained,” Wexler said. 

“Give me a break, we’re both lawyers,” Louis said quietly to the prosecutor. Rose pinched the bridge of her nose. 

“Mr. Tully,” Wexler said sternly. Louis approached the bench. “Do you have any questions for this witness that might have some bearing on this case?”

Louis looked at Peter. “Do I?”

“No, we’ve helped them out enough already,” Peter told him. 

“No, Your Honor,” Louis answered Wexler quietly. Rose felt bad for him, really; he was trying his hardest, but he was neither a criminal defense lawyer nor an experienced trial attorney, and he was going toe-to-toe with the New York District Attorney’s office. He was simply outgunned. 

“Your witness,” Louis grumbled quietly to Ms. Matthews as he walked back to his table. He plopped down next to Ray, who patted him on the shoulder sadly, as the prosecutor wandered around to the front of her table, facing Peter. 

Rose shifted in her seat excitedly. Her brother was intelligent, self-assured, and - if nothing else - an excellent talker. There was simply no way in hell Ms. Matthews was prepared for whatever was about to come out of his mouth, especially not when she’d been caught off guard by Rose’s simple assertions. 

It likely would not win them the case, but it would certainly be fun to watch her try to match wits with Peter Venkman. 

“Dr. Venkman,” Ms. Matthews said. “Would you please tell the court why it is that you and your co-defendants took it upon yourselves to dig a very big hole in the middle of First Avenue?”

Peter cocked his head, and even from across the courtroom, Rose could see him suppressing a smirk. 

“Well, there’s so many holes in First Avenue, we really didn’t think anyone would notice,” he deadpanned. The audience broke out into quiet laughter and Rose snorted under her breath.

Wexler, obviously unamused, banged his gavel; Rose was beginning to see how he had earned the nickname ‘The Hammer’. 

“You keep that up, mister, and I will find you in contempt,” he told Peter. Rose heard a faint bubbling sound as the judge spoke, and looked around the room, trying to pinpoint the source. The sound dissipated as quickly as it had emerged, and Rose shrugged, turning her attention back to the proceedings. 

“I’m truly sorry, Your Honor,” Peter replied, sounding not at all sorry. 

“I’ll ask you again, Dr. Venkman,” the prosecutor persisted. “Why were you digging the hole? And please remember you’re under oath.”

It was clear the prosecutor was trying to catch Peter in a lie. They’d all testified as to the reason behind the digging, after all, and there was no real reason to go over it yet again, except in an attempt to uncover a discrepancy. That seemed to be trouble with telling the truth to dyed-in-the-wool nonbelievers like Ms. Matthews and Judge Wexler: inevitably, any explanation they could offer would fall on deaf ears. 

Peter wrung his hands and thought for a moment, eyes darting around the courtroom. He took a breath and began to speak. 

“There are some things in this world that go way beyond human understanding. Things that cannot be explained, things that most people don’t wanna know about. That’s where we come in,” Peter explained, gesturing to Ray and Egon, and nodding at Rose and Winston behind them.

“So what you’re saying is,” the prosecutor said, approaching Peter. She trailed her hand along the front rail of the jury box and came to stand just to Peter’s left, hands dangling over the edge of the stand. “That the world of the supernatural is your exclusive province?”

“Kitten,” Peter responded, covering her hand with his. She pulled it away and crossed her arms. “I think what I’m saying is that sometimes shit happens, someone has to deal with it, and who you gonna call?!” 

The courtroom erupted into cheers and Rose clapped right along with them. Ray and Egon turned around to grin at the show of support, and Rose winked at her husband. He beamed at her, and for the first time since they’d been arrested, she felt hope bloom in her chest. 

Wexler might not like the Ghostbusters, but it was becoming increasingly clear that there was at least a roomful of everyday New Yorkers who certainly did. 

Ms. Matthews continued to question Peter until it became clear that he was simply playing games with her. She had lost control of the room the moment the gallery cheered for him, and eventually she just gave up. She and Louis each delivered their closing statements - although Louis' was no more effective than his opening statement had been - and once both the prosecution and the defense rested their case, Wexler got ready to deliver his verdict. 

“Peter Venkman, Raymond Stantz, Egon Spengler, stand up!” Wexler ordered. They were slow to respond, which seemed to infuriate the judge. “GET UP!” 

The three men stood, their shoulders back and heads held as high as the circumstances allowed. Winston put his arm back around Rose's shoulders, and she dug her thumb into the palm of her right hand, trying to keep calm. 

“You, too, Mr. Tully,” the Judge said impatiently. Louis hopped to his feet, standing at least a head below Ray, Peter, and Egon. Wexler took a breath and Rose’s stomach flipped nervously. “I find you guilty on all charges.” 

The air went out of her lungs. She’d known this was the likely outcome, but to hear the words…

“I order you to pay fines in the amount of $25,000 each.” 

Rose heard the faint bubbling again and frowned. In between Ray and Egon’s arms, she spotted the jar of slime on the table; where once it had been still, there was now a large, shiny bubble growing out of the slime. 

“I sentence you to eighteen months at the city correctional facility at Rikers Island,” Wexler continued. 

A year and half in Rikers…Rose felt her heart fracture in her chest as images of prison visits and sleepless nights flashed through her brain. The gallery members groaned in disappointment and the judge banged his gavel, trying to maintain order. 

“Egie,” Ray said, tapping Egon’s arm to get his attention. “She’s twitching!” 

Rose leaned past Ray to get a better look and her jaw dropped: the slime was bubbling more rapidly now, and looked as though it was glowing from the inside. 

“What the hell…?” she muttered. 

“I’M NOT FINISHED!” Wexler boomed, and the slime bubbled even more intensely. “On a more personal note, let me just go on record as saying that there’s no place for fakes, charlatans -”

“Uh, Your Honor?” Egon interrupted, trying to draw his attention to the slime. Wexler, unfortunately, was not in a listening mood. 

“SHUT UP!” he bellowed at Egon. “Tricksters like you in decent society!” 

The slime continued to bubble up, glowing and almost pushing the jar lid off. It began to ooze out of its container and Rose felt a soft wind pick up in the courtroom. She looked around; no windows were open. She got to her feet, staring in shock at the slime as it slowly but surely bubbled and boiled right over the edge of the jar. 

“Winston,” she said, waving her hand at him. “Get ready to haul ass and get these people out. Something isn’t right here.” 

“No kidding,” Winston said. Rose looked over; he was staring open-mouthed at the slime, too. 

Peter raised his hand. “Your Honor, this is important!” 

“You play on the gullibility of innocent people!” Wexler shouted, ignoring Peter completely. 

“Yes, sir!” Ray interjected, nodding agreeably. 

“BE QUIET!” Wexler thundered. The slime bubbled past its lid and knocked it off onto the table with a soft plunk . 

“But -!” Ray protested, trying to guide the judge’s attention to the slime, as it began to react even more violently as the wind in the room picked up. The glass jar thunked against the table as the contents bubbled and boiled within, bits of goop flying out and landing on the table and the equipment around it. 

“If my hands weren’t tied by the unalterable fetters of the law,” Wexler growled, “then I would invoke the tradition of our illustrious forebears -”

The slime began to ooze right out of the jar and onto the table, flowing like lava. Peter backed away slowly. 

“- reach back to a purer, sterner justice -”

Egon pointed to the ground and Ray nodded. The two hit the deck, taking cover under the table, and Peter and Louis followed suit.

“AND HAVE YOU BURNED AT THE STAKE!” Wexler bellowed. The slime exploded into flames and in the blink of an eye - and Rose almost couldn't believe what she was seeing - somehow spat out two ghosts. One was tall and rail thin, while the other was much shorter and more rotund, but both possessed unearthly, glowing, yellow eyes and were surrounded by what looked like bolts of lightning. The lightning flashed, illuminating the courtroom. The spectators screamed and ran for the door, and as the ghosts cackled, Rose realized what she had thought were bolts of lightning were actually reams of electricity coming from the spectral execution chairs both ghosts were strapped to. 

“WOW!” she heard Ray exclaim. 

“Winston, get these people out!” Rose commanded. Winston nodded and jumped into action. She kicked off her heels and vaulted over the barrier to join her boys under the table, wiggling in between Louis and Ray. 

“RAY, WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?” she shouted over the roar of the wind and frightened screams.

“I DON’T KNOW!” Ray shouted back. He looked over at her and grinned. “BUT ISN’T IT AMAZING?!” 

“No!” Louis interjected, looking absolutely terrified. 

Rose stared up at the ghosts and noticed even Judge Wexler - still sitting at his bench - was horrified. 

“Oh my god,” Wexler yelled. “The Scoleri brothers!” 

The judge jumped for it and hit the ground just as the ghosts broke free of their restraints and dove for him. They hit his bench instead and it exploded into splinters. Wexler crawled across the floor of the courtroom and tried to take cover with them. 

“The Scoleri brothers!” Wexler exclaimed, his eyes wide with fright. 

“Friends of yours?” Ray shouted. The courtroom lit up as another flash of electricity coursed overhead.

“I tried them for murder! Gave them the chair!” Wexler shouted back. 

The skinnier ghost zoomed up towards the ceiling, shrieking as it looked around. Rose gasped in muted horror as she realized she could make out the briefest outline of its ribs with every flash of electricity that cracked across the room. 

“You gotta do something!” Wexler begged them. 

“Why don’t you just tell them you don’t believe in ghosts?” Egon snarked. Rose couldn’t help but snort; Egon had been getting much sassier lately, and she, for one, loved it. 

Her amusement turned to alarm a moment later, however, when the skinnier of the ghosts zoomed just above them and lifted their table right into the air, cackling as he launched it at the remains of the judge’s bench. The courtroom itself was in utter disarray. The wind had launched hundreds of sheets of paper into the air and onto the floor, and most of the furniture in the gallery lay in splinters. 

Rose yelped and leapt to her feet, grabbing Ray’s hand in a mad dash, and followed Wexler over to the door to his chambers. Peter, Egon, and Louis followed right behind her. Wexler pounded on the door, to no effect.

As she watched as the ghosts continued to tear up the courtroom, it became apparent very quickly that they were taking no small amount of glee in the destruction, although she thought it likely that the judge was the real target of their ire. That was unsurprising and, if she was being honest, understandable. Wexler had just sentenced her boys to only eighteen months and she wanted to punt him across the room. The judge had sentenced the Scoleris to death, and though it may have been well deserved, a punishment of that caliber tended to create vengeful spirits, especially when the spirit in question had been a violent or unstable person in life. 

Rose turned away from the ongoing wreckage, turning her attention to her boys and the now frantic judge. Wexler pounded on the door one more time before giving up and spinning around. He locked eyes with Ray, who was directly behind him, and seized him by the front of his suit jacket, shaking him desperately. “You gotta do something! Help me!”

“Don’t talk to me,” Ray replied dryly. “Talk to my attorney.”

“That’s me!” Louis exclaimed. Egon looked over his shoulder, his eyebrow raised, before turning back around to keep an eye on the ghosts. “My guys are still under a judicial mis-strangement order! That blue thing I got from her! They could be exposing themselves!” 

“And you don’t want us exposing ourselves!” Peter added.

Rose snorted - her brother never could resist an easy opportunity to make a blue joke, although that one had been fairly tame - but whirled back around as an ear-splitting shriek filled the room. They poked their heads out of their hiding spot just in time to see the larger ghost lift the prosecutor by one leg into the air and carry her right out of the courtroom, cackling. The doors flew open and a few frightened people on the other side scattered, trying to avoid the ghost and his human wrecking ball.

Thankfully, it looked to Rose as though Winston had managed to corral everyone else out of the courtroom. Outside of the remaining four Ghostbusters and Louis, Wexler was the only target left to the ghosts. 

The doors slammed shut again and Wexler retreated back into the safety of their hiding spot, wailing with fear. It suddenly occurred to Rose that Wexler was the only one who was actually scared: Peter and Egon seemed annoyed more than anything else, Ray was intrigued by the ghosts, and Rose herself was actually quite thrilled. It had been a long time since she’d been in the presence of the supernatural, and damn, had she missed it. Even Louis had apparently overcome his initial bout of terror. 

Peter chuckled and looked down at the judge as they all crowded around him. “You’re next, Bubbles.”

Wexler growled. “Alright, alright! I rescind the order! Case dismissed!” 

“HOORAY, WE WON THE CASE!” Louis cheered. Ray grinned at Egon excitedly but quickly composed himself, and Rose threw her arms around her husband’s neck in celebration. One arm came around her waist, holding her tightly. 

“Now do something!” Wexler demanded. 

Rose laughed, overwhelmed with delighted relief: not only were her boys cleared of all charges, they were all finally allowed to get back to what they did best - busting ghosts. 

Ray beamed down at her, his eyes twinkling excitedly. 

She grinned right back up at him, nodding decisively. “Let’s get to work, honey.”

Chapter Text

The Scoleri brothers swirled overhead, cackling, and then vanished, just as Rose and the boys hurried over to the exhibit table to retrieve their gear. 

It seemed odd to Rose that the ghosts seemed more intent on wreaking havoc than they were on inflicting actual harm. They had been sentenced for murder, and if they’d been guilty, it meant they’d likely had no compunctions about killing in life. The consquences for murder were far less severe once the killer in question was already dead, so why hadn’t they killed everyone in sight? 

Judging by their destructive power, they were certainly capable of it, but instead they had let everyone run for their lives, and really only attacked the judge. Sure, they had scared the prosecutor silly and tossed her out the door, but they hadn’t actually hurt her. It stood to reason, then, that Wexler was indeed their real target. It showed a more sadistic single-mindedness, Rose decided, that the ghosts had gone out of their way to get him alone. 

Unfortunately for the brothers, Wexler was not alone: the Ghostbusters were there, stalwart, standing fast, and very much in the ghosts' way. They could easily handle the ghosts, but it was abundantly clear it was to the benefit of all that they be dealt with quickly. 

Rose strapped into her trusty proton pack and Ray quickly switched it on for her; she reveled in the buzzing hum of energy as it coursed through her body. She had missed this. The guys helped each other swing their packs onto their backs, groaning a bit and rolling their shoulders underneath the familiar weight. 

“Oh, I always hated this part of the business,” Peter grumbled. He stumbled a bit as he got his footing, and Ray shot him a look of concern. 

The four Ghostbusters moved towards the center of the room, and Rose turned back to Louis. 

“Louis, stay with the judge, and keep your heads down,” she said firmly. “These ghosts are fast, and we don’t want to hit one of you by mistake.”

Louis nodded, wide-eyed, and retreated back behind the frosted glass partition with Wexler. Rose’s eyes darted around the room, looking for any sign of the Scoleris. Egon did the same, his proton wand at the ready. 

“You know, it’s been a couple years since we used this stuff,” Peter said casually, reaching back over his shoulder to pull his own wand out. “I hope it still works.”

“It should,” Egon replied. “Power cells have a half-life of five thousand years.”

“Damn,” Rose murmured. She knew the packs were only the merest glimpse into the true extent of Egon and Ray’s engineering capabilities, but she was impressed nonetheless. 

“No time for a bench test,” Ray said anxiously. He reached for his own wand and it settled heavily in his hands. “Heat ‘em up.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” Rose quipped, earning her an amused smile from her husband. She charged up her wand and continued to watch the corners of the room carefully.  

“Do,” Peter sang, charging his wand. Rose turned and raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Re,” Ray harmonized, a bright smile growing on his face at the familiar hum of energy as he charged his own wand. Rose’s other eyebrow went up. 

“Egon!” Egon added, completely ruining the musical warmup Ray and Peter had started. Peter shot him a look of disappointment; in response, Egon smiled at him, looking both mischievous and deeply smug. 

Rose snorted and shook her head. “Well, that was cute. Coordinated little singsong moment. Very nice.”

“Well it was , until Egghead over there stepped on it,” Peter grumbled. Out of the corner of Rose’s eye, she saw Louis reemerge out from behind the partition, looking at the four Ghostbusters with interest. 

The courtroom was much, much too quiet. It was tempting to believe that the brothers had simply vanished, but it was unlikely. 

Sure enough, the eerie silence was broken suddenly by one of the wooden chairs in the gallery shooting up into the air and off to the right, as though someone had smacked it out of the way. 

“Whoa!” Ray exclaimed, as more chairs flew this way and that, clearing a path that brought the unseen forces closer to them. The wind picked up in the courtroom again, and Rose felt a shift in the atmosphere, like the electricity in the air just before it stormed. 

She planted her feet a little more solidly on the ground, widening her stance, just as the last chairs were tossed out of the way, and the Scoleri brothers flashed into view right in front of them. Rose got a good look at them for the first time, and realized that while they’d probably looked normal in life, death had morphed them into something grotesque. Their heads and bodies were much bigger than a human’s, and the larger brother’s mouth had split into a wide, frog-like maw, teeth sticking out at odd angles from his gums. The skinnier brother was all sharp angles and jagged, razor-like teeth, bared in a malicious leer. Both wore the death row uniforms they’d been executed in, and although they’d broken free of the chairs, the headgear from Old Sparky remained, clamped tightly around their temples and still conducting the electricity that had ended their lives. The most alarming aspect of their manifested forms, in Rose’s opinion, was just how brightly the neon yellow of their eyes glowed.

The guys shouted in surprise and unleashed their streams at the brothers; their aim was a bit off - rustiness was to be expected after a few years of forced retirement - but they still managed to graze the ghosts. Rose unleashed her own stream a couple seconds later, taking the time to line up her shot. She’d been aiming for his head, but her beam nailed the skinnier brother in the neck instead, and he howled in shock. 

The two brothers ascended and zipped overhead. The four proton streams followed as they aimed higher and higher. Rose pulled off her stream and spun on her heel, firing again, but hit the wall when the brothers vanished into thin air. 

Peter shouted, trying to lure the ghosts back out, but when they did not reappear, he began to chuckle. Ray and Egon started laughing in relief, as well, and Rose started to wonder if they’d lost their minds. The ghosts never gave up that easily, and she for one was not about to be caught off guard by a sadistic, probably homicidal spirit - not again, anyway. While her boys giggled amongst themselves, she kept her eyes on the walls surrounding them, knowing full well the brothers could come at them from any angle. 

A flash of lightning assaulted her eyes, and the larger brother came sailing out of the wall, grinning like a madman. Louis screamed in fright and took off back behind the partition once more. Peter and Rose unleashed their streams at the ghost, and Ray spun on his heel, ducking to avoid getting roasted. 

“Sorry, honey!” Rose called, but she didn’t think Ray heard her. She focused on the ghost, who was zipping this way and that, trying to get away from the onslaught of their twin streams. 

“You got him, Venkman!” Egon shouted. “Hold him! Steady!” 

“Come on, big boy!” Peter taunted. “I’m gonna take you home to my private zoo!” 

Rose dialed in, following her brother through the little gate as the ghost soared out over the gallery. He zigged away from Peter’s beam, and Rose adjusted her aim, zagging him right back and straight into Peter’s confinement stream. She whooped in excitement as the energy pulsing from Peter’s wand wrapped around the ghost and she altered her own stream, joining in and holding him in place high above them.

“You got him!” Ray cheered. “YOU GOT HIM! EGIE, BRING THE TRAP!” 

“Okay, okay!” Egon shouted. 

Rose shifted to the left, trying to keep the larger ghost in place, and saw out of the corner of her eye the skinnier ghost come screaming out from the wall behind Ray. 

“BEHIND YOU RAY!” Egon bellowed, grabbing the trap from the table and hitting the deck as the skinnier ghost sailed overhead. Ray unleashed his stream, but missed his target, and hit the frosted glass of the partition instead. The energy fractured the glass, shattering it and sending little shards flying towards the judge, who had resumed pounding away uselessly at the door. 

Rose took her eyes off the larger ghost for a second, and saw her husband fire another shot. It connected, the bright vines of the proton beam wrapping around the skinnier spirit like a deadly python. 

“HOLD HIM, RAY!” Egon shouted. “VENKMAN, ROSE, START BRINGING HIM BACK!”

Rose took a step back, moving steadily towards the gate, using her proton stream to wrangle the ghost backwards towards the trap. 

“COME ON, YOU BIG MEANIE! LET’S GO!” Peter yelled at the ghost, moving in tandem with Rose to drag him back. She stepped through the gate first and quickly stepped to her left, adjusting her stream to get ready to rotate the ghost around to the trap. Across from her, Ray was fighting tooth and nail to hold onto the skinnier ghost, prevailing over a couple of close calls to remain in control. 

“Ray, keep pulling him to the right!” Egon commanded. Looking rapidly between Egon and the larger ghost, Rose saw him kneel to the ground and put the trap down. Peter danced back a little more, dragging their ghost a few inches further, and Ray yanked his ghost over towards them. 

Both ghosts screeched and bucked like wild animals as they tried to escape the Ghostbusters’ clutches. Rose grit her teeth and dug into the floor with her stockinged feet a little harder. She had almost forgotten how taxing it was, restraining a ghost. 

“Okay, the trap’s going in!” Egon warned them. Rose watched him carefully slide it towards the center of the room, and Peter hopped a little closer to Rose, using the new angle to push their ghost right over the trap.

“HIT IT!” Ray shouted, maneuvering his ghost as close to the trap as he could. Egon stomped on the release button, and the trap opened, emitting that bright funnel of golden light. Rose, Ray, and Peter killed their streams the moment they saw the ghosts were trapped in the whirlpool. The four Ghostbusters turned and averted their eyes, just in time to avoid looking right into the trap.

The ghosts were sucked down with a final scream, and the trap snapped shut, beeping at them merrily as soft tendrils of smoke trailed off it. 

“Two in the box!” Ray exclaimed, looking down at the trap. A satisfied grin spread across Rose’s face as she and Peter moved towards him and Egon, all staring down at the trap. 

“Ready to go!” Egon called out. 

“We be fast!” Peter and Rose cheered. 

“AND THEY BE SLOW!” they all answered in unison, pointing down at the trap. Rose smiled; it had been too long since they’d been able to say that while standing over a freshly filled trap. 

Louis hurried over from the corner, where the Judge was still cowering, and crouched down next to the trap, staring at it in wonder. “Wow!” 

Rose harnessed her wand and moved into the gallery, hunting for her heels. She heard Louis ask Egon if he could carry the trap out as she pushed aside the few chairs that had been left standing. 

“Whatcha doing?” Ray asked, coming up behind her. 

“I am looking for my shoes,” she replied distractedly. Ray chuckled and she turned to look at him. “What?”

He shook his head, smiling. “Nothing. I didn’t realize until just now that you took down that ghost barefoot.”

“Well,” Rose said, “I didn’t really think it would be a good idea to hop over the barrier and then carry thirty pounds of equipment on my back with nothing but three inch heels to stabilize me. So - ah, there they are - off they came.” 

“Good thinking,” Ray answered. Rose retrieved her heels from underneath an overturned chair and moved over to her husband, using his shoulder to steady herself as she slipped one shoe on and then the other. She stood up straight, keeping her hand on Ray’s shoulder until she got her bearings. 

“Okay, there we go,” she said, once she felt steady. She smiled up at Ray, although in her heels he only had about two inches on her. “Thanks for letting me hold onto you.”

“Any time, sweetheart,” he replied, and leaned in to kiss her. She hummed happily and pressed her lips to his. He pulled away, smiling at her adoringly. “Almost five years since we last fought a ghost, and you were as magnificent as ever.”

She beamed at him and pressed a hand to his chest. “Yeah, you were pretty amazing yourself back there. Taking down that spook all by yourself.” 

“Yeah?”

She nodded emphatically, toying with his tie. “Oh, yeah. Pretty hot, if you ask me.”

“Hot , huh?”

“Very much so,” she replied. 

“I am the luckiest guy on the planet,” Ray told her, nodding earnestly. “Seriously.”

Rose’s smile turned soft, and she wrapped her hand around his tie to pull him in for a proper celebratory kiss, leaving him dazed and breathless when she pulled away.

“Oh, trust me, I’m the lucky one, darling,” she said quietly. A dreamy smile spread across Ray’s face, his eyes twinkling. 

“Hey, lovebirds!” Peter called out. Rose and Ray looked over at him. “If you’re done making out over there, maybe we should get a move on? I believe we have a special announcement to make.” 

“Oh, hell yeah,” Rose exclaimed. “Let’s do it, boys!” 

Peter and Ray led the charge, and Rose and Egon followed, heading for the door. Louis took up the rear, carrying the lightly smoking trap. Peter pushed the door open and they strutted out towards the crowd of reporters waiting just outside the courtroom. 

They all clamored to get their questions heard over each other, but Peter silenced them by holding up a single hand. The reporters fell quiet and angled their microphones to catch whatever words came out of his mouth. 

“We’re the best!” Peter announced. Rose grinned proudly. “We’re the beautiful! We’re the only - Ghostbusters!” 

Ray grinned and put a single arm into the air in victory, as Louis leaned out from behind them, brandishing the trap excitedly. 

“We’re back!” 

The buzz was all over Manhattan: the Ghostbusters were back and open for business. They rehired Janine, stealing her away from the temp agency - a no brainer, really, since she was the only one they trusted to manage HQ. 

The firehouse was bursting with new life. For the first time in nearly five years, all five Ghostbusters could be found wandering around the Firehouse on any given day, calibrating their equipment in the lab, or researching their latest haunting. They got a new, polished sign - it was the same ghost, trapped behind the ‘no’ symbol, but it now held out two fingers in a peace sign, indicating their return - and new, dark grey suits. They still wore their old suits, but the addition of the new outfits gave Rose the opportunity to update her name patch, and although it was a simple act, she delighted in the satisfaction of it.

They rescued Ecto-1 from the impound lot, and Ray made sure to give her an extra thorough tune-up, and attached an electronic sign to her roof rack, advertising their return, along with a new vanity plate (which read Ecto-1A). 

They even hired Louis on as their permanent accountant and occasional lawyer, after he had told them he intended to brush up on defense law. Apparently his encounter with the legal big leagues had left its mark, and he wanted more. Between Janine’s organizational prowess and Louis’ financial know-how, HQ was running more smoothly than ever. It was a good thing, too, because the calls poured in almost immediately after their return hit the news. The Ghostbusters might have been dormant, but the ghosts themselves apparently hadn’t been. 

They’d been so busy, in fact, that neither Ray nor Rose had been back to Islip for even a single night. With the sheer volume of calls they’d been getting, it just made sense to stay in the firehouse. Thankfully, Ray had relocated his bed to Rose’s room the first time they stayed over in the firehouse after they got married. It wasn’t quite as comfortable as their bed at home, but it was enough to know they didn’t have to sleep apart. 

As they had in the early days after the Sedgewick job, they began to take calls in shifts. Winston and Egon had left their respective jobs so they could dedicate all their working hours to Ghostbusters. Ray and Rose still had a bookshop to run, however, so they instituted a reduced schedule: they were open Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. Business had taken a bit of a hit, of course, but Ghostbusters 2.0 more than made up for that. 

Peter had sacrificed his show and returned to busting full time, but not before he used his television connections to finagle them the opportunity to film a new commercial. Peter had asked Rose to write the script - as she had for the first - and she had obliged, enjoying the step up in production value. The end result featured Janine and Louis as a married couple troubled by ghosts, and the Ghostbusters as the perfect line of defense. It was really quite a charming little commercial, albeit a little dorky.

With Christmas fast approaching, they were busting ghosts left, right, and center. A little over a week into their return, five nights before Christmas, they actually got called to deal with an infestation of Class Six ghost mice in a video store. Much to Rose and Egon’s exasperation, Peter and Ray had been unable to resist trading Night Before Christmas jokes back and forth, but they had still managed to capture the ghostly rodents in record time and with as little property damage as they’d ever managed, all while wearing Santa hats. The morning after that, Ray and Peter had gone undercover to tackle a spectral jogger in Central Park. 

One of their most recent jobs, the morning of Christmas Eve, saw them called to deal with floating crystals in Orrefors. Egon’s solution had been to create a laser grid and zap the crystals’ gravitational fields, thereby (hopefully) resetting them. Under Egon's strict instruction, they’d worn sunglasses to avoid any damage to their eyes from looking at the lasers; ultimately, the plan had worked, but unfortunately, the moment their fields were reset, the crystals plummeted to the ground and shattered. It had not been their finest moment, to be sure, so they’d elected not to charge Orrefors for it; they would be paying out enough as it was, just to replace the damaged stock. 

They were popping new ghosts into the grid by the bushel on a daily basis, and thanks to Egon’s near constant calibrations, the grid was in better shape than ever. Admittedly, one of his calibrations had resulted in a minor flux that allowed Slimer to escape, but it hadn’t left them too worried. For one thing, Egon had assured them it wouldn’t happen again, and for another, the little booger seemed to want to stick close to them. They had ended up voting five to one to let him roam the firehouse; Peter - who’d never quite gotten over his first sliming - had been the only nay vote. 

Unfortunately, they had forgotten to tell Louis about Slimer, and their poor accountant had run away in fright the first time he saw the ravenous green blob, and ended up tripping head first over a sofa. When Rose had found him, he’d been babbling in shock, his feet sticking up in the air. She’d helped him up, but it was only when she managed to catch a few words of his stammered explanation (specifically “green blob” and “ate my lunch”) that she realized what had happened. She’d dragged Louis by the hand, hunted Slimer down, and brokered an introduction between the two. There hadn’t been much of an issue since, but Louis was deeply wary of Slimer, something Peter saw as vindication of his own dislike of the ghost. 

Meanwhile, the pink slime Ray had found underground had been popping up all over town, bubbling out of sewer grates and sidewalk cracks, pouring out of pay-phones, and collecting in sticky puddles on the steps of churches. Despite the numerous and extensive experiments Egon and Ray ran on the samples they collected, they had yet to discern a reason for the slime's existence. It was becoming exceedingly vexing for both scientists. The Ghostbusters' resident genii did not take kindly to being stumped by jars of goo, of course, but there was also a much more personal reason at play: the slime was almost certainly linked to Dana's experience with Oscar's carriage, and they felt they'd be letting Dana down if they couldn't give her definitive answers.

Rose understood their frustrations - and shared them, to a point - but she wasn't worried. There'd be a break in the case eventually; it was really only a matter of time. 

Rose spent the majority of the day after Christmas at the bookshop, studying a map of Manhattan she’d spread out on the checkout counter. She’d been trying to find a pattern in the locations where the slime popped up. It had become clear that the path of the slime deposits followed the pneumatic transit system, but that wasn't anything particularly noteworthy, and although it was glaringly obvious that there were multiple pieces missing from the puzzle at hand, Rose felt if she could at least find some commonalities in the manifestation points, then she could help Ray and Egon get that much closer to solving the whole thing.

If there was a pattern beyond the transit system, she couldn't see it. For now, anyway. 

Slightly aggravated with herself, she pushed the map away and instead turned up the volume of the radio she kept on a shelf behind the register. She had been singing under her breath as she studied the map, but grinned and began humming out loud as the first notes of “Angel of the Morning” came over the speakers. It was a bit cheesy, but she loved that song and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard it on the radio. 

Singing the first chorus almost note for note, Rose decided she needed to focus on something else for a while, so she began taking inventory of their newest shipment of books. The song carried on and Rose happily drummed on the counter along with the infectious beat. 

She belted out the final ‘darling’ of the song and had been about to start shelving when she heard a curious but familiar bubbling coming from below her. She crouched down to open a drawer that normally held various supplies - receipt paper rolls, batteries for flashlights, a stack of wrapping paper for their more fragile items - and sighed. A small glass jar of pink slime had been hiding in the drawer, and it was gurgling away beneath the sealed lid. 

“My dear husband must have forgotten to grab you when he left yesterday, little slimy. Come on, out you come,” Rose said. She reached into the drawer and lifted the container out, setting it on the counter. She stared at it as it continued to bubble; it seemed almost melancholic, but not truly mournful. She could have been projecting, but the slow, gentle bubbling seemed to imply a catharsis of sorts as the song faded out. 

Very strange. 

“What’s got you going, huh?” she remarked to the slime. It gurgled softly in response. “Hm. Alright, well, you just stay there where I can keep an eye on you. Okay?”

Another bubble. 

“Good. Thank you, slimy,” Rose replied. She paused and shook her head at herself. “And now I’m talking to the slime. I’ve clearly been spending a little too much time around Egon.”

She turned the radio back up, and got to work shelving the first armful of books, singing along to the second half of “Don’t Lose My Number” - one of her favorites from Phil Collins - and smiling to herself.

She drummed along to the outro and turned away from the shelf, back towards the register. Her jaw dropped: the slime was bubbling excitedly. 

“Wait, is it the music?” she asked. “Do you like the music?”

She walked closer to the slime, edged behind the counter, and lowered the volume of the music experimentally. The bubbling slowed down. She raised the volume again, and the bubbling struck up again. 

“You do like the music!” Rose exclaimed. She picked the container of slime up off the counter and examined it from the bottom. Sure enough, there was just the tiniest little glow coming from inside. “Okay, little slimy. We have to go show Ray and Egon  right now. This is so weird, it has to be something, right?”

The slime bubbled a little, and Rose took that as agreement and began closing up the shop for the night. 

“Right. Alright, let’s go, buddy.”

“Look what I found in the bookshop!” Rose announced as she traipsed into the lab, her heavy combat boots clunking against the concrete floor. Egon and Ray looked up in surprise. 

“Hi, honey!” Ray said. “You’re back early, I didn’t think you’d be - oh.” 

She grinned at him, wiggling the container of slime, and he chuckled a bit nervously. 

“Sorry, I must have forgotten to grab it the other day,” he explained, walking over to her. “Probably shouldn’t have even taken it out of the lab, but I wanted to see how it would respond to a different environment.”

“Ah, don’t worry about that,” Rose said, kissing him hello. “You two are never gonna believe what I discovered.”

“Did you find a pattern with the manifestation points?” Egon asked, getting up from his seat. 

“Well, it’s definitely following the pneumatic system, but no! What I found is way better!” Rose replied. She blinked. “Okay, well, maybe not better, but definitely weirder. Ray, go turn on the radio and turn up the volume, and then just watch.”

“Uhh…okay?”

Ray went to turn on the radio, and within seconds a Jackie Wilson song was ringing out in the lab. Rose put the container of slime on the counter and began crooning along. Ray and Egon stood on either side of her, watching her sing to the slime with twin expressions of mild concern on their faces.

“Honey, I think you might have finally cracked,” Ray deadpanned. She rolled her eyes and smacked his arm lightly without looking. 

“Shut up and watch, Ray,” she said. Ray sighed and turned his full attention to the slime. Sure enough, before the first verse was over, the slime had begun to react, bubbling happily - almost romantically so -  in time with the song. 

“What…?” Ray said. He chuckled. “Look at it go!”

“Right?! I think it’s reacting to the music!” Rose exclaimed. “It seemed to like Juice Newton alright, and then it was pretty excited about Phil Collins, but it definitely really likes Jackie Wilson. It wasn’t bubbling like this before.”

Egon straightened up and went to turn off the radio. When he came back, he had a peculiar, thoughtful expression on his face as he watched the slime fade back into dormancy. He looked up at Ray, his eyes narrowed. 

“Do you think it could be - ?”

“Psycho-reactive?” Ray finished Egon’s thought. “Maybe! That could explain why it started bubbling when the judge was yelling. And maybe even why it spat out the Scoleris.” 

“We should adjust our experiments,” Egon asserted. “If it is actually psycho-reactive, this could be a major breakthrough for our theory, Ray.”

“Where do you want to start?” Ray asked. 

“Well,” Egon said. “So far, negative emotions have yielded the most interesting result. Let’s see if we can recreate the negative charge.”

“Yell at it?” Ray clarified. 

Egon nodded. “Yell at it.”

Chapter Text

A couple days after Rose’s musical discovery, when all five of the Ghostbusters were in the firehouse, Ray and Egon called a meeting in the upstairs kitchen. The microwave beeped just as Rose strolled in with Peter and Winston at her back. Winston had just come back from a low level bust, and she and Peter had been catching up on paperwork (which she’d had to force her brother to do). 

“We’ve been experimenting with the plasm we found in the subway tunnel,” Ray explained to Peter and Winston. He looked over as Egon retrieved the container of the molten pink slime out of the microwave. “Careful.”

Rose was well aware of the experiments Egon and her husband had been conducting, and they had been…illuminating, to say the least. The whole thing was just bizarre, and she’d really been looking forward to Peter and Winston’s reactions. 

“Should I get spoons?” Peter asked, one eyebrow raised.

“Don’t bother. Watch this,” Egon replied, gently placing the container on the table. He smiled excitedly at Ray. “Go ahead, Ray.”

Rose leaned forward on the table next to her husband, propping her chin on her hand, and watched with an impish grin as Ray leaned closer to the slime. 

“YOU!” Ray shouted. “YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF SLIME!”

The slime bubbled and squeaked in response. Egon jerked back away from it, and looked over at Winston and Peter, nodding. 

“You ignorant, disgusting blob!” Ray snarled. The slime bubbled again. 

“You’re nothing but an unstable, short-chain molecule!” Egon added. The slime gurgled in protest. 

“You foul, obnoxious muck!” Ray shouted. The slime began to bubble up and almost over the edge of the container. 

“You have a weak electrochemical bond!” Egon scolded, wagging his finger. 

“I have seen some disgusting crud in my time, but YOU TAKE THE CAKE!” Ray bellowed at it. Peter and Winston exchanged looks, like they feared Ray and Egon had finally lost their minds. 

Rose snorted in amusement, but put a hand on her husband’s arm when the slime got too close to the edge of the container. 

“Hey, whoa, whoa,” Winston said to Ray, putting a hand on his shoulder to get him to lean away from the slime. Ray moved back as he fell silent and smiled at Peter, who just stared at him.

“This is what you do with your spare time?” Peter asked. 

“Not all of his spare time, Pete, don’t worry,” Rose told him, laughing. She stood up straight and draped her arm over Ray’s shoulder loosely. “Just most of it.”

Ray sighed, obviously disappointed that Peter wasn’t wowed by their little demonstration.

“Peter, this is an incredible breakthrough. I mean, what a discovery - a psycho-reactive substance!” he said, gesturing to the slime. “Whatever this stuff is, it responds to human emotional states.”

“Mood slime,” Peter summed up. 

“Yep,” Rose confirmed, nodding. “Mood slime. How frickin’ cool is that?!”

Egon rolled his eyes lightly at the slightly reductive name, but it served its purpose well enough: Peter was interested now.

