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Phoebe Spengler was starting to feel like nobody was ever going to understand her. Since Melody passed over, she'd been feeling more alone than ever. Sure, she had a friend before her; she had Podcast, and she liked Podcast. But he had gone home now. Summer was over, and she was left all alone in the Big Apple once again. It wasn't something that was new to her, feeling alone. She'd felt that in every place that her and her family had tried to settle down. Trevor, no matter where they moved to, was always able to make friends and fit in. But not Phoebe.
She let out a sigh, looking up at the sign that hung above the door of Ray’s Occult. Even though Podcast wasn't in New York anymore, she needed to get out of the house. She needed somewhere to go.
And this was as good a place as anywhere else.
She took in a breath and pushed the door open, greeting Dr. Raymond Stantz with a small, forced and rigid smile.
"Hey, kiddo," Ray crosses his shop with a narrow gaze, catching his breath as he sits down across from Phoebe. "Does your mother know you're here?"
"No," was the only response he received from her, and it was more of a huff than a mode of speech.
"I see."
Phoebe's head lifted from her feet, her eyes widening as she studied the expression on the elderly man's face. She let out a small sigh, mumbling, "you won't tell her, will you?"
"Tell her what?"
"That I came here," she responded, immediately. It was still small, but it was words, and Ray appreciated that. "I'm supposed to be grounded."
He let off a small chuckle. "I meant, what would I tell her? You know, because I didn't see anything."
"Oh," she nodded her head, understanding then what he meant that time around. He let his arms fold over his chest, scuppering in a breath that felt defeated and fraught. "Thank you,” she added.
Ray studied the expression on her face. It was one he had seen multiple times plastered on Egon's face when he was alive. She scrunched up her nose, crossing her arms across her torso to mirror him, minimising her body to the smallest form the particles around her would allow for. He empathised with her in this moment, understanding her need to be alone almost immediately. She fidgeted where she stood, dropping her gaze down to her feet.
It was a swift motion that made Phoebe startle out of her trance, as a pair of keys landed in her hand effortlessly. She raised her eyebrows, squinting up at the man with a confused expression.
"Keys to my flat," he explained, simply. "If you needed somewhere to go to be alone."
Phoebe wasn't used to people understanding her needs without words, but she found herself appreciating how king her grandfather's friend was being. She formed a smile on her face - something that she wasn't sure she was still able to do after everything that had happened.
"Thank you, Dr. Ray."
He nodded his head in response, offering her a gentle, reassuring smile, "I hope you find it comforting."
Before she could narrow her gaze again, she found that the retired parapsychologist had already disappeared behind his front desk. She shrugged her shoulders and gripped hold of the keys tighter, turning on her heels to walk towards the flight of stairs up to Dr. Ray's apartment.
She'd never been invited into his flat before, and it felt unusual to be surrounded by complete silence for the first time in a while. In the fire house there was nowhere that she could escape to to be away from noise; Trevor was forever fighting with Slimer, her mum was always fussing over her and Gary, her dad, was always playing his music and singing at the top of his lungs. It was impossible. Especially when Phoebe wasn't feeling her best.
Dr. Ray's apartment wasn't what Phoebe was expecting from the man whose shop was nothing short of chaos. She'd seen the spare room he rented out to visitors from far and wide with her own two eyes while Podcast - and an army of Stay Puft miniatures - were camping out down there, and that was a whirlwind of mess and clutter. His apartment, however, was neat and tidy.
She sat down on the floor, crossing her legs and leaning back against a wooden cabinet in the corner of the flat. As her head landed on the shelf behind her, a pile of letters rained down upon her and she flinched out of the way, doing her best not to crease the papers. She squinted, correcting her glasses on her face as her breath hitched in her throat.
She knew this handwriting.
She'd seen it before.
It was her grandfather’s handwriting - it was Egon’s writing.
She delicately placed them back into a pile, lightly reading the words with a hint of guilt at breaking Dr. Ray's right to privacy. But once she started reading, she found she couldn't stop. The letters were so personal, and so gentle. And the way that her grandfather wrote to his friend felt oddly familiar. There was a note of genuine softness in the words, and it made her feel some kind of way that she couldn't explain or understand.
“You okay, kiddo?” Ray's voice broke her attention away from the letter, making her cheeks flush bright red as she did her best to hide the letters away from his view.
“Y - yeah,”
Ray squinted, closing the door to his flat behind him and standing opposite the teenager that resembled his friend.
There was an awful silence that fell over them, and neither of the two knew how to fill it. Ray, being the elder, realised it fell to him and shuffled.
“I'm sorry about your friend,” he said, as though he was clearing his throat. It was the first time anyone had said anything about Melody, and it sent an immediate shiver down Phoebe's spine. She looked up from the letters, her eyes sharp and stinging with light tears. “It's hard when you lose someone you - like.”
The pause before the word ‘like’ made Phoebe shudder, and she noticed that Dr. Ray had flinched at it too.
“I did like her,” Phoebe broke the silence that fell between them, tugging at the zip on her jacket as she did so. “I think.”
Ray offered her a knowing nod, and smiled.
“She saved the world,” he noted, lifting his chin slightly as he did so.
“So - did my grandfather,” she offered in response, clumsily, realising how random that sounded without context. “I mean - I don't think I ever said I'm sorry about that.”
“Oh, that wasn't your fault, squirt.”
“I mean - I'm sorry that you lost your friend - someone that you - liked,” she stammered, cursing herself for being so unable to communicate the way she wanted to. Ray stiffened in front of her, and she knew she had said too much - implied too much.
“Yeah,” he nodded his head, echoing her words, “I liked him.”
“I - know.”
Ray paled, pacing across the room and sitting down on the bed.