“Oh, baby,” Peter crooned, leaning down close to the container. The slime bubbled in response to the slightly flirtatious tone, and he quickly backed off. 

“Huh…” Ray hummed thoughtfully at the reaction. Rose chuckled quietly and he grinned up at her, grabbing her hand where it dangled above his heart. 

“You mean this stuff actually feeds on bad vibes?” Winston asked, looking at Ray intently. 

“Like a cop in a donut factory,” Ray replied. 

“We’ve been running tests to see if we can get an equally strong positive reaction,” Egon explained. 

Peter looked over at him and raised his eyebrow. “What kind of tests?”

Egon tensed up, looking a bit embarrassed, and Rose snorted under her breath. Earlier that day, she’d walked in on him cuddling one of the containers and murmuring compliments to it, and had almost pissed herself laughing. Poor Egon had gone fire truck red and had promptly sworn her to secrecy, begging for her discretion - which, of course, had only made Rose laugh harder. Once she'd finally gotten a hold of herself and caught her breath, though, she had wiped the tears from her eyes and promised him that what she’d seen would go with her to the grave. 

“Well,” Ray said, “we sing to it. And, um, we talk to it. Um, say supportive, nurturing things to it.”

“I figured out the singing,” Rose interjected. “It got its groove thing on in the bookshop when I was singing along to the radio. So I showed Ray and Egon.”

Peter glanced at her before leveling Ray with a half-concerned, half-amused stare. “You’re not sleeping with it, are you, Ray?”

Ray didn’t answer, but he did look directly at Egon, who promptly avoided eye contact. Rose’s jaw dropped; she certainly hadn’t known about that little chestnut, but she fully intended on never letting Egon live it down. And to think, he'd been all worried she would tell someone she'd seen him complimenting it! 

“Oh, you…” Peter groaned, looking down and pinching the bridge of his nose. He looked back up at Egon, smiling, clearly immensely amused. 

“It’s always the quiet ones…” Winston remarked, smirking. 

“You hound!” Peter teased. 

Egon blushed and shifted uncomfortably. 

“You know, Egon," Rose said casually. "If you were a little pent up, they have call centers for that sort of thing now."

She couldn't resist ribbing him at least a little; it wasn't every day she found out her best friend was apparently getting his groove thing on with a bucket of pink psycho-reactive goo. Peter burst into laughter, and Egon flushed an even darker shade of pink. He cleared his throat, looking absolutely mortified. 

“Uh, how about the kinetic test?” Egon suggested and practically ran away from the table. 

Peter dropped his face into his hand, shaking his head. 

“Okay,” Ray agreed, and turned away to pick up a metal tablespoon. Egon returned to the table with a toaster. Rose raised an eyebrow; she didn't know about this particular experiment either. 

“Ordinary, household toaster,” Egon told them, putting it down next to Peter. The clamps inside the toaster jangled a little as it settled on the table. 

“We’ll take your word for that,” Peter said. Ray spooned some of the slime into the toaster, making sure to disperse it evenly in the slots. 

“Come over here,” Egon said and picked up the toaster. He led them over to the pool table in the middle of the room and deposited the toaster onto the green play field. He stepped away to retrieve a large stereo on wheels. 

“Like Rose said, it responds to music, so we’ve been doing some experimentation,” Ray informed Winston and Peter as they gathered around the pool table. “Easy listening, middle of the road type stuff, Paul Young, ‘Dust in the Wind’, that works okay.”

“Works for me,” Peter remarked, and Rose smirked. 

“Rose found out it sorta likes Juice Newton and Phil Collins,” Ray continued and her brother raised an eyebrow at her. 

“What? I told you, I was singing along to the radio,” Rose replied defensively, crossing her arms. “I like ‘Angel of the Morning'. It's a good song, okay? Leave me alone.”

Peter put his hands up in surrender, smirking but remaining silent. 

“It loves Jackie Wilson,” Egon said, clicking the stereo on. The first notes of “Higher and Higher” warbled out from the speakers and Rose grinned, bopping her head along to the song.

“The slime has good taste in music, that’s for sure,” she commented. 

Peter looked at them all strangely. “Do you guys do this at night, when I’m not here?”

“Yes,” Rose confirmed. 

Egon nodded at Peter, grinning wider than Rose had ever seen him. He really was extraordinarily pleased with their discovery. Ray crossed his arms and smiled at Rose, nodding at the toaster when he caught her eye.

“Oh, I get it, it sings,” Peter joked. “It sounds exactly like Jackie, that’s fantastic.”

“Just watch,” Egon insisted. 

“Does it do Emmylou Harris -?”

POP

The toaster jumped on the pool table, moving about a quarter of an inch to the left. Rose and Peter’s jaws dropped. 

POP

It jumped a little higher as Jackie Wilson’s voice crooned from the stereo. 

“Oh, it dances, too!” Peter exclaimed. The toaster bopped and jumped in time with the music, the metal of the toaster ringing with each pop. Peter clapped along and started dancing a little. 

“Whoa!” Ray chuckled and clapped, as the toaster got off a particularly energetic jump. “Shake it up!”

Rose laughed and hummed along with the song, watching the little toaster groove and jive along. It popped hard and two slices of toast launched straight out of the slots and into the air. Egon caught both as they plummeted and tossed them off to the side, turning off the music at the same time. 

Peter’s jaw dropped and he laughed, reaching for the toaster and cradling it tightly. “Oho, oh baby, you’re my number one Christmas boutique gift item!”

Rose chuckled and nudged Egon’s arm with her shoulder. He looked down at her and she smiled, nodding in approval. 

“That was pretty cool,” she told him. He smiled at her brightly, his dimples on full display. Egon had such a lovely smile, really, and Rose was of the opinion that he should smile like that more often. Then again, maybe it was better that he didn’t - ‘moved on’ or not, Rose didn’t think Janine would ever recover if he shot one of those smiles her way. 

“Right,” Winston said skeptically, “and the first time somebody gets mad, the toaster could eat their hand.”

“No, no, no,” Peter disagreed, examining the toaster closely, turning it so that his fingers gripped inside the slots. “No, we put a warning label on it, we don’t have any liability - OW! AH!”

Rose rolled her eyes, knowing full well her brother was messing around, but Ray, Winston, and Egon took him at face value and moved quickly to pull the toaster away from him. 

“Oh, did you ever go for it!” Peter teased, taking his two fingers out of the toaster and pointing them at Egon’s eyes like he was one of the Three Stooges. “The old man-eating-toaster trick!”

Ray fumed lightly but turned playful a second later. 

“GET HIM!” he hollered, and grabbed Peter from behind, dragging him down. Egon and Winston helped, pushing him down. Rose laughed from her soul, and hopped up to sit on the pool table to watch her husband and best friends wrestle her brother right to the ground. 

A minute or so later, Ray had Peter locked in a supine half Nelson, and was showing no intentions of relenting any time soon - at least, not until Peter apologized. Egon and Winston were being very helpful, weighing his ankles down with their hands. 

“Rose. Rosie,” Peter said, struggling a bit against the hold. She hopped off the pool table and moved around to crouch down next to her brother, smiling serenely. 

“How’s it going, Pete?” she asked. 

“Do you see what they’re doing to your favorite brother?” he replied.

“Mm, you’re my only brother,” she countered. 

“Exactly my point! I am your only brother, and look how your husband is treating me!” 

Rose examined the hold Ray had on him, actually impressed with the grip strength he’d managed to put in his heels where they were locked around Peter’s waist. She nodded seriously. “Yeah, looks like he’s got you good and tight there. Carl teach you that, Ray?”

“Sure did,” Ray answered calmly. “Long time ago, when we were kids just screwing around in the backyard.”

“Makes sense. I hear big brothers can be good for that sorta thing,” she said, trying desperately to keep a straight face. 

“Rose!” Peter whined pathetically. 

“Can I help you?” she asked, looking back down at her brother. 

“Uh, yeah?” Peter replied, his voice going up an octave. “You can call your husband off.” 

Rose hissed through her teeth and shook her head. “I don’t think I can do that, Pete. But you can! Just gotta say two little words first.” 

“Let go?” Peter suggested. Ray tightened his hold and Peter grumbled in response. 

“Nope,” Rose said lightly, popping the ‘p’. “These words generally express remorse, or regret. As in you think to yourself ‘oh, man, I feel bad that I scared my friends into thinking a toaster filled with psycho-reactive slime was eating my hand’ and then you say these two little baby words, and Ray lets go, and you can get off the floor.”

“Very funny,” Peter drawled. 

Rose shook her head again. “Nope, those aren’t the words either. Try again.”

“Rose, c’mon!” 

“Was that technically three words?” Winston asked, a mock thoughtful expression on his face. 

“Well, ‘c’mon’ is a contraction, but it’s really kinda its own word, so I’ll count it as one,” Rose answered. She looked down at her brother. “But those are still not the right words. I’m sorry, this just isn’t your lucky day.” 

Peter narrowed his eyes at her and huffed. “Fine. I’m sorry. Are you happy?”

“I don’t know that I bought that, Rose,” Ray told her. She shrugged and he looked over at Egon. “Did you buy it, Spengs?”

Egon shook his head. “No.”

“Once more with feeling, then, alright, Peter?” Ray said. 

“I hate all of you. I want you to know that,” Peter grumbled. He sighed, but it came out as more of a growl. “Okay. Okay. I am very sorry that I tricked you into thinking the mood slime toaster was eating my hand. Please let me up.”

“Much better,” Ray praised him, and immediately released his hold, his legs falling to the side. Egon and Winston stood and each offered Peter a hand up from the ground. Rose offered her husband both her hands and they locked their grips around each other’s forearms, and she pulled him to his feet. 

“Well, that was fun,” Ray commented, throwing an arm around Rose’s shoulders. She wound an arm around his waist and leaned into him. 

“Maybe for you,” Peter shot back, brushing at invisible dust on the back of his pants. “And you, dear sister - you were of no help whatsoever.”

“Sorry, but you had it coming, Pete,” Rose said, laughing. He rolled his eyes and continued dusting off his clothes.

“Yeah, well, since apparently it’s Gang Up on Peter Day, I think I’ll just go where I can get some quality abuse,” Peter replied snootily. Ray and Egon looked at each other with their eyebrows raised. 

“Oh?” Rose asked, barely able to contain her amusement. “And where might that be?”

“Well, wherever Dana is, of course.”

“Oh, of course,” Winston agreed, smirking and rolling his eyes. 

Rose chuckled to herself and pulled away from Ray to walk over to her brother. She clapped both hands on his shoulders and looked up at him. “Do you have any idea where she is right now?” 

Peter patted one of her hands with his own, his eyes twinkling. “Not at all.”

Rose snorted and shook her head. “It’s Thursday afternoon, so she’ll be at the museum. Maybe you can take her out to lunch. Get yourself some real nice, high class abuse, like you said.” 

“That’s the plan, sis,” he said, winking at her. She rolled her eyes and removed her hands from his shoulders, stepping away. “The museum. Which museum is that again?”

“Manhattan Museum of Art,” she replied, smiling in amusement. “Restoration department.”

“Right. Got it.”

He moved towards the stairs and Rose leaned up against the pool table, watching him walk away and disappear around the corner. 

“Hey, Pete!” she called after him. He stuck his head back around, his eyebrows raised in silent question. “Good luck.” 

“Thanks,” he said sincerely, and vanished once more. Rose looked over her shoulder; Ray was smirking at her knowingly and she nodded. 

“Don’t screw it up!” she shouted loudly. 

“I won’t!” came Peter’s reply, his voice echoing in the cavernous space of the firehouse. 

“Ray,” Egon said, turning his attention back towards the slime. “I think we should adjust the positivity index, run some more tests…”

Ray blinked at him and began walking back over to the kitchen. “Sure. Just as long as it doesn’t involve you doing it with the slime again. I’m never gonna get that image outta my head. Teach me to walk into the lab without knocking…”

Rose turned to look at Egon so quickly the muscles in her neck cracked and Winston wheezed with laughter, hiding his face in his hands to muffle the sound as he excused himself from the room. Egon's little tryst with the slime was just getting better and better: not only had he actually gotten busy with the slime, but Ray had walked in on him! Priceless.  

"Oh, Egie..." Rose said, eyes wide and full of mischief as she walked over to him. To his credit, even though he looked as though he was internally praying for the floor to open up and swallow him, he met her gaze as confidently as he could. "Bet you're wishing you'd sworn Ray to secrecy, huh?"

Egon flushed scarlet and ducked his head, staring directly at his shoelaces. "Yes."

Rose snorted and patted his arm. "Ah, don't worry about it, Egon. Next time you need to get your rocks off, though, try to remember to lock the door."

"Rose?"

"Yeah?"

"How long do you think Peter will tease me about this?"

"Oh, I'd say for the next twenty years, at least." 

"...Can you do me a favor and just kill me instead?" 

"Not a chance. I'd miss you too much."

"Damn."

Peter came back to the firehouse a few hours later, all smiles. He took off his coat and threw it off to the side, and sauntered towards her. 

“Ah,” Rose said, putting the book she’d been reading aside and looking up at her brother intently from behind Janine’s desk. “It went well with Dana, I take it?”

Peter sighed and grinned. “Yeah, I think it did. You know, I took her out to lunch and it was…nice.”

“Nice?”

He nodded and sat on the corner of the desk. “Yeah, nice. We talked. Caught up.”

Rose beamed at him, and folded her hands. “Well, I’m glad you had a nice time, Pete.”

“Me, too. It felt good to just talk to her again. No tension, no blame. Just two friends grabbing a bite to eat.”

“Friends, huh?” Rose asked, grinning mischievously. “Just friends?”

“Yeah, just friends,” Pete said, rolling his eyes at her. A moment later, his expression turned serious. “You know, we hurt each other, but I hurt her first. I didn’t pay attention and I took her for granted, and she got sick of it. Obviously, I want her back, but it’s not like it was before. There’s baggage and history now, and there’s Oscar to consider.”

Rose sat back in her chair, stunned. “Wow, Pete. That’s…very insightful of you. Very mature.”

“Thank you,” he said, adjusting the cuffs of his royal blue sweater. “It’s been known to happen. Occasionally.” 

Rose frowned thoughtfully. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Do you want to be a dad? I mean, like you said, Oscar is a factor. And if you get back together with Dana, that means having a child in your life, too.”

Peter thought for a moment, looking down at his hands. When he looked up at Rose, he was smiling softly, and he nodded. 

“You know something? I do,” he answered. “The idea of being a dad scares the hell outta me, but I want it.”

“And you want it with Dana?” 

“If she’ll have me, yeah,” he replied honestly. “But I’d be happy to be in her life at all, so whatever she wants me to be for her or for Oscar, I’m there.”

Rose stood from her chair and hugged her brother from behind, slinging her arms around him and resting her chin on his shoulder. Peter chuckled and wrapped a hand loosely around her forearm. 

“For what it’s worth, I think you’d make a great dad,” Rose told him. 

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely,” she said firmly. “You’re fun and energetic, you’re loving - you have so much love to give, Pete. You’re kind and thoughtful, underneath all that sarcasm. And you’re actually very patient with kids. So yeah, I think you’d be fantastic. And hey, I’m kinda speaking from experience. You practically raised me, and you were only a kid yourself. And I turned out okay.”

“You turned out more than okay, Rosie,” Peter told her. “But that was all you. Not me.”

“You’re not giving yourself enough credit,” she said quietly. She snorted softly. “For once.”

“Oh, ha ha.”

“But seriously, Pete. If Dana lets you back in and you get to be a dad to Oscar, you’ll be great. I know it. I have zero doubts.”

“Thanks, Rose,” he said sincerely. “I’m really glad I have you in my corner.”

“Always,” she answered, and squeezed him once more before letting go. 

“Alright, enough of this sappy crap,” Peter said, standing up from the corner of the desk. “Where is everyone?”

“Janine went out for a bite with Louis, so I’m covering the desk and phones, Ray and Egon are in the lab, screwing around with the slime - no, not like that, get your mind out of the gutter - and Winston went to grab lunch, too, I think. We actually have a lull in the ghosts for now.” 

“Well, I guess even the ghosts like to relax around the holidays,” Peter replied dryly. “Come upstairs with me, there was something at the museum I wanna run by Ray and Egon.”

Rose shoved her hands in the pockets of the flannel lined jean jacket she had chosen to wear that day and followed her brother towards the staircase. “Oh? Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just - so you know how you told me Dana works in the restoration department?” Peter asked as he walked up the first few stairs. 

“Yeah,” she said, nodding. “Oh, hey, did you meet Poha, her boss?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said with a chuckle. He shook his head slightly. “Weird guy.”

“Mega weird. He’s super creepy around Dana.”

“Well, he’s got a crush, that’s for sure,” Peter said conversationally. “Not like I can blame him.”

“No, it’s more than that,” Rose disagreed. Realization hit her. “Oh, shit, I didn’t tell you, did I? I guess with everything going on, I forgot, but Dana called me the night of the blackout. Apparently, Poha was just ‘in the neighborhood’ and went to check on her and Oscar to see if she needed anything.”

“That’s not that weird,” Peter argued.

“Pete, they’re not even friends," she replied. "It’d be one thing if Ray or I did that, but Dana and Poha don’t know each other outside of work. She doesn’t like him, and she told me she never told him where she lived. So either he pulled the information from her employee file, or he, like…followed her home.”

Peter reached the second floor landing, looking uncomfortable. “Either way, that’s…”

“Fucking creepy?” Rose suggested. 

“To say the least.”

“Yeah.” 

“Well, he was not all that pleased to see me, and now I’m glad I annoyed him,” Peter told her, strolling into the lab. “Yo, Egon! Ray!”

The two men looked up, breaking their separate but equally intense stares of concentration. Rose and Peter raised their eyebrows at the sight before them, although thankfully no one was doing anything untoward with the mood slime: Egon was busy assembling what looked like a metallic cannon, while Ray seemed to have hooked himself up to two large jars of slime via repurposed parts of the Aura Video-Analyzer, complete with electrodes plastered to his temples. 

“What are you two doing?” Rose asked, cocking her head at the setup. 

Egon held up part of the cannon. “I’m working on a prototype of a projectile device I intend to add to our field equipment.”

Rose raised an eyebrow. “And what would it be projecting, exactly?”

“The slime,” Egon answered. Rose’s other eyebrow flew up, and he elaborated. “Now that we know we can shift it to a positive charge for an indefinite length of time, we’re going to weaponize it and use it to our advantage. We can’t do that if it’s kept inert in a jar. Hence the prototype.”

“Naturally,” she acknowledged. “So it’s a slime blower, got it. And what’s Ray doing?”

“He’s trying to see if the slime will respond to internal stimuli as readily as external,” Egon replied. “It would be helpful to know if we need to engineer a container for the slime that can block out both internal and external mood states and protect against accidental charge shifts.”

“Yeah, that would be helpful,” she answered. She thought for a moment. “So he’s trying to see if the slime can read his mind?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes.”

“And?”

“Inconclusive at the moment,” Ray told her. “Not much reaction. A couple tiny bubbles, but nothing real interesting.”

“Well you’re pretty calm right now,” Rose reasoned, stepping past her brother and walking over to lean on the work table next to her husband. “It’s mood slime. Maybe you need to be experiencing a more intense emotional state for it to react to your internal environment.” 

“That’s what I’ve been trying to do,” Ray confirmed. He shrugged. “Like Egon said, we need to know if internal environments can affect the slime as easily as external stimuli, and I’ve been mostly focusing on the more positive emotions, but so far, nothing.”

Rose snorted. “Honey, positivity is your baseline. It's like your default setting. But anyway, you can’t just force an internal environment and expect the slime to respond as easily as it does to external stimuli. It probably needs to be genuine.”

“What’s your basis of reasoning?” Egon challenged, raising an eyebrow at her. 

“Yeah, Rosie, what’s your reasoning?” Peter asked teasingly. Rose looked over at him to see him smirking at her, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed. 

“Didn’t you have something you wanted to run by them?” she asked. 

Peter shrugged. “My thing can wait a second. I wanna see you show up the brainiac over there.”

“Okay,” Rose said lightly. She stood up straight and turned to look at Egon. “You wanna know my reasoning? The music.”

“The music?” Egon repeated. 

“Yes. The emotions music can evoke are pure. When we have an emotional reaction to music, it's because it touches something in us. Something on a primal level. Something we can’t always explain. The same can be said for the slime. The slime reflects and then reacts to a given emotion once it’s been influenced to a high enough degree, right?”

“Right…”

“So, take Jackie, for example,” Rose continued. “The slime in the toaster was exhibiting what we would call joy, but it wasn’t just because the song was upbeat. It’s not just the sound of the music, it’s the emotion associated with it.”

“But that’s artificial,” Egon argued. “The song might communicate an emotional state, but that doesn’t make it genuine.”

“I disagree. Many songs are a reflection of the writer or singer’s state of mind, which can be very raw and real,” Rose countered. “But regardless of the writer’s intent, the emotions we the listeners experience are as real as anything. It’s entirely possible that the slime was actually reacting to our emotions to the song, not the song itself, even if we weren’t aware of having a particular emotional response.”

“Okay, so what’s your point?” he asked. Peter and Ray’s head swiveled back and forth between the two. It wasn’t often that Egon and Rose debated at all, much less on matters of emotion. 

“My point, Egon ,” she said, smiling playfully, “is that I don’t think artificiality, as you called it, matters when the source - or the catalyst, as the case may be - is external. We’ve already established that the slime will respond pretty easily to external emotional states - artificial or genuine, it doesn’t matter. You two and Judge Wexler proved that much. But when the source is internal, I think it needs to be real. Or as close as you can get. If the slime really is psycho-reactive - and at this stage we can say with confidence that it is - then it needs something to react to . For example, a tone of voice or the emotion evoked by or portrayed in a song. But if you aren't giving it anything external to react to and you aren’t really experiencing the emotion you’re testing, you can’t expect the slime to react the same or even at all. Thus, the internal emotion has to be genuine.”

Peter broke into a slow clap behind them, and Rose looked over her shoulder to see him smiling a bit smugly at Egon, who merely rolled his eyes. 

“Your theory isn’t without merit,” Egon said, turning his attention back to her. “But how would you suggest we test it?”

Rose smiled. “That’s easy. Emotions don’t come from nowhere. There’s always a catalyst - a song, a story, someone else’s emotions, what have you. But the kicker is, genuine emotional responses are almost always spontaneous. They aren’t planned or forced. So, if you wanna really test the slime’s reactive capabilities against internal emotions, be spontaneous with it. You know, get creative.”

“Well, how can you test something when it’s spontaneous?” Ray asked her. “The very nature of an experiment is that it’s planned, not spontan -”

Rose leaned down quickly and cut him off by surprising him with a kiss. She stroked her finger along the sensitive spot under his jaw, and he hummed happily against her lips. Lifting a hand to cup her cheek, he pulled her a little closer and kissed her a little harder. After a few seconds, she heard the telltale bubbling to her left, confirming her theory had been correct. She broke the kiss and stepped away from her husband - who smiled up at her a bit dreamily - and nodded toward the jar. The slime inside was bubbling away happily. 

“See?” she said. “It responded to Ray’s spontaneous emotions.”

Egon stared at the gurgling slime. “Fascinating. Very well, we’ll adjust the tests to accommodate for…spontaneity. And we will probably have to engineer a container to block out accidental influences, Ray.”

"Yeah," Ray agreed.  

“Nice job, Rose,” Peter congratulated her, moving further into the lab. “Now, if you guys can stop staring at the goo for a minute, I do have something I wanna run by you. Maybe have you look into it a bit.”

“Sure, what’s up Pete?” Ray said. He pulled the electrodes off his temples, wincing at the tug on his skin, and the slime stopped bubbling abruptly. 

“So, I went to see Dana earlier, and while I was there, there was this giant painting that she said gave her the creeps. She said she felt like it was watching her sometimes.”

“Maybe she’s just getting spooked?” Ray suggested. 

“Maybe. But I don’t think so,” Peter said. “For one thing, her boss was real twitchy about the painting. Overprotective of it. And it looked for a second like he was actually talking to the damn thing.”

“What’s the painting of, exactly?” Egon asked. 

“That’s the other thing. It’s of some guy named Vigo the Carpathian. A prince or something, but Dana said he was a genocidal lunatic. Now, maybe it’s just knowing who the guy was that’s got her freaked out around it. But we haven’t exactly had great luck with dead guys with a thing for genocide.”

“Good point,” Rose acknowledged. “Are you thinking it’s another Shandor situation?”

Peter shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s nothing, maybe it’s something. I gotta say, I was getting some weird vibes off the painting myself. And not just because he was one ugly mother. So I’m thinking, just for giggles, we look into him, see if anything pops.” 

“Sure. Can’t hurt to look into it,” Rose said. She looked at Ray and Egon and they nodded at her. 

“It doesn’t have to be a priority. Like I said, might be nothing,” Peter told them. 

“Yeah, but the last time Dana said she was freaked out by something, we found that ,” she replied, pointing to the slime. “So I’m inclined to trust her gut.” 

“That’s a good point, Rose,” Egon agreed. He nodded decisively. “We’ll definitely look into it.”

“Great, thanks, guys,” Peter answered. He clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “Now! Who’s in the mood for pizza? My treat.”

Three eager hands went up and the slime in the jars gurgled, sounding distinctly like a growling stomach. 

Chapter Text

Rose walked into the third floor research lab - tired and in need of a stiff drink, thanks to a maddening Class Five that had taken the liberty of restyling her hair with globs of its own slime -  and promptly screeched to a halt at the truly bizarre sight in front of her.

Egon and Ray were experimenting with the slime again. 

Egon wasn’t doing anything particularly odd - just examining some printouts and flipping through a couple books - but Ray, on the other hand…Ray was wearing what Rose could only describe as a yellow swim cap that had clearly been repurposed, given the multicolored wires that ran down from electrodes embedded in the cap, which led to a flat rainbow cable cord. The rainbow cable was hooked up on the other end to the two large glass jars of pink slime, connected by a metal frame and machinery likely put together in the wee hours of the morning. 

Rose didn’t quite understand the specifics on sight, but she gathered its purpose was something to do with measuring the slime’s reactions to various stimuli. It was all Ray and Egon had been doing in their spare time, testing the slime. 

His dedication to his chosen pursuit was one of the many reasons she fell in love with him, but somehow it never ceased to amaze her the lengths Ray would really go to, all for the love of discovery. 

“Uh, hi, Ray. What are you guys up to?” Rose said casually, approaching her husband. Ray spun around and smiled at her, eyes sparkling with a delightful combination of scientific glee and simple happiness at her presence. He tried to walk over to her, but his lab coat got tangled up in the cable, so she met him halfway and he reached for her hand, pulling her in to kiss her hello. 

“Hi, honey!” he said excitedly. “How did the bust go? Looks like you got a little slimed, huh? Where’s Winston?”

Rose blinked at him and nodded distractedly, eyeing the cap on his head. It was much stranger-looking up close. “Uh…yeah, fine. It went fine. Winston decided to just go home, so he took the subway. But never mind all that. Ray, what in the name of sweet baby Jesus do you have on your head?”

In the background, Egon let out a low giggle of amusement, and Ray shot him a look over his shoulder before turning back to Rose with a proud smile on his face. 

“This is something Egon and I whipped up last night,” he replied, gesturing at his head. “We’re getting further readings on internal stimuli. Multiple points of contact should boost the accuracy of the data.”

“Ray, please tell me you didn’t stay up until two in the morning making this thing,” she implored, eyeing the machine, the cap on Ray’s head, and the twin cots in the corner of the room. Ray and Egon had been crashing in the lab, much to Rose’s dismay, as she hated sleeping apart from her husband. Ray had made sure it was okay with her beforehand, and she’d agreed, not wanting to get in the way of their experimentation. There had, however, been a condition: that Ray would at least try to maintain a normal sleep schedule. 

He smiled cheerfully at her and nodded. “Okay, I did not stay up until two in the morning making this.”

Rose narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously, and directed her attention instead to Egon. “Egie, how late did you two stay up last night?” 

Over Ray’s shoulder, Egon silently held up four fingers, waggling them back and forth. Rose's jaw dropped. “You stayed up until four in the morning?! Ray! No wonder you slept until almost noon!” 

Her husband winced, and chuckled nervously. “If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t mean to. We just lost track of time. I was just excited to get the chance to properly test your theory!”

Rose fought a smile at his enthusiasm, and Ray jumped on the opportunity to get her smiling for real. He reached out and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her against his chest. 

“See, I really wanted to finish putting it together, so we could test your theory and I could see how smart my beautiful wife really is…which of course, I already know,” Ray said playfully. “But you know how I love to see your genius in action.”

She rolled her eyes and looped her arms around his neck, looking up at him, and he took advantage of the new angle to press a soft kiss to her lips. He pulled away after a moment, smiling. 

“Don’t you try to sweet talk me,” Rose said, even as she smiled. “We’ve talked about this. If you’re gonna keep sleeping in the lab, you gotta try for a normal sleep cycle.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Ray acknowledged. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her cheek before whispering in her ear, sending a pleasant shiver up her spine. “But what’s a few hours of sleep lost if it means I get to test my brilliant wife’s theory that much sooner?”

She couldn’t help it; his voice in her ear was too much for her, and the smirk on Ray’s face told her he knew it. She gave in and turned her head to press a lingering kiss to his lips, thoroughly enjoying the growl that rumbled through his chest, so low only she could hear it. Behind him, the slime in the jars bubbled excitedly and she pulled back, laughing, and extricated herself from his arms. 

“Okay, okay, we’re getting the slime all riled up. So come on, tell me, how have you been testing my theory?” she asked, arching an eyebrow playfully. “You and Egon haven’t been making out in here while I’ve been gone, have you?”

Ray coughed in surprise, choking on air, and Rose patted him on the back gently, laughing softly. 

“He’s not my type,” Egon replied dryly, adjusting his glasses as he turned around. “No, I’ve been having Ray recount humorous stories from his childhood. My thinking was, the humor combined with the nostalgia people like Ray feel for their formative years would generate a significant positive charge. And it has.”

Rose nodded, impressed. “Good idea, Egie.”

“Thank you,” he replied, turning his attention back to his data readout. 

“Hey, what do you mean, ‘people like me’?” Ray asked, a bit indignantly. As he put his hands on his hips, the slime he was connected to fizzed, sounding disgruntled.

“Don’t compromise the positive charge, Ray,” Egon warned, looking up at him sharply over the tops of his glasses. 

Rose smiled and reached out a hand to pat her husband’s chest affectionately. “I think he just means people who had a happy childhood, babe.”

“Oh,” he replied, nodding. He looked at her and Egon, and they stared back at him patiently. Realization dawned on him a second later. “Oh.”

“Yes,” Egon said archly. “We could have done it the other way around, but the results wouldn’t have been nearly as informative. I don’t feel the same way about my childhood as you do about yours."

“Right,” Ray said awkwardly. “I-I guess I didn’t think about that.” 

“Understandable,” Egon replied, and said no more on the subject, turning his attention once more to his data.

Ray blinked at the back of Egon's head, looking a little unsure of himself, but brightened a bit as it became clear that Egon was apparently more or less indifferent to the comparative quality of their childhoods, except as it applied to their experiments. Rose smiled and shook her head fondly; Ray was very much the tender, beating heart of their group, and she loved him for it. 

“Well," she said, patting her husband's chest one final time. “You boys have fun with your slime - I need to go wash the goop from my hair. I’ll be back down later.”

“Okay,” Ray replied. “We’ll be here.”

She winked at her husband as she turned back towards the doorway. As she reached the stairs, she heard Egon say, “Now, I believe you were telling me about the time your mother taught you to dance.” 

“Right, yes! It was just after dinner, and she had her favorite Sinatra record playing…”

Rose re-emerged from the shower blessedly slime free, and got dressed in her civilian clothes: black jeans, her favorite of Ray’s many black t-shirts (it was on the smaller side and wonderfully soft with age, and she had stolen it a few years earlier), and a thick jean jacket. 

She towel dried her short hair, and ran her fingers through it a couple times. Once she was more or less satisfied with the result - they were only hanging around the firehouse, anyway, not going to the Ritz - she made her way back upstairs to the lab. She rounded the corner and saw Ray on the phone, leaning against the door jamb of the old wooden phone booth built into the wall of the lab. He nodded, listening intently to whoever was on the other end. 

“What?” he yelped suddenly. “Are you serious? Well, that’s great!” 

Rose held out her hands in silent question as she approached her husband, frowning.

“Peter,” he mouthed silently at her. She nodded and crossed her arms. 

“I mean…that’s terrible,” he amended, his excitement fading. “But it’s great for what we - yeah, I will. Yeah, sure, we’ll get right on it.” Ray hung up the phone and called out for Egon. “Spengler!”

“What’s going on?” Rose asked. Ray held up a finger, signaling her to wait a moment; she huffed quietly, but nodded. He stepped fully out of the booth, pulling the cap off his head and tossing it on the nearby table. Despite the potentially urgent situation, Rose couldn’t help but notice how adorable he looked with his hair all fluffy and fired up from the cap. 

“Major slime-related psychokinetic event,” Ray informed them. 

Egon turned around, half-distracted by the calibrations he was performing on one of the completed slime blowers, which hung from one shoulder by a sturdy strap. “What happened?”

“That’s what I wanna know,” Rose grumbled and moved to stand next to her husband. 

“Something came out of Dana’s bathtub,” Ray said. Egon’s head snapped up to look at Ray, looking concerned. “Tried to grab her and the baby.” 

“What?!” Rose yelped, tensing up as panic flooded her entire body. 

“Are they all right?” Egon asked.

“Yeah, well, she got out of there and went over to Venkman’s,” Ray replied. 

“So they’re safe?” Rose asked urgently, feeling as though her heart wouldn’t beat correctly until she heard Ray confirm Dana and Oscar were safe and sound. “Ray, just tell me they’re safe.”

Ray nodded at her and turned to place both hands on her upper arms, rubbing up and down soothingly. “Yes, they’re safe, I promise.”

Rose exhaled shakily and dragged a hand over her face. “Thank God…if anything had happened to them, I don’t know what I…”

“Oh, honey, it’s okay,” Ray said softly, and pulled her to him. She buried her face in his chest and wrapped her arms around his waist. “They’re with Peter. He’s not going to let anything happen to them.”

“I know. I know he won’t. I just…they're family and if…” she trailed off, exhaling slowly.

If there was one thing in the world Rose hated more than anything else, it was feeling like she couldn’t protect the people she loved. For a very long time, Peter had been her only family, and although she’d always been scared deep down of losing him, it was a fear she could handle. And then came Ray and Egon. Her heart accepted and loved both, first as friends - and in Ray’s case, as more than a friend - and then as family. Years later, her family grew again to include Lucy. And then a handful of years later came Janine, Winston, Dana, and then of course, little Oscar. Even Louis had made the transition from friend to family over the last few weeks, especially after everything he’d done for her guys and how he’d jumped head first into Ghostbusters 2.0. 

She’d never had so many people to love and care about before, nor had she ever been truly loved by so many. In short, she’d never had so much to lose. Danger was an occupational hazard of being a Ghostbuster, she knew that, but the idea that any or all of her family could be snatched from her at any moment by anything - like the earthquake before Gozer; like Gozer herself; like Judge Wexler’s ultimately unsuccessful sentencing; like what had almost happened to Dana and Oscar - cut her down to the bone with fear. 

But Dana and Oscar were fine. Peter would keep them safe. The anxiety loosened its vice grip on her heart and she lifted her head, looking up at Ray with an apologetic smile. 

“Sorry for getting all panicky. I’ll be fine,” she said, trying to sound more confident than she felt. Rose prided herself on her ability to keep it together during a crisis, but it was difficult when the people she loved were faced with a situation of unknown potential for danger and she wasn’t - or couldn’t be - there to protect them. 

“Hey, it’s perfectly normal to be a little freaked out by something like this. We still don't really know what we're dealing with here, and being worried isn't something you need to apologize for,” Ray told her gently. “Okay?”

“Okay,” she murmured. “Thanks.”

"Of course."

“This is interesting, Ray,” Egon said. Rose stepped away from Ray, eyeing her best friend. He was looking at them, but his eyes were just out of focus. As he snapped back to the present moment, Egon put down the cannon and moved towards the computer in the corner of the lab, and she and Ray followed after him. “Remember the painting Venkman mentioned?” 

“Yeah, the creepy warlord. Vigo, right?” Rose replied. Egon glanced at her over his shoulder and nodded.

“I ran the name ‘Vigo the Carpathian’ through the occult reference net,” he told them, hitting a few keys, bringing up a digital entry. “Look what came up.”

He stood aside and Rose leaned over the desk, frowning at the monitor, reading the entry aloud: “Vigo the Carpathian…1505 to 1610 - Jesus, he was old - okay…uh…‘Sixteenth century Carpathia was in a constant state of spiritual turmoil due principally to the despotic rule of Prince Vigo von Homburg Deutschendorf, tyrant, sorcerer, and psychotic autocrat.’” Rose sighed heavily and straightened back up. “Well, isn’t that lovely.” 

“Ooh,” Ray murmured. “Nice ugly history.” 

“To say the least,” Rose replied. “Psychotic,’ ‘despotic’, and ‘sorcerer’ are not three words I ever want to see used to describe someone.” 

“Yeah,” Ray agreed, chuckling darkly. He looked at Egon, frowning lightly. “You think there’s a connection between this Vigo character and the…” He trailed off, looking over his shoulder. Rose and Egon followed his line of sight to the two jars of pink slime sitting on the table, and almost on cue, one of the jars bubbled. “...slime?”

“Is the atomic weight of cobalt 58.9?” Egon asked dryly.

“I’m gonna go with, ‘yes’?” Rose deadpanned. He looked over at her, a single eyebrow raised and she threw up her hands in frustration. “So yes. Great. Awesome. Of course the long dead genocidal psychopath is connected to our mood slime. Mhm. Naturally.”

Ray nodded, the light in his eyes taking on a glow of urgency; he turned and whipped off his lab coat, tossing it on his cot. “We better get over to Dana’s apartment. I’d like to check out that bathtub.”

He reached down to grab his leather jacket, and pulled it on, retrieving a nearby PKE meter and heading for the door. Rose strode after her husband, her trademark combat boots landing heavily on the ground. 

“It might be a good idea to go to the museum in the morning,” Egon called after them. “Get a look at that painting.” 

He caught up to her and Ray on the stairs, having discarded his own lab coat in favor of his suit jacket, and Rose nodded at his suggestion.

“Yeah, definitely. I don't think Dana’s art-related heebie-jeebies were just because Vigo’s portrait is creepy,” she said. Rose’s feet hit the ground floor and she bee-lined for the Ecto-1, hopping in the passenger seat. Ray jumped behind the wheel and put the key in the ignition as Egon climbed in the back seat. 

She reached out and flicked a switch in front of her, and the garage door opened behind them. Ray began to back out onto the street, and Rose shook her head, reflecting on the sudden turn of events. 

“I can’t believe the bathtub tried to eat her!” she exclaimed, her voice going up an octave. “I mean, what is it with Dana and household appliances?” 

“I know, right? I was thinking the same thing!” Ray remarked, shifting the car into drive as they cleared the firehouse and leveled out on the street. Rose flicked the switch back down and the garage door shut itself.  

“Technically, a bathtub is a fixture, not an appliance,” Egon piped up from the back seat. 

Rose rolled her eyes. “Oh, whatever. You know what I meant. But seriously, what the hell?” 

“Also, it’s more accurate to say whatever came out of the bathtub tried to eat her, rather than the bathtub itself,” Egon drawled. 

“Yeah, okay. Fine,” Rose replied. She scoffed disbelievingly. “Still…the bathtub . The freaky shit just keeps on getting freakier, huh, Egon?”

"It would seem so,” came Egon’s simple, deadpan response. 

Rose snorted softly, half out of amusement and half out of disbelief, and shook her head. Ray punched the acceleration and they took off down the street like a bat out of hell. 

Egon pushed open the front door of Dana’s apartment and swept inside. Rose raised an eyebrow at his somewhat reckless behavior - they couldn't be sure whatever attacked Dana wasn't still hanging around, after all - but shrugged, figuring Egon was just in full eager-scientist-tunnel-vision mode, and followed after him half a second later. He had already set his briefcase down with a thunk and had begun sweeping the living room with the Giga Meter by the time Ray followed her inside and turned on his PKE meter. 

The apartment seemed quiet enough, and neither of the devices were sounding any alarms, but when Rose looked in the direction of the bathroom, she felt an inexplicable rush of aggravation come over her, her jaw clenching of its own accord. Unsure what had prompted the feeling, she shifted uncomfortably and pushed it away, forcing herself to breathe and relax. 

Ray approached her from the side, obviously having noticed her sudden if silent mood swing. “You okay?” 

Egon, having heard him, turned to face the pair with one eyebrow arched. Rose swallowed and nodded.

“Yeah, fine,” she replied. “Something’s just, I don’t know…kinda off. I mean, obviously something’s off because a pile of slime just tried to attack Dana and Oscar, but it’s like there’s this…I don’t know, just this cloud in here. It’s weird -”

“It’s likely you’re overreacting,” Egon interrupted bluntly. He turned back around and resumed scanning the room. 

Rose looked at Ray, her eyebrows raised in surprise. He shrugged. She turned back to Egon. “Uh, alright, I’ll bite. Why do you think I’m overreacting?”

“I’m not getting any significant readings,” he replied. “And for you to be picking up on something, I would expect that I’d see some kind of spike.”

Rose narrowed her eyes, more than a little offended by Egon’s offhand dismissal. “Okay...well, readings or no, something is off. I can feel it. And for the record, the last time I said that, a god tried to kill us and kickstart the apocalypse, and the time before that, I was almost murdered by a psychotic ghost, so..."

“I had readings in both those situations,” Egon pointed out, entirely focused on the meter’s display, sounding bored. “And I don’t have them here, as of yet. The simplest explanation is that you were already panicked about Dana and Oscar almost getting hurt and now you’re overreacting.”

Rose fought back a wave of anger she wasn’t sure belonged entirely to her and sucked in a breath. She didn’t want to argue with him. She really didn’t. It would accomplish nothing, she knew that, but she couldn’t quite help the snippiness in her voice when she spoke - it just slipped out. 

“Okay, Egon,” she said. “Sure. Whatever you say.”

Evidently, her tone was enough to earn Egon's full attention. He looked up from his meter, almost sneering at her, and she took an instinctive step back from the contemptuous expression on his face. Egon had never looked at her that way before, and she never wanted him to again; the scorn in his eyes was palpable, and it tore straight through her. 

This was not her Egon, not really; it was really quite obvious by the look in his eyes that he was being affected by the same thing twisting her stomach into angry knots. 

“My equipment is more finely tuned than your feelings," Egon said venomously. "If the slime left behind a cloud of negative energy strong enough for you to pick up on, we’d be getting a spike. But we're not, so I suggest we allow scientific inquiry to guide us, instead of blindly and foolishly relying on our emotions like a child.” 

Rose could put up with a lot - she didn’t tend to, but she could, when the situation called for it - but she had no patience for condescension of any kind. Condescension coming from Egon - who, despite his vast intelligence, had never once patronized her - angered her almost as much as it hurt her. 

Her hackles raised, and she could feel an indignant fury swirling in her stomach, pushing her to fight back. On the defensive, she squared off with him and glared up at him ferociously. 

“Did you seriously just say I’m acting like a child? Wow. Okay. First of all, knock it off with the ‘we’ and ‘our’ bullshit. Don’t talk down to me,” Rose said shortly, her hands curling into fists at her side. “Second of all, this is the mood slime we’re dealing with -” 

“Don’t pretend you understand the mechanics of it,” Egon interrupted. “Ray and I have done the experiments, the hard research. You’re not even a scientist, you just throw around half-baked suppositions with no real evidence to - ”

“Half-baked?! My ‘suppositions’ just so happen to be right. I understand the slime better than you do, if you ask me!” Rose shot back. 

“I don’t believe I did ask, as a matter of fact -”

“Yeah, well, I don’t recall asking for your opinion, either, asshole,” Rose snapped. 

“You did, actually,” Egon snarked. “You said, and I quote, ‘Alright, I’ll bite. Why do you think I’m overreacting?’ Was that or was that not you asking for my opinion?”

“Yeah, I did say that, you’re right - after you’d already given your unsolicited opinion that I was overreacting,” Rose said, her eyes narrowing dangerously. 

Egon rolled his eyes. “Oh, forgive me. I didn’t realize my input was so unwanted. Perhaps if you weren’t so overly emotional, I wouldn’t feel the need to interject and be the voice of reason.”

Rose grit her teeth and laughed under her breath in disbelief. “Look, I know you like to operate as though you have no feelings at all, but emotions are kinda taking center stage here, whether you like it or not. Now, I'll be honest - I have had a long day, so I would suggest that you don’t test me, Spengler.”

Egon faltered for a millisecond at her uncharacteristic use of his last name but quickly regained his footing. “Well, Rose, if you had better control over your own emotions, we wouldn’t even be having this discussion.”

“Oh, this isn’t a discussion,” she retorted. “This is a fight. This is called fighting.”

Egon’s eyes flashed angrily. “Do not condescend to me, Rose.” 

“Yeah, it doesn’t feel so good, does it? Let me ask you something - do you even know why we’re fighting?” she demanded, holding out her arms, egging him on. He apparently wanted a fight, and Rose wasn't one to back down from a challenge, so a fight was exactly what she'd give him.

“Yes, I do,” Egon snarled. “We’re fighting because you won’t admit that you’re overreacting. Instead, you claim there’s something ‘off’ - a very vague description of something that quite conveniently only you can feel. In truth, whatever attacked Dana is obviously gone, and in all likelihood, there’s nothing in this entire apartment.”

“You’re wrong,” Rose shot back. “You know, I really don’t understand how you can’t see what’s happening here. We’re obviously being influenced by the slime, Egon. I know what I’m feeling, and you? You just started bitching at me for no good reason, saying I’m acting like a child! I mean, come on! If you really think there’s nothing influencing us…well, you’re just wrong. Now maybe you’re pissed that I’m not bowing down to your almighty opinion, or maybe you just can’t handle being wrong, but whatever it is, suck it up and open your eyes, would you please?”

“Guys, come on, don’t fight…” Ray tried to interject, though neither Rose nor Egon paid attention to him. 

“I do not bitch and you are acting like a child,” Egon hissed at her, completely ignoring her attempt to explain the situation. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing for who, exactly? Am I supposed to be embarrassed? Because I’m not,” she said, barking out a harsh laugh. She looked over her shoulder at her husband. “How about you, Ray, am I embarrassing you?”

Ray shook his head, looking worried. “Uh, no. You’re not, but maybe we shouldn’t -”

“No. Okay,” Rose confirmed, and looked back at Egon, who was now glaring daggers at her. A low, rational voice in her head warned her that she was stepping into potentially dangerous territory, if the expression on Egon's face was any measure, but it spoke too quietly to cut through the roaring vortex of anger in the center of her chest. “Looks like you’re the only one who has an issue. So you tell me, what’s so embarrassing about my behavior? Go ahead, I’ll wait.” 

A muscle jumped in Egon’s jaw, and she saw the killing blow take shape in his darkening eyes before he ever even opened his mouth. “You’d really like me to tell you what’s embarrassing about your behavior? Very well. I’ll say it - it’s embarrassing to watch you flit about thinking you possess this powerful intuition, when it’s obvious to anyone who spends more than five minutes in your presence that it’s nothing more than hypersensitivity resulting from an unstable, likely abusive childhood. You and your brother, you’re both textbook examples. He puts on a pathetically obvious façade of confidence, and you, Rose, are just another insecure little girl with unresolved anger over the fact that her mother never loved her. It’s tiresome.”

Ray inhaled sharply behind her. “Egon, don’t -”

The warning, even though it came too late, was unnecessary: the moment the words left his mouth, the angry haze in Egon’s eyes evaporated and he blinked rapidly, as though he could hardly believe what he’d just said. He swallowed and shook his head, looking for all the world like he just wanted to take it back. To rewind. 

But it was too late. The damage was done. 

The air went out of the room, and pain splintered straight through her sternum, lancing her heart, as furious, devastated tears sprang to her eyes. She clenched her fists so hard her nails sliced into her palms, and just barely stopped herself from knocking Egon into next week. That act, however, drained her of the last of her restraint. 

“How dare you,” she growled, stepping forward into his personal space and unleashing the storm of anger and agony brewing in her chest. “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but you have no idea what my childhood was like and you have no right to drag it up. I’ve never said jack shit about having a ‘powerful intuition’, and you damn well know it, and honestly, if you think I’m hypersensitive, then, God, you’re even more emotionally repressed than I thought. It might actually be impressive if it wasn’t so fucking sad.”

Egon took a step back, shaking his head, and she followed right after him. She could see his gears turning behind his eyes, see him trying to piece together what had just happened, what he’d just done, and how he could fix it. 

Rose could no longer differentiate between her own anger and pain, and whatever it was the slime had left behind was inflicting on her; it was just a jumbled mess of excruciating heartbreak, fueled by humiliation and shock. Egon was her best friend - how could he ever say anything so spiteful to her? What had she done to deserve that, really? 

That quiet, rational voice returned, murmuring in the corner of her mind that Egon hadn't been fully in control of himself, and that he didn't mean it - couldn't have meant it. Once more, however, that voice was drowned out as another wave of rage and pain crashed over her.

She loved Egon dearly - of course she loved him - but in that precise moment, she hated him. She hated everything about him, from the way his precious Giga Meter now dangled limply from one hand, to the idiotic way he was blinking at her, to his stupid tie with its stupid pattern, right down to the ridiculous way he appeared to be wilting in front of her, like some overgrown dandelion hit with the first frost of winter. 

She hated that she could see herself breaking apart in the pale reflection of his glasses, and she hated him for just standing there, watching it happen. 

Most of all, she hated his insufferable, heretofore unknown ability to drill right through to her deepest insecurity and throw it back in her face, and she hated how easily he had hurt her. 

“I mean, really, what is it with you?” she continued, eyes blazing even as the first tears fell down her face. She wiped them away angrily. “What, do you think having emotions is some unforgivable weakness or something? That because you don’t show your emotions, you’re better than the rest of us? ‘Cause I got news for you, Spengler: you’re not. And you know what, fuck you for trying to make me feel like my emotions are a defect or…or a sign of immaturity. Like somehow I’m not an adult because I don’t push my emotions down into a tiny little corner of shame. Fuck you.”

“Rose, please, I didn’t -” Egon started, reaching out for her.

“No, I’m talking now, you shut your goddamn mouth!” Rose thundered, voice shaking with fury. He flinched away from her - actually, visibly flinched, like she’d hit him - and dropped his hand, taking another step back.

“Honey...” Ray tried to intervene, putting a hand on her shoulder. 

She shook him off, choosing instead to stalk even closer to Egon. She could see in his eyes that he was wounded, and even as irate as she was, something inside her couldn’t stand the idea of hurting him, but he shouldn’t have mentioned Peter, and he shouldn’t have brought up her childhood. He had stepped way over the line, and her fracturing heart screamed that slime or no slime, he deserved every drop of the pain she was causing him.

“I don’t care what you think you know - you don’t have the slightest fucking clue what it was like for me and Peter growing up,” Rose said viciously. “You have no idea what we went through, and you don’t get to act like you do, and you sure as hell don’t get to use it as a fucking insult. Do you understand me?”

Egon nodded. “Yes, I understand.”

“Good,” she hissed. “Now why don’t you take your smug, superior attitude, and your unwanted opinions, and go fuck yourself.”

“Okay,” Ray intervened, stepping between them to separate them physically with a hand to each of their shoulders, pushing them away from each other. He looked between her and Egon nervously. “Alright, stop. It’s over. Now, obviously there’s something going on here, and we know something happened in the bathroom, so why don’t we just do what we came here to do and go look at the tub?”

Swiping away her tears, Rose glared past her husband at Egon, who stared back at her through guilt-ridden eyes. She clenched her jaw and tried to swallow past the urge to throttle her best friend. She didn’t want to hurt Egon, physically or otherwise. She knew she didn’t want to, but the urge was there nonetheless, pushing her to hurt him, to rip his heart out, to do to him what he’d just done to her.

If the heartache in his eyes was any indication, she’d succeeded, and she hated it. She hated the dark and venomous spite spiraling in her chest and coursing through her veins. It was an anger she knew well and had never wanted to feel again, and she didn’t want it inside her. She pushed against it with all her might, refusing to let it control her for even one second longer. 

“Yeah, fine,” Rose agreed, exhaling heavily, blinking away a few more tears. She allowed Ray to guide her away with a hand to the small of her back. “The slime was obviously pretty charged, for it to have actually taken shape and try to grab Dana and Oscar.”

“Right, exactly,” Ray said, seizing on the rationalization, looking relieved. It was little wonder he seemed so unsettled: she and Egon had an easy, natural connection, wherein they just understood each other. They didn’t fight. Maybe a disagreement or a debate here and there, but they never fought, and they had certainly never traded such hurtful blows.

The closer Rose got to the bathroom, the more overwhelming the anger and pain writhing in her chest became, and the harder she had to fight against it. It was heavy in a way she couldn’t fully articulate, but she couldn’t help but wonder - as she stopped outside the door and stepped to the side to let Ray and Egon enter first - how much of it was the slime’s residual energy and how much of it was her own heartache. 

Ray sent her a worried, sympathetic glance as he stepped over the threshold; she couldn’t even muster a smile to put him at ease, though she wanted to. Nodding in tacit understanding, he simply walked over to the tub to crouch down next to it. 

Egon stopped in front of her, just outside the bathroom. She looked away from Ray and up at Egon slowly, her jaw set and eyes hard. His eyes searched hers and it was all Rose could do to keep from welling up all over again. 

“Rose, please…” he said quietly. “I didn’t intend to hurt you…please, forgive me…”

He reached out hesitantly, probably to put his hand on her shoulder. Although she was a tactile person, Egon was decidedly not, and the action confused her for exactly half a second before she realized what he was doing: he was trying to reconnect with her. He was trying to bridge the unnatural chasm that now lay between them, and didn’t know how else to begin. Under normal circumstances, she would have welcomed the gesture. She would have cherished it.

Unfortunately, current circumstances were about as far removed from normal as they could get, and Rose was much too raw, and hurt, and angry.

So she held up her hand, throwing up a wall between them. “Don’t.” 

His hand froze in the air, curling in on itself and falling back to his side. With an almost silent sigh, Egon nodded and stepped past her into the bathroom, joining Ray at the tub to scan for valences. Rose elected to just linger in the doorway, partly because she wanted to keep her distance and partly because the bathroom was a little small for three grown people to fit comfortably. 

The tub itself was almost spotless from what she could see, but both Ray’s PKE meter and Egon’s Giga Meter had begun blinking and beeping in alarm. 

“Oh, how about that. Readings,” she said icily. Egon did not respond, but she saw his shoulders slump ever so slightly. “So what’s the verdict?” 

The two men looked at each other and then looked up at her. 

“Well, whatever was here is obviously gone now,” Ray told her, “but it does look like a small amount of slime got left behind.” 

“Yes. Rose, I have a few specimen dishes in my bag,” Egon said. He spoke gently and carefully, as though he was dealing with an especially skittish animal. “Would you mind grabbing one for us?”

Without giving any real indication she’d heard him, she pushed off the door jamb and moved towards the living room. Before she got too far, she heard a few footsteps and felt a warm hand come down on her shoulder, stopping her in her tracks. She knew by his presence and his touch that it was Ray who had followed her. 

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked quietly. “Things got really rough there.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she lied through her teeth, turning around to face him. 

Ray took one look at her face and shook his head. “No, you’re not.”

“No, I’m not,” she admitted, blinking rapidly against the tears burning behind her eyes. “But I don’t really wanna talk about it right now.” 

“That’s okay. How about a hug instead?” he offered, holding his arms open for her. She nodded and folded into him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and burying her face in his shoulder. His strong arms enveloped her and held her tightly. She breathed him in, letting his presence and his scent comfort her. “I’m sorry he said all those things. I’m so sorry, honey. You didn’t deserve that.” 

“Yeah,” she replied quietly, turning her face towards his neck so she could speak. “I think..I think it was the slime. It left something behind and it got to us. Egon would never say any of that normally. I know he wouldn’t.”

“You may be right,” Ray sighed. “About the slime, I mean. This is a stronger concentration than we’ve seen before, and we still don’t know the full range of its power. And you’re definitely right about Egon - he wasn’t himself. He’s not the most sensitive person, we both know that, but he’d never go out of his way to hurt someone. Especially you. And the look on his face…it’s killing him that he hurt you, I can see it.”

“Yeah, well, good. After that, he kinda deserves it,” Rose said bitterly. She sighed heavily, pulling away from her husband. He let her go and she stepped back. “But it’s not like I helped matters. I could’ve walked away.”

“No, you had every right to stand up for yourself,” Ray argued quietly. “He shouldn’t have brought up your childhood like that. That was…that was a terrible thing to say. And you weren’t doing anything, you weren’t even talking to him at first. Not that it would have justified it if you had been, I’m just saying. He just…outta nowhere.” 

“I know. I don’t think he was fully in control. I’m not sure I was either…” Rose replied. She shook her head and decided to change the subject before she started crying again. “Um, look, I’m gonna get the dish. You should get back in there.”

“Okay.” 

He smiled at her and reached out to squeeze her upper arm reassuringly before turning back towards the bathroom.

She continued on towards the living room, beelining for Egon’s case. As she opened it and retrieved one of the petri dishes, she wondered why Ray seemed completely unaffected. Perhaps his naturally sunny disposition had just neutralized whatever negativity the slime had left behind. She decided not to give it too much thought; she was drained and upset, and it was not the best time to try and wax philosophic, even in her own head, about their inherent natures and the effect - or lack thereof - that the psycho-reactive and apparently psychoaffective slime had on them. 

Rose headed back to the bathroom and forced herself to step over the threshold. A new, albeit less powerful, ball of anger and pain twisted itself into knots of barbed wire in her chest as she stepped past her husband and towards Egon; it was fading fast, but the slime’s energy was still hanging in the air, feeding off and amplifying her pain. 

“Here,” she muttered, holding the dish out over Egon’s shoulder. As she stood there, she was struck with the sudden urge to get as far away from the bathroom - and the entire apartment, really - as quickly as she could.

Egon looked up at her but hesitated to take the dish. His eyes searched hers once more, trying to read her. 

“I’m not one of your experiments, Egon - stop trying to analyze me,” she said, quickly losing her grip on the little patience she’d managed to recoup. “Just take the damn dish.”

Egon blinked, a hurt micro expression flashing across his eyes, but he took the dish from her all the same. “Thank you.”

“Mhm,” she hummed noncommittally, and stepped back towards the door. She settled against the doorjamb, just outside the bathroom, and faced them with her arms crossed. 

Egon’s eyes found hers yet again and she met his gaze as evenly as she could with another wave of unshed tears burning behind her eyes. He looked as though all he wanted in that moment was for the last ten minutes to have never happened, and to find a way to talk with her the way they always did. The way they had for years. 

But before he could get a single word out, Rose looked away from him and trained her eyes pointedly on her husband instead, who had been watching her and Egon with such palpable concern that she could practically see it rolling off of him in waves.

“Ray, I need to get out of this apartment,” she said. “It doesn't look like you two need me here, and I’m thinking I could swing by the shop and see if we have a copy of that book Egon found Vigo in.”

“Uh, yeah, sure, that’s a good idea. Here, take the Ecto,” Ray replied. He dug in his pocket for the keys and tossed them across the bathroom to her. She caught them one-handed. “But come back here when you’re done, okay? I think we should spend the night here, just to make sure nothing else pops up.” 

“Sure,” Rose agreed. She wasn’t wild about the idea of staying over, but she couldn’t deny it was probably a smart one. She turned to leave the bathroom, but Egon’s voice stopped her just before she started down the hallway. 

“Rose, uh, I could come with you…” he suggested awkwardly. “If you needed -”

“I’ve got it, thanks,” she cut him off. “I don’t need your help.”

If she had blinked just then, she would have missed Egon’s flinch at her rejection. He nodded wordlessly and looked away to fiddle with his Giga Meter, crestfallen. 

Her heart ached as she turned away, but she knew that it was for the best that she was leaving, and that Egon wasn’t coming with her. The momentary hatred she’d felt towards him had faded, but the pain it had left in its wake was clouding her thoughts, sending her reeling. She needed some time alone to clear her head. 

But if she was being honest with herself, there was more to it than a need for solitude. She was loath to admit it, and she hoped it was only temporary, but for the first time in the fifteen years she’d known him, Rose didn’t want to be anywhere near Egon Spengler.

Chapter Text

Rose jolted awake, and in the darkness, it took her a moment to remember where she was.

Dana’s couch. 

She must’ve dozed off. There was a throw blanket draped over her, and she had drawn it up under her chin, clutching it in her sleep. 

She had returned to Dana’s apartment about an hour and a half after she left, book in hand - along with a few other potentially useful volumes she'd found - and a little more clear-headed. She had taken her time with her self-appointed mission, knowing that walking back into the apartment would be exceedingly uncomfortable - and it had been. 

Despite the discomfort and the awkwardness, however, there had been one bright spot: the moment she had walked through the door, she’d noticed the negative energy she’d felt was gone, replaced by simple neutrality. It was a welcome relief; she didn’t think she could have handled another tidal wave of pain or anger. 

Ray had done his best to alleviate the tension and to get her and Egon talking, but it hadn’t worked all that well. Egon had hardly said a word to her since she got back, although the forlorn look in his eyes told her he had clearly wanted to. It seemed as though he wasn’t sure if he had the right to anymore. Or perhaps he was scared of saying the wrong thing and making things worse. 

She wasn’t really sure. 

For her own part, she had simply handed over the books and then busied herself with a very slow and very thorough sweep of the entire apartment with the PKE meter. It had been completely unnecessary, but she had needed something to do to distract herself from the tension. Eventually, the hour had grown late, and Ray had suggested they keep watch in shifts through the night; he volunteered himself for the first shift and had advised her and Egon to get some shuteye. 

Privately, even as tired as she’d been, Rose hadn’t thought she’d be able to sleep, but she’d been too drained to do anything but agree, volunteering to take the second shift some three or four hours later. 

She’d taken a seat on Dana’s couch and closed her eyes; she didn’t even remember falling asleep. 

She stared at the ceiling above her, thinking. Her anger had faded away, leaving behind only a deep and hollow ache. She loved Egon and she knew he would never speak that way to her normally. He wasn’t a cruel person. He hadn’t been entirely in control of his behavior and she knew that, too; she’d been fighting tooth and nail to stop the anger from taking her over completely and it was entirely likely Egon had been battling just as hard in his own way against whatever he’d been feeling. 

In the end, they’d both failed. They’d both hurt the other. 

She heard a soft snuffle coming from near her feet and looked down. She cracked a smile: Ray was fast asleep at the other end of the couch, his head on one of Dana’s throw pillows and his sock-clad feet crossed at the ankle, resting right near her hip. 

She wondered what time it was. Ray was supposed to have woken her up for her watch. It didn’t really matter, as Rose doubted the slime monster would come back, but still. Fair was fair, and she’d volunteered for the second shift. So why hadn’t he woken her up?

Her eyes focused on a dim light on the other side of the room, in the dining room area where they’d examined Oscar. 

Egon was sitting at the dining room table, flipping through a book.

Of course. She should have known. 

Egon was awake - he had taken her shift. 

Rose sighed softly and nodded to herself, resolving that she should go talk to him. She got up from the couch carefully, moving slowly so as not to disturb Ray, and gently draped her blanket over him. He sighed a little in his sleep, but otherwise didn’t stir. Satisfied she had not woken him, she turned and shuffled over to the dining room table. 

Egon didn’t take notice as she approached; he was likely too absorbed in whatever he was reading. Despite the gnawing ache in her chest, she smiled at the familiar sight. 

“Hey,” she said softly. 

Egon looked up at the sound of her voice, blinking.

“Hello,” he replied, equally softly. She pulled out the seat across from him and sat down.

“You took my shift,” she observed.

“Yes. You…you looked tired,” he said, watching her, his brown eyes dull and sad. After a moment, he looked back down at the book in front of him, and Rose noticed it was one she'd brought back with her. The other two books were stacked at the other end of the table. “That is, I wanted to let you sleep.” 

She smiled, mostly to herself. “Well, I appreciate it. But what about you? You’re not tired?”

“I'm fine. I don’t sleep much, anyway,” he answered, looking back up at her.

“Yeah, I know,” Rose said, chuckling quietly. “I don’t know how you function sometimes. It’s kinda impressive. A little concerning at times, but still...impressive.” He didn’t respond, but a small, very cautious smile darted across his face. “Do you mind if I keep you company?”

“Not at all,” he said quickly, looking relieved that she was even talking to him. 

She settled a little further into her seat, and nodded to Egon’s book. “Reading up on our pal Vigo?”

It was tense and awkward between them, but she figured research was a nice, neutral topic. Apparently Egon agreed, because he nodded. 

“Yes. If I’m right about the slime being connected to Vigo -”

“And you probably are,” Rose interjected, earning another tiny smile. 

“- we should learn everything we can about him.” 

“Definitely,” she agreed. “Always better to know what we’re up against.” 

“Yes,” Egon said thoughtfully. He cleared his throat. “Thank you…for bringing these books back with you.”

“Sure. Hopefully they'll prove useful."

Silence descended between them for a few moments, until Egon spoke again. “I, um...I wasn’t sure you would.”

“Would what?”

“Come back.”

Rose eyebrows stitched together in a confused frown. “Why?"

He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “You were upset when you left, and I thought you might not…well, I wouldn’t have blamed you if you decided not to come back.”

“Oh,” she said softly. She shook her head. “Nah, I wouldn’t just ditch you guys. We're a team - whether I’m upset or not, we're a team. I just needed to clear my head.”

“I see.” Egon sighed and closed the book over. “In that case, I - Rose, could we…talk? Please?”

Although her stomach flipped a little uncomfortably, she nodded: it was going to be a difficult, probably painful conversation, but it was necessary. 

“Yeah, of course. We need to. But, um, come with me,” she said, getting up from the table. “Let’s go to the nursery. I don’t want to wake Ray up if I can avoid it.” 

Egon nodded silently and stood, following her into Oscar’s room. Rose flicked on the light as she entered, and Egon pulled the door shut behind them before turning to face her. 

“Egon, look -”

“Rose, I’m -”

They both spoke and then fell quiet at the same time, neither wanting to talk over the other. She chuckled and shook her head, reaching for the yellow triceratops stuffy on the bureau to her left.

“Sorry, you go first,” Rose said, squeezing the dinosaur for a little bit of comfort. “Go ahead.” 

“Right, uh…” he began awkwardly. “I owe you an apology. I was…dismissive and cruel. I don’t exactly know what came over me, although I suspect you were right that the slime left behind a psychoaffective energy field. But that’s no excuse for the way I behaved. I apologize for everything I said. For saying you were acting like a child, saying you were embarrassing and hypersensitive, bringing up your childhood - I was out of line. I’m sorry.” 

Egon watched her, anxiety clear and present on his face. He wasn’t like Ray - he didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve, and although she was skilled at reading him, it usually wasn’t quite so easy. Their argument had evidently shaken him more than she realized. 

“Thank you for apologizing,” she said, looking up at him. She sighed sadly. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have said you were repressed, because you’re not. You’re just not an outwardly emotional person and there’s nothing wrong with that. I’m so sorry, Egon.”

“I deserved it,” he replied, frowning. “The way I spoke to you, the things I said…I appreciate the apology, but I deserved it, and truthfully, most of what you said was accurate.” 

“No, it wasn’t, and I shouldn’t have said it,” she said firmly. “Yes, okay, it was pretty shitty of you to try to make me feel bad for my emotions, or for being affected by whatever bullshit that stupid slime left behind…but you were being affected, too. I know you didn't mean it, and I know that you don’t think you’re better than anyone just because you’re Mr. Logic. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“I admit, it bothered me a great deal to hear you say that,” Egon confessed, looking down and away from her. “I…my father…he did believe that he was superior to others because he didn’t give into his emotions. He taught me to be the same. And to a certain extent, I am. But he was cold - heartless, even - and I don’t want to be like that. I don’t want you to think of me like that.” 

Rose sighed softly and set the dinosaur stuffy aside to reach up and put both hands on his shoulders, squeezing gently as she looked up at him. 

“You’re not, Egon. Look at me,” she said softly. He raised his head slightly and his eyes met hers. “You’re not. You’re not cold or heartless, and I don’t think of you that way. I never have.” 

“I need you to understand. The way my father treated my mother..." Egon said quietly. "He cared nothing for her feelings. He went out of his way to make her feel small and berate her, for even the most trivial of matters, and I saw how deeply it hurt her. I wanted to be better than that. But tonight, I failed. Bringing up your childhood and your mother was cruel. It hurt you. I hurt you, and I never wanted to do that.” 

“Yeah, that did hurt,” she admitted. “But it was true. I think it hurt as much as it did because it was true. Well, not the hypersensitivity bit, I don’t think that’s true, but…”

“It isn’t,” Egon reassured her. “You’re not hypersensitive. An argument could be made that you might be more receptive than the average person, but that’s beside the point. You are not hypersensitive. That was an exaggeration, and a harsh one at that.”

“Yeah, well, the fact is, you were right about my childhood," Rose continued. "It was unstable and abusive. Emotionally abusive, mostly, although between you and me, I'm not entirely certain our father never put his hands on Peter. If he did, I never saw it, and Peter's never said anything but anyway - our upbringing was...rough to say the least. I’ve dealt with it for the most part, you know, but…it’s a touchy subject. It’s why I don’t talk about my parents. Same goes for Pete." 

“I am truly sorry, Rose,” Egon said, frowning. "And I hope you can forgive me. But I would understand if…”

He trailed off, swallowing hard. 

“If what?” she asked. 

“If you decided you’d rather not have me in your life,” he finished quietly. 

Looking into his melancholic, guilt-ridden eyes, Rose felt her heart break all over again. He was so much more frightened and worried than she had anticipated if he thought there was even the tiniest chance that she would decide she wanted nothing more to do with him. Tears welled up in her eyes and she tried to blink them away as she shook her head.

“No. Egon, I could never want that, not ever,” she tried to reassure him, squeezing his shoulders bracingly. “Look, I won’t pretend I’m not hurt, because I am, and I know you are, too, but we both got whammied by the slime. I just wanna put it behind us." 

“I want that, as well,” Egon said. “I value your friendship and I don’t want to lose it, or you.” 

“You’re not gonna lose me, I promise,” she told him. “And just in case you need to hear the words - I do forgive you. I hope you can forgive me, too.”

Egon cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses, blinking rapidly. “Yes, of course.”

“Thank you. Now give me a hug, you big nerd,” Rose said, smiling up at him tearfully. Before he could respond, she pulled him into a hug, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. She expected him to tense up, but instead he simply wound his arms around her waist gently and relaxed into the embrace. 

“We’ve never fought before…” he said, his voice low and nervous right by her ear. 

“No, we haven’t,” she agreed. His arms tightened ever so slightly around her. 

“And I have to say, I didn’t care for it,” he said, returning to his normal monotone register. The sound was a welcome relief; she hated seeing Egon shaken or scared or upset. “I don’t enjoy being at odds with you.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t wild about it either,” she said. “But it’s over and done with. We’re okay. You’re my best friend, and I love you, Egie. And nothing’s gonna change that, especially not some stupid fight that wouldn't have even happened if not for the damn slime, okay?" 

“I…yes, good,” he said awkwardly, pulling away from her. The physical contact had likely become a little too overwhelming for him with his frayed emotions running rampant through his mind, so she released him without question and stepped back, still smiling up at him. 

“Come on,” she said, wiping her eyes. “Why don’t we get back out there and you can tell me what you found on Vigo. In the morning - or well, later today, I guess - I think we should call Winston and let him know what’s going on. This is looking more and more like an all hands on deck situation.”  

“Yes, I agree,” Egon replied, clearing his throat. “If the readings Ray and I got are any indication, the slime was highly charged. It would have been necessary for it to turn actively malicious. You were right, about everything. Of course, I suppose I should know by now to trust your instincts. They haven’t led us wrong yet.” 

“Yeah, you should know that, brainiac,” she teased him. “But…it doesn’t hurt to have the science backing me up.”

“Yes, I find that’s usually helpful,” Egon teased her right back. She nudged his arm lightly, and he smiled. “That being said, I really do think we need to check out the painting first thing tomorrow morning. Just to be safe."

“Well, you know I’m always up for a field trip,” Rose remarked. Egon smirked at her lighthearted tone. “Now, come on.”

She stepped around him to reach for the doorknob, but he stopped her from opening the door at the last second with a hand on her arm. She looked around at him expectantly.

“Um, it’s important to me that you know that I love you, too,” he said, looking down at her with the utmost earnesty in his eyes. She smiled softly; she knew Egon found it difficult to verbalize his emotions, so she cherished the moments when he saw fit to push through his discomfort. 

“I know you do,” Rose said. Unable to resist teasing him just a little as she pulled open the door, she looked at him over her shoulder with a playful smirk. “I mean, of course you do. I am your favorite, after all, right?”

An amused, fond smile lit up his face. “…Yes, you are.”

“Well, except for Janine, anyway,” she whispered, grinning cheekily. Egon shot her a look, but she could see the hint of a blush creep up his neck and turn the tips of his ears pink. 

Rose chuckled quietly to herself and beckoned him back towards the dining room table, where the first light of dawn was beginning to shine through the glass panes of the French doors just beyond. She looked towards the living room - she could just see the top of Ray’s head poking over the edge of the couch. He was still out cold, and it was just as well - he likely needed the rest. 

“So,” she whispered. “Vigo. What do we know?"

“Well,” Egon whispered back as he resumed his seat and cracked open his book. “It turns out he was hated as much as he was feared. He was also exceedingly difficult to kill…”

Rose rested her head on her hand and listened to Egon speak softly, a relieved smile on her face. She could feel the fractures between them healing, and her heart stitching itself back together. She was glad for it. In the end, she could no more stand to lose Egon than he could stand to lose her.

Dawn broke and December 30th presented itself as a cold, gray morning, with just the faintest hint of sunlight poking through the clouds. Ray eased the Ecto-1 past pedestrians and a hot dog vendor, and pulled up alongside the curb outside the Manhattan Museum of Art. Peter was waiting for them on the sidewalk, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his green overcoat, clearly trying to guard against the winter chill.

The gleaming white Ecto-1 garnered strange and curious looks from passersby, but the Ghostbusters were accustomed to the attention, and none of them paid any mind. Egon and Winston got out of the car and beelined towards the trunk to collect their equipment. Rose emerged from the driver’s side backseat, and waved to her brother as he approached, before shoving her own hands in the pockets of the heavy winter jacket she had chosen to wear over her jumpsuit.

Ray climbed out last, and nodded hello to Peter with a small smile as he pushed the car door shut behind him. 

“You find anything at Dana’s?” Peter asked, foregoing a more traditional greeting. 

“Nothing but some mood slime residue around the bathtub. But I did find something on that Vigo character you mentioned,” Ray replied, moving towards the back of the car where Winston was busy helping Egon strap into his proton pack. He removed a piece of paper from his pocket and unfolded it, handing it to Peter. “Found it in Leon Zundinger’s Magicians, Martyrs, and Madmen. Dig that.”

Ray turned away to push the pack track back into the car. Rose leaned against the edge of the wing on the rear and watched her brother scan the page. 

“Vigo the Carpathian,” Egon informed him, leaning forward a little to fully hitch his pack onto his back. “Born 1505, died 1610.”

“A hundred and five years old.” Peter remarked. “He hung in there, didn’t he?”

“Bit of an understatement, Pete,” Rose said, chuckling darkly. 

Ray shot her an amused grin before spinning back around to face Peter. “He didn’t die of old age either. He was poisoned, stabbed, shot, hung, stretched, disembowelled, drawn and quartered.” 

“Ouch,” Peter replied, looking vaguely disturbed. Rose nodded, grimacing, and pushed off the car. She grabbed a PKE meter and the camera from the back; she stuck the meter in her pocket, and then walked over to hand the camera to Peter. He took it off her hands silently. 

“I guess he wasn’t too popular at the end,” Winston commented, rooting through the back for a sensor he was partial to. 

“No, not exactly a man of the people,” Egon explained. Peter slung the camera strap over his head as he listened. “Also known as Vigo the Cruel, Vigo the Torturer, Vigo the Despised, and Vigo the Unholy.”

“Wasn’t he also Vigo the Butch?” Peter asked, pausing in his one handed attempt to adjust the strap. Rose circled behind him to help him. It took a few seconds, but she eventually got the strap to lay flat underneath his coat collar. 

She stepped aside to stand between her brother and Egon, and Peter smiled down at her. Winston shut the back door and the five Ghostbusters began to walk towards the entrance to the museum. Both Ray and Rose chose to leave their proton packs behind; two armed ‘busters were enough for their simple recon mission. 

“And dig this,” Ray continued. “There was a prophecy. Just before his head died, his last words were: ‘Death is but a door, time is but a window. I’ll be back’.”

“Ooh, very dramatic,” Peter said. “A theater kid, was old Vigo?”

“Doubt it,” Rose scoffed. “Sounds like he was too busy trying to be the next Vlad the Impaler to bother with the stage.”

Peter chuckled and nudged her arm with his elbow. “Thanks for the assist with the camera back there. Also: hi. Morning, Rose.”

“Hi, Pete,” she replied, grinning up at him. She nudged him back, jogging up the last few steps towards the museum as Ray, Egon, and Winston stepped through the door. “How are Dana and Oscar doing?”

“They’re hanging in there,” Peter told her, holding the door open for her. She murmured her thanks, and stepped into the warm lobby, relishing the welcome change in temperature. Peter stepped in after her. “So you really only found a little bit of the slime? It was all just gone?”

Rose nodded, looking up at her brother. “Yeah. Can’t say I’m sorry that some freaky slime beast wasn’t waiting to jump us, though.” 

“Fair enough,” he replied.

“But,” Rose continued, deciding to tell him about the weird mood shift she and Egon had experienced. “There was a kind of…energy field left behind.”

“Energy field?” Peter repeated, frowning in confusion. Rose nodded again. 

“Yeah. You know how you can feel the electricity in the air just before a storm?” 

“Sure.”

“Well, it was kind of like that, but heavy. Just…really angry. It was weird. It got to me and Egon, and we ended up getting into a pretty nasty fight - said some really terrible stuff to each other.” 

“Like what?” Peter asked, his eyebrows raised. “Do I need to go kick his ass?”

Rose waved him off, deciding not to tell her brother exactly what Egon had said. It was over and done with, and as far as she was concerned, what had happened in that apartment would stay there. “No, don’t worry about it, it doesn’t matter. We talked it out and we’re all good now. But it was like someone flipped a switch pretty much the second we walked in, though. Ray was the only one not affected. Super strange.” 

As they moved out of the lobby, patrons and docents alike stared after them, looking vaguely alarmed at their presence.

“That is strange,” Peter agreed. “It must have had a pretty strong charge then, huh? To still have such an effect on the environment after it was gone to the point that you and Egon of all people were at each other’s throats.”

“Yeah, that’s what we’re thinking,” Rose replied, turning the corner with Peter down the hallway towards the Restoration department. “But in any case, I’m glad Dana and Oscar are okay.” 

“So am I,” Peter said quietly. “Scared the shit outta me when she turned up, pounding on my door. She was terrified, Oscar was crying...”

“Yeah, it freaked me out, too, when Ray told us what happened. But we’ll get to the bottom of it,” she told him. As they approached the doorway to restoration, she changed the subject. “In the meantime, you should take Dana out for dinner or something. Just to get her mind off things.” 

Peter snapped his fingers and looked down at her, grinning. “Now that is a good idea. What would I do without you?”

“Oh, you’d fall to pieces, definitely,” Rose quipped, earning a playful eye roll from her brother. She and Peter caught up with Ray, Winston, and Egon just outside the restoration wing, and they walked in together. 

The staff in the room all stopped what they were doing and stared - some of them openmouthed - at the appearance of the famous (or infamous, depending on the perspective) Ghostbusters. Rose smiled and waved at a few of them, and an older gentleman raised his hand in a hesitant greeting. Ray hooked his thumbs in his belt, and surveyed the room with a neutral, friendly expression. 

Peter looked between Ray and Egon and sighed quietly. “Let’s suck in the guts, guys. We’re the Ghostbusters.”

The guys took his advice and stood up a little straighter, but Rose made an offended sound in the back of her throat. 

“Speak for yourself, I look good,” she said.

Winston nodded at her, clearly having the same opinion of himself, but Peter ignored them. 

“Go!” an accented voice exclaimed. Half a second later, Janosz Poha came tearing around the corner, clapping his hands and shooing at them, as though they were stray cats. Rose rolled her eyes. “Go. Please, go. You! Yes, you!” 

“Who’s this wiggler?” Ray muttered to Peter. 

“He’s yours, Ray,” he replied, sounding strained from tightening his core. “Sic him.”

Rose grinned, crossing her arms and shifting her weight to one hip as she watched her husband jump into action. 

“Hi, how are you?” Ray said genially, stepping forward to greet Poha, stopping him dead in his tracks. “Ray Stantz from the Ghostbusters, nice to see you.” Poha tried to protest, but Ray simply drowned him out. “Beautiful lab you have here, we’re just doing a routine spook check.” 

Before Poha could blink, the other Ghostbusters had traipsed right by. Rose eyed the director with distaste; she hadn’t forgotten about his creepy little drop-in visit to Dana’s apartment the night of the blackout, but they weren't here for that. They had a job to do.

The five Ghostbusters split in different directions and Rose pulled out her PKE meter and headed for one corner of the room. The moment she powered on the meter, it buzzed and whirred in her hand. 

“Whoa,” she muttered. She turned in one direction - high readings. She turned in another direction. The readings held, still worryingly high. “Well, this ain’t good.” 

“Dr. Venkman, Dana is not here,” Poha said.

“Yeah, we know that, Johnny,” Peter replied. She turned and moved in yet another direction, trying to pinpoint the epicenter of the readings, and ended up closer to her brother. As she walked over, Peter shed his coat and handed it to Poha, who was so frazzled that he took it without protest. 

“So why are you came?” Poha asked in broken English. Egon scuttled past, eyes laser-focused on his Giga Meter, and Rose met up with Ray on the other side of the room, just as he quickly scanned the air around Peter and Poha. 

“Well, we got a report there was a major creep in the area. We checked our list and you were right on top,” Peter told him calmly, and Rose suppressed the urge to snort. “Johnny, where in the hell are you from, anyway?”

“The Upper West Side?” Poha replied, sounding immensely confused. Rose was about to interrupt and tell Peter her findings, but Egon beat her to the punch. 

“The whole room’s extremely hot, Peter,” he said, striding up to her brother. 

“Hot?” Poha questioned. 

Rose walked over and backed Egon up, nodding. “Everywhere I scan, it’s just high reading after high reading.” 

Egon took off again in a different direction, but Rose stuck by her brother. Poha looked around at her, confusion clear and present on his face. 

“You. I know you. You are friends with Dana?” he said, pointing at her.

“Yes, I am,” she replied shortly, staring him down. “Dana’s a very good friend of mine, actually.”

“Ah,” he said, looking a bit unsettled. Rose resisted the urge to grin in satisfaction; any time she got to creep out a creep, she considered it a good day. 

Winston walked up alongside Peter, his attention captured by something off in the distance. “Ew, that is one ugly dude.”

Rose followed Winston’s line of sight and almost physically recoiled; he was staring at an enormous painting of a man in a suit of armor. His gauntlet-covered fists were perched on his hips, and he glowered towards something only he could see, a perpetually gnarled, hateful expression on his face. 

“Oh, that’s Vigo!” Peter told them cheerily, raising the camera and moving towards the giant portrait. Rose hissed in displeasure; there hadn’t been a visual aid for Vigo’s entry in the reference book, and she could see why. “Mr. Vigo! Vigs, would you look this way, please?”

Rose shook her head at her brother as she and Winston followed him over to the portrait. Egon and Ray were already standing around it, getting ready to scan it. Peter began to snap some photos and Poha dashed around them to get to him, complaining loudly. Ray climbed onto a stepladder, and began scanning the portrait. 

“No, don’t, please. No, don’t!” Poha protested. He darted around Peter to get in front of Vigo, holding his arms out protectively. “No photographs, please! Slides are available in the gift shop!” 

Rose sighed in exasperation, but caught Winston’s eye and nodded towards Poha. Winston nodded back at her and together they stepped forward, each seizing one of Poha’s arms to forcibly drag him away from the painting and off to the side. 

“Yeah, thanks,” Peter said distractedly, looking through the viewfinder at Vigo. “Thank you, Winston.”

“Just stay out of the way,” Rose told Poha sternly. “It’ll go quicker if you do.”

He was obviously displeased with the order, and while she wasn’t above manhandling him again, she’d just as soon avoid it. Thankfully he stayed put, pouting and muttering to himself. Rose gave Poha a strange look and moved away from him and over towards Ray, putting a foot on the bottom of the stepladder and a tight grip on the handrail to make sure it didn’t go anywhere. 

“Alright, you know what?” Peter said to the portrait, snapping photos left and right. “Give me angry, will you? Give me angry. You’ve had a bad day, you’re cranky. Yeah, thank you. Good, good. Ooh, angrier!” 

Egon moved around to the back of the portrait with his Giga Meter, while Peter danced around in front of Vigo with his camera. “I’m scared, you’re scaring me! Stop it. Yeah...good! Okay, walk for me, talk for me!”

Peter continued to babble at Vigo, having far too much fun with the photo shoot, and Rose noticed Ray lean a little too far over the railing of the stepladder, seemingly transfixed by something in the portrait. She figured he was just inspecting some little detail, so she reached up with her free hand and grabbed onto his belt loop, ready to yank him back if he should lose his balance. 

She looked over at Winston, who appeared to be comforting Poha, who had become exponentially more distraught in the last thirty seconds.

“Guy is way too attached to this portrait, huh, Ray?” Rose said quietly. Ray did not respond, but she hadn’t expected him to: the world tended to fall away whenever he got invested in something.

She soon got distracted by Peter - now so close to the portrait he might as well have been inside the damn thing - shouting encouragement at Vigo. 

Egon came back around the corner and exchanged a look with Rose, as though asking just what in the hell her brother was doing; she shrugged her shoulders, and he shook his head exasperatedly, patting Peter on the back to get him to stop shouting. 

“Venkman!” Egon said loudly. Peter went quiet and turned around. “Venkman, we need to talk. Come on.”

Egon walked off, and Peter looked back up at Vigo, smirking. “I’ve worked with better, but not many. Thank you.”

Rose groaned at her brother’s goofball antics and he chuckled as he went past her, following Egon. 

“Thanks, John,” Peter said, retrieving his jacket from Poha, who by that point was on the verge of tears. Rose rolled her eyes and released her husband’s belt loop and the handrail, and stepped off the ladder. 

“Come on, Ray,” she said. She started to follow after Peter and Egon, but stopped when she realized Ray wasn’t behind her. It was only when she turned back around that she noticed that he was no longer even scanning the portrait; instead he was staring up at it, the arm holding the silver sensor hanging limply at his side. 

Winston stepped forward, trying to get Ray’s attention. “Hey.” 

When he got no response, he tapped Ray on the arm, and her husband jumped, as if waking up from a dream. “Hey, you finished?”

“Yeah, I’m finished here,” Ray replied casually. 

“Are you all right?” Winston asked, staring at him suspiciously. 

“What?” he replied, sounding defensive. Rose crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at her husband as he stepped off the ladder, but remained silent.

“I mean, you’re not coming down with something?” Winston elaborated as they walked past Poha and met up with Rose. 

“Me?” Ray chuckled and thumped himself on the chest, blinking incredulously.

“Oh, wow, okay. Settle down there, He-Man,” Rose said jokingly, rolling her eyes at her husband’s bravado. Deciding to put away her concern for the moment, she beckoned him to follow her. “Come on, Egon wanted to talk to us.”

Ray, Rose, and Winston met up with Peter and Egon outside the restoration room; Peter looked a bit skeptical, while Egon looked nothing short of grave. 

“Uh oh,” Rose said as she approached. She pointed to Egon. “That’s not a good look. What’s going on?”

“Well, as we all saw for ourselves, the whole room is hot,” he replied. She nodded; her readings had been off the charts. “But the painting? That was white-hot. Something is deeply wrong with it.”

“So, what does that mean?” Rose asked. “Is it haunted?” 

“Possibly. I’d be very interested to see what the photographs Peter took can show us,” Egon replied.

“Yeah,” Ray agreed. He scratched at his jaw in thought. “What are you thinking, Spengs, the Kirlian method?”

“Something like it, yes,” Egon answered, nodding seriously. “It’ll be a little different, since we can’t put the actual portrait on the photographic plate, but it shouldn’t be all that difficult to alter the process to suit our needs.” 

Rose grinned and rubbed her hands together. “Ooh, fun with high voltage? I’m in - I haven’t done Kirlian photography in years.” 

“Sorry, high voltage?” Winston repeated, looking both concerned and dubious. 

“Yeah! I did it a couple times in undergrad. It’s pretty cool actually. Basically, you put an object - usually something small - on photographic paper that’s laid on top of an electrically charged plate,” Rose explained excitedly. “It does have to be dialed up pretty high, but it’s not really dangerous unless you’re stupid about it. Anyway, the photographic paper is exposed and developed like any other black and white photo. The idea is that the high voltage renders the aura surrounding the photographed object visible to the human eye. So, if there is a presence in the portrait, a variation of the Kirlian method might just be the way to get a look at it.”  

“Oh, good, my sister and these two yahoos are gonna be messing around with high voltage electricity. That’s not at all worrying,” Peter deadpanned to Winston. Rose rolled her eyes and smacked his arm lightly.

“We’ll be perfectly safe, don’t worry, Venkman,” Egon told him.

“Yeah, don’t worry, Pete,” Ray said. “We carry around nuclear accelerators on our backs on a regular basis, remember? A little bit of electricity is nothing to worry about.”

“Alright, well, try not to end up frying yourselves,” Peter replied. “Remember, the firehouse is still in your name, Ray.” 

Ray rolled his eyes. “Thanks so much for your concern.”

“No problem. Anyway,” Peter said, removing the camera from around his neck and handing it to Egon. He began to turn and walk away. “You should go get this developed.” 

“Where are you going?” Egon called after him, tilting his head in confusion.

“Oh, you know. Gotta go see a girl and a baby about a potentially haunted portrait of a genocidal warlord,” Peter replied, his voice echoing off the marble floors. “See ya!” 

“You know, whenever Dana’s involved, that man is absolutely useless,” Winston remarked, shaking his head in amusement as they watched Peter turn on his heel and jog away from them. Egon nodded his agreement. 

“Ah, let him be,” Rose said, waving her hand dismissively. “This is the happiest I’ve seen him in a long time.”

“Well, at least Dana knows what she’s getting into with him,” Winston said. “Come on, guys, let’s go see about those photos.”

Egon nodded, and draped the camera strap around his neck for safekeeping. He and Winston strolled off in the same direction Peter had gone, and Rose looked over at Ray. She frowned in concern: he was just standing there, staring off into space again.

She edged closer to him and put a hand on his arm carefully. “Ray?”

He jumped, blinking in surprise, just as he had with Winston. Rose felt worry and fear flood her chest, squeezing around her heart. “Okay, seriously. Are you alright?”

“Uh, yeah,” Ray said, sounding entirely unconvincing. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Yeah, I’m okay. Sorry.” 

“Where’d you go?” she asked. 

“Hm?”

“You were completely spaced out staring at the portrait, and then again, just now. You were, like, a million miles away. That’s not like you. So where’d you go? What were you thinking about?”

Ray looked at her, considering her question as his eyes roamed over her face. “I…don’t know. Nowhere, I guess. I wasn’t really thinking about anything. But I’m okay.” 

Rose narrowed her eyes suspiciously; she didn’t think Ray was telling her the whole truth. “Are you sure?”

“I said I’m fine, Rose,” Ray said waspishly, a tight smile flashing across his face as his eyes cooled. Just for a split second, Rose almost didn't recognize him. “Let it go.”

She held up her hands in surrender and took a step back, her eyebrows shooting up. “Alright, well, excuse me for being concerned. Jesus.” 

Ray shook his head, looking both surprised and a little upset with himself, his eyes tinged with remorse when he looked at her. Rose, however, had had quite enough of being snapped at over the last twelve hours, and so instead of waiting for him to speak, she turned on her heel and began walking away from her husband at a brisker pace than was entirely normal for her.

“Rose, wait up,” Ray said, jogging after her. “I’m sorry, honey, I don’t know where that came from. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“Okay,” Rose replied noncommittally, maintaining her rapid pace. Ray hurried along next to her, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw him wince. 

“I think maybe I’m a little tired. I forget I’m not twenty-two anymore - I can’t just sleep on a couch whenever I feel like it,” Ray continued. He chuckled a little, but he fell silent when he realized she wasn’t laughing with him. “I really am sorry. Please don’t be mad at me.”

She looked over at him as they made their way down the stairs back to the main entrance and sighed. “I’m not mad, Ray, I’m worried. That wasn’t like you. The snapping, the staring off into space. It was like that painting had you hypnotized or something.”

They reached the bottom of the stairs, and Ray smiled reassuringly as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side. 

“I’m okay. Like I said, I think I’m just a little tired. But if I wasn’t alright, you’d be the first to know, I promise. Okay?”

She wrapped an arm around his waist and smiled up at him. “Okay.”

“You sure you’re not mad at me?” Ray asked. 

“I’m sure. Apology accepted.”

“Okay, good,” he said, his smile growing cheerful and bright. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she replied, beaming up at him. “Now come on, let’s go before Egon and Winston leave without us.”

They walked towards the exit, their arms around each other, and Ray chuckled. “Yeah, Egon might decide to jimmy the lock and hotwire the car if he gets impatient enough.” 

Rose laughed and added, “Yeah, and you know, Winston would probably help him… wait.”

Rose and Ray looked at each other slowly, mild horror dawning on their faces as they realized it wasn’t all that far-fetched an idea, especially where Egon was concerned. This was the same man who had tried to drill a hole in his head, after all; breaking into a car and hotwiring it would be nothing compared to that. 

“Come on, you don’t think he’d actually…” Ray asked her, trailing off. 

“I think we better get out there,” Rose said, and removed her arm from his waist to grab his hand instead. She dashed away, pulling him with her, their boots clomping heavily against the dense marble floors as they ran. 

They burst out the front doors out into the cold winter air and dashed down the stairs, only to pull up short when they spotted Winston and Egon waiting patiently by the Ecto. 

Winston raised his eyebrows at their rapid approach and screeching halt. “The hell you two running for? Somethin’ chasing you?” 

Ray and Rose exchanged mildly embarrassed looks. She looked back at Winston and shrugged, playing it cool. “No, nothing’s chasing us. We just…didn’t wanna keep you guys waiting. It’s cold out here.”

“Uh huh,” Winston said skeptically. “Alright, well, let’s get a move on, then, shall we?”

“Yeah,” Ray replied, and moved to the driver’s side door. Winston climbed into the passenger seat, and Egon and Rose took the back. 

She settled into her seat as they pulled away from the curb, and Egon turned to her, a tiny smirk playing on his face. “You and Ray thought I was going to hotwire the car if you took too long, didn’t you?”

She looked over at him briefly before turning her gaze firmly frontwards, fighting a smirk of her own. 

“…Shut up.”

Chapter Text

Rose fiddled with the radio in her lap, squinting at the numbers on the overlay through the red-tinted shadows of the bathroom Egon had converted into a darkroom. She smiled when she heard the first few notes of an Oingo Boingo song warble out of the radio’s speakers. Satisfied with the song choice, she set it to the side and leaned forward off her stool to examine the developing photos, singing along under her breath. 

They had done a test run on a photo Ray had snapped of Slimer, just to make sure their chemical mix was balanced; as expected, it had worked fine, but they’d needed to be certain, especially given that they were attempting a variation of Kirlian photography. Rose had assumed the job of selecting the best of the negatives for development, loading them into the enlarger, and adjusting the focus and the intensity of the light exposure projected onto the photographic paper. Egon had taken responsibility for moving the photos through the chemical washes while Ray ran them through the spectral analyzer. 

Despite the decrease in her vision acuity, she found the red glow of the darkroom to be quite relaxing and, in a way, almost therapeutic. Their development process was straightforward but delicate, and required steady, deliberate movements, which Rose found she appreciated more than she could fully express; so much of their lives as Ghostbusters revolved around the chaos of the ghostly plane, and although she loved it, it was nice to slow down for just a little while.

Winston had expressed zero interest in watching the development process, and so had elected to keep an eye on Slimer and make sure he didn’t try to barge in. Janine and Louis had both left a little while ago, and unless her eyes were deceiving her, it seemed to her that they had been getting a bit..friendlier, one could say. Another word for it might have been flirtatious. It was an unlikely pairing in Rose's opinion, and probably wouldn't last, but Louis was a good guy, and if Janine liked him, then she was happy for her friend...even if she had been hoping Egon would wake up and smell the coffee where their office manager was concerned. 

“Rose, come here,” Egon said lightly, shaking her from her thoughts. “Look at this.”

She hopped off her stool and edged over to where Egon stood. He held a large magnifying glass in front of one of the photos he had hung on the drying line and scooted over to let her examine it for herself. Her heart thudded nervously at the sight before her. 

“Whoa,” she muttered. Vigo’s eyes were glowing ominously in the photo and there was an odd aura coiling off the side of his face. She sighed and stepped away from the magnifying glass. “Well, that’s not great.”

“We were right, Ray,” Egon said, stepping back in front of the magnifier. “Multiplanar Kirlian emanations.”

Behind them, Ray finished up developing another photo and turned around with it in his hands. “Yeah, well, here’s your next month’s cover of GQ. Check out the aura on this sucker.”

Rose moved aside to let him clip the photo to the drying line and Egon got to his feet, staring at the photo with a perturbed expression on his face. Ray reached up and tugged on the cord connected to the overhead lamp, clicking it on and introducing a cool-toned light to the darkroom. Rose blinked a little at the sudden change, and moved to stand on Egon’s other side so she could get a better look at the photo. It was a close-up of Vigo’s face, and the emanations were far clearer, making for an exponentially more disturbing image. 

“Now there is definitely a living presence in there,” Ray said, gesturing at the photo with a pair of tongs. 

“Yeah, and it looks really pissed off,” Rose added. 

“We should get a deeper look,” Egon remarked, running his magnifier over Vigo’s face, bringing the auric distortion into even clearer focus. 

“Why don’t I run this wider shot through the spectral analyzer?” Ray suggested, using the tongs to pluck a third photo from its chemical wash. Unfortunately, Peter’s goofy behavior at the museum had not yielded as many clear shots as she would have liked, and the photo Ray just grabbed was the widest shot Rose had deemed usable. 

“Good, I’ll try turning up the roentgens,” Egon said, reaching for the numeric keypad on the spectral analyzer behind them. Rose settled back down onto her stool and watched Ray load the newest photo into the machine. He had rolled up his sleeves to avoid getting any of the chemicals on his suit during the development process and she found herself getting pleasantly distracted by his arms, though that was hardly an unusual occurrence for her. 

She’d been caught staring at him on countless occasions but so what? She couldn’t help that she found him absurdly attractive, and anyway, Ray was her husband. She was pretty sure that granted her ogling rights until the end of time. 

“So what do you think?” Ray asked, one fist on his hip, leaning the other arm on the blacked out windowsill just above the analyzer. “Chinese?”

Egon leaned up against the machine. “How about Thai?”

Rose dragged her eyes away from her husband’s arms and focused on the task at hand, which apparently had changed to deciding what takeout to order. 

“No, it’s too spicy,” Ray complained. “Greek?”

“Mexican?” Egon countered. 

“Pizza?” Rose suggested. 

“Thin or thick?” Egon replied, looking over at her. She thought for a moment and nodded at Ray, letting him choose. She had no real preference either way. 

“Chicago,” he said decisively. 

“Ooh, yeah!” Rose agreed. “That sounds good.”

Egon nodded and, with the question of dinner settled, turned to retrieve the photo as the spectral analyzer spat it out. Rose got off her stool once more to stand next to her husband, peering at the photo as Egon clipped it to the line. 

“What the hell is that?” Egon asked, reaching blindly for his magnifier and holding it up. Rose’s eyes widened as she took in the full scope of the photo.

“That is a great question, Egie,” Rose responded, her voice tight with apprehension.

Ray sighed softly next to her. “I know what it is. I’ve seen it before.”

“Where?” Egon prompted. Rose looked at Ray, watching him carefully. 

“When you guys had me dangling like a worm on a hook a hundred feet below First Avenue,” Ray replied, sounding decidedly unenthused. Egon looked up at him, and Ray gestured to the photo. Vigo’s head - now distorted and demonic looking - was all that remained of the original picture. His body had been replaced by a flowing pink mass, trailing off into the distance. “That’s the river of slime.”

The moment the identification left Ray’s mouth, all three of their photos spontaneously burst into flames, as did the chemicals in the development tray, and Rose stepped back in shock. 

“What…?” Ray squeaked. 

“Uh…Ray?” Egon said. 

“We need a blanket or a hose or something!” Ray exclaimed as the fire began to spread. 

“Do we have an extinguisher anywhere in here?” Rose asked urgently, dashing behind them. She received no real answer, but she began to quickly search the small room. She glanced over at the fire; they were running out of time. 

“Get out,” Egon ordered, and she nodded, following him and Ray over to the door. 

Ray tried to open it, but found it locked and began to panic. “Why is this closed?!” 

Egon pounded a few times on the door, to no avail. 

“WINSTON!” Rose shouted. She stayed close to Ray, her fingers clinging to the sleeve of his suit. The smell of the burning chemicals was beginning to overpower her, making her feel woozy. “WINSTON! FIRE!” 

“WINSTON!” Egon joined in.

“HEY, FIRE!” Ray bellowed, pounding on the door. The fire had spread to the walls behind the photos and Rose felt fear and smoke wind its way into her lungs, gripping tight. But she couldn’t panic, she reasoned with herself. Panicking would only make things worse. 

Taking as steady a breath as she could, she got in front of Ray and Egon and attempted to kick the door down. Her boot collided heavily with the wood and she heard a small crack, but it remained closed and she was left with a radiating pain shooting up her leg. She hissed, and had geared up to try again when Egon seized her by the arm. 

“Back away, back away!” he shouted, dragging her and Ray away from the door towards the toilet in the far corner of the room. 

“What are we gonna do, put our heads in the toilet?” Ray asked sarcastically, even as he pushed Rose behind him protectively. She heard a loud thump at the door and a large split ran up the woodgrain. 

“It’s Winston!” she exclaimed, wrapping her hand around Ray’s wrist and stepping out from behind him. Egon pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, the reflection of the flames dancing across his eyes. 

Another loud thump, and the door cracked open, revealing Winston, wielding a fire extinguisher as a battering ram. Without blinking, he stepped towards the flames and doused them. Bits of still flaming photographs flew up into the air, and Ray stomped on them as they hit the ground, putting them out for good. The dusty cloud expelled from the extinguisher cleared, and all that remained were a couple of smoldering shreds of photographs, still hanging from their now burnt and blackened clips. 

“What the hell happened?” Winston asked them incredulously. Egon stood pressed up against the wall next to the spectral analyzer, his mouth hanging open in pure shock. 

“They just caught fire…” Rose said by way of explanation, shaking her head. Ray stared down at the smoking chemicals in confusion. 

“I don’t understand…h-how? What…how?” he asked, whirling around to face Egon and Rose. At a total loss, Egon merely shrugged in response. 

“Well, I have no idea how, but I think I know why,” Rose ventured. Ray gestured for her to continue. “We saw something we weren't supposed to. Whatever’s inside Vigo’s portrait is more powerful than we thought and it very clearly does not want us anywhere near that river of slime.” 

“I would imagine you’re right, Rose,” Egon agreed, breathing heavily. He pushed off the wall and walked over to the cracked and damaged door. Winston, Ray, and Rose followed him, all eager to get a breath of fresh air. 

“Which means,” Ray said, frowning in determination as he collapsed into a nearby seat. “We need to get back down to the river I saw and figure out where it’s coming from. Tonight.” 

“I agree. Rose, out of curiosity, did you ever end up finding a pattern for the slime deposits we found?” Egon asked, folding his arms. “On your map?”

Rose made a ‘so-so’ gesture with her hand and went to pull out the map she’d been marking up from the corner of the room. She spread it out on the table and invited the guys to take a look. 

“Kind of, but I don’t think it’ll help us,” she said. “It was pretty obvious that the deposits would follow the Pneumatic Transit system, which they do. But there was no real rhyme or reason for where exactly they’d pop up, or so I thought. At first, I thought maybe they were just coming through where the structure of the street was weakest, but I don’t think that’s the case.” 

“Okay…” Winston said, raising an eyebrow. “So what do you think?”

“Well, like I said, I don’t think it’ll help us track it, but,” Rose continued, “I now believe that the slime pops up in areas that experience a greater than normal exposure to emotions. The more intense the concentration of emotion, the more slime gets deposited. Take St. Paul the Apostle for example," she jabbed a finger to the mark at 405 West 59th Street, representing the cathedral, "a family congregates in a church for the funeral of a loved one, or to celebrate a wedding. Religious gatherings have an emotional core to them, especially if it's a wedding or a funeral, or even a confirmation. Hell, the same could be said even if it's just weekly Mass - you know, for the truly devout, anyway - and I think that concentrated emotionality sort of sends out a signal to the slime, almost like a beacon."

“So, you’re saying that the slime doesn’t just feed off emotion, it’s actually drawn to it,” Ray summed up, raising his eyebrow. 

Rose nodded. “Basically, yes. I think it finds the emotions, feeds off them, and then uses the consumed energy to replicate itself. The emotions could be positive, could be negative. Doesn’t matter, as long as they’re concentrated. The stronger the concentration, the more slime gets produced. We saw something like that in the courtroom. The jar wasn't full of slime, but when Wexler started yelling, it replicated until it overflowed. And that was just on an individual scale."

“Huh,” Ray said, tilting his head to examine the map at a different angle. “It’s definitely semi-sentient then, if that’s the case. And then there's its ghost-summoning capabilities. Man, this stuff just gets more amazing by the second!”

Rose couldn’t help but smile at her husband’s enthusiasm.

“Yeah, it’s great, Ray,” Winston said sarcastically. “‘Cause we all know New Yorkers are the least emotional people pretty much anywhere. And it’s not like there’s seven million people living in the city alone. No wonder there's a whole river of this crap..."

“Yeah, it’s not ideal,” Rose agreed. “I mean, this is all just a hunch, but I can’t think of anything else the deposit locations have in common. It could be that they’re just random points along the transit line, but I don’t think so.”

“I’m willing to trust your intuition, Rose,” Egon told her. “Like I told you, it’s rarely been wrong before.” 

“Thanks, Egie,” she said, smiling up at him. “But we still need to figure out a way to find the river.” 

“Well, that should be easy, actually,” Ray replied, standing up. “We know it’s underground. So let’s head underground.” 

“Subway and sewers?” Winston asked flatly.

“I’m sure I have an old transit map around here somewhere,” Ray replied, nodding. Winston sighed. “Should be some service entrances along the way, so we just need to get into one of the older tunnels.” 

“Oh goody,” Rose grumbled, rolling her eyes. She'd known it was coming - it had only been a matter of time before they'd need to seek out the river itself - but she wasn't happy about the idea of splashing around in the muck. Hopefully, they'd find a subway, and there wouldn't be a need to go near the sewers. “Egon and I will get the slicker suits.” 

“It won’t be all bad,” Egon said to her, a little more brightly than was entirely normal for him. “There’s a good chance there’s been a breeding surge among the cockroach population. We might get to see the results up close.”

“Great,” Rose grimaced. “Just what this city needs. More roaches.” 

“We look ridiculous,” Rose muttered to Winston, who nodded his agreement, staring down at their outfits with displeasure. They each wore bright yellow rain jackets over slicker pants with connected boots on the end. Ray and Egon’s pants were both an army green, while Winston’s was a slate grey. Rose’s were a midnight black. She had made sure to put on a crappy pair of jeans and an old crewneck sweatshirt she didn’t particularly care about underneath her slicker suit. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust the suit to keep her safe and dry against any unwanted sewer goop, but she didn’t want to risk ruining clothing she liked if it failed. 

“We aren’t wearing these for fashion,” Egon said dryly, turning in his seat to look at them. 

“Yeah, I know that, Egon,” Rose shot back, rolling her eyes. “But come on. I look like a giant bumblebee.”

“Yeah, but a very cute bumblebee,” Ray tried to reassure her. “You’ll make all the other bees fall in love and they’ll just want to follow you around.”

“Oh, good, so I’m gonna look like an idiot traipsing through the subway, but the upside is, I’ll have a cloud of bees behind me while I do it,” Rose deadpanned. “Awesome. You’re sweet, honey, but that sounds like a horror movie.” 

Ray snorted. “Yeah, I see your point.” 

“Was that a pun?” Winston asked. Rose looked over at him and frowned in confusion. “Calling him honey. You know - bees, honey?”

She heard Ray break into full-throated laughter just behind her and Rose groaned, breaking into giggles herself. “Not an intentional one, no.” 

Winston started chuckling. “That actually makes it better, I think.”

Rose broke into another round of giggles, just as Ray turned them onto Peter’s street. For some reason, Ray and Egon had decided on the way over that it was imperative to try and get Peter to come along. Rose thought it was a pointless endeavor, since she knew her brother would never willingly drop himself into a sewer, but she had been outvoted three to one. She suspected Winston only voted to grab Peter to make him suffer in the sewer along with them. 

“Oh, God,” Rose said, getting herself under control. Egon shot her a look and a couple more giggles escaped her. “Oh, that one got me.”

Egon merely shook his head, although she could see him smirking in amusement under the glow of the street light shining through the windshield above them. 

“Hey, there’s Peter!” Ray announced. He pulled off the street suddenly, and the tires screeched as they came to a stop alongside the curb outside Peter’s apartment building. Peter had been trying to hail a cab by the look of it, and leapt back in surprise at the Ecto’s unexpected appearance. 

As Ray clambered out of the car, Peter whirled around, checking for something - or someone, Rose realized with a grin as she got out of the car - on the other side of the door. 

“Pete!” Ray said excitedly. Peter turned back around to face him. “It’s great that you’re here! We’ve got incredible news.”

“Wait a minute, can I have one try?” Peter interrupted as Egon and Winston joined them on the sidewalk. He took in their coordinated slicker outfits with a lifted eyebrow. “All-you-can-eat barbecue rib night at the Sizzler.” 

Rose snorted and Winston stuck his hands in his pockets, smiling in amusement. Egon, however, did not find her brother’s little joke quite as funny. 

“No,” he responded sharply. “We analyzed the photos you took of Vigo! The spectrogram shows a river of slime flowing behind him.”

“Like the one I saw underground,” Ray elaborated. “Now we’re going into the subway and sewer system to see if we can trace the source of the flow.” 

“Yeah, come on, change your clothes,” Egon said, gesturing to Peter’s outfit. “We’ll wait for you.”

Peter blinked at them, unmoved. From what Rose could see, it seemed evident that he had put extra effort into his outfit that night, so she doubted he’d be coming with them. She peered behind her brother and noticed Dana in the lobby of the building, speaking to the concierge. She smiled happily and nodded to herself: Peter was definitely not coming. 

“Yeah, Egon thinks there might even be a tremendous breeding surge in the cockroach population,” Winston said with a sly smile, clearly poking fun at their lovable nerd. 

Dana emerged from the building behind Peter, smiling serenely as she approached. “Hi, boys. Hi, Rose. What’s up?”

Rose looked sideways at the men beside her and nearly broke out into laughter again. Ray was standing with his hands behind his back, and he and Winston were both smiling awkwardly. Egon, on the other hand, had a genuine, knowing smile on his face, directed right at Peter. It made for quite the amusing role reversal: Egon was typically the most socially awkward of them all, while Ray and Winston could navigate most social situations with relative ease, even if they didn’t quite reach the same level of charm Peter did. 

“Hi,” Ray greeted Dana. 

“Hi,” she replied.

Peter stepped in front of her, facing her, and Rose noticed that in her heels, Dana actually had about an inch of height on him.

“Dana, the guys are going down into the sewer to check for slime stuff, and Egon thinks there may even be a huge surge in cockroach breeding,” Peter informed her. Dana looked down, suppressing a smile, and Rose nudged Winston, grinning in amusement. “You wanna blow off this dinner thing and go with them?”

Dana just smiled at Peter and stepped around him to hail a taxi. Peter put his hands behind his back and turned to face them, shrugging. 

“Women, huh?” he said, and chuckled, walking off to join Dana.

Egon rolled his eyes as the three men climbed back into the car, but Rose hesitated. 

“Rose, you comin’?” Ray asked, standing in the open driver’s side door. 

“Yeah, just…give me a second,” she said. She hurried over to Dana and Peter before they caught their cab. 

“Hey, Dana, I just wanted to say. You look beautiful,” she gushed. Dana turned to face her and underneath her coat, Rose could see she had a gorgeous teal colored dress on. “I love that color on you.”

“Oh, thank you,” Dana said graciously. She looked down at her dress a little self-consciously. “It’s been a long time since I got all dolled up like this. Not since before Oscar was born.”

“You’re stunning,” Rose assured her. “A goddess among women.” 

Dana beamed at Rose, and looked over at Peter, her eyes sparkling playfully. “You should take some notes, Peter. Your sister knows how to compliment a woman.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Peter replied jokingly. “It’s a good thing she’s already married to that goofball -” he gestured to Ray, waiting patiently by the Ecto, "- otherwise I might have to worry about her wooing you away from me.”

“Guess that means you’ll have to step up your game, huh, Pete?” Rose teased him and winked at Dana. Her brother made a face at her and she laughed at him. She turned her attention back to Dana. “So, where’s my brother taking you, anyway?”

“Armand’s,” Dana answered, smiling happily. Rose let out a low whistle; Armand’s was an upscale French restaurant that mostly catered to the rich and famous, and for Peter to have swung a reservation right before the New Year…it was quite the statement. 

“ Wow , very nice. I’m impressed, Pete,” Rose told him. “I didn’t think you could name any restaurants with a dress code, let alone manage to get a table at one.” 

“Oh, go have fun in the sewers, why don’t you?” Peter shot back, though there was no real heat behind it. “Get outta here.”

Rose laughed and blew him a kiss as she began walking back over to the Ecto. 

“Have fun tonight, you two!” she called over her shoulder. “Oh, and Pete! I’ll make sure Egon tells you all about the roach breeding!” 

Peter flipped her off as he climbed into the taxi and she howled with laughter, leaning forward against the Ecto. She waved as the taxi drove off with her brother and his lovely companion inside, and Ray merely shook his head at Rose. 

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” he asked, smiling in amusement. 

“I’m his little sister, it’s my job to annoy him,” she said with a shrug as she opened the rear driver’s side door. She looked back up at Ray with a cheeky grin. “Besides, it's payback for all the times he’s teased us.”

Ray chuckled, smiling in amusement. “Fair enough. So did he say where’s he taking her?”

Rose grinned and nodded. “Armand’s.”

“Armand’s, on the day before New Year’s Eve, at the end of the decade?” Ray said incredulously. “Wow. How did he swing that one?”

“I have no idea,” Rose replied, shrugging. “But it's Pete, he always knows a guy. Probably called in a favor.”

“That’s one hell of a favor,” he commented. 

“No kidding,” she said with a laugh. “I hope they have a good time. Anyway, come on, we have slime and cockroaches waiting for us.” 

“And bees!” Ray added, climbing behind the wheel. She snorted as she plopped back into her seat next to Winston, pulling the door shut behind her. 

“I really hope not,” Rose replied. “It’s not entirely out of the realm of possibility, especially for us, but I’d rather not deal with supernatural bees on top of everything else.”

“I second that,” Winston piped up. 

“Third,” Egon added. 

Ray simply chuckled to himself, pulling away from the curb and back into the flow of traffic. 

Rose, Ray, Egon, and Winston walked down a long abandoned subway track in near complete darkness. Their only sources of light came from the headlamps they wore and the flashlights they carried, both of which - despite their relative brightness - seemed woefully inadequate for combatting the neverending shadows surrounding them. It would have been quite easy to get spooked, and Rose supposed the darkness was a tad unnerving, but oddly enough, she found herself mostly at ease, even with the memory of her last abandoned subway experience itching at the back of her mind. 

Egon walked slowly but with purpose, his Giga Meter held out in front of him. Winston and Ray - who was playing the part of their navigator with his old map while he balanced a pickaxe on his shoulder - flanked him on either side. She took up the rear, strolling along with a calmness that made navigating the slats of the tracks far easier than it would have been with shot nerves. 

Her progress was impeded a little by Ray, who kept looking at her over his shoulder every few minutes to silently check on her, likely thinking of her subterranean brush with death as well. His concern was sweet, really, but it had the unfortunate side effect of half blinding her: every time he looked around at her, the light from his headlamp would beam directly into her eyes, and leave her with neon spots dancing in front of her irises. 

“Ray, I love you more than life itself, but stop doing that,” she finally said, after the fifth light-fueled assault on her eyes. “Don’t worry about me, I’m perfectly fine. Just watch where you’re going. Some of these tracks might be loose.”

Right on cue, Winston’s foot went right through a weakened board and he stumbled, letting out a shout of surprise that echoed in the tunnel. Egon and Ray both let out rather undignified squawks of alarm in response. 

“See?” Rose said dryly, shaking her head. 

“Will you watch your step?” Egon snapped, clearly resentful of the sudden spike in his stress levels. Rose rolled her eyes and patted him on the shoulder.

“Take it easy," she said. He huffed quietly in response and she turned to Winston. “You okay, Win?”

“Yeah,” he responded, breathing heavily. "Yeah, I'm fine."

“You gotta relax. Breathe, you know?” she told him. “Try not to get so worked up.”

“How are you so calm right now?” Winston asked incredulously. “I mean, I thought you would be the most spooked outta all of us down here, with what you went through. But you’re cool as a cucumber.”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “I don’t mind the dark. And I guess the way I see it, I already survived one of the worst things that could happen to me in a place like this. But seriously, you guys gotta chill." 

“I hate this,” Winston grumbled as they moved along the track. 

"Yeah, but getting creeped out is only gonna make it worse," Rose reasoned. "We have been walking for awhile, though - Ray, we close to anything yet?"

Ray consulted his map. “According to this old transit map, there should be an entrance anywhere along here somewhere.”

Rose snorted. "Yeah, that seems appropriately vague."

“I’m not getting anything yet,” Egon offered, looking carefully at the silent device in his hand. The two prongs on the top were blinking and waving back and forth, indicating its active status, but it had yet to pick up an energy spike that might point them in the direction of slime. Ray aimed his flashlight at the wall, squinting into the shadows and looking for the entrance the map promised. 

“Well, at least it’s too dark to see the cockroaches,” Winston remarked, trying to sound optimistic.

“We do have that going for us,” Rose replied dryly.

“Forget about cockroaches,” Ray said darkly. Rose lifted an eyebrow at her husband’s tone. “It’s the subway rats you gotta worry about. Big as beavers.”

“Yeah, some of them go four or five kilos,” Egon chimed in matter-of-factly, looking nonchalantly at the ceiling above them. 

Ray’s shoulders shook subtly, and Rose rolled her eyes; she could tell he was forcefully suppressing the urge to laugh. Her husband wasn’t much of a prankster, but every so often his mischievous side came out. She didn’t mind, really; she personally found his amusement at his own joke funnier than the joke itself, although she did think his timing could have used a little work.

Winston, on the other hand, was not amused at all. “Hey, hey. Enough, alright?”

“Listen,” Ray said, fighting off a smirk. “You can hear them behind the walls, scratching. There must be thousands of them.”

Winston whirled around, waving his flashlight around rapidly, while Egon looked over at Ray, obviously highly entertained. 

“Just shut up about the rats,” Winston snapped, clearly not enjoying Ray and Egon’s funny little prank. Rose couldn’t blame him: being freaked out did not, generally speaking, improve one’s sense of humor. 

“Okay, okay,” Ray acquiesced.  

“You know,” Rose said, figuring she could join the fun and get Winston a little revenge at the same time. “It’s really not the rats I’d be worried about. It’s the spiders.”

“Spiders, huh?” Ray said lightly, only half paying attention. Winston looked over at Rose and she winked, as she plucked off her gloves silently. An evil smile crossed his face and he nodded. 

“Yeah,” Rose said seriously, drawing on her own arachnophobia. “I mean, come on. Who knows what kind of eight legged freaks live down here in the dark. If the rats are as big as beavers, can you imagine how big the spiders are? Hell, they probably eat the damn rats.” 

“I don’t think that’s likely,” Egon remarked, although Rose saw him shift a bit nervously. She smirked; that was exactly what she needed.

“Maybe not,” Rose replied, shrugging. She bunched her gloves in her fists, until the tips of the fingers poked out between her knuckles, and raised them to the back of Ray and Egon’s necks. “But there are tarantulas who can eat birds, lizards, frogs. All sorts of animals. And that's without supernatural interference. So maybe…we should be on the lookout for giant, hairy spiders scuttling around…or coming down from the ceiling.”

Perhaps in spite of themselves, Ray and Egon both turned their attention to the ceiling, just for half a second, and Rose took her shot, brushing the very tips of her gloves across the backs of their necks. 

It was nothing more than a featherlight touch, but it was enough: Ray and Egon both shrieked and jumped about half a foot in the air. By the time they returned to the ground, Rose and Winston had almost doubled over with laughter. She chanced a look at Ray and Egon, and completely lost her composure: their jaws had dropped, and they were looking at the cackling duo with a truly hilarious mixture of horror and shock written all over their faces. 

“Oh, God,” she wheezed as she straightened up, arms wrapped around her aching ribs. “You should see the looks on your faces!”

“Oh, good one, Rose!” Winston chortled. He held his hand up to her, and Rose high fived him, the sudden clap echoing back through the tunnel. “The arachnophobe pulls off a spider prank! Priceless! You guys just about jumped out of your skin.”

“That - you - that was…” Ray stammered. He pouted, looking upset. “That wasn’t funny!”

“Oh, it’s pretty funny from where I’m standing,” Rose told her husband. Egon frowned and shuffled, looking quite out of sorts, which only served to send her into another round of laughter. She waggled her fingers teasingly at them. “Ooh, gotta watch out for those giant subway spiders. They’re gonna get ya!” 

“Okay, alright,” Ray protested grumpily. “You got us, fine. Good job.”

“Yes, well done,” Egon sulked. 

“Aw, don’t get all huffy now,” Rose said, pulling her gloves back on. “You started it. Don’t dish it if you can’t take it.” 

“Yeah, okay, point taken,” Ray replied, sighing heavily. “Let’s just agree not to try and freak each other out from here on, okay?” 

“By all means,” Winston said, grinning smugly, leaning on the handle of his shovel. “Although, I gotta say, I didn’t know you could scream so high, Egon. I’m actually kinda impressed.”

Egon glared at him and Winston laughed to himself. Ray had to suppress a grin that time, and turned his attention further down the tunnel. 

"You know, it's so quiet down here," Rose said conversationally. "You could almost forget there's a giant city right on top of us."

"Yeah..." Winston agreed. "Nothing to hear except our echoes."

“Hello!” Ray suddenly called out, and chuckled when his voice echoed right back at him. 

They came to a dead stop in the middle of the track and Egon tried throwing out his voice. “Hey!” 

Egon’s voice bounced right back to them, and Rose laughed at the child-like enjoyment Ray and Egon got out of the reverberation of their own voices. 

Winston chuckled a little and took a turn shouting down the tunnel. “Hello!” 

They waited for the echo, but it came a second too late, and when it did, it was not Winston’s voice reflected back at them. Instead, a deep, growling voice boomed out from the depths of the tunnel: “WIIINNNSTOOON!” 

Rose’s stomach dropped and all four Ghostbusters looked at each other in horror. 

“Okay, I’m outta here,” Winston said shakily. They each spun on their heels, ready to go back the way they came. 

“Yeah, no, fuck that,” she agreed. They hadn’t taken two steps in any direction when Winston turned back around and screamed. Rose whirled around, wondering for a single ridiculous moment if she was going to have to punch a ghost or a giant rat or a giant ghost rat, and let out a shriek herself, colliding with Ray as she jumped back in fright: a rotting, eyeless, decapitated head had manifested behind them, mounted on a pike, its lips drawn back in a horrible sneer. 

Ray and Egon screamed, and kept screaming; in the time it took them to blink, about fifteen more decapitated heads - men and women, young and old - surrounded them, all mounted on metal spikes. Egon whirled around and shrieked even louder when he came within two inches of giving one of the heads a butterfly kiss. Rose lunged forward, seizing his arm and yanking him back towards the center of their circle. 

The shock and terror had just begun to wear off for Rose - the heads weren’t talking to them, or even moving, they were just there when they weren’t supposed to be - when the gruesome display vanished just as quickly as it came. The guys’ screams died off with a squeak and Ray slammed his eyes shut, blinking hard. 

“They’re gone,” Winston breathed, looking around in disbelief. 

“What the - ?” Ray asked, glancing around. He was pale and shaking a little. Rose still had a tight grip on Egon’s arm, and he looked down at her, chest heaving and eyes wide with fear. 

“You okay?” she asked him. He nodded, swallowing hard, and she released him. She looked over at Ray, and then up at Egon and Winston. “So, um, guys…anyone have any idea what the hell that was about?” 

Ray and Winston shrugged helplessly, both trembling a little. Heart still pounding from the sudden adrenaline kick, Rose exhaled harshly. 

“I’m not sure,” Egon said, taking a deep breath. “But before we go any further, I think we should get our proton packs.” 

“Good idea,” Ray agreed, and Rose nodded. The heads had been a harmless if unwelcome shock, but she wanted to make sure she was armed before going deeper into the tunnel.

The four turned to go back the way they came once more, and crept forward carefully, each looking around for even the hint of another grisly scare. All seemed quiet, so Rose straightened up and resumed her easy walk along the track, but froze when she felt a curious rumbling underfoot. 

“What’s that?” Winston said, stopping suddenly; he had clearly sensed the rumbling too. 

“What’s what?” Ray asked, sounding as though he wanted nothing more than for Winston not to answer.

“Sounds like a train,” Winston said haltingly.

“Yeah, I felt it too, Win,” Rose told him. The rumbling got a little closer and she tensed up. 

“Uh-uh,” Ray disagreed. “These lines have been abandoned for fifty years.” 

“Oh,” Winston replied, sounding not even the least bit reassured. They took a few more steps down the track, only to freeze again when the rumbling came again, followed by a metallic screech in the distance. The four Ghostbusters looked at each other, their fear building once more. 

“Probably in one of the tunnels above us,” Egon rationalized. Rose raised her eyebrows, unconvinced. 

“I don’t know,” Winston replied uneasily. He and Egon looked to the ceiling. “It sounds awfully close to me.”

A pinprick of light broke through the shadows, and Rose’s eyes gravitated towards it. She grabbed onto Egon’s arm again, her jaw dropping as the light got bigger and bigger, accompanied by the sure chugging of a train engine. And then came the train whistle, piercing the quiet of the tunnel. Hurtling out of the shadows, moving faster than anything that size had a right to, came a simply massive steam locomotive; she and Egon shouted in surprise and dove sideways off the tracks and onto the nearby ledge, pressing themselves as flat against the floor as humanly possible. 

Rose looked back to the track and her stomach dropped: Ray was gone, presumably safe and out of the way, but Winston hadn’t moved an inch, anchored to his spot in the middle of the track by fear, screaming in terror as the train barreled straight for him. His helmet was lifted from his head by the force of the wind generated by the speeding train. 

The train careened closer and closer and Rose gasped as it streaked clear through Winston. And clear it was: the train itself was completely translucent. 

“A ghost train?! Seriously?!” Rose shouted over the roar of the locomotive.

The train continued on its path, leaving Winston behind, shaken and terrified beyond words, but unharmed. She and Egon leapt back onto the tracks the moment the train was gone; she rushed to Winston’s side and steadied him as he wavered on the spot. His eyes stared off into the tunnel, wide and unblinking. 

“You’re okay, Win,” she said reassuringly. “You’re okay.”

Egon, on the other hand, stared off over Winston’s shoulder, looking absolutely stunned. “I think that was the old New York Central, City of Albany! Derailed in 1920, killed hundreds of people.”

“Fascinating, but not especially helpful right now, Egon,” Rose told him. Winston blinked, and looked over his shoulder as he came out of his terror-stricken trance. 

“Did you catch the number on the locomotive?” Egon asked. 

Rose smacked him on the arm lightly and began squinting into the shadows, looking for Ray. She’d lost track of him in the commotion, although she’d seen him throw himself from the tracks at the very last second. She couldn’t make out the light from his headlamp bobbing in the dark, but her vision was admittedly still a little spotty from the sudden brightness of the train. It was also possible that Ray had damaged the lamp when he dove off the tracks. 

“Sorry,” Winston replied hoarsely. “I missed it.”

Rose blinked hard and rubbed at her eyes, trying to clear her vision. She studied the shadows even closer, looking for any sign of movement. Worry began to tug at her nerves; where was Ray? Was he okay? Was he hurt? Why hadn’t he come back out yet?

“Ray?” she called out. “Ray, are you alright?”

She received no answer and her sense of alarm began to climb. 

“Something’s trying to stop us,” Egon said, looking around and frowning. Winston stooped to retrieve his helmet. “We must be close.”

“Guys, do either of you see Ray?” Rose said, her heart constricting with fear. “I don’t know where he is.” 

Egon and Winston looked around, concern evident on their faces. 

“Ray!” she called again. “Ray, where are you?”

Once again, no answer. 

“Ray?” Egon tried. Silence. 

“Ray!” Winston called out. 

Still more silence. Rose’s heart thudded painfully and she stepped off to the other side of the tracks, calling his name. “Ray! RAY!” 

“GUYS!” Ray’s voice boomed out of nowhere and all three of them jumped a foot in the air, shouting in surprise. Rose let off a string of swears blue enough to make a sailor blush, whirling around to take in her husband’s sudden reappearance. 

“God damn it, Ray, don’t do that!” Rose groused. She stalked over to him and pulled him into a tight hug. His arms wound around her waist. “Don’t just disappear like that.”

“Oh, sorry,” he said sheepishly. She huffed and stepped back as she released him. He grinned at her and hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “I found it.”

“What?” Winston asked. 

“Right here, there’s a hole!” Ray exclaimed.

“Let’s go,” Egon said decisively. Ray nodded and grabbed Rose’s hand, pulling her in the direction of the apparent hole. 

“Hey, fellas, what about the packs?” Winston asked shakily, hurrying after them. “What about the packs?!” 

Ray and Egon didn’t answer. Rose sighed and shook her head. 

“Well, look at it this way, Win - if we have to run, at least we won’t have to worry about the extra weight slowing us down,” she said over her shoulder. She really would have preferred to have the packs, too, but it seemed it was not meant to be. 

“Yeah, great,” Winston muttered. 

Ray took the lead, dragging Rose with him, and guided them right over to a dark hole that was barely even visible between the shadows of the tunnel and the loose rocks blocking it. He released her hand and motioned for her to step back. The second she was clear, Ray grabbed his pickaxe and swung at the rocks with all his might. Winston stepped forward and began jabbing at them with the shovel. It took a few attempts, but the rocks crumbled and with one last strike at the barrier, they stumbled right through and into an old, stonework stairwell, heavily cobwebbed and illuminated by a familiar bright pink glow. 

“Hey, look,” Rose said dryly. “We found a literal hole in the wall.”

Ray chuckled, brushing away a few nearby webs as they got to their feet. 

“Yeah, and it looks like we might run into those big ass spiders you were talking about earlier,” Winston said miserably, edging forward to examine a particularly large cobweb. 

“Oh, goody, just what I need,” Rose deadpanned, brushing off her pants. “Nightmare fuel.” 

“I wouldn’t worry,” Egon said, shaking his head seriously. “These webs are just dust now, so the spiders that made them are long gone. Probably.”

“Very comforting, Egie, thank you,” she replied, itching absentmindedly at the small spider-bite scar below her ear. He merely blinked at her, and she rolled her eyes. 

“Come on,” Ray said, chuckling softly. “I think I know exactly where we are.”

“Van Horne?” Rose asked. Ray nodded. 

“Van Horne.”

Chapter Text

“Well, I’ll be damned.” 

Rose stared open-mouthed at the sight before her. A few steps down the stairs and Ray had led them straight into a cavernous chamber. A look over her shoulder at the engraved plate above their heads told her it was indeed part of the Van Horne station. They must have been standing just below where Ray had rappelled down, although the hole the guys had drilled had been filled and paved over. 

And in front of them…

“Unbelievable,” Egon breathed. 

…was the rushing, flowing river of bright pink slime. 

“Uh-huh,” Ray said, grinning proudly. “Did I tell you? I wasn’t lying, was I?”

“You most definitely were not lying,” Rose said, patting her husband on the arm absentmindedly. She moved towards the edge of the platform, peering down at the neon goo roaring past them. “That is…Jesus, look at it. It’s like lava.”

“Magma,” Egon corrected her. 

“Yeah, that, too,” she remarked, smirking. A bubble popped on the surface and she leaned back, not wanting to get too close. 

“You know how much negative energy it must have taken to generate a flow this size?” Egon asked. 

“Hey, New York,” Winston commented, grinning sarcastically. “What a town.”

“Rose, are you picking anything up? Like you did in Dana’s apartment?” Ray asked her. 

She looked up at him, blinking in thought as she processed his question. “Oddly enough, I’m not. Maybe it’s dormant at the moment?”

Winston raised his eyebrow and gestured to the river. “I don’t know, that doesn’t look so dormant to me.”

Rose huffed a laugh and shook her head. “Sorry, what I meant was maybe it needs someone to be controlling it for it to leave behind a vibe like it did at Dana’s place. I don’t know.” 

“Well, we think Vigo and the slime are connected, so if anyone was controlling it, it was probably Vigo himself,” Ray suggested. “It seems like he can control things from pretty much any distance. He lit our photos on fire from a mile and a half away.” 

“Yeah, that’s probably a safe bet,” Rose replied. “So yeah, maybe for it to leave behind a charge like the one I felt, someone has to be controlling it. Give it shape. Infuse it with their own emotions or their power. I really don’t know.”

Egon sighed. “Alright. Let’s see how deep it is. Get a sounding.” 

“Yeah,” Winston agreed. Egon moved closer to Rose and Ray, standing off to the side so they didn’t get in the way of the outsized tape measure Winston had clipped to his hip. He unraveled just enough that he could start feeding it into the slime and dipped it below the roiling surface. 

“Alright,” Winston said. “Six feet.” 

“That’s not too bad,” Rose commented. “I thought it’d be a little deeper than that.” 

“Twelve feet,” Winston continued, sounding confused. Rose’s eyebrows shot up - that didn’t sound right, but the tape measure just kept going, the roll spinning so quickly Winston could barely hold onto it. 

“Twelve?” Ray repeated. He and Egon exchanged concerned glances. 

“Something’s pulling it,” Winston said, warring for control over the line with something below the surface. 

“Hold on!” Egon urged. 

“Well, I’m trying to hold it!” Winston shot back. “Give me a hand!” 

Rose darted forward and got a hand on Winston’s belt, trying to help weigh him down, and Egon followed right behind. Even their strength combined with Winston’s wasn’t enough to pull back against the force yanking on the tape measure. 

“Ray, help!” Egon and Rose summoned in unison. Ray dashed over and grabbed hold of Winston, too, and tried to help pull him back from the ledge. It still wasn’t enough. 

“It’s got a hold of him!” Egon shouted, sounding frightened as more of the tape disappeared below the surface of the slime, faster and faster still. As a rule, Rose didn’t like when their stoic scientist was frightened; it usually spelled danger for everyone involved. 

“Get his belt off!” Ray shouted back. They were running out of time. If they couldn’t get the tape measure off Winston’s hip, he’d be dragged into the river next. Egon and Rose yanked him back with all their might while Ray scrambled to undo Winston’s belt. 

“I can’t hold it!” Egon warned. Rose frantically readjusted her grip around Winston’s waist, locking her hands together in a clasp, and held on for dear life, fighting like hell to drag him back. She could see Ray trying desperately to unhook Winston’s belt. 

“Wait, wait, hold on!” Winston begged, but the tape jerked to a stop, having reached the end of the roll, and he was pulled over the edge of the platform with a scream. Thanks to her ironclad grip, Rose went right along with him. 

“Oh, shit!” she exclaimed, and shut her eyes at the last possible second. She and Winston hit the slime with a wet smack and she lost her grip on him as the rapid flow of the river ripped them apart. The slime was actually pleasantly warm, she realized, as she swam back to the surface. 

She broke through, and realized the river had carried her halfway down the tunnel. Winston was just ahead, screaming in terror, trying to find anything to grab onto as the river swept him away and around the bend. 

“ROSE!”

She heard Ray’s fearful voice echoing just over the roar of the river, but she had no time to answer. Winston was panicking and needed her help. She growled under her breath as the negative power of the slime began to seep into her pores, but fought against it as she swam with the current. It was good thing they hadn't brought their packs: had they been wearing them, the weight would have certainly dragged them under. 

Off in the distance behind her, she heard two more splashes: Ray and Egon had jumped in after them. 

She growled to herself in exasperation. That was wonderful - exactly what they needed. They should have just stayed on the platform; she could handle herself and she could absolutely handle getting Winston out, but now she was probably going to have to get all three of them out. She could - and would - get them all out, of course, but she couldn’t say she appreciated the extra work. 

She shook her head as she swam, and dove underneath the surface when a particularly large bubble threatened to burst right in her face. She swam underneath it and could actually hear the pop as it exploded above her. She resurfaced and kept swimming, clenching her jaw to keep from accidentally swallowing any of the slime. 

Rose had no idea how far back Egon or Ray were, but she hoped they were keeping it together better than Winston: she could see him a few yards ahead of her, and he was not at all a cool customer. 

“Winston!” she shouted out, trying to avoid getting a mouthful of slime. She let the current carry her over to him, and reached out a hand to grab his jacket. The slipperiness of the slime made getting a grip difficult, but finally she managed it. “Winston, are you alright?”

“NO!” he barked. “No, I am not alright! I am half drowning in slime, I’m really pissed off, and this stupid plumb line won’t COME OFF!”   

“Relax!” she snapped. She growled and pushed away the swell of anger. “You gotta relax! Panicking is only gonna make it worse. Just swim and let the current carry you. Even if we don’t find a way out, it’s gotta dump out somewhere. Now hold on, I’ll get your belt off.”

Winston growled unintelligibly in response, but Rose ignored him. She reached down blindly and found the edge of Winston’s belt. She took a deep breath, and hoped the slime wouldn’t sting her eyes and that she would be able to see through it. She dove beneath the surface and opened her eyes - no burning, but she felt a powerful rush of anger, and she had low visibility that was only marginally helped by the lamp on her helmet - and worked as quickly as she could to release the plastic clasp on Winston’s belt. The damned thing was stuck!

She was just beginning to run out of air when finally, she yanked one end of the clasp away from the other and it broke free. The belt and the line fell away from Winston’s waist and was whisked off by the current. She resurfaced and gasped for air, blinking the slime out of her eyes. Breathing through the anger being submerged had introduced, she squinted into the distance, eyes trained on something about a hundred feet in front of them. 

“Ah, shit, I think we’re coming to a drop off!” she shouted. Sure enough, what looked like the edge of a small waterfall was coming up much quicker than she would have liked. 

“WHAT?!” 

“Just take a deep breath and hold onto me. I don’t know how deep it is past here, and I don’t wanna lose you!” she shouted. Thankfully, Winston did not argue; perhaps his self-preservation instincts were overriding the slime-induced anger. He latched onto her arm just as they went over the edge, falling towards a pool of slime roughly seven feet below them. 

Rose’s stomach flipped at the sudden drop, and she was strongly reminded of a roller coaster. They hit the slime and it went right over their heads. Rose’s helmet was swept off, but she didn’t bother to try saving it. 

She and Winston swam back to the surface and she frantically wiped the slime residue from her eyes so she could see. She looked around wildly; Winston had lost his helmet too, and their surroundings had changed. It was no longer tiled walls and the enormous transit tunnel; it was darker concrete she saw, and a much smaller tunnel a few yards ahead of them - they had spilled out right into a sewer junction. And sewers meant - 

“Winston, look! Look, a ladder!” she shouted, gesturing wildly to their right. “It’s a manhole! Come on, swim!”

Winston released her arm and they paddled and kicked, sending slime flying everywhere as they went. Thankfully, the drop off into the sewer had also resulted in a drop off in the current. They were able to simply swim over to the platform, using every bit of strength they had to pull themselves up and out of the slime, swinging a leg each up onto the ledge. Rose scrabbled for purchase and hauled herself up, and immediately turned to yank Winston the rest of the way onto the platform. 

“Thanks,” he choked out, catching his breath. Rose waved him off. 

“No problem. Keep an eye out for Ray and Egon. They jumped in after us,” she told him, keeping her eyes trained on the drop off point. Any second now…

“Why in the hell would they do that? Of all the stupid things! Aren’t they supposed to be geniuses?”

“Yeah, I know!” she barked back. “They should have stayed where they were, but they didn’t and now we have to bail them out. What else is new?”

“No kidding!” Winston scoffed.

Even through the slime-haze of anger and frustration, Rose knew her assessment wasn’t entirely fair; Ray and Egon bailed her and Winston out just as often as the other way around. They were a team, a family. Protecting each other when the going got rough…it’s just what they did. What they’d always do. 

A sudden surge in the slime flow caught her attention, just as two figures with yellow jackets and dark hair came screaming (literally) out of the tunnel and hit the slime pool. Ray and Egon quickly resurfaced, coughing and spitting out slime. So much for hoping they’d kept it together, but at least they hadn’t lost sight of each other. That was...something. 

“There!” Rose shouted, pointing. She hit the deck, leaning out halfway over the pool, reaching out. Winston snarled in frustration behind her, but dropped to his knees next to her on the platform. “Ray! Egon! Over here! Swim, you just have to swim!” 

“Rose!” Ray shouted and began a frantic front stroke towards the platform. “Spengler, come on! COME ON, THEY’RE RIGHT THERE!” 

“YES, RAY, I CAN SEE THEM!” Egon thundered. His glasses were completely covered in slime; it was a wonder he could see anything at all. “I’M NOT BLIND, YOU KNOW!”

“COULDA FOOLED ME!” Ray shot back. 

“JESUS CHRIST, WOULD YOU TWO STOP BITCHING AND GET OVER HERE ALREADY?!” Rose bellowed, allowing just a little bit of her slime rage to come through. Thankfully, the shock of her yelling at them had been enough to get their attention and get them moving as quickly as humanly possible. She and Winston held their arms out to them as they swam over. Ray latched onto Rose and Egon onto Winston, gripping as tightly as their gloves would allow. 

“Winston, pull!” Rose commanded and yanked hard, pushing herself to her feet as she pulled Ray up and out of the goo. Winston growled under his breath next to her, trying to get Egon out of the slime.

Finally, the two men got their feet under them on the edge of the platform and Rose took a step back, tugging Ray fully onto the ledge, while Winston did the same with Egon. Free of the slime, but weakened by the current, their legs buckled and they fell to their knees. 

A bit exhausted themselves and left unsteady by the sudden end to their exertion, Winston and Rose both lost their footing and went down hard, their asses hitting the concrete with enough force to bruise. 

Almost immediately, Ray and Winston began to squawk and squabble, lobbing half-unintelligible insults at each other as they got to their feet. Egon remained silent, but looked immensely aggravated, and after about ten seconds of the bickering, Rose had had enough.

She was seething, fighting against a boiling anger she hadn’t felt in a very long time but recognized all too well. The fury coursing through her was dangerously toxic - and much more intense than her experience in Dana's apartment the previous night - and it was pushing her to the verge of a blackout. Not since the very last knock-down-drag-out screaming match she’d had with her mother could she remember feeling so perilously close to losing control, and more than anything, Rose despised the person she became when she lost control. 

She couldn’t lose control. 

She wanted nothing more than to shove the rage down and expel it from her system, but for the moment, she knew she needed it to kick her boys’ asses in gear. She stalked over to the ladder and grabbed hold of it, turned back to stare at the guys, and allowed herself to open the floodgates just a hair.

“Okay, enough!” she shouted. Egon looked over, but Ray and Winston ignored her in favor of bitching at each other. 

So she tried again.

“HEY!” she thundered. “I SAID ENOUGH. RAY, WINSTON, YOU TWO NEED TO SHUT UP AND FOLLOW ME UP THE LADDER. NOW! MOVE YOUR ASSES, OR SO HELP ME GOD, I WILL COME OVER THERE AND DO IT FOR YOU! GET ME?”

Ray and Winston immediately fell silent, their mouths snapping shut. All three men stared at her in alarm, but thankfully, her efforts paid off: Ray swallowed and beelined for the ladder as she began to climb, with Winston and Egon following right behind. 

Rose took deep breaths, willing herself to let go of the anger as she ascended the ladder. She had accomplished her mission - Ray, Egon, and Winston were all safe and were waiting to scramble up the ladder to the surface - and she didn’t need the rage anymore. She had to calm down. She would not let her boys see her truly lose control. 

She had long ago made peace with the anger that lived inside of her. She had reckoned with it, and learned to quiet it, to let it go when it wasn’t useful - and it was hardly ever useful. She knew what she was feeling wasn’t really the seething, lurking rage she’d finally tamed as a teenager on her own for the first time in Boston - it was a supernaturally induced fury, in theory a totally different beast - but it felt exactly the same. And that meant she could control it. 

She was stronger than it was. She would control it. One more deep breath and her heart began to slow as she fought through the anger, reaching the top of the ladder. She wound one arm around the top rung and reached up with her other arm to push the manhole cover up and to the side. She pulled herself to the surface, clearing the manhole so that Ray could climb up next.

As he hauled himself up and out, she sat down heavily on the cobblestones of the road beneath her, legs drawn up, and breathed in the frigid night air, letting it calm her. She looked over her shoulder, and scoffed. They were sitting in front of the Manhattan Museum of Art. Of course the river would have spat them out next to a manhole that had, in turn, deposited them right in front of the museum where Vigo’s portrait was currently housed. 

Naturally. 

Rose shook her head. Large drops of slime fell from her hair and she ran both her hands through it, pushing out as much as she could and slicking her hair back and away from her face. Not for the first time, she was thankful her hair was as short as it was; it really made everything so much easier, including getting slimed. Ray scrambled to his feet, dripping with pink goo and absolutely fuming. Rose said nothing to him; she didn’t trust herself to speak normally just yet. In any case, he was fine, he wasn’t hurt - he was just immensely pissed off.

Winston came next, struggling up the ladder; the second his head cleared the manhole, he started back in, bitching and moaning. “Nice going, Ray! What are you trying to do, drown me?!” 

Whatever control Ray might have had on his temper snapped at being blamed. To be fair, the blame was misplaced, so Rose supposed she couldn’t fault him for losing it. 

“OH, YEAH, ZEDDEMORE, LIKE IT’S MY FAULT!” Ray bellowed, gesturing wildly as Winston clambered to his feet. A homeless woman pushing a cart stared at them in shock as she passed; Rose was sure they all made for quite the sight. “YOU WERE TOO STUPID NOT TO DROP THAT PLUMB LINE!” 

She sighed heavily and climbed to her feet when she saw Egon’s head poke out of the manhole. Fighting through another wave of anger - the last one, if the familiar exhaustion setting in was any indication - she crouched down and offered him a hand up, which he took. 

Behind her, Ray and Winston were still squawking. She swallowed the urge to jump into the fray and push them apart - it might actually end up being better for them to just get it out of their system…

“STUPID?” Winston shot back. “HEY YOU BETTER WATCH YOUR MOUTH OR I’LL PUNCH YOUR LIGHTS OUT.” 

…unless it turned physical.

“OH, YEAH?” Ray challenged. 

“YEAH!” 

“WELL, ANYTIME!” 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Rose growled quietly. Ray and Winston began shoving at each other, splattering slime everywhere, though neither seemed entirely willing to throw the first punch. Personally, she thought Winston would have no trouble knocking Ray out cold if he felt like it, so their shared hesitation was perhaps a blessing, even if it made them look like a couple of overgrown middle schoolers.

She hauled Egon to his feet, sighing in relief as her eyes met his through his slime-streaked glasses: his gaze was clear and showed no signs of anger, or even mild irritation. She was suddenly wildly grateful that she and Egon had had that little slime-aura-powered showdown in Dana’s apartment; somewhere in her gut, she knew the experience of that influence - minor though it may have been compared to full physical contact with the slime - had allowed them to fight past tonight's rage with a little more ease. 

Ray, who hadn’t been affected at all by the energy field, seemed to be having the most trouble with it now. 

“Egon,” Rose said. “We gotta stop them. The slime, it’s controlling them, like it did to us. We gotta stop them before -”

“Wait! Wait!” Egon shouted at Ray and Winston, looking at the goo dripping from his person. He lunged for the squabbling duo, pushing them apart. Rose got ready to jump in and try to keep her husband at bay. “Stop, stop! Get your clothes off, quick! Strip!” 

Rose froze in place; that was not at all what she’d expected Egon to say - in any situation, really - but after a moment’s thought, she supposed it made sense. Their clothes were carrying the lion’s share of slime, after all. 

Egon backed off, whipped off his gloves, removed his glasses, and began undoing his jacket. She and Winston obeyed his order and followed suit, and the last remnants of the heavy anger in her chest faded into nothingness. In the blink of an eye, the influence was gone. 

Ray - yelling incoherently as he finally attempted to take a swing at Winston - stopped abruptly, staring in confusion when he noticed his wife and two of their best friends stripping down in the middle of the street. It didn’t take him long to cotton on, and he began to whip off his own jacket. 

The four shed their outerwear until they were each left standing in whatever they’d had on underneath. For Ray and Egon, that was grey thermal pajamas over black t-shirts; for Winston, it was bright red long johns. The front of Rose’s sweatshirt was covered in slime, but her jeans were mostly dry, thankfully. 

“Oh, dear,” Winston panted as he got his slicker pants down to his ankles. The anger had left him looking exhausted. “Ray, what were we doing? I was ready to kill you!” 

Ray’s face fell and he sighed, looking both drained and horrified with himself. “It’s this stuff. It’s like pure, concentrated evil.” 

“Not evil,” Rose disagreed. “Rage. That was rage, honey. I felt a fraction of what we just went through in Dana’s apartment, and I’m pretty sure Egon did, too.”

“I did,” Egon confirmed. “This was decidedly more pronounced.”

“It was awful,” Ray replied, swallowing heavily. “It’s like I wasn’t even me…that slime…god, it’s horrible.”

Rose knew exactly what Ray was going through. No matter where it came from, a rage of such intensity had a tendency to amplify even the tiniest of frustrations and insecurities, and weaponize them. It might feel powerful, even cathartic, in the moment, but it was the very definition of a double-edged sword: when it was over, all that inevitably remained was the embarrassment of losing control and the raw pain of those insecurities, flayed and laid bare. 

It could be a heartbreaking experience, especially for someone as kind and loving as Ray. Rage was not an emotion he dealt with very often. 

“And it’s all flowing right to this spot,” Egon said gravely, squinting and gesturing at the museum. 

Ray and Winston turned to look at the building. With its entrance illuminated by globe lights on either side of the door, it almost looked serene; there wasn’t a single hint of the malicious entity hiding within.

Rose swallowed and looked around at her boys. They were a mess; their faces were covered in slime, and their hair was plastered to their heads. She swiped a hand over her own face, and then flicked her hand; a load of slime hit the ground at her feet with a smack. 

She looked at Egon right next to her; he was still breathing heavily, the horn of his glasses dangling from his fingers. 

“Hey, you okay?” she said, nudging him. He looked at her and nodded, staring at her. She could tell from the way his eyes locked on her that she was nothing more than a blurry shape to him. “Okay. Your glasses. Lemme see.”

“Hm?” he said. 

She gestured to his glasses. “Glasses. Give me. Please.”

“Oh.”

He handed them over and Rose found a dry, slime-free patch of sweatshirt and used it to clear his glasses of the pink muck. Although they weren’t sparklingly clean by the time she was done, he’d be able to see. She handed them back to him and he used his shirtsleeve to clear his face of as much slime as possible before sliding the glasses onto his face and up his nose. 

He blinked as his vision came back into focus, and looked down at Rose, this time making clear eye contact. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, Egie,” she replied, patting him on the arm. “You kinda need to see.”

“No, I meant - well, yes, thank you for that, too, but I meant thank you for pulling us out,” he explained. Ray and Winston both turned to her and nodded vehemently. 

“Yeah, thanks, Rose,” Winston said. “Seriously. I was kinda freaking out down there.”

“We were all freaking out,” Ray amended. He made his way over to her and grabbed hold of her hands with both of his. Slime squelched unpleasantly between their palms, but Rose ignored it in favor of looking up at her husband. 

“Are you okay, Ray? Anger like that…it can be a really rough shock to the system, I know.”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” he told her. “It was rough, but I’m alright. Thanks for kicking our asses in gear and getting us out, honey.” 

She smiled and wiped some of the slime off Ray’s face with her shirtsleeve so she could pop up on her tiptoes and press a kiss to her husband’s lips, which he happily accepted.

“You’re welcome,” she said as she pulled away. “Sorry for yelling at you, by the way. I kinda hate myself when I get that angry. I didn’t want you to see me lose control.” 

“No, no, don’t apologize,” Ray said. “You did exactly what you needed to do to cut through our bullshit. And it is much appreciated…even if you were kinda scary for a second there.”

“Yeah, do me a favor and remind me never to piss you off,” Winston interjected. 

Egon, standing stalwart at her side, nodded his agreement. "It is not a pleasant experience, Winston."

“To be honest, honey, I half expected you to start breathing fire,” Ray joked. 

Rose huffed a mildly self-conscious laugh. 

“Yeah, well…I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that,” she assured him. She smiled up at him, feeling only love and appreciation. “Dragon Rose is gone. I’m back to your regularly scheduled wife now. Seems like we’re all back to normal.”

“Thank God for that,” Winston muttered. “And thank God Peter wasn’t with us. Can you imagine him with this stuff? He woulda been a total nightmare!” 

Ray and Egon’s expressions dropped and they stared at each other wide-eyed. 

“Peter! We gotta go tell him!” Ray exclaimed, dropping her hands. He scrambled to pick up his suit up off the street and dashed off with Egon hot on his heels. “Come on!” 

“What - now? Right now?!” Rose called after her husband. 

“Yeah, now!” Ray shouted back. “Vigo and the slime…Dana cannot go back to the museum, it’s not safe!” 

“But he’s on a date!” she protested. “Ray? Egon! Guys, come on - !”

Winston shook his head and grabbed his suit before he began jogging after Ray and Egon, both of whom were hauling ass ahead of them. “Come on, girl, looks like we’re crashing Peter’s dinner!”

“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” Rose grumbled. She gathered up her discarded slicker suit and began sprinting to catch up with the others. “He’s gonna kill us. RAY! Peter is gonna murder us, you know that, right?!” 

“I know!” he shouted back.

“God damn it.” 

Chapter Text

Peter was going to throttle them. He was going to murder them one by one, probably slowly and painfully, and then dispose of their bodies in the Hudson. And, Rose decided as Ray screeched the Ecto to a halt outside of Armand’s, they would most definitely deserve it. 

“Okay, come on,” Ray said urgently, practically leaping from the driver’s seat. Egon and Winston followed suit, and Rose climbed out a second later, wanting desperately to stop them from crashing Peter and Dana’s date but knowing it was utterly pointless to even try. The three men were on a tear, exhilarated from the slime encounter and fully convinced they needed to inform Peter of their experience and their suspicions of danger right away. 

Rose supposed she could have waited outside the restaurant, but it was freezing and she didn’t have a coat, and they were her team. In for a penny, in for a pound. 

Ray, Egon, and Winston barreled through the entrance to Armand’s and Rose trudged after them. The moment she got her first look at Armand’s interior, her heart sank: it was a beautiful restaurant, with ritzy, cream-toned walls and carpets, soft classical music drifting through the air, and a tuxedoed maître d’ to top it all off.

And there they were, four Ghostbusters - three of whom were not even fully dressed - bursting through the door, drenched in slime and looking like absolute trainwrecks.

Peter was going to kill them, and Dana would help him. 

“You sure this is it?” Winston asked, looking around the interior of the restaurant. A couple speaking to the maître d’ stared at them in horror as they approached. 

“Yeah, he said Armand’s,” Ray replied, making a dash past the front desk. "Right, Rose?"

She nodded miserably. "Yeah, but guys, can't we just - I don't know, ask a waiter to give him a message or something? We shouldn't be here, not like this..."

“Excuse me -!” the maître d’ protested. 

“It’s alright, we’ll look in the back,” Egon reassured him. 

“Yeah, we’ll only be a minute!” Ray jumped in. 

Rose shook her head and followed after her boys, shaking her head at the maître d’ as she passed. “I’m so sorry. Really, I’m sorry. It’s a lovely place you have here. Excuse me.”

“VENKMAN!” Ray exclaimed, having spotted Peter and Dana in the middle of the dining room. His outburst - and the sudden appearance of the four underdressed and overslimed Ghostbusters - caught the attention of every single person in the room. Peter and Dana stared at them in dismayed shock as the guys started bustling their way over, muttering excitedly amongst themselves. 

Rose took a deep breath. 

This was going to be bad… really bad. 

Shaking her head, she stood tall, threw her shoulders back, and took the plunge, following the guys into the dining room and ignoring every stunned, scandalized glance thrown their way. 

The maître d’ chased after them, protesting angrily. “Please leave! You cannot - get out of my restaurant!” 

Ignoring him entirely, Ray - at the front of the pack - beelined for Peter, rushing right up to his table without so much as a ‘hello, so sorry to interrupt your date’. Rose scooted ahead of Winston to stand by her husband and Egon, and hopefully mitigate the utter disaster her brother’s night was about to become. 

“It was absolutely incredible!” Ray exclaimed. Peter and Dana blinked at him, taking in their appearance with no small amount of horror. “The greatest tangible evidence of psychic energy in one hundred years!” 

Egon and Winston just about fell over themselves trying to explain what happened, although it was hard to hear anything over the loud, angry voice of the maître d’, trying to force them out of the restaurant. 

“You are disturbing our guests!” he shouted. 

To make matters worse, Egon, Ray, and Winston sat themselves right down in the three empty seats at Peter and Dana’s table, no doubt staining the lovely cream-colored fabric chairs an unfortunate shade of neon pink.

“This is an emergency,” Ray said to the maître d’. “Just one second.”

Peter glanced at Rose, a silent question in his eyes, and she shook her head, completely at a loss. 

“I’m sorry, Peter. I’m so sorry…”

Peter sighed and looked back over at the guys.  

“Boys! BOYS!” he shouted, getting them to pipe down. “You’re scaring the straights, okay? Is there any way we can do this tomorrow?”

Rose jumped on the idea, and grabbed Ray’s arm, attempting to drag him away from the table. “Yes, that’s an excellent idea, Peter. Tomorrow, guys, we’ll talk to him -”

“No!” Winston protested. 

“Damn it,” Rose muttered and dropped her husband’s arm in favor of burying her face in her hands. 

“No, this won’t wait until tomorrow, Venkman! It’s hot and it’s ready to pop!” Egon insisted. 

“Yeah, it’s all over the city, Pete!” Ray told him. 

“Under it, actually,” Rose supplied, dropping her hands and looking up at her brother tiredly.

“Rivers of this stuff!” Winston added for Dana’s benefit, nodding at her seriously. 

“Yes, and it’s all flowing right to the museum!” Egon said. 

Rose didn’t think the situation could get any worse: they’d spent a good portion of their night getting scared out of their wits or fighting against a supernatural ooze-induced rage; they’d crashed Peter and Dana’s very swanky date; a crowd had gathered in the doorway of the dining room, taking in the spectacle; and now the maître d’ had disappeared, most likely to call the police and have them forcibly removed. 

But then Ray - the love of her life, her other half, her eternal sunshine - somehow managed to make it so much worse. 

“Yeah, the museum!” he exclaimed. He whipped his arm around and over his shoulder - Rose jumped back to avoid catching a smack to the gut - presumably to point in the general direction of said museum, and a string of slime launched off his hand and arm at the gesture, splattering some poor woman behind them square in the chest. 

Ray, Winston, and Egon had turned the moment they saw the slime enter the air and watched it land with surprise and not a little bit of alarm crossing their faces. Peter’s eyebrows shot up and Dana’s jaw dropped open. Had it not been such a mortifying development, the arc might have been impressive; the slime off Ray’s arm managed to hit not only the woman, but splattered her date and their table, too. 

Rose’s eyes almost fell out of her head. “Aw, hell.”

The woman gasped and looked down at her lovely - and likely ruined - sheer top, now stained with pink slime. The other patrons murmured in horror and shock as the woman stood, and the slime began to dribble down her front. 

“Look what he got all over me! What is this stuff?” the woman said to her date. Rose pinched the bridge of her nose, grumbling in frustration. 

Egon lifted his hand in an awkward, apologetic wave as the woman left her table, presumably to try and clean herself up, and Ray turned back to Peter and Dana, looking embarrassed. 

“Sorry…” he said quietly. 

Rose just shook her head and put both hands on her husband’s shoulders from behind, hopefully to keep him from launching more slime at more unsuspecting diners with his overexcited gesticulations. He looked up at her and patted her left hand with his right, offering a nervous smile. She managed to smile back at him, though she was sure it did not appear genuine. 

"Anyway," Rose said. "Yes - it turns out the river of slime leads back to the museum."

“Oh, God,” Dana fretted. “You mean my museum?”

Peter put a hand to his face, completely exasperated, and the impact of his elbow on the table rattled the silverware. He looked up and over at Dana a second later. “I was - I was gonna tell you between the dessert and the cheese course.”

“There they are!” 

Rose looked over her shoulder and sighed in resignation: the police had arrived and the maître d’ was pointing straight at them.

“You can never go back there again,” Peter continued. “You’re gonna have to find a new job.”

“Psychomagnotheric plasma,” Ray said to Dana, as if that explained everything. Egon and Winston launched into a new wave of explanations, trying to speak over each other. Ray looked at Peter. “It affects behavior. We were fighting!” 

Rose shook her head and began to shake with suppressed laughter; Ray sounded entirely too thrilled about how close he and Winston had come to trading blows. The whole situation was absolutely absurd. 

“We were in a fight!” Winston exclaimed. 

“He had him by the throat!” Egon interjected, demonstrating with a hand around his own throat. Rose scoffed - that was a complete exaggeration. 

“No he did not!” she protested. “They didn’t even throw a punch, Peter! Ray tried, but he gave up halfway through the swing!” 

“And Rose turned into a drill sergeant for a second there ‘cause Winston and I wouldn’t stop arguing!” Ray rambled. “She was kinda scary!”

Peter snorted in spite of himself, but his mirth turned to concern a second later, his eyes trained on something behind them. Someone tapped Rose on the shoulder and she looked around: the cops had finally strolled over to them. 

“I’m glad they’re here! We gotta see the mayor!” Ray said, even as one of the cops urged him from his seat. Rose, sensing where this was going, stepped to the side and did not fight when another cop began directing her away from her brother’s table.

Ray began trying to explain to the police they needed to be brought to see Mayor Lenny, but in his excitement, he forgot not to resist, and the cop ended up pushing him bodily towards the exit. Rose followed calmly behind her husband - her cop simply walked alongside her - while two more cops jostled Egon and Winston towards the door behind her. 

Rose glanced over her shoulder and noticed they had picked up something of an entourage: the woman Ray had splattered with the slime and her date, the irate maître d’, a few assorted patrons, Dana, and finally Peter all followed them outside. 

She turned to look at the cop escorting her and smiled, a bit sardonically. "So how's your night going?" 

"Better than yours," the cop replied. 

Rose snorted derisively. "Talk about a low bar."

In the commotion, Rose wasn’t entirely sure how it all happened. One second she, Egon, Winston, and Ray were under arrest, and the next second - for reasons beyond her understanding - Peter was also placed under arrest. The next second after that, none of them were under arrest, and on top of that, Peter had somehow convinced the cops that they should be escorted to Gracie Mansion to see the mayor straightaway. 

So off they went, split into two squad cars. Ray, Egon, and Peter were in one car - since Peter hadn’t been a disturber (for once, he’d actually been one of the disturbed), he was allowed to ride shotgun - and Winston and Rose rode in the other. 

It was a good thing Peter was a basically decent person, Rose reflected as she sat uncuffed in the back of the squad car; the strength of his skills of persuasion would have been extremely worrisome (and probably extraordinarily dangerous) otherwise. 

“Why did I let you three go into that restaurant?” Rose asked Winston rhetorically. “Why did I go in there with you? I could have been at home or at the firehouse, but no . Instead, I’m covered in slime, and we’re being escorted by cops on our way to convince the mayor that New York is on the verge of a dangerous paranormal incident. Again. Why did I do this?”

“Because you’re a Ghostbuster?” Winston suggested, smiling at her in amusement. “And because you love us?”

She rolled her eyes and scowled at him. “Yeah, whatever. You know, you yahoos are very lucky that I love you as much as I do.” 

“Oh, we know. We’re well aware,” Winston assured her. “But come on, you love all this just as much as the rest of us.”

Rose laughed. “Ghostbusting, the thrill of the chase, the mystery, the lore? Absolutely. Making an ass of myself in public, dripping slime everywhere? Not so much, no.”

Winston inclined his head. “Yeah, okay, that’s fair.”

The squad car turned left and then right. Rose collected some of the slime residue on her shirt and drew a happy face on the inside of her window. A cheerful little surprise, hopefully, for the next poor sap to wind up in the back of the cop car. 

“So, what do you think the play is here?” Winston asked her suddenly. 

“What, our play, you mean?” she replied. She shrugged. “Convince the mayor we haven’t lost our minds, I guess. Like we did last time.”

Winston snorted. “That might be a little difficult. We barely managed it last time and we were actually dressed then.”

“Hey, speak for yourself - I am dressed. And so is Peter. You, Ray, and Egon…well…”

“Yeah, okay. But no, I mean, what do you think Vigo wants? What’s his play? What’s with the slime? He can control it, but is he making it, or just using it? And if he didn’t make it, where the hell did it come from? It didn’t just pop up out of nowhere, did it?”

“Those are all good questions, I just don’t have answers for them,” Rose told him. “I don’t know, I mean…like I said, I think the slime finds and then feeds on emotions, and self replicates. That doesn’t tell us where it first originated obviously, but it’s possible the emotions itself are what creates it. Large enough concentration of a high enough intensity, coupled with some random spike in psychokinetic energy and boom, we got mood slime. Or maybe something else created it, I don’t know.”

Rose saw the cop’s eyes flicker over to her in the rear view mirror, his eyebrow raised skeptically. She ignored him; he could eavesdrop if he wanted, it made no difference to her.

“Well, either way, Vigo’s controlling it,” Winston replied. “But what does he want? What’s the point? He sent it after Dana and Oscar, but why? Why them?”

“I have no idea,” Rose said, shaking her head. She fell silent and looked out the window, watching the lights of the city pass them by. It was strange to think there was only a day and change left in the whole decade, and there they were again: the Ghostbusters, once more the only people standing in between humanity and its destruction at the hands of a violent, dangerous entity, the likes of which most people couldn’t comprehend and didn’t want to believe existed besides. 

Gozer, of course, had wanted exactly two things: to conquer their world and to annihilate anyone in their way. The Sumerian god had been relatively simple in that respect. Seek, conquer, destroy - rinse and repeat. Easy. 

But Vigo…Vigo had been human and in a way, that made him infinitely more complicated than Gozer. So what did he want? Most ghosts who retained at least some sense of self also retained their desires from life. So what had Vigo wanted in life? 

He’d been a despot, a sorcerer. He would have wanted the one thing he could never get enough of: power. 

And what would be the ultimate expression of power for a tyrannical magic-wielder? The answer was obvious: to achieve immortality and conquer death. 

Based on his longevity and the way he died, Vigo had been functionally immortal, or at least as close as any one person could be. Having to be torn limb from limb and beheaded - only after being poisoned, shot, stabbed, and disemboweled - before finally dying did not reflect a normal person’s threshold for survivable damage. Even then, his decapitated head had spoken, allegedly to deliver a prophecy. Could it have been nothing more than a legend born out of the fear Vigo’s subjects had for him? Certainly, but frankly, she would have to be an arrogant fool to just assume that was the case. 

If the claim about his dying declaration was true, then it encapsulated his entire purpose for manifesting in New York City centuries after his death.

“The prophecy,” Rose said, looking over at Winston. He frowned at her, arching an eyebrow. “The thing his head said before it died, about coming back. Death is but a door and all that. That’s what he wants. To live again.”  

“Okay, but how?” Winston replied. “His body was ripped to pieces three and a half centuries ago, half a world away in Moldavia.” 

Rose considered his point. At the end of the day, Vigo was a ghost. A powerful and resourceful one, to be sure, but still just a ghost. And if a ghost decided it needed or wanted a corporeal body, then there was really only one option available. 

“Possession,” she asserted. “He would need to possess someone.” 

“You're thinking Dana?"

“Well, she has been possessed before,” Rose said.

“Yeah, but didn’t Egon keep an eye on her and Louis for a whole year after Gozer, just to make sure they were all clear?” Winston countered. 

“He did, but they were possessed by demigods, not normal ghosts, and who really knows what happens when you’re possessed, anyway? Something could have been left behind that Egon just didn’t know to look for.” 

Winston sighed thoughtfully. “Well, sure, it’s possible he missed something. Dana could be carrying around some sort of ghost-nip without anyone knowing.”

“Could be…but I don't know, wouldn’t she have had a bunch more experiences then?” Rose said, speaking quickly as her mind pieced together parts of the puzzle before them. “If she is walking ghost-nip - I’m totally telling Ray about that, by the way, he’ll love that…ghost-nip, ha - but if she is, then you’d think she’d be up to her ass in hauntings and encounters, especially over the last five years. But she hasn’t. Aside from Gozer and the slime, it’s been quiet for her. I don’t know…it’s clear that Vigo has his eye on Dana, but for what purpose? That’s the question we have to answer.”

She trailed off and noticed Winston was smiling at her. “What?”

He shook his head, still grinning. “Nothing. You just sounded like Ray there, that’s all.”

Rose laughed. “Yeah, well, what can I say? I guess he’s rubbed off on me. But anyway, we’re missing something, for sure.”

“Mhm.”

Rose caught sight of the cop looking at them again, just as they turned into the driveway of Gracie Mansion, but this time his eyes were wide with alarm and disbelief. 

“You people are insane,” the cop said to them, shaking his head as he put the car in park. “You’re absolutely nuts.”

She and Winston looked at each other and rolled their eyes in unison. 

“Yeah, that’s what they said about Galileo, and look how that worked out,” Rose told him shortly.

They pulled up to the front of the mansion, just behind the squad car carrying Ray, Peter, and Egon. Their cop put the car in park and hopped out to open Rose’s door for her. Winston got out on his own and rushed ahead to meet the other guys as they lumbered out of their own car. 

She leapt out of the car the second she was able, shooting the cop a slightly dirty look as she zoomed by. 

“Ray!” she called out. 

Ray turned around at the sound of her voice and smiled when he saw her. His hair was sticking straight up - it usually was, anyway, although this time it was thanks to the slime coating his head - and he had a wonderfully wild, excited sparkle in his eyes that Rose knew and loved well. He held out his hand to her as she dashed over to him and grabbed onto her, lacing their fingers together. 

“Oh, Ghostbusters!” the young doorman said, his eyes flitting from Winston, to Peter, to Rose, and to Ray just beside her. His name tag identified him as 'Bobby'.

“How you doin’?” Peter greeted him, clapping him on the arm. 

“Hey, guys, come right this way,” Bobby said excitedly, dashing over to the ornate door and holding it open for them. Peter and Winston zipped through the door first. Rose, Ray, and Egon were almost through the door and into the foyer when the doorman’s voice stopped them. 

“Hey, you guys got another one of those proton packs?” he asked Ray. “My kid brother really wants one.”

Rose suppressed a snort of amusement when Egon fixed the young man with a deeply unimpressed stare, although it probably would have been more effectively off-putting had he not looked like he’d just taken a fully clothed dunk in a swimming pool filled with pink slime. 

“The proton pack is not a toy,” Egon told him sternly and edged past Ray and Rose to follow after Peter and Winston. 

Ray chuckled and shrugged apologetically at Bobby. “I guess he’s right.”

Rose stared at her husband in disbelief as they turned on their heels and walked hand in hand across the foyer. “You guess he’s right?!”

He smiled at her cheerfully and shrugged again. “Well, it’s kind of a toy, isn’t it? For us, anyway.”

“Oh, sure,” Rose said, shaking her head and rolling her eyes lightly. “I mean, it’s only what, three hundred and ten percent more deadly than your average slinky?” 

Ray laughed and let go of her hand to wrap his arm around her shoulders. “Okay, good point. You know, I bet Egon knows exactly how much deadlier our packs are than a slinky.”

“He probably does,” Rose agreed, wrapping her arm around Ray’s waist. “But I will not be the one to ask him that particular question, my love.” 

“Probably for the best,” Ray said. “I think his brain might actually explode.” 

“Mhm, and we really don’t need him short circuiting on us right now,” she laughed. "Maybe when we're not dealing with another potential apocalypse."

As they continued down the hallway, the sounds of a party echoed off the marble floors. The Mayor was evidently having a get together, likely for the New York elite. Well, no matter; their information was more important than pre-New Year’s Eve schmoozing and champagne. 

The group of five drew closer and closer to the sounds of merriment just around the corner, each walking with a grave sense of purpose. Peter and Winston led their pack, but were forced to pull up short when a tall man wearing a tuxedo and an immensely irritated scowl stepped out from an adjacent hallway and directly into their path. 

Egon halted just ahead of Ray and Rose, who made a quiet sound of disgruntled annoyance as she too came to a stop. 

Jack Hardemeyer, Mayor’s assistant and pain in the ass extraordinaire, stood smack dab in the middle of their path, somehow looking sullen, smug, and miffed all at the same time. 

She’d have been happier had Walter Peck himself stepped out from that hallway. At least Peck was competent, generally speaking (firehouse explosion and temper tantrums aside). He could be reasoned with - theoretically, anyway.

She wasn’t sure she could say the same for Hardemeyer. 

Peck’s hatred of the Ghostbusters had been mostly professional - having believed they were rather sizable threats to the ongoing protection of the environment - with a healthy dose of personal disdain for Peter mixed in.

Hardemeyer, on the other hand…his vitriol was purely political. His aspirations were too closely entwined with the Mayor’s run for governor to give the Ghostbusters even a hint of leeway. Much more difficult to deal with. 

“Well, well, Jackie boy!” Peter said sardonically. “Fancy meeting you here. Love the tux, looking real sharp. Listen, do me a favor - why don’t you tell me and my friends here where we can find the Lenster? Gotta chat with him about something kinda important.”

Hardmeyer rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “For reasons beyond my understanding, the Mayor has, in fact, decided to meet with all of you.” 

“Great,” Peter replied. “Then if you’ll excuse us…” 

He tried to sidestep Hardemeyer, but the taller man put a hand on Peter’s shoulder and slowly pushed him back. “Absolutely not. Under no circumstances are any of you people stepping foot in that party.”

Peter straightened to his full height and took a step back. Rose could tell by the set of his shoulders that her brother was irked. 

“You got a bad habit of putting your hands on people, Jack, you know that?” he said icily. Rose and Ray shared a concerned glance. 

“Stow the bravado for a moment, Venkman,” Hardemeyer sneered. “The Mayor has asked me to escort you to his study. He will come find you. There are several very important, very wealthy potential donors here tonight, and you and your band of freaks will not disturb, upset, or otherwise scandalize them.” 

“Hey, watch who you’re calling a freak!” Winston protested. Hardemeyer ignored him completely. 

“Well, we’re not getting any younger, so…shall we?” Rose piped up, releasing her hold on Ray's hand to step forward, passing Egon and coming to stand at her brother’s side. Hardemeyer’s eyes flickered over to her for a brief moment before returning to Peter. 

“I want to make one thing clear, Venkman: if it were up to me, all of you would be rotting in a jail cell indefinitely. You’re menaces to society and more importantly, you’re a threat to the Mayor’s -”

“Campaign for governor, yes, we know,” Rose interrupted, rolling her eyes. Hardmeyer turned his full attention on her and glared down at her. “Christ Almighty, get a new catchphrase already. Also, the whole ‘wanting to throw us in jail’ thing? So five years ago. Walter Peck did it first and you, pal,” she waved her hand at him lazily, “are no Walter Peck. So let’s stop yapping and get a move on, alright?”

Behind her, she heard Ray suppress a snort of laughter and Hardemeyer’s glare hardened. She crossed her arms and met his eyes unflinchingly. Hardemeyer was powerless, really; Lenny wanted to talk to them, and there was no way his flying monkey of an assistant would dare go against his wishes. 

Master political strategists could make whole careers off getting other people elected, and it was painfully obvious just how badly Hardemeyer wanted to be a Kingmaker, to rub elbows with the upper echelons of power. With the political capital of the Governorship on the line, Lenny could not afford rogues in his own house, so defying him over even the tiniest of his decisions would be tantamount to career suicide. It was best not to underestimate him, but for the moment, Hardemeyer’s hands were tied. 

“You heard the lady, Crackerjack,” Peter snarked. “Lead the way.”

A muscle jumped in Hardemeyer’s jaw and he audibly ground his teeth, but after a moment, he turned on his heel and tersely gestured for them to follow him. Peter and Rose smirked at each other, enjoying their small victory, before leading their pack after Hardemeyer. 

“This joker kinda makes you miss Peck, doesn’t he?” Winston said to Rose quietly. Peter heard him and raised his eyebrows but didn’t respond. She huffed a laugh and nodded at him over her shoulder. “Never thought I’d see the day I got nostalgic for old Wally Wick, of all people. But I guess stranger things have happened.”

Rose and Peter both snorted and spoke in unison: “Yeah, and they usually happen to us.” 

Winston and Ray laughed, but she and her brother looked at each other in mild discomfort and alarm. 

“Okay, that was weird,” Rose said to him. 

Peter nodded vehemently. “Yeah, let’s avoid doing that again.” 

Ahead of them, an attendant opened a heavy wooden door for Hardemeyer, who stepped through, and kept it open for the Ghostbusters as they approached. The attendant - a young man, like the doorman out front - smiled at them and nodded in support as they walked up. 

“How’s it going? Happy New Year. Well, almost, anyway,” Ray said cheerfully to him as they strolled by. 

“Thank you, Happy New Year to you, sir,” the attendant said properly. As they began to pass just out of hearing range, Rose heard him murmuring excitedly to himself. “Ghostbusters…so cool! Caleb ain’t never gonna believe this.” 

“Now that young man shows promise,” Peter said, a bit louder than was strictly necessary. Hardemeyer sighed heavily, though it came out as more of a growl. “Somebody raised him right.”

Picking up on her brother’s attempt to antagonize their unwilling babysitter, Rose snorted and spoke loudly, staring at Hardemeyer’s back. “It is nice to know some people appreciate what we do for this city.”

“I need a drink,” Hardemeyer muttered to himself.  

A light sparked in Peter’s eyes and he smirked at her. “Speaking of drinks…”

But with a wicked grin, Rose beat him to it. “Oh, Pete, by the way - jinx, you owe me a beer.”

“Damn it!” 

Chapter Text

True to his word, Hardemeyer led them into the Mayor’s study and promptly sat right down in one of the chairs, his back to the large oak desk. He remained silent, though his face spoke volumes of his displeasure at their presence. Peter, Winston, and Egon stood sentry at different spots in the middle of the room, silently examining their surroundings from a distance, while Rose and Ray busied themselves with investigating the study a little closer. 

All told, it was a rather garish, ugly room, in Rose's opinion. The walls and doors were made of light-colored wood - there were assorted portraits on the walls, while the far wall near the door was decorated with a tapestry of unknown origin - and there was a large, forest green area rug under her feet. The furniture was no less unattractive, unfortunately: the chairs and couch looked uncomfortable, and were upholstered in a glossy, green candy striped material. 

Truthfully, it was a depressing room, and not at all impressive, like she imagined a mayor’s study should be. Hizzoner's City Hall office - back when they’d convinced him to let them handle Gozer - had been a white, gleaming monument to bureaucracy, and although Rose hadn’t been all that fond of that room either, it was at least more appropriate to the political station of the Mayorship.

Looking to entertain herself, she gravitated towards a large portrait on the wall in front of her, and fiddled with the miniature but hefty Statue of Liberty on the table beneath it. She heard Ray chuckle to himself and she looked around: he’d found the Mayor’s cigar box. He shot her a mischievous grin, having plucked one of the (likely imported) cigars from the box and held it up for her to see, twirling it between his fingers. She shook her head and gestured silently, trying to avoid catching Hardemeyer’s attention. 

“Put it back,” she mouthed. Ray’s grin spread wider across his face and he shook his head, and Rose sighed quietly, throwing her hands up in defeat just as the double doors opened behind them. 

Another member of the Mayor’s staff stepped through, ushering in the man himself, who looked none-too-pleased with the situation at hand. 

“Lenny! Big man!” Peter exclaimed. Egon nodded hello, and Ray and Winston both broke out into big, friendly smiles. Rose settled for a cordial wave as she walked over to her husband. 

“Ghostbusters,” Mayor Lenny said. 

“Mr. Mayor,” Winston greeted. He stepped forward and offered his hand, but dropped it when the Mayor looked him up and down and then over at the other three underdressed Ghostbusters.

Rose was once again incredibly thankful she’d thought to put on jeans. She might have looked a mess, but at least she wasn’t prancing around in long underwear. 

“What is this? A slumber party?” the Mayor asked, grimacing at their appearance. Hardemeyer snorted in sycophantic amusement, and Rose forced herself to keep from rolling her eyes. Peter, Egon, and Ray, however, attempted to launch into explanations. 

“That’s what we’re here to talk about,” Ray said matter-of-factly, trying to make himself heard over the others. Rose would have tried to explain why only she and Peter were fully dressed, but the look on the Mayor’s face told her he couldn’t have been less interested. 

Lenny held up his hands, shaking his head sternly. “Look, I don’t wanna hear anything about it.” 

The babbling ceased instantly, and Ray looked over at her, twiddling the cigar between his fingers nervously. She shrugged slightly - what had he expected, really? Although they had arrived on a matter of great importance, they were still gate-crashing the Mayor’s very ritzy party. Lenny wasn’t going to welcome them with open arms as if they were old friends. He had just barely tolerated their existence five years ago, and even then, that was only because Peter had appealed to the political shark in him. 

“You’ve got two minutes. Make it good,” Lenny told them, sitting down in the chair directly adjacent to Hardemeyer.

Peter took a seat on the couch across from the Mayor, while Winston stood next to Egon with his hands behind his back, assuming a ramrod straight military posture. Rose smiled to herself; once a Marine, always a Marine. Egon leaned forward a little, resting his hands on the back of the couch, and nodded at Rose and then at Ray. She nodded in silent reply and nudged Ray, encouraging him to speak. 

“Uh, well, first of all, Mr. Mayor, it’s a great pleasure to see you again,” Ray began nervously. “And we’d just like to say that almost fifty percent of us voted for you in the last election.”

Rose, for her part, had not voted for Lenny (he wasn’t quite left-leaning enough for her), but she wasn’t sure that mattered all that much at the moment. It was clear Ray was aiming for the damage control opener. It was a smart enough move, although with his innate earnestness, it did leave him looking like a bit of a suck-up. If it got Lenny to listen, though, it would be well worth it. 

“I appreciate that,” Lenny said flatly.

“I’m just sorry we have to always meet under these circumstances,” Peter said lightly, flashing a hint of a charming smile. 

Lenny stared back, utterly unamused. 

“Mr. Mayor,” Ray continued gravely. “We’re here tonight because a psychomagnotheric slime flow of immense proportions is building up beneath the city.” 

“Psycho- what?” he asked, blinking at them, clearly trying to process what he’d just heard. Rose couldn’t blame him; it was a lot to take in, especially for a non-Ghostbuster. 

“Psychomagnotheric,” Egon repeated. 

“Big word,” Peter commented. “Big word.”

“Negative human emotions are materializing in the form of a viscous, psychoreactive plasm with explosive supernormal potential,” Egon said matter-of-factly. Unfortunately, based on the look on the Mayor’s face, the explanation had done absolutely nothing to help matters. 

“Does anybody speak English here?” Lenny asked.

Hardemeyer raised his hand and Rose shot him a look. Thankfully, before Hardemeyer could speak, Winston jumped in, taking a knee at the Mayor’s side. 

“Yeah, Your Honor, see, what we’re trying to tell you is, like, all the bad feelings, I mean, all the hate, the anger and violence of this city is turning into this sludge,” Winston told him. “I didn’t believe it at first either, but we just went for a swim in it, and we ended up almost killing each other!”

“This is insane!” Hardmeyer interjected. Rose crossed her arms and scowled at him. “I mean, do we really have to listen to this?”

“Can’t you stop your lips from flapping for two little minutes?” Peter asked, standing to walk over and paw at Hardemeyer’s face, just to be a nuisance. Rose breathed slowly to keep from laughing out loud as Hardemeyer jerked back irritably and slapped his hand away. Peter circled around the back of his chair to stand and face the Mayor. “Lenny, have you been out on the street lately? Do you know how weird it is out there? We’ve taken our own head count. There seem to be three million completely miserable assholes living in the Tri-State area.”

Ray and Rose nodded seriously in support of Peter’s assessment. 

“Oh, please,” Hardemeyer interrupted.

“I beg your pardon,” Peter said, leaning down to put a hand on Hardemeyer’s shoulder. “Three million and one.”

“Hey!” Hardemeyer protested.

“If you have nothing constructive to add, just pipe down, Jack. Nobody was talking to you, anyway,” Rose grumbled. The Mayor cleared his throat and she looked over at him; he was watching her with an eyebrow raised. She shrugged. “Apologies, sir, but it’s true.” 

“Yeah, what budgie-brain here doesn’t realize,” Ray said, gesturing to Hardemeyer with the unlit cigar in his hand, “is that if we don’t do something fast, this whole place is gonna blow like a frog on a hot plate.”

“Yeah, right,” Hardemeyer groused.

“Kind of gross visuals aside, he’s right, sir,” Rose said. The Mayor looked at her evenly. “All of it is true, the slime, the anger, the hatred. It’s all festering and growing at an exponential rate. Now, I know how it sounds - believe me, we all know - but you took a chance on us once before, Mr. Mayor, and we managed to stop something that would have meant the end of the world as we knew it. We’re just asking you to believe in us one more time.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Lenny asked, hopping to his feet. “Go on television and tell ten million people they have to be nice to each other?”

Rose had no answer for that, although Ray spread his hands and shrugged, as if to suggest that it wasn’t such a bad idea. Lenny turned and began to walk away, although he spun back around at the last second, glaring at them all in turn. 

“Being miserable and treating other people like dirt,” he asserted, pointing at Peter, “is every New Yorker’s God-given right. Your two minutes are up. Goodnight, gentlemen. Ma’am.”

The attendant who had escorted the Mayor in turned and opened the double doors with little ceremony, and Lenny stalked right back out into his party. 

“Wait!” Egon protested, dashing after him. 

“You’re making a big mistake, Mr. Mayor!” Ray said, hot on Egon’s heels. Rose, Winston, and Peter followed suit, calling after him loudly, although they all came to a halt as the doors were pulled shut, leaving them alone with Hardemeyer once more. 

“A very newsworthy mistake!” Peter continued to ramble, although Rose could see the telltale glint in her brother's eyes: he'd spotted an angle. “The Times is gonna be interested in this, and you know The Post is -”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Hardemeyer tried to interject. “Now, now…” 

“Yeah, I can see the headlines now,” she mused, crossing her arms, deciding to join in on the fun. She shared a knowing smirk with Ray and Egon. “‘Mayor Slips in Slime Scandal?’ Mm, maybe not.”

“Mayor Drowns in River of Slime,” Egon suggested. 

“A bit dark, but I like it,” Rose told him. 

“Mayor Hides Slime,” Winston suggested.

“Times Square Slime,” Ray added, shrugging thoughtfully. 

“Slime Square,” Egon said. 

“Ooh, yeah, I love that!” Rose said excitedly, pointing at him. Egon smiled, clearly proud of himself for coming up with a Post-worthy title.

“Fine, fine, fine,” Hardemeyer said, chuckling sardonically. “Now, before you go running off to the newspapers with this, would you consider telling this slime business to some of our people downtown?”

The four men nodded at each other and then back at the Mayor’s assistant, but in an instant, all kinds of alarm bells began sounding off in Rose’s head. No way would Jack Hardmeyer just give them a platform, not with how little he thought of them and especially not after Lenny had dismissed them exactly the way Walter Peck had so desperately wanted him to five years ago. 

“It’s gotta be done right away,” Peter told Hardemeyer, who simply nodded. 

“Of course. No time to spare,” Hardemeyer agreed. “If you’ll follow me back out this way, the police officers who brought you here will escort you and we can get this all cleared up.”

He led them back the way they came, through the foyer and outside to the front driveway. Ray, Peter, Winston, and Egon hurried after him, but Rose walked behind a slightly slower pace, her eyes narrowed suspiciously. Every fiber of her being screamed at her not to get back into the police cruiser, and that it would be better to walk back into the city, alone in the dark and cold, than place even a single shred of trust in Jack Hardemeyer. But frankly, her team was apparently choosing to trust Hardemeyer, and she wasn’t sure they had much of a choice, anyway, so she shoved her suspicion aside and climbed into the car, this time squished in between Winston and Ray. 

“Something isn’t right here,” Rose said suddenly, watching Hardemeyer speak urgently with the cops that had driven them to the mansion. She looked over at Ray. “You know that, don’t you?”

“Oh, I’m sure it’ll be fine, honey,” Ray replied, smiling down at her reassuringly. “Try not to worry.”

Rose made herself as small as she possibly could, pressed shoulder to shoulder with Winston and her husband, and prayed that Ray’s optimism was not completely unfounded. 

She was not hopeful. 

The moment she’d seen the sign for Parkview Psychiatric Hospital, gleaming out of the darkness like a beacon, she’d known they were in deep trouble. 

Hardemeyer, the lying bastard, had had them committed. 

Sure enough, when they pulled up, a whole team of large men in bright white uniforms had been there to greet them, by way of dragging them into the hospital. Rose had tried to make a break for it, and - cheered on by all four of her guys - had managed to violently shove Hardemeyer out of her way and make it all the way back outside before she was promptly chased down and tackled by one of the smaller orderlies. 

Her head had scraped against the ground painfully upon impact, leaving her with a mild headache and a small cut on her forehead right underneath her old scar. Being tackled had also had the unfortunate side effect of leaving her immensely pissed off. Incensed and in mild pain, she had channeled her inner hellcat and fought the orderly - and a second attendant the first had called for backup - tooth and nail. Ultimately her efforts had been in vain, but it took the two men about seven minutes to finally restrain her and haul her back inside. 

By the time they sat her down, threatening her with a sedative if she didn’t behave, all four of the guys had been forced into light blue mental patient uniforms and straitjackets. 

Ray and Peter had both shouted in anger and concern the moment they saw the small wound and blossoming bruise on her forehead, struggling against the confines of their restraints, but Rose had silenced them with a warning glance. It was vitally important they all keep their cool now that they were officially in custody, and she was fine, anyway. She was annoyed, and desperately wanted to charge Hardemeyer and really give the orderlies a reason to whack her up with a sedative, but physically she was fine. 

Knowing in the end that it was pointless to fight, she had changed into her own light blue uniform and allowed herself to be strapped into a straitjacket with as little fuss as possible, although inside she’d been spitting with anger. 

The five Ghostbusters had thus been dragged off down the cold gray halls, with one orderly - who had to have been at least six feet and six inches tall - hauling Ray and Peter by the back of their straitjackets, while a second, shorter orderly dealt with Winston and Egon. A third orderly escorted Rose, who had decided her best course of action was to remain calm. 

Running hadn’t worked, fighting hadn’t worked, so it was time to fall back on the old, golden standard of shutting up and projecting an outward demeanor of disinterested calm. Ray, on the other hand, had decided on another approach: he shouted his head off, trying desperately to make the doctor - a older, tired looking man who lingered behind the group with Hardemeyer - understand that they weren’t crazy, that it wasn’t just New York that was in danger, but the whole world, and that they just wanted to help. 

It had only served to make him sound like a stark raving lunatic. 

So there they sat - showered free of the slime residue and dry in their baby blue short sleeved uniforms - crowded around a table in a darkened interview room, listening to Ray try to explain their position to the skeptical doctor. They’d graciously been allowed to have their straitjackets removed, provided that they remained peaceful, for which Rose was grateful. She had found having her arms pinned criss-cross to her torso to be extremely uncomfortable. 

Rose sat at the end of the table, facing the doctor and fiddling with the white medical bracelet around her wrist. A small bandage covered the scrape on her head. Ray sat to her left with his arms crossed. Winston sat to his left, looking frustrated, while Egon sat to her right, staring at the table. Peter, sitting to Egon’s right, had put his head down on the table, burying his face in his arms. 

“As I explained before,” Ray said patiently as the doctor took a drag from his cigarette. “We think the spirit of a seventeenth century Moldavian tyrant is alive and well in a painting at the Manhattan Museum of Art.”

Egon rolled his eyes, shaking his head. Winston looked sideways at Ray and then made exhausted eye contact with Rose, who nodded. She knew exactly what they were thinking: that the doctor would never believe them and Ray was just wasting his breath. Privately, she agreed.  

“Uh huh, and are there any other paintings in the museum with bad spirits in them?” the doctor asked condescendingly. Rose clenched her jaw, urging herself not to respond. 

“You’re wasting valuable time,” Egon replied coolly, evidently having had enough. “He’s drawing strength from a psychomagnotheric slime flow that’s been collecting under the city.”

“Yes, tell me about the slime,” the doctor prompted. 

“It’s very potent stuff,” Winston remarked. “We made a toaster dance with it." He nodded his head towards Peter. "And a bathtub tried to eat his friend’s baby.”

Rose’s heart dropped; they sounded completely delusional, and it was only getting worse by the second. She sighed and hid her face in one hand, letting her other hand fall to the table with a soft thump. She looked up when Ray reached over and took her hand in his, squeezing her fingers tightly. She offered him a small smile and squeezed back. 

Peter finally picked his head up at the mention of Dana and Oscar, sitting up a little straighter. 

“A bathtub?” the doctor asked him. 

“Don’t look at me,” Peter told him. “I think these people are completely nuts.”

Ray made a tiny sound of protest, but Rose squeezed his hand to silence him. She really couldn’t blame her brother for disavowing them - he’d been having a perfectly pleasant night with Dana until they’d showed up and wrecked it, and now because of them he’d been involuntarily committed to the loony bin. 

She’d be pissed, too. 

Hell, she was pissed. 

“You haven’t said much, young lady,” the doctor said, looking straight at her. “What’s your take on this?”

“What's the point? You don’t believe us,” Rose pointed out. “And I doubt anything I could say would convince you, even though we’re telling the truth.”

“I believe that you believe you’re telling the truth,” the doctor replied. She assumed he had intended to come as kindly and understanding, but once again, he simply sounded condescending. “And I’m sure this must be confusing for you, but shared delusions are not as uncommon as you’d think.” 

“We are not delusional, doc,” Rose insisted. “Look, you know who we are, right?”

“The Ghostbusters,” he said, nodding. “I’m aware.” 

“Then you know the kind of things we deal with. It’s stuff that people don't usually want   to believe in, obviously, but that doesn’t make it any less real. And this - all of this, the ghost in the painting, the slime, all of it - is real!” 

“Now, I’m sure it must feel real. I’m sure it does, and that can be frightening…”

“Oh my God,” Rose cut in, letting out a quietly hysterical laugh. “Listen, were you here in New York in November 1984?”

“Yes, but I don’t see what that -”

“Then you must remember the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man making matchsticks of Holy Trinity Lutheran? It was all over the news. Or how about the avalanche of melted marshmallow that dropped like a bomb on everything in the immediate vicinity after we,” she gestured wildly between herself and the other four Ghostbusters, “blew him to smithereens! Do you remember any of that?” 

“Miss, you need to remain calm,” one of the orderlies guarding the door said to her, stepping forward. Rose glared at him. 

“I am calm!” she snapped. She looked back over to the doctor. “If you remember any of that, then you know damn well we aren’t crazy and we aren’t liars. Like my husband has said numerous times now, the spirit of a Moldavian tyrant is haunting his own portrait, and he has designs on coming back to life and taking over. Egon is right, you are wasting valuable time, talking to us like we’re a bunch of nutcases. Vigo the Carpathian is extremely dangerous, and with the psychomagnotheric slime in play, things are about to get exponentially worse for New York, and we are the only ones who have a prayer of stopping it. You wanted my take? That's my take.”

And with that, Rose fell silent, crossing her arms and glowering at the doctor. 

“Okay, well, I think I’ve heard enough,” the doctor said. “It’s late. Get some rest, and we’ll all talk again in the morning.” 

Peter sighed and dropped his head back down onto his arms. 

Rose awoke the next morning - December 31st, the very last day of the decade - from a fitful, irritable sleep and spent most of the day staring at the wall. After the doctor had dismissed them for the night, he’d instructed the orderlies to whisk her off to the women’s wing, separating her from the guys. None of them had been particularly happy about it, but either she went quietly, or they would restrain her, drug her, and drag her off anyway. She couldn’t risk being under the influence of whatever drugs they’d pump into her, not if the cataclysmic showdown they suspected was on its way actually arrived. 

She growled to herself in frustration and leapt up from her bed, pacing back and forth in front of the door. One of the nurses just outside eyed her carefully, but made no move to stop her.

Rose caught sight of a clock hanging on the wall above the nurse’s station: the time read four in the afternoon. The sun would have just begun to set; they were losing so much valuable time. Who even knew what Vigo was up to at that moment? Going after Dana and Oscar the way he had with the slime had been risky. He was gearing up for something and obviously, with his defiant attitude towards the permanency of death, that something was meant to give him a new lease on life. 

She just hoped Dana and the baby would be safe until they got out. And they would be getting out. One way or another, come hell or high water, the Ghostbusters would find a way to get out. 

Rose heard a commotion down the hall and stopped pacing, and instead walked right up to the observation window, and nearly pressed her face against the glass, trying to peer out. The nurse on the other side didn’t notice her sudden approach; she was too distracted by something or someone down the hall that Rose couldn’t yet see. 

And then, miracle of miracles: Louis Tully came charging down the hallway, carrying two huge duffel bags and looking stressed and upset, clearly in the midst of a fit of righteous anger. Rose barked out a laugh as their accountant and lawyer hurried right up to the nurse’s desk, slapped down a few pieces of paper, and pointed aggressively to Rose through the window. She’d never seen Louis so worked up. His voice was muffled through the glass, so Rose couldn’t make out all of what he said to the nurse, but she managed to catch the last three words of his tirade.

“Release. Her. Now.”

The nurse inspected the paperwork Louis had brought with him, and without another moment’s hesitation, she leapt up from her station and unlocked Rose’s door.

“Come with me, please,” she said cordially. “You’re being released.” 

Rose laughed triumphantly and scooted past the nurse out into the hallway, grinning like the loon the hospital staff thought she was. “Louis, I have never been so happy to see you in my entire life.”

He smiled goofily at her and dropped the duffel bags to the ground. He knelt beside one and unzipped it, retrieving a black t-shirt, a pair of jeans, her flight suit, and her trusty boots. 

“Get changed,” he said, tossing the clothing her way. She caught it, more than a little stunned. “We gotta get the guys. Bad stuff’s happening, Rose. A ghost kidnapped Dana’s baby right out of Peter’s window and took off with him, but Dana said it wasn’t a ghost, it was some guy named Janosz, and that she was going to the museum. Now, I don’t really know what any of that means, but I figured you guys probably would, so we gotta go.”

“Do you have the guys’ stuff, too?” she asked, a bit distracted and only half processing the information Louis had just unloaded on her. 

“Oh, sure, Janine and I grabbed it all from the firehouse. I got their suits, their boots, t-shirts and pants, and some of their equipment. Just small stuff though. We weren’t sure what we’d need.”

“How the hell did you fit everything in just two bags?” 

“Oh, I’m real good at packing. Gotta maximize space, you know,” Louis answered. He zipped the bag shut and stood up. As he did so, his frantic explanation from a few seconds ago finally processed in Rose’s head.

“Wait, did you say a ghost kidnapped Oscar?!”

“Not a ghost. Looked like a ghost to me, but Dana said it wasn’t. But yeah, he took Oscar.” 

Rose could have slapped herself. “Shit, it’s the baby he was after, not Dana! I didn’t even think -! God damn it!”

“Yeah, so we gotta go and you gotta change.”

“Right, yeah,” Rose said, shaking herself and dashing back inside her room. She drew the curtain over the window and changed as fast as she possibly could, shedding the scrubs and yanking on the jeans and t-shirt, and her flight suit over that. She shoved her arms through the sleeves and pulled the zipper halfway up.

She was out of the room the second her boots were on. She didn’t even bother lacing them.

“Let’s go,” she said to Louis, nodding decisively. “Get the guys, right?”

“Right.”

Without bothering to check with the nurse that she was free to leave, she and Louis barreled right towards the exit and burst out into the hallway. 

“Men’s ward, which way?” she barked at a passing attendant. 

Had she still been in her scrubs, instead of her flight suit and combat boots, the attendant undoubtedly would have ignored her entirely, or otherwise tried to lock her back up. For better or worse, the patch on her arm commanded alarm and granted her a certain measure of authority. The authority she needed, the alarm she could have done without, but Rose decided it was better for people to be afraid of her at the moment. She was not in the mood to be messed with. Thankfully, the attendant took one look at her uniform and the stony expression on her face, and wisely decided not to question her.

“Down the hall, take a left, then a right through the double doors,” he answered. 

“And the exit?” she asked.

The attendant pointed down the hallway behind him. “That way, around to the left, and it’s a straight shot down the stairs. Just follow the signs for outpatient registration.”

Rose nodded and turned to Louis. “They won't let me in the men's ward, so you go get the guys out, and meet me at the exit."  

“You got it.”

Louis and Rose split off in opposite directions. She stalked down the hallway, her boots landing heavily. She saw the first sign pointing towards outpatient registration and took the corner at full speed. 

She was fuming, mostly with herself. How had she not seen it? Of course Vigo was after Oscar. He wanted a second chance at life! Why would he bother possessing a willful adult, when he could take over a helpless infant with a full life ahead of him?  She growled at herself, frustrated beyond belief. It had been right there in front of her face! How had she not considered the possibility? With Dana’s history of possession, it hadn’t even occurred to her - to any of them - that it was Oscar and not Dana herself Vigo had been targeting with the slime. 

A sickening realization hit her like a freight train.

Not just the slime. 

Janosz. 

Janosz had dropped by Dana’s apartment the night of the blackout. Janosz - in ghost form, apparently - had snatched Oscar right from Peter’s apartment. Janosz. Working with Vigo. 

“He’s a fucking Renfield!” Rose snarled aloud to herself. “That motherfucker!”

A few orderlies heard her, took one look at the furious Ghostbuster storming towards them, and instinctively stepped out of her way. Just ahead of her was another sign for outpatient registration, pointing towards a narrow hallway and a small set of stairs just beyond. Those could only have been the stairs the attendant told her about. She screeched to a halt just before them and waited, pacing back and forth. 

Thankfully, she didn’t have to wait long: about three minutes later, a parade of footsteps came thundering down the hallway, and she looked around to see Louis leading Peter, Ray, Winston, and Egon, all of whom were zipping themselves into their flight suits. 

“- took the baby, then he put it into a…a carriage, and levitated away!” Louis explained. 

“What did Dana do?” Peter asked. “Where’d she go?”

Rose fell into lockstep with them as they approached her, and Ray reached for her hand, smiling at her. She wrapped her fingers around his and beamed at him as they hurried down the stairs, relieved they were all back together again. 

“I don’t know,” Louis told Peter. “She said she was going to the museum to get the baby back. And then there was an eclipse, and the whole town went dark, and everybody’s nuts!”

“It all fits,” Ray said as they charged around the corner and towards a pair of swinging doors. “Vigo wants in on the twenty-first century. He needs a human body to inhabit. Little Oscar must be it.”

Peter looked about as pleased as she was at the turn of events. Louis stepped out of the way to let them crash through the swinging doors first, and Rose pushed at one of the doors with a little more force than was necessary. 

“I don’t know how we missed it,” Rose fumed. “It’s so obvious! The slime attacking Dana and Oscar, and hell, I mean, even going back to taking the carriage; Janosz just dropping in unannounced during a blackout, and now taking Oscar. He kidnapped a baby, the bastard, and now Vigo’s gonna - oh, God, we need to stop him.”

Ray squeezed her hand. “We will. We’re not gonna let anything happen to Oscar.”

“We already have, Ray,” Rose replied sadly. “Hell, for all we know, it might be too late. He might’ve already possessed him.” 

“I don’t think so,” Egon piped up. Rose looked at him over her shoulder. “Many ritual sacrifices must be performed at a specific time of day or night.” 

“Sacrifice?!” Rose yelped. Peter, having heard Egon, craned his neck around so fast, Rose worried he might have given himself whiplash. His eyes were wide with alarm. 

“Not the best word you could have picked, Egon,” Winston sighed. 

“Apologies,” Egon said, pulling his suit zipper all the way up. “I should have been more specific. What I intended to say was that Vigo was a sorcerer in life and thus would have been bound by the ritual laws of magic. Now, it’s entirely possible what he considered magic is just science we have yet to understand, but in any case, there would have been rules he would have needed to follow. Certain rituals, spells, what have you, could only be performed at a certain time of day or sometimes only a certain time of year.”

“Okay, sure, but he’s just a ghost now. Ghosts can possess anyone, anytime. There’s no pageantry involved,” Rose argued.

“Correct,” Egon replied, nodding. “However, given Vigo’s actions in orchestrating Oscar’s kidnapping, we should assume that he at least believes himself to be bound by the same ritualistic rules that he was in life. He turned Poha into his puppet - theoretically, he could have just as easily made him the vessel at any point in time, and very few people would have been any the wiser. But he didn’t. He targeted a child. But was it that he wanted one, or that he believed he needed one?” 

Rose considered it for a moment and then nodded. “Okay, fine, I see the logic. So what are you thinking? How many minutes to midnight are we looking at here?”

“Your phrasing is more apt than you know,” Egon told her, a smirk spreading across his face. “Because I believe midnight is exactly what we’re looking at. The beginning of a new year, a new decade, and -”

“A new life for Vigo,” Rose finished. “A new reign of terror.”

“Precisely.” Egon pushed his glasses up his nose. “Although the reign of terror may have to wait another decade or so. Oscar is still only an infant.”

“Even better for the magical symbolism, I guess. A new millennium is a lot flashier than any old new year or even a new decade,” Rose said, shaking her head. 

“Yeah, and I bet we’re the only ones who can do anything about it, right?” Winston asked. 

“You bet we are,” Ray answered firmly.

They stormed through the final set of doors, leading them outside into the bitingly cold winter air. It was still daytime, but the sky was a much deeper, darker black than it should have been at that time of day: the eclipse had blotted out the setting sun to such a degree that the clock may as well have already struck midnight.

“Come on, guys,” Louis urged them, although it was unnecessary: all five Ghostbusters were hot on his heels. 

They rounded the corner into the parking lot and Rose beamed when she saw Janine waiting there, leaning against the outside of her little pink VW. A brown station wagon was parked right behind Janine’s beetle. Rose could only assume it belonged to Louis. 

She ran right up to their friend and threw her arms around her in a bone-crushing hug. Janine squeezed her tightly. 

“I am so glad to see you, Jay. It’s been a weird twenty four hours,” Rose told her. They released each other and she stepped back to look at their friend. 

“Don’t I know it!” Janine exclaimed. “Louis and I were just babysitting for Oscar, and Dana came home, saying you lunatics were arrested again , and then before I know it, the poor little baby was whisked away by some ghost! And then come to find out, you five got tossed into the funny farm!” 

“Yeah, you can blame Jack Hardemeyer for that one,” Ray interjected, walking over to her and Janine. Louis, Peter, Egon, and Winston trailed after him.

“The putz who works for the Mayor?” Janine asked. 

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

“Well, the Mayor’s the reason you got sprung, so I guess he showed Hardemeyer what for,” Janine told him. She smiled up at Ray, who beamed down at her. “Glad to see you’re alright.”

“Thanks for coming, Red,” Peter told Janine, strolling up alongside Ray. “Saving our asses once again.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” she replied, smirking up at him. “You're really making it a habit, you know? I’m starting to wonder if any of you actually have the common sense you shoulda been born with or if the ghosts just knocked it outta you at some point.”

“You’re only just now starting to wonder?” Winston asked.

Janine laughed. “Well, I know you have common sense, Winston. Rose, too. Mostly. It's really the other three I’m worried about.”

“Hey!” Peter protested, pouting. “I will have you know I have plenty of common sense.”

“If that’s true, Peter,” Janine replied flatly, “you might want to start using it.”

Rose snorted. “Okay, jokes aside, what’s the plan guys?”

“We need to get to the museum, pronto,” Peter said. 

“Right. But we can’t do much without our equipment. And most of that is in the Ecto,” Ray countered. 

“Okay. So here’s what we’re gonna do,” Rose said, taking control of the situation. “Ray, Winston, and Peter, you guys go with Louis and get the Ecto. It should still be parked outside Armand’s. Egon and I will go with Janine back to the Firehouse and gather up anything we might need from there, and then you come grab us and we’ll head over to the museum. Sound good?”

“Works for me!” Peter said. “Come on Louis, I can get us there in half the time.”

Peter beelined for the station wagon, and Louis hurried after him. Winston nodded to Rose, Egon, and Janine, before dashing off in the same direction as Peter. 

“See you soon,” Ray said to her, leaning down to kiss her quickly. “Love you.”

“I love you, too. Now go,” she urged. “There’s no time to lose.”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Ray turned on his heel and jogged over to Louis’ car, hopping in the backseat with Winston. Rose turned to Egon and Janine. 

“Alright, let’s hit the road, guys,” she said decisively. “If Vigo wants to play dirty, we’ll play dirty. Egon, are your slime blowers good to go?”

“They haven’t been field tested yet, but theoretically, yes, they’re ready,” he replied. 

Rose nodded, and headed for the backseat of Janine’s beetle. “Theoretically ready is good enough for me. Let’s go.”

Egon climbed into the front seat of the car and Janine hopped behind the wheel. They peeled out of the Parkview parking lot, and Rose felt that familiar rush of grim anticipation flooding her chest. Vigo attempting to claw his way back to life was one thing. It went against the natural order of the universe - dead was dead, and ghosts aside, what was dead should stay dead - but it wasn’t unheard of for a ghost to want a second chance at life. 

Attempting to get that second chance by possessing an innocent baby, however - that was a step too far. Vigo didn’t know it yet, but he had made a grave mistake the moment he decided to come after someone she loved. Someone all the Ghostbusters cared deeply for.

Game on. 

Chapter Text

The hour was creeping closer and closer to midnight, although after the strength of the eclipse, it may as well have been midnight for several hours already. It had taken Ray, Peter, and Winston a little longer than anticipated to return to the firehouse with the Ecto - New York traffic was a constant, even with an unexplained eclipse and ghosts running rampant all over the city - but the upside was that it had given Egon and Rose more time to put the very last finishing touches on the slime blowers. 

The phone had been ringing off the hook from the moment they stepped into the firehouse, and Janine had been handling the frightened, confused callers like the pro she was, assuring them the Ghostbusters were on top of the situation. As tempting as it was to grab one of the spare proton packs and run out into the night to battle the various specters that had begun terrorizing the city, Rose knew they had to keep focus on Vigo. It all tracked back to Vigo. 

The moment they’d heard the familiar sirens blaring through the chaos of the night and the brakes screeching to a standstill outside the Firehouse, Egon and Rose had gathered up the equipment, said goodbye to Janine, and beelined out the door. No sooner had they traded places with Louis and jumped into the backseat with Winston had Ray punched the gas, sending the Ecto screaming back down the street, sirens wailing. The urgency of the situation demanded Ray’s lunacy behind the wheel, so Rose, Egon, Peter, and Winston all held on tight, leaning into the sharp turns as best they could. 

Ray weaved in and out of traffic, passing dozens of other cars. Some were pulled over or stopped in the middle of the road, their drivers distracted by some ghost flying overhead, and some were just average, unimpressed New Yorkers trying to get from point A to point B, and ghosts and goblins be damned. In any case, the Ecto's blaring siren was more than enough to get any and all drivers to get out of their way as quickly as possible. 

In record time, the Ghostbusters rolled up in front of the Manhattan Museum of Art for the second time in as many days, cutting through a cheering crowd of onlookers and exhausted, perplexed first responders. Unfortunately, unlike the previous day, it was not a quiet winter morning, and the museum was no longer merely a peaceful landmark. Instead, it appeared as though every last ounce of the mood slime running underneath the city had coalesced at the museum and encased the whole exterior of the building, creating a bright pink, shimmering shell. 

“Holy shit,” Rose breathed as she, Winston, and Egon clambered out of the car. She stared up at the museum in shock. Ray and Peter emerged from the front seat, looking as nonplussed as she felt. 

“Looks like a giant Jell-O mold,” Ray commented. Rose tilted her head at the museum - there was a resemblance to be sure. 

“I hate Jell-O,” Winston grumbled. 

“Oh, come on,” Peter replied. “There’s always room for Jell-O.”

He was joking around, as usual, but Rose could tell from her brother’s tone just how scared and worried he really was. Dana and Oscar were inside, and who even knew what was happening to them? Oscar was almost certainly alive, but what if Egon was wrong about the timing? What guarantee did they have that he was even Oscar anymore? And what about Dana? Would Vigo keep her alive, to take care of him in his infancy, or had she outlived her usefulness? Dana was a smart, capable woman, and Rose had no doubt that if she could, she would find a way to survive, but in the end, it might not be up to her. 

They had to hurry. 

“Just hang on, Dana,” Rose whispered to herself. “We’re coming.” 

She and Egon hurried around to the back of the Ecto, pulling open the back door and yanking out the pack track. Ray, Peter, and Winston joined them, and the four men assisted each other getting strapped into their proton pack. Rose had long since perfected the art of getting hers on by herself, and finished buckling herself in just as Egon straightened up. Ray, Peter, and Winston walked off to speak with a few of the firefighters. Ray gave a few vague gestures, and the firefighters began to clear out, moving back from the front steps of the museum. 

It was a small relief, but a relief nonetheless: the fewer civilians got near the slime shell or got in their way, the better. 

Rose looked over at Egon, and nodded her head towards the others. The two remaining Ghostbusters walked away from the relative safety of the Ecto and joined their teammates, standing side by side as they marched up to the edge of the sidewalk and stopped. She was thankful they’d stopped when they did; Ray had assumed the river they’d fallen (or jumped) into had been charged with pure evil, but he’d been wrong. That was just a couple million people’s pain, anger, and frustration rendered into a tangible substance. 

The shell that had grown around the museum, however, was fueled by evil, by a festering malice centuries in the making. Rose herself felt no anger, no pain, looking up at it. All she felt was a bone-cutting chill that had absolutely nothing to do with the cold of the winter evening. Despite only being semi-sentient at best, the shell was formidable. 

She swallowed past the unsettled discomfort twisting in her stomach and steeled herself, looking over at her husband and nodding. 

She was ready. 

“Pull ‘em,” Ray directed them. The five Ghostbusters each reached for their wands, and Rose let the familiar weight in her palm reassure her as she tightened her grip around it. 

“Full neutronas!” Egon called out. 

They charged their weapons to their highest possible power level, the high-pitched whine confirming they were about to throw full blasts of pure positronic energy at the slime. 

Ray gave the go signal. “Let’s cook!” 

Rose unleashed her stream in tandem with the other four. The brilliant orange and blue beams shot out towards the pink slime, and her wand vibrated violently in her hands. She dug her heels into the cobblestones beneath her, clenching her teeth, as she tried to hold on and control the powerful blast of energy. She saw each of the five streams make contact with the slime, but they might as well have been putting on a laser light show for all the good that they did. 

Winston shook his head regretfully at Ray, confirming Rose’s fear: it wasn’t working. 

Ray pulled off first, stepping away in frustration. “Save ‘em!” 

Rose, Winston, Peter, and Egon followed suit, and cut the power to their wands. There was no point in overloading the packs if all it would do was create pretty spots of light on the surface of the slime.

The crowd booed its displeasure and disappointment at their failure, and Rose tried to tune them out. Ray, however, could not, and as they headed back to the Ecto to regroup, his face fell. Demoralized and upset, he leaned forward and put his head down on the hood of Ecto, grumbling to himself. Rose leaned against the car next to him, and put her hand on his forearm, rubbing up and down, trying to comfort and reassure him. 

Ray was supposed to be their optimist - he was her sunshine and, of course, he always would be - but if he couldn’t glass-half-full the situation for them at the moment, then damn it, she would. Sure, optimism didn’t come so easily to her, but for Ray - for all her boys - she would figure out a way to shoot rainbow laser beams from her eyes if she had to. They were down for the moment, but they were not out. 

“Alright, so that didn’t work. It was kind of a long shot anyway,” Rose said firmly. Peter and Winston both sighed and she shook her head. “No, come on, we aren’t giving up, we’re better than that. Dana and Oscar are in there and they need us. New York needs us. So what else we got? What do we know?”

“That slime wall is pulsing with evil,” Egon replied. “It would take a tremendous amount of positive energy to crack that shell and I seriously doubt there’s enough goodwill left in this town to do it.”

Ray turned his head ever so slightly, glaring up at Egon from his bowed position on the Ecto’s hood. He stood up suddenly, and Rose caught the hint of fiery determination in his eyes as he did so. She smiled to herself; there was no one who could punch back against impossible odds quite as hard as a pissed off optimist. And Ray was most certainly pissed off. 

“You know, I just can’t believe things have gotten so bad in this city that there’s no way back!” Ray exclaimed. 

Egon looked at the ground, and both Peter and Winston stared at Ray in confusion, but Rose’s eyes were fixed on her husband, her smile growing. 

“I mean, sure, it’s dirty, it’s crowded, it’s polluted, it’s noisy, and there’s people all around you who’d just as soon step on your face as look at you,” Ray continued, pacing back and forth between their group, facing them each in turn. “But come on! There gotta be a few sparks of sweet humanity left in this burned-out burg! We just have to figure out a way to mobilize it.”

Ray’s eyes met hers and she pushed off the car, walking over to take his hand in hers. She smiled proudly at him, nodding. Whatever it took, she was with him. All he had to do was ask, and she’d follow him into hell. 

“He’s right,” Egon said, his eyes alight with the first spark of an idea. “We need something that everyone in this town can get behind. We need -” He stopped suddenly, his eyes drifting down towards the ground. Peter, looking slightly concerned for Egon’s sanity, attempted to follow his line of sight. Egon looked back up at them all, smirking. “- a symbol." 

Ray looked confused for a moment, until he too followed Egon’s line of sight. His eyes snapped back up, with the faraway glaze of deep thought. A symbol. They needed a symbol. What symbol would unite all New Yorkers? Rose looked down, too, and in an instant, she understood.

“Something that appeals to the best in each and every one of us,” Ray said, a small, hopeful smile replacing the look of defeat. 

“Something good,” Egon added, crouched down in front of the Ecto, smiling to himself. 

Winston leaned to the side, getting a look for himself at the object that had captured their sudden interest. “Something decent.”

Peter looked down once more, and Rose grinned when she saw comprehension dawn on her brother’s face. “Something pure.”

“Something quintessentially New York,” Rose said. She crouched down next to Egon, grinning, her eyes trained on the Ecto’s license plate. “Oh, I’m gonna love this.” 

Right in the middle of their plate was a tiny, bright red rendition of one of the most recognizable symbols in the world, one that all New Yorkers could look to and stand behind with pride. A hundred and fifty feet tall from her feet to the top of her torch, she had been a beacon of hope, progress, and an indomitable spirit for a century. She was exactly what they needed. 

The Statue of Liberty.

“She’s perfect,” Rose said. “Now - how do we get her?”

“Oh,” Ray replied, looking down at Egon, who nodded. “I think we have a few ideas. Give us twenty minutes.”

“I love my job,” Rose laughed. 

It had taken some convincing and more than a few strings pulled - Mayor Lenny, who felt bad he hadn’t listened to them when he’d had the chance, had stepped up in a big way - but there they stood on Liberty Island, gazing up at the towering monument. 

She truly was magnificent.

“Kind of makes you wonder, doesn’t it?” Peter said. 

“Wonder what?” Winston asked. Rose adjusted the straps of the slime blower on her back - Ray and Winston carried identical devices - and shook her head, knowing full well there was an inappropriate joke coming in three, two, one…

“Whether she’s naked under that toga.” 

Ray smiled in amusement, suppressing a laugh, but both Egon and Rose leveled him with withering glares. 

“She’s French, you know that,” Peter added. 

“There is seriously something wrong with you,” Rose told him, shaking her head. Peter merely shrugged. “Well, gentlemen…and Peter -” her brother sputtered in mock offense, but she ignored him, “ - shall we?”

“We shall,” Ray confirmed. 

The five Ghostbusters marched on, working their way inside the statue’s base. The moment they were inside, they got to work, first forming an assembly line to hand off the various tools and objects Egon and Ray had deemed necessary for their plan and subsequently carted onto the island. They worked quickly and diligently, each consumed with their own tasks; they had exactly no time to spare and everything to lose if they couldn't pull off their plan. 

Peter climbed halfway up the winding staircase in the middle, clutching two long, black extension cords in his hands. Egon and Rose - having set her slime blower pack down for the time being - scurried into the metal framework on opposite sides, like squirrels into a tree, aiming for the metal speakers bolted to the metal beams. Once they were situated, Peter tossed them a cord each. 

Rose caught hers deftly and set about hooking it up to the speaker. 

“Got it!” Egon announced once he caught his cord. He hooked his speaker up just as Rose finished up on her end. She jumped back down to retrieve her slime blower. “Ready with the speakers, Ray. Slime blowers ready?”

“Okay, internal audio set,” Ray announced, switching on the power of two large batteries. “Internal electric set.”

Rose hauled her slime blower into place onto her back and quickly strapped in. Winston walked her way, fiddling with the strap running across his chest. 

“Slime blower primed and set,” he informed them all.

Rose nodded and rolled her shoulders underneath the still unfamiliar weight of the reserve tank and slime cannon Egon had put together in record time. He had filled each tank with almost every drop of the mood slime they had collected - except for one or two cultures he wanted to keep for further study - and painstakingly shifted it to the most powerful positive charge he could manage. 

Operation Liberty was probably the biggest Hail Mary toss the Ghostbusters had ever thrown, and Rose had absolutely no idea if it would pay off, but if Ray and Egon were right - if the plan they’d cobbled together an hour and half ago was solid - then what they were about to do would one day become the stuff of legend. 

Peter jumped down the last few steps and hurried over to Winston. He reached out and patted Winston’s reserve tank. “Ooh, good slime. Good slime. Winston, is our slime in a good mood tonight?”

Winston grinned. “I hope so. She’s a lot bigger than a toaster.”

“Just a little,” Rose agreed, laughing. The odds were stacked against them, but damn, she was having fun. She was exhilarated, and she’d take that over feeling desperate and defeated any day of the week. Ray grinned boyishly at her, coming to stand by her and pulling on his gloves. He was clearly just as excited as she was. 

Egon brushed past Peter, handing him a silver microphone on his way to the staircase. “All yours, Venkman. Let’s go.”

“Thank you,” Peter said, and raised the microphone to his mouth. “Testing, one, two, testing. Hey, how many of you people here tonight are a national monument?” His voice rang out loud and clear over their speaker system. They were in business. Peter turned and followed Egon towards the staircase. “Would you raise your hand, please? Oh, hello, miss!” 

Chuckling at her brother’s antics, Rose switched on her slime blower and primed it, getting used to the feel of the cannon in her hands and the extra tubing hanging off her back. Ray did the same with his. 

“Hey,” Winston said, getting their attention. He put his hand on Ray’s shoulder. “Let’s frost it.”

Ray grinned excitedly. “It’s slime time.”

The three clinked their cannons together, as though they were toasting in celebration, and each turned in a different direction. In unison, they opened fire on the inside walls of Lady Liberty’s base, covering every corner of the room in as much positively charged mood slime as they could manage. It was a lot more fun than Rose had anticipated it would be, and feeling playful, she decided to make wavy patterns with her slime blasts. 

She aimed higher, trying to cover an upper corner she had missed on her first pass, and saw Ray had climbed up a couple of the stairs and was blasting away at the upper quadrants of the framework, a half-smoked cigar - the one he’d nicked from the Mayor’s study - between his teeth. 

“Beautiful!” he said, admiring his own slime work. Rose laughed to herself. How Ray had managed to hold onto the cigar during their brief incarceration at Parkview, she didn’t know, but she was admittedly impressed. 

They slimed as much of the lower levels as they could reach, and since the cannons were quite powerful, there was a considerable amount of pink goo dripping from every flat surface. 

“Alright,” Ray said, cutting his stream off. “I think that should do it. Let’s head up to the crown.”

Rose and Winston nodded. One after another they mounted the stairs and began the lengthy trek up to the very top of Lady Liberty’s crown, where Peter and Egon were waiting. Thankfully, it wasn’t nearly as taxing as the climb to Dana’s penthouse apartment had been five years ago. 

They emerged at the top, and Rose and Winston joined Peter and Egon in the windows of the crown, looking out over New York Harbor. It was absolutely stunning. The water below them was pitch black in the darkness, but the lights of the city were shining brightly in the distance, calling them home. 

“Wow,” Rose breathed. “Hell of a view.”

“Ain’t it?” Peter replied, smirking. Behind them, Ray was fiddling with the last piece of equipment they needed for Operation Liberty.

“Pilot controls are ready,” he announced. He joined the other four Ghostbusters and Rose couldn’t help but snort at the doodad Ray set down on the ledge of the window: their pilot control panel was a repurposed NES controller. 

“This is easily the most ridiculous thing we’ve ever done,” she said matter-of-factly, laughing. “I love it.”

“Yes,” Egon agreed. He checked his watch. “Alright. It’s getting late. It’s almost midnight. Let’s go, Venkman.” 

Despite her amusement and her excitement, she felt a wave of nervous fear grip her heart. They were running out of time and if this didn’t work, they were done for. 

This had to work. 

Peter raised the microphone once more. “Here’s something off the request line from Liberty Island! We’re gonna squeeze some New Year’s juice from ya, Big Apple!” 

Peter turned and hit play on the Walkman dangling from a wire right next to him, and the sounds of Jackie Wilson’s “Higher and Higher” blasted out from the speakers in the statue’s base. 

For a moment, nothing happened.

Rose swallowed and crossed her fingers. “Come on, slime…you can do it.”

And then? Everything happened. 

The flame on Lady Liberty’s torch exploded, and a stream of dragon’s fire bellowed up into the sky. With a great jolt and a screech of twisting metal, she pulled her foot from her base and took her first steps onto Liberty Island and into the cold, dark waters of the harbor, carrying five delighted and shocked Ghostbusters with her. 

“YES!” Rose cheered. She turned, grabbed Ray by the front of his suit, and planted a thrilled kiss on him. He beamed at her, blushing slightly, as she pulled away. Remembering that Lady Liberty had really been Egon’s idea, she turned to him and pumped her fists into the air triumphantly. “Egie, you are a friggin’ genius! This is incredible!” 

He offered her a pleased smile in return. 

Lady Liberty’s progress through the water was a little slow, but certainly steady. Every time one foot landed on the bottom of the harbor, a great vibration was sent up through her framework, and Rose held onto the window ledge with one hand and Ray’s arm with the other to steady herself. Slowly but surely, under Ray’s direction at the pilot controls, Lady Liberty lumbered towards the twinkling lights of the city she had watched over unwaveringly for decades. 

“Man, I can’t wait to see people’s faces when we come onshore!” Ray exclaimed. “This should really get the city’s positive energy flowing!” 

“Keep kicking, Libby!” Peter encouraged her. “You make this work, we’ll pop for a weekend in Vegas with the Jolly Green Giant!” 

“Mm, I don’t know, Pete,” Rose said, grinning cheekily at him. “Something tells me Jolly Green wouldn’t be able to handle her. Libby here is a strong, independent woman, ain’t that right, Libby?”

Winston and Ray both chuckled as Libby took another giant step forward, striding out of the depths of the harbor and onto shore. The ground shook with each heavy step they took, and as they moved closer to the heart of the city with the music blasting, the sound of distant screams, first of terror and then of gleeful surprise, floated up to them. 

“Well, you can’t see their faces, honey,” she said to Ray, wrapping a hand around his bicep, “but you can sure hear ‘em! I don’t think any of them will ever forget this. I know I won’t.”

“Mhm,” he answered distractedly. Rose smiled and just kept her eyes on the view ahead of them. She was surprised he even heard her, with how hard he was concentrating on keeping Libby on a straight and steady path towards the museum.

“This…really is quite incredible,” Egon marveled. “I wasn’t sure this would work, but getting the statue moving raised our odds of success from twenty-five to one, to…” He whipped out his tiny pocket calculator and punched in some numbers. “…roughly fifteen to one, which, frankly, is much better than I expected.”

“Never tell me the odds,” Rose and Peter answered simultaneously. They looked at each other and an impish, amused grin spread across Rose’s face. 

"Jinx!" Peter exclaimed, smiling smugly at her. "Ha! Now you owe me a beer!"

Ray broke concentration for one moment to look between his wife and his brother-in-law. “Wait a second, did…did you just quote Star Wars?”

Winston shook his head, looking at Peter and smiling in amusement. “Man, I knew it. You’re a nerd, too.”

“Han Solo is cool ,” Peter defended himself. “He’s a rogue. A rebel.”

“Uh huh,” Winston replied lightly. “Whatever you say…nerd.”

“I prefer Princess Leia myself,” Egon remarked. 

Peter had been staring at Winston with narrowed eyes, but changed focus, looking instead at Egon with a delighted, mischievous smirk. 

“Oh, I bet you do, stud,” he teased Egon. “Tiny, fiery, capable, doesn’t put up with anyone’s bullshit…now, who do we know that fits that description, who Egon might also like? Hmm…let’s think.”

“I’m not dignifying that with an answer,” Egon replied haughtily. 

“Oh, that’s alright, Spengs - we all know the answer, anyway,” Peter said, his smirk growing even larger. Rose snorted softly and shared a knowing look with her brother. Egon merely rolled his eyes, although he did seem to have just the barest hint of a blush coloring his cheeks.

Ray carefully maneuvered them around the corner onto West 54th Street, and the crowd below cheered as the music blared. Rose clapped along, bopping her head to the song. In the distance she saw a team of police cruisers speeding along towards them, the bright red and white lights a beacon in the dark of the night. 

“Hey, looks like we’re getting a police escort!” Winston exclaimed, pointing to the cruisers. From their perch a hundred and fifty feet in the air, they looked more like children’s toys than two ton machines.

Taking up the rear of the police procession were two motorcycle officers. The cruisers sped ahead of Libby, turning onto Fifth Avenue. The statue lumbered along after them, taking the corner after the cruisers and motorcycles as carefully as they could. Rose peered out over the edge of the crown, taking in the scores of onlookers grouped along the sidewalks, kept safely out of the way by police cordons. Every last one of them were cheering for the Ghostbusters, chanting their name as loudly as human lungs would allow.

“It’s a love fest, New York!” Peter announced into the microphone. The crowd cheered in response. 

“Sing it out!” Ray urged the crowd.

“Yeah, everyone sing!” Egon shouted. Rose sang along to the music and waved down at the crowd, trying to get them to join. The more joy and excitement they could engender, the better their chances of smashing through the slime shell of evil. 

The motorcycles got away from them a bit, and Ray guided Libby through a narrow pass. The onlookers just ahead were not behind barricades, and Ray had to be very careful not to let Libby stray from her path one iota. 

“Your love…is lifting me higher!” Peter sang into the microphone, hilariously off-pitch. 

“Come on, you sing!” Winston shouted down to the onlookers. 

Libby eased down Fifth Avenue at a steady pace, and thankfully her height allowed for massive strides. Unfortunately, time waited for no man, woman, or statue: only twenty minutes remained until the clock struck midnight. 

“We’re running out of time, Ray,” Egon warned, looking down at his watch. 

“Can’t you go any faster?” Winston asked. A deafening creak of metal assaulted their ears as Libby took another gigantic step. 

“I’m afraid the vibrations will shake her to pieces,” Ray said regretfully. “We should have padded her feet.”

“I don’t think they make Nikes in her size, Ray,” Egon said dryly.

Libby took another step, and a fresh wave of tremors shot up the framework, through the floor underneath their feet, and straight up their legs, making them wobble where they stood. 

“Whoa,” Rose murmured, tightening her grip on the ledge before her. 

“Ah, don’t worry, she’s tough!” Peter replied. “She’s a harbor chick!”

Rose cracked a smile, even as her chest tightened with a rush of anxiety. They just needed Lady Liberty to hold out a little while longer, but the simple fact was that she wasn’t made for movement. There was every chance she could collapse right there in the middle of Fifth Avenue, but Rose had to keep faith that they would make it. 

“Come on, sweetheart, hold on just a little while longer,” Rose murmured quietly. “We’re almost there.”

They took another giant step, and Libby’s right foot came right down on top of a police cruiser parked along the street, crushing it into scrap metal. 

“Whoops,” Rose said, grimacing. “Oh, Lenny is not gonna like that.”

“SORRY!” Ray shouted, quickly guiding Libby to pull off the demolished cruiser and moved right along. “MY FAULT!”

Egon waved down at the crowd, an awkward smile on his face. Rose reached over and patted Ray on the shoulder. 

“It’s okay. It’s just a car,” she tried to reassure him. “Let’s just keep at it.”

He nodded and urged Libby further down the street, trying to keep a steady pace behind their escort. Looking straight out at the expanse of Fifth Avenue before them, Rose estimated they still had about four and half miles left to go. Libby was probably clearing a little over fifteen hundred feet every minute, meaning they could expect to arrive at the museum in about fifteen minutes. As long as Libby held out, they’d be coming in just under the wire. It seemed an impossible task that lay before them, but they had to make it. Dana was counting on them. All of New York was counting on them. 

The Ghostbusters fell silent, their eyes trained on the horizon. Peter kept the music playing and occasionally shouted encouragement down to the crowds, who had begun singing along, but for Rose, it all faded away into a steady buzz. The music, the cheers, even her brother’s voice over the microphone - it all fell away. All she was conscious of was Ray next to her and the vibrations of the statue’s every step, closing the distance between them and the museum. One minute of silence faded into three, into five, into ten, until finally - 

“Look! There it is!” Rose shouted, pointing. 

The wall of pink slime came into view, less than a mile away. They were so close…just a little further. Egon checked his watch, and Rose peered over: seven minutes to midnight.

They crossed onto the green outside the museum. The first responders had seen them coming probably a few miles away, thankfully, and had corralled the crowd as far back as possible, leaving Ray a pretty wide path through. He guided them right over to the slime shell. Evil shadows swam just underneath its shimmery surface, and Rose swallowed harshly. 

There was no time left. The plan had to work. 

Libby came to a halt, towering next to the building, and stared down at the skylight above the restoration department. The Ghostbusters clung to the support beams in her crown to keep from falling out and plummeting to their deaths. For a moment, the shell remained intact, but then it began to give way, shrinking back from the overwhelming presence of Lady Liberty and the positivity she carried with her. 

“It’s working!” Rose exclaimed, pointing down at the slime creeping off the glass. “We can get through!”

Libby straightened up and drew her arm back slowly. Ray might have guided her here, but the lady herself was in control now, and she evidently had designs on smashing the glass to pieces. 

“I love it when you roughhouse!” Peter shouted. 

Rose whooped with excitement. “Party time, Libby, let’s go!” 

“HIT IT, MAMA!” Egon called up to her. Libby reared back a little further, and the crowd below screamed and scurried even further away. It was a smart move on their parts; it probably wasn’t a good idea to be too near the museum when the torch came down. 

“DROP THE HAMMER ON HER!” Ray shouted. 

“GO,” Winston urged, “DO IT NOW!” 

Rose couldn’t help but cackle almost hysterically as she watched Libby wind up for the pitch, pulling her arm back just a few more feet, and let it fly. Her torch came down like a war hammer, the flames dancing erratically in the drop, and smashed right through the glass dome with a deafening crash. Shards of glass and metal exploded, raining down into the museum. 

Without a moment to spare, the five Ghostbusters tossed weighted rappel lines down from the crown and slid down, landing heavily on the ground right in front of Poha, who had begun screeching semi-unintelligibly the moment they'd made their presence known. In a heartbeat, Rose, Winston, and Ray had their slime blasters trained on the man, and Egon raised his proton wand, looking around for the first sign of a ghost. 

“Don’t you know who that is?” Poha shouted, looking absolutely ridiculous in a sparkly party hat. 

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!” Peter announced, completely uninterested in anything Vigo’s minion had to say. 

“He’s Vigo!” Poha continued, gesturing grandly to the enormous painting. “You are like the buzzing of flies to him!”

Neither Oscar nor Dana were anywhere to be seen, but as Rose took one look at her surroundings, she saw red. Set up in front of Vigo’s portrait was a small altar, just big enough to hold a baby, and everywhere she turned, scores of white candles encircled them. They had crashed right into the middle of the ritual sacrifice, and Poha was the reason the ghost had even been afforded the chance to try it. 

“You son of a bitch ,” Rose snarled. Poha flinched away from her wrath. “You took Oscar - he’s just a baby, you fucking animal! And you were just gonna let that monster possess him?! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

"He is Vigo?" he offered weakly.

"Oh, I'm gonna enjoy kicking your ass," Rose snarled, and made to charge him. 

“Look!” Ray exclaimed, grabbing onto her arm at the last minute to keep her from bludgeoning Poha with her slime blaster. “The painting!” 

“What about the -” Rose looked away from Poha for just a moment, turning her gaze on the portrait. Something wasn’t quite right. “ Painting ?” 

Vigo was gone. Only the backdrop remained. 

“What the hell?” she asked, looking between Ray and Egon for an explanation. “Where did he go?”

“I-I don’t know,” Ray said.

Poha looked completely befuddled and Peter smirked. 

“Oh, Johnny, did you back the wrong horse,” he said mockingly. He looked at Winston, Ray, and Rose. “Will you hose him, please?”

“Hose him!” Ray repeated.

“With pleasure,” Rose growled vindictively. Even though she knew it wouldn’t hurt Poha - although he probably wouldn't enjoy the experience - and even though she wanted to knock his teeth down his throat, sliming him would just have to suffice for the moment. 

The three opened fire, and Poha screeched as the slime blast overtook him. He turned away, trying to block the slime, but ended up losing his footing. He crashed to the ground hard and didn’t get back up. With any luck, he’d been knocked out. It would serve him right for what he did. 

“One down,” Winston said. 

“On the ground,” Ray answered. 

Rose smirked, but it turned into a real smile when Dana emerged from a hiding spot in the corner of the room, with Oscar safe and sound in her arms. Peter lit up the moment he saw her, and Dana rushed over to him. 

“Boy, am I -” she started, but paused when Peter went in for a kiss. “Glad to see you!”

“Oh, Oscar,” Peter said quietly, sighing in relief at seeing the little boy unharmed. He lifted him out of his mother’s arms and cradled him close. “Oscar…”

Rose and Ray exchanged happy smiles. It was abundantly clear that Dana and Oscar were all that mattered to Peter at that moment, and it was wonderful to see. 

“Is he dead?” Dana asked Ray, nodding to Poha.

Ray shook his head. “Uh-uh. This slime is positively charged. He’ll wake up feeling like a million bucks.” 

“Whoa, this gentleman is a little bit ripe,” Peter said, cooing at the baby in his arms. “That’s alright, my friend, I think I had an accident, too.”

Rose looked over and saw Egon studying a device in his hands, looking deeply concerned. Her stomach sank. There was only one thing that expression could mean: Vigo wasn’t gone. He hadn’t just disappeared. 

An unnatural wind picked up in the room, lifting their hair. They looked around, trying to spot even the slightest hint of Vigo’s presence - a flicker, a glow, something, anything to tell them where to aim - but there was nothing. A huge piece of metal framework crashed to the ground behind them, and they spun around to look, startled by the sound. Rose squinted at the debris, wishing she had her proton pack instead of the slime blower. 

Behind them, Dana screamed, and they spun back around. A black hose had wrapped itself around her torso, pinning her arms to her side. Ray, Peter, and Winston rushed towards her, each trying frantically to pull Dana free. Peter held Oscar in one arm and tore at the hose with the other, but Dana shook her head. 

“Get him away!” she ordered Peter. Without another moment’s hesitation, Peter rushed off with Oscar in his arms, retreating to a far corner of the room. Rose stepped up and took her brother’s place at Dana’s side, trying her hardest to liberate her from her untimely restraints. 

“Get a knife or something!” Ray shouted. “We gotta cut her outta this!” 

Rose looked around for anything that could have been sharp enough to cut through the hose, but it was pointless. The wind blowing around them grew softer, hissing sinisterly, and she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. 

He was here. 

Vigo. 

“Uh oh,” Egon said. 

The Ghostbusters looked around, and sure enough, the ghost had materialized, just to the right of the portrait. He walked past a few candles, closer to the center of the room, and the flames seemed almost to shrink from his presence. His form doubled as he moved, though, and Rose smirked; they had interrupted his precious little ritual, and now it looked like Vigo was caught between ghostly intangibility and the corporeality he so desperately sought. 

“Hold it right there, deadhead!” Ray commanded, pointing his slime blower like a shotgun. Vigo turned to look at him, scowling, and stepped forward, his form solidifying. Rose edged closer to her husband, her heart pounding. “You want a baby? Go ahead and knock up some willing hellhound. Otherwise, I’m giving you three to get back in that painting where you belong!” 

Unintimidated, Vigo simply took another step forward. 

“One!” Ray threatened. 

“Two,” Peter added, popping up from the corner he’d hidden Oscar in. He moved over to join them, his proton wand aimed right for the ghost. 

“THREE!” Ray shouted. 

Egon and Peter unleashed their beams, connecting with Vigo in a powerful blast. The ghost reeled back, unprepared for the onslaught of energy, his face twisted in agony. 

“You got him, you got him!” Ray shouted encouragingly. 

Unfortunately, their moment of triumph did not last. Vigo whirled around, breaking free of the proton streams, and flung his arms out. The five Ghostbusters were lifted right off their feet in a blast of purple light and landed on the ground hard. Rose’s slime tank jammed painfully against her spine, knocking the wind out of her. She coughed and tried to catch her breath. 

“That was really stupid,” Winston groaned. Ray, Peter, and Egon were in similar states, stunned by the impact. 

Vigo growled and moved away from them. Fueled by the pain in her back, Rose felt a rush of anger and determination overtake her. Vigo could hit hard, sure, but Rose…she was pretty sure she hit harder, and she was raring for a good fight. 

“Alright, you bastard, that’s how you wanna play it? Fine,” Rose muttered. She tried to flip herself over onto her stomach, with the aim of pushing herself to her feet, but found she couldn’t move. She could barely even turn her head. “What the -?”

“Ray, can you move?” Egon asked. 

“No,” he replied. “Are you okay?”

“No,” Egon said fretfully. “Venkman, how are you?”

Peter sighed. “I’m fine.”

Rose strained against the invisible force holding her down. “Come on. This is ridiculous. He’s just a ghost! How can he even…come on …”

“Rose, you okay?” Ray asked her. She tried to turn her head to look at him, or reach over and take his hand, but she may as well have been trying to swim against a riptide. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she replied. She growled quietly, getting more and more frustrated by the second. “But this ghost is pissing me off.”

“Yeah,” he agreed.  

“No!” Dana cried out suddenly. “No! Oscar! Please, do something!” 

Vigo came back into view, and Rose’s heart sank. He had found Oscar, and was holding him in his hands, a triumphant smirk on his face.

“No, come on,” Rose muttered. She pushed hard, and managed to move her foot about two inches to the right and clench her hand into a fist. It was something, it was movement, at least, but it wasn’t enough. 

“Not so fast, Vigo!” Peter shouted. He managed to wiggle away from the others and closer to Vigo. “Hey, Vigo! Yeah, you, the bimbo with the baby!” 

Had it been anyone but Peter, Rose might have thought they had a death wish. But she knew her brother. She knew what he was doing. She remembered what he'd told her, five years ago: …us Venkmans are known for running our mouths …

Peter had been right then, and he was living up to the claim now, taking a page from her playbook to do it: distraction through antagonization. 

And it worked. 

The ghost looked away from Oscar to glare down at Peter, lip curled in anger. Rose smirked, pulling harder and harder still, trying to regain control of her body. Ray, Egon, and Winston were doing the same on either side of her. 

“Didn’t anybody tell you the big shoulder look is out?” Peter snarked, throwing all his strength into a single movement, using his shoulder to pull himself forward a little more. 

“You know, I have met some dumb blondes in my life, but you take the taco, pal,” he continued, and actually managed to gesture at Vigo with his proton wand, still clenched in his hand.

Rose snorted quietly to herself, and doubled her efforts to get moving. There! Her arms were no longer pinned to the ground and she used them to sit herself up a little. Vigo bared his teeth to Peter, too distracted to even notice her moving around. Now to get her legs moving…

Peter shouldered himself along the floor a little further, working to get underneath Oscar. 

“Only a Carpathian would come back to life now and choose New York ,” he jeered. “Tasty pick, bonehead ! If you had brain one in that huge melon on top of your neck, you would be living the sweet life out in Southern California’s beautiful San Fernando Valley!” 

Vigo had evidently had enough of Peter’s taunting. He hissed, and unleashed a blast of bright blue light from his mouth. It slammed into Peter, but all five Ghostbusters felt the effects. Blinding pain tore through Rose’s body, her muscles seized, and she bit down hard on her bottom lip to keep from screaming, only letting up when she tasted blood. She refused to give Vigo the satisfaction of seeing her in pain. 

Egon, Ray, and Winston, however, had no such convictions, and shouted against the agony Vigo’s magic inflicted on them. 

“Come on ,” Rose growled. She fought through the last ripples of pain and managed to move her legs. It still wasn’t enough control to break free of Vigo’s hold, but she could feel it weakening. 

Vigo turned his attention back to the baby in his hands, lifting him up into the air.

“Now, we become one,” he said, his voice a demonic snarl. Poor little Oscar cried out in fright. 

Rose bucked against the binding as hard as she could, but it was useless. Their time was up. She shut her eyes, not wanting to see this monstrous creature take over Oscar’s innocent soul. She waited for the piercing screams of anguish she knew would come from Dana the moment her baby was gone. 

But they never came. 

Instead - bizarrely and miraculously - she heard singing. Faint, but growing louder, growing stronger, voices floating down from the gaping hole in the ceiling. 

Vigo gave an almighty, animalistic roar, and Rose’s eyes flew open. He was thrashing back and forth. The singing was causing him pain!

"What...?" she muttered. 

“Where’s that singing coming from?” Ray asked. 

“People outside,” Winston replied breathlessly. 

“He’s weakening!” Egon exclaimed. “The singing is neutralizing the slime!”

Rose could feel her invisible restraints slipping away…just a little more…and then finally! Control was hers once more - she could push herself off the ground. 

“I can move!” Ray announced.

Oscar screamed. Vigo roared. Dana bellowed for her son, pushing herself free of her own restraints. 

Vigo was thrashing around too much, and his grip on Oscar failed. He dropped the wailing baby, vanishing on the spot, and Peter frantically threw himself across the last few feet, getting right underneath Oscar at the last possible moment, catching him. 

Oscar was safe. Dana rushed over and Peter handed her son to her, and Rose heaved a sigh of relief as she and the others hauled themselves to their feet. All eyes turned to Vigo’s painting - it was still empty.

And then it wasn’t. 

Vigo resurfaced, wounded but infuriated and growling like a beast, back behind the confines of his portrait. The still background vanished, and was replaced with a swirling, incoherent mess of colors. 

“He’s back in the painting!” Egon shouted. Rose and Ray moved in, ready to tear the cursed portrait to pieces. 

Peter ushered Dana and Oscar off to safety as Vigo gave another terrifying growl, his visage shifting from human to fully demonic. His eyes turned a bright, blood red, and Ray stared straight at him, his own eyes wide with shock. 

“Vigie, Vigie, Vigie. You have been a bad monkey!” Peter admonished. 

Ray drew much closer to the painting, standing right in front of it, and looked up at the demonic figure spitting and snarling before them. 

“Ray, get away from it,” she said, and tried to pull him away. He didn’t move an inch. He simply stared up at the painting as though transfixed, exactly the way he had two days before. “Oh no…”

“Ray, we’d like to shoot the monster,” Egon said sharply. “Could you move, please?”

Peter and Winston said his name when he didn’t respond, trying to get his attention, but Ray didn’t budge. 

Rose took a step back from him, shaking her head.

“RAY!” Egon bellowed. 

“NO!” 

Ray spun around, and when he did, Rose leapt back in fright. He was no longer the sweet, gentle-hearted, bright-eyed man she’d fallen in love with. He was not the man she married. He was something else. Something demonic. 

He was Vigo. 

Vigo had, in an instant, taken control of Ray’s body, mind, and soul. A soul that had never shed its child-like wonder. 

“I, RAY AND VIGO, SHALL RULE THE EARTH!” the demon roared. “BE GONE, YOU PITIFUL HALF MEN!” 

Indignant rage ignited the blood in Rose’s veins and she saw red. How dare this musty, jumped up ghost try to take her Ray! How dare he think he had the right to worm his way into the core of Ray’s being! Vigo had already come after Dana and Oscar; he’d already inflicted torturous pain on Ray, Peter, Egon, and Winston, and that was bad enough. She would have gladly ended him for those transgressions alone. 

But attempting to take Ray? Attempting to feed on the power of his beautiful, glowing soul, and take it for his own? No. Unacceptable.

For that, she would annihilate Vigo. Just as soon as she got him out of Ray’s body. 

She gripped her slime blower tightly in her hands and raised it, pointing it directly at the monster’s face, and he went cross-eyed, trying to keep the weapon in view. 

“Get the fuck out of my husband, you big, ugly bitch,” she snarled. 

“NOW!” Peter shouted. 

Rose and Winston blasted the monster with the slime, while Egon and Peter unleashed their proton streams on the painting. The demon reared back, screeching and growling, and they didn’t let up until they saw an evil shadow eject itself from Ray’s body, slamming right back towards the portrait it had slithered out of. Ray fell to the side, safely out of the way, and Rose turned her attention and her weapon onto the portrait itself. Vigo’s demonic, disembodied head materialized in front of them, snarling angrily, thrashing against the combined assault of the slime and proton streams. 

Finally, at long last, the creature fell prey to their attack and was blasted back into the painting behind him, vanishing in a fiery explosion contained within the confines of the portrait. Rose heard a deafening cracking noise and a great cheer from outside. The slime shell must have dissipated. They’d done it: Vigo was no more.

Destroyed, or blasted back to the Ghost World, or trapped in some other dimension, far away from New York. It didn't matter. The Once and Never-Again Scourge of Carpathia was gone. 

Now Rose could focus on what mattered most to her: Ray. 

She shoved the straps of her slime blower off her shoulders and lowered the tank to the ground, before taking off and rushing over to her husband. Egon and Winston were already at his side, helping him stand and pushing the slime blower off his back. He was covered in mood slime, but otherwise appeared unhurt. 

“How do you feel?” Winston asked, steadying him. 

Ray cracked a goofy smile. “Groovy.”

“Oh, honey, I’m so happy you’re alright,” Rose said, blowing right past Egon and Winston to throw her arms around Ray, not caring that she was getting slime all over her. Ray wrapped his arms around her waist and held her tightly. “We did it. It’s over.”

“We did it,” he echoed, a little absently.

“I love you so much,” Rose said, holding the back of his head with one gloved hand, her fingers carding through his dark hair. “I love you.”

He giggled into her shoulder. “You love me. You love me…wow. That’s just… wow.” 

Rose pulled away from him to look him in the eye. “Are you okay?”

He smiled dreamily at her. “I’m better than okay. I love you, Rose. I love you more than…oh, more than anything. I love you to the moon and back. I love you so much, honey, forever and ever.”  

His eyes were wide and earnest, shining with pure joy. He was, of course, completely whammied by the slime, but it was only amplifying the love he already had for her. She cupped his face in her hands and wiped away some of the slime from his lips before pulling him into a kiss. He sighed happily and tightened his hold on her waist, kissing her soundly. She smiled against his lips and pulled away. His eyes fluttered open and he gazed at her lovingly.

“I’m the luckiest man on the planet,” Ray said, sighing softly. “I really am.”

“No, I already told you. I’m the lucky one, sweetheart,” Rose told him, using her thumb to wipe a little more slime off his cheekbone. Another goofy, euphoric grin spread across his face as he released his hold on her waist, and she stepped to the side. 

Ray looked at Egon and Winston behind her and his smile grew as he shuffled closer to them. 

“I love you guys,” he told them, clapping them both on the shoulder. “I love all you guys.”

“Great, Ray,” Egon said patiently, patting him on the arm. Neither he nor Winston seemed to know what to make of Ray’s sudden confession, or his lovey-dovey mood. 

Rose laughed softly, just so happy and relieved that they’d succeeded and her husband was safe. They had won. Ray, free of Vigo’s influence, was hers once more, and both Dana and Oscar were safe, encircled in Peter’s arms. 

Everything was good.

“And I love Venkman,” Ray continued. 

“Uh huh, let’s go,” Egon replied, pointing towards the door. Winston physically turned Ray in the right direction and urged him to walk forwards. 

“We gotta live with this?” Winston muttered. Egon shrugged. 

“Wow,” Ray exclaimed. “Real friendship!” 

Rose decided to help her friends out and take her husband by the hand. He grinned happily at her when she did and followed where she led him like a love struck puppy. Poha was beginning to stir on the ground, laying in a thick puddle of mood slime, humming to himself happily as he woke up. Despite what he’d done, Poha hadn’t exactly been acting of his own free will, so Rose supposed they should at least help him up. 

She tugged on Ray’s hand and they followed Egon over to Poha. Ray released her hand of his own accord and helped Egon haul the smaller man to his feet. 

“Sir, are you alright?” Egon asked. 

Poha blinked and fully came to, looking down at himself in confusion. “Why am I drippings with goo?”

Ray put his hands on his hips and grinned. 

“You had a violent, prolonged, transformative psychic episode,” Egon informed him. 

“Sorry we had to hose you there, but you were kinda out of control,” Ray explained. 

“It was definitely the kinder option,” Rose commented, smiling. “I would have happily just knocked you out.”

“She would have done it, too,” Ray assured him. He smiled widely and nodded his head towards Rose. “That’s my wife. I love her so much.” 

Poha nodded and looked up at him, completely unbothered. 

“Hey, man. Let me tell you something,” Ray continued. “I love you.”

Rose and Egon raised their eyebrows at each other, surprised and a little confused. It was just the summer of love in Ray’s brain, it seemed; everything and everyone was just rainbows, flowers, and pure love. 

“Yes?” Poha asked.

“Yeah,” Ray replied, nodding.

“Well, I love you, too,” Poha said, smiling. Ray’s grin grew wider and he went in for a hug, wrapping his arm around the smaller man’s shoulders. Rose just huffed a laugh and shook her head. 

“Hey, fellas!” Winston called. He was standing in front of Vigo’s painting. “You wanna take a look at this?”

Rose took Ray by the hand once more and led him over to Winston, and Egon followed, a curious frown on his face. Peter and Dana, with Oscar in her arms, followed behind them. They circled around to face the portrait and the moment Rose processed the sight before her, she started laughing. “You gotta be kidding me.” 

“Wow,” Ray said, completely awed. 

“Early Renaissance, I think,” Egon remarked. “Raphael or Piero della Francesca.”

“No, I believe it’s one of the Fettuccines,” Peter joked. 

Rose grinned and tightened her grip on her husband’s hand, her eyes roaming over the portrait that once housed Vigo’s murderous ghost. The painting had changed entirely: it now reflected the five Ghostbusters grouped together, dressed in jewel-toned robes, as chiseled and muscular as Greek gods. The painted version of Egon stood on the left in a robe of gold, holding a book over his chest; Ray, stood to the right, holding a sprig of a plant in his hand. The right side of his chest and stomach were exposed against the robe of burgundy draped over his left shoulder and held in place at his waist. Between them stood the painted version of Rose, clad in sapphire blue toga dress, smiling serenely with her hair swept away from her face and a bright white quill held between the fingers of one hand. Kneeling in the foreground of the painting were Winston, in ruby red robes, holding a harp; and Peter, in emerald green, his eyes cast to the heavens, and a sword in his left hand, pointed to the ground. His right hand appeared to be pointing to Winston. 

In between them all, floating on a cloud and looking as happy as could be, was a painted, cherubic representation of baby Oscar. 

Rose sighed and shook her head, smiling. She suppressed a yawn; the adrenaline of battle was beginning to wear off, and she was becoming very conscious of just how tired she was. She squeezed Ray’s hand and he looked at her, his eyes roaming over her face. 

“We did it, honey,” she said quietly. “We survived.” 

He smiled widely, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “Happy New Year, Rose.”

She beamed at him and he leaned in to kiss her, letting go of her hand to wrap his hand around her hip and pull her in close to his side. She placed a hand right over his heart and melted into him. He pulled away slowly - although much too soon for Rose’s liking - and smiled at her, stealing her breath away the way he always did. Even dripping with goo, Rose found him utterly beautiful. 

“Happy New Year, Ray,” she said. “Let’s get outta here, huh?” 

He nodded and moved his hand from her hip to sling his arm over her shoulders, and they began walking towards the door. Egon and Winston positioned Poha between them, while Peter and Dana took up the rear, cradling Oscar protectively between them. 

No sooner had they left the restoration room behind than a handful of police officers descended on them, led by - of all people - Louis Tully, who was wearing a flight suit that was quite clearly a couple sizes too big for him, and armed with a proton pack, no less.

"Somehow, the night just got weirder," Peter muttered to her. Rose couldn't quite hold back the amused snort. 

The cops quickly took Poha off Egon and Winston’s hands and escorted him off towards a side exit; Rose couldn’t say she was sad to see him go. Louis rushed up to them, all wide-eyed with exhilaration, speaking a mile a minute about the slime shell and the experience of firing off his first proton stream. Rose thought it was really quite endearing, but in his excitement, he accidentally aimed his neutrona wand at Dana and Oscar. Without missing a beat and without saying a word, Peter took hold of the barrel of the wand and pointed it very firmly away from them. 

“Oh, gee, sorry about that!” Louis said sheepishly, once he realized who had been on the receiving end of the weapon.

“That’s alright, Louis,” Dana replied gently.

Louis grinned at her. “I’m real glad you and the little guy are okay, Dana. I woulda gotten here sooner, but you wouldn’t believe the traffic. I had to catch a bus ‘cause boy, this equipment is a lot heavier than I thought it was, I don’t know how you guys carry it around all the time. Anyway, the bus driver was Slimer of all people - well, he’s not a person, or maybe he was at one point, but you know what I mean - and he really shouldn’t be driving, he’s really a menace behind the wheel, but I got here in one piece, so you know, no harm done, I guess. Seems like I got here just in time, too - that shell thing on the outside of the museum looked like a nasty piece of work!” 

Rose blinked and glanced at Ray, wondering if she’d misheard. He smiled cheerfully but completely blankly at her, and it occurred to her that Ray was so blissed out that he was dipping in and out of full awareness, and thus had absolutely no idea what Louis had just said.

She smiled fondly at her husband and turned back to their accountant. “Wait, hold on, did you say Slimer drove a bus?”

Louis nodded so vigorously, his black earmuffs almost fell off his head. “Yeah!”

“He doesn’t even have any legs…how the hell…?” she muttered, trailing off in thought. 

Louis shrugged and looked over at Ray, appearing to notice for the first time the layer of pink slime covering his head and torso. “Wow! Gee, what happened to you, Ray?”

"Hm?" Ray blinked slowly at Louis. As the question processed in his brain, a delighted smile spread across his face. “Oh, I got possessed!"  

Winston snorted and looked away, bracing his hand on Egon’s shoulder, so Ray wouldn’t see him laughing. Rose, however, openly laughed at both the dopey grin on her husband’s face and the utterly befuddled look on Louis’ face. 

“The slime in our tanks is positively charged,” Rose explained, gesturing to the rig on her back. “We hosed him, and it counteracted the negative charge of the ghost. Basically knocked it right out of Ray’s body.” 

“Oh!” Louis said, nodding, although it was patently obvious he still didn’t quite understand. 

“Are you wearing one of my suits?” Egon asked suddenly. Rose squinted at the name patch on Louis’ chest and noticed for the first time that it did indeed read ‘Spengler’.

“Yep! Janine let me borrow it so I could come help you guys! I had to roll the sleeves and the legs a little, but otherwise, I think it fits pretty good!” Louis told him, his smile turning a little bashful when he said Janine’s name.

Egon’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, but his expression remained otherwise neutral, and Rose had to purse her lips to keep from smiling in amusement. 

“I see,” Egon replied. “Well, perhaps we should look into getting you your own suit, Louis. One that does fit you.”

“Sure, that’d be swell!” Louis said cheerfully. “You never know when you might need backup! Anyway, you guys should come outside! There’s a whole crowd of people that wanna thank you!” 

“Lead the way,” Rose encouraged him, and their accountant-turned-auxiliary-Ghostbuster turned on his heel, stumbling a little under the weight of the proton pack, and hurried off at his usual clipped pace. The others strolled along behind him. 

“Janine gave him my suit…?” Egon murmured quietly, looking confused and discomfited by the notion. 

“Yeah, what’s that about?” Peter asked. “And since when does she send in Louis for backup? Since when does she send backup at all?”

Rose snorted, and Dana caught her eye, smiling knowingly. 

“Well…I’m pretty sure they’re kind of a thing,” Rose said casually. “They’ve definitely been getting a little flirty around the office, anyway.”

“What? No way,” Peter said, chuckling in disbelief. “Melnitz and Tully? I don’t think so. Come on, Rose.”

“No, it’s true,” Dana said, adjusting her hold on Oscar. “I sort of walked in on them, um, making out on your couch, Peter. When I went back to your apartment after you got arrested.”

“Seriously?” Winston asked, shaking his head. “Man…who woulda thought!” 

Peter hummed thoughtfully to himself, and he, Dana, and Winston walked a little faster, catching up with Louis at the door. Rose noticed Egon had fallen behind her and Ray, moving slow and frowning. His brow was furrowed in thought, and he looked a little upset. Rose tapped on Ray’s hand where it hung over her shoulder, and jerked her head towards Egon when he looked at her questioningly. He nodded and the pair slowed their own gait to walk side by side with Egon. 

“What’s with the long face, Egie? We won!” Ray said, smiling like a punchdrunk fool. “Come on, life is good! Everything's great! Don’t worry, be happy!” 

Egon looked over at Ray, blinking in mild concern. “I think I should run some tests on you when we get back to the firehouse. Contact with the slime could prove dangerous even when it’s positively charged. It seems to be having effects similar to those associated with methylenedioxymethamphetamine use.” Rose raised her eyebrows and, noticing her expression, Egon added, “Commonly known as ecstasy.” 

“Hey, I feel fantastic, but sure, whatever you say!” Ray answered. He retracted his arm from Rose’s shoulders. “I think I gotta go tell Peter I love him. Yeah. I’ll be right back.”

Rose waved him off. “I’m sure he’d love to hear that. We’ll catch up with you. Go on.”

Ray shot her another dopey, dreamy grin and hurried off towards Peter, who was walking about thirty feet ahead of them, and nearly lifted him off his feet with a surprise hug from behind. Rose laughed at the squawk Peter let out at the unexpected show of affection, but Egon merely sighed and shook his head. 

“I’ll definitely need to run some tests,” Egon said to her. “Although, to be honest, I’m not fully sure where the slime ends and Ray begins.”

“Ah, don’t worry, Egie,” Rose replied. “He’s just in a really good mood. We’ll get him back to the Firehouse and into the shower, get that slime off. He’ll be fine. Oh, and, uh, try not to worry about Janine and Louis, either. Something tells me that's not gonna last too long.”

Egon looked down at her, a small measure of alarm sparking in his eyes. “What…? No, I’m not…I don’t - I just…”

Rose looked up at him with a skeptical but kind smile, and patted him on the shoulder. “It’s okay, Egon. You don't have to make excuses. We all know how you feel about Janine." 

“Excuses? No, Rose, listen to me: I don’t have feelings for Janine. Aside from friendship, that is. Platonic friendship.”

“Okay,” she replied lightly. 

“I don’t,” he insisted. 

“Okay.”

“Rose.”

“What? I said okay,” she teased him. He rolled his eyes, and she nudged his arm, sighing dramatically. “Alright, Egon, fine. If you only see Janine as a platonic friend, then I will take you at your word and I'll say no more on the subject." 

"Thank you," he grumbled.

Rose took a deep breath and spoke in a rush. "Except to say this: hypothetically if non-platonic feelings for her existed in you, then you shouldn't wait to act on those feelings, because Janine is a smart, beautiful gem of a woman, and I know you see that, but so does Louis, which means others see it, too."

"Rose, please," Egon warned. "I know you mean well, but please."

"Okay, now I'm done. For real this time," she promised. "Now, come on, let’s go catch up with the others.” 

She walked off, leaving Egon to follow, although with his longer gait, it took him no time at all to catch up with her. She smiled up at him as they reached the rest of their team, and chuckled quietly when she saw him begin to fight a small smile of his own. 

Ray grinned at Egon, and clapped him on the shoulder as the group stepped through the doors and back out into the cold winter night, the first of a new decade. 

In his slime-induced happiness, Ray managed to wrangle a few full-throated chuckles and bright smiles from Egon as they walked down the stairs and towards the adoring crowd screaming and chanting their name. 

Rose beamed out at them and waved. They each shook a few hands and thanked the crowd for their support, dodging a few reporters on scene as they began to make their way back to the Ecto-1. Off to the side of the crowd was Libby; the slime that had animated her had evidently worn off, because she was laying flat on her back and staring up at the sky. A line of firefighters stood in front of her, blocking the crowd from getting too close to her. 

As they passed by her enormous feet on the way back to the Ecto, Winston spoke up. “Hey, guys…how are we going to get Libby back to her pedestal?”

“That, Winston,” Peter chimed in immediately, “is someone else’s problem.” 

Rose agreed with her brother; while she had no idea how to get Libby back to her island, she simply couldn’t be bothered about it just then. At that moment, all she cared about was getting home, hopping in the shower with Ray, and then curling up next to him and sleeping for the next twelve hours, safe and warm in his arms. 

After that? She’d take each strange and wonderful day as it came, and keep traveling the crazy path of being a Ghostbuster with her husband, her brother, and their friends - their family - by her side.