“Melody was the only person that really understood me,” Phoebe felt it was only right that she break the silence again. “I didn't have to pretend with her - I could just be me.” Ray’s mouth twitched into another small smile, nodding his head as she spoke. He let the words process in his brain, and found that they resonated deeply within him. “And I know that she - hurt me,” she dropped her gaze to the floor, shutting them forcefully at the memory, “but I still liked her.”
Ray obliged, gritting his teeth at the familiarity of what she was saying.
“Sorry-” she cut herself off, swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat.
Ray could see the pain that had made a home on her face, and he knew there was something he could say to make her feel less alone in that feeling, but he couldn't find the words. He shuffled to his feet, kneeling down in front of the teenager and placing a light tap onto her shoulder as a form of reassurance.
“It's alright, kiddo.”
“I know I should have been upset that she betrayed me and my - my trust but - she was my friend and I just - I really liked her.” There was so much emphasis on the word ‘liked’, and it made Ray's heart stop momentarily. He bit down on his lip, scrunching his nose up and finding his voice once again.
He couldn't help but notice that she was fidgeting with the match set that the ghost girl had given her before she had passed on.
“Your grandfather betrayed me and my trust, too,” he started. “And I think I was hurt and upset about that. In fact, I know I was. I said some terrible things about him that I never should have said.” She looked up at him and he felt a twinge in his chest at the memory of saying what he had to her about his friend. “But I loved him,” he admitted. “He was my best friend, and I loved him.”
Phoebe clutched onto the letter in her hand tighter. She couldn't help but feel a twinge in her heart at the verbal admission.
“He loved you too,” she offered him the letter, showing she knew and understood what he felt unable to say for whatever reason. It was a gentle reassurance, she hoped, and she knew she would appreciate it if it were the other way around. Ray’s hand shook as he took hold of it, smiling down at the familiar handwriting that cascaded over the page in such an elegantly messy manner. He sat back, his knees beginning to ache in his old age.
“I know.”
Phoebe fluttered her eyes, “you felt like you could be yourselves with each other, didn't you?”
“Yeah.”
“I - I think I might have liked Melody a little more than I should have,” she murmured, barely audible to the human ear.
“Oh, I don't think that's-” he stopped himself, realising how what he was starting to say sounded. He retracted it quickly, correcting himself. “More than you should have? You mean because she's a-”
As he finished his question with the word ‘girl’, Phoebe uttered the word ‘ghost’.
“I wouldn't be worried about that, I think it's nice,” he said, before realising what she had said. “Oh-”
Phoebe blinked, tilting her head.
“Dr. Ray, why should I be worried about Melody being a girl?”
“You shouldn't!” He jumped in, quickly. “There's nothing wrong with that! At all! I mean, I know I'm old and a little past it but I - of all people - know that love is something that goes way beyond all these human labels and-” he stammered, which made Phoebe narrow her expression, scrunching her nose slightly. “I thought I'd made it clear that Egie and I - er - I mean Spengs - Spengler - your grandfather-”
Phoebe smirked, closing one of her eyes in the way she so often would when she was attempting to be humorous.
“Oh, you're kidding,” he raised his eyebrows. “You're getting much better at this social malark," he told her. "That wink still needs some work, though," he sniggered, which made her laugh too. It was the first proper time she had laughed since Melody had left, and it felt good. Out of everyone in her life that was left, she felt that maybe Ray did understand her better than anyone - he made her feel like maybe she wasn't completely alone. "I never did get the hang of it, not really. And neither did your grandfather.”
“But you had each other.”
“We did,” he nodded, softening at the memories. “And Venkman and Winston understood us too, but there was something really special about having someone just - get you without trying.” Phoebe couldn't help but agree. “Is that how Melody made you feel?”
Phoebe sucked in her cheeks and offered Ray a blank expression, nodding, solemnly.
“I'm glad,” he said. “Everyone deserves to find someone understands them.” The small Spengler swallowed. “I'm sorry she wasn't able to stick around.”
Phoebe echoed his tone, “I'm sorry my grandfather wasn't either.”
Ray paused, and then shuffled up to his feet to cross over the room, placing Egon's letter down on the table and picking up a small slinky toy that was situated carefully on the desk beside a photo of his best friend.
“People don't just go away,” he told her, bending back down. “Little parts of them remain with those that they loved, that's what I've always believed," he said. “It's what I've been studying since Egon's departure from this world. And it's what Podcast and I have been working on on that show of ours. People don't just - leave.” He signalled down to the slinky, and motioned towards the match set in Phoebe's hand. “They can choose to leave traces on things that matter to those that they love.”
“A slinky-”
“Not just any slinky,” he let out a chuckle. “This was the first full slinky your grandfather ever owned. I got him it for Christmas in the 80s - not that he really believed in Christmas or gifts, your grandfather.” Phoebe’s face remained placid, the confusion plain as day. “He never had toys as a kid, said his parents didn't believe in them. He had half a slinky and he straightened it.” He shrugged. “This was the first toy he ever owned - official toy, I mean, one that wasn't scientific.”
“I see.”
“He left it here for me the day he left for Oklahoma,” he told her, “with a note explaining why he had to leave and with an address.”
Phoebe motioned to the letter box, “that's how you communicated.”
“That's how we kept in touch, yeah. I know what I said - I know that everyone thinks he just split on us all but - not me. Your grandfather never stopped sending me these updates. Even when I didn't always reply," he sighed. "People say and do things when they're desperate and hurting," he explained. "I think your friend might have done the same."
“Maybe. Melody - she gave me this,” Phoebe handed Ray the match box. “Is she-”
“She's in there. Or, part of her is.”
“Where - do you think people go? After-”
“I believe part of them lives on here,” he touched his chest. “But I don't know if that's just - sentiment. There's no science in that. I just feel that people do,” he shrugged.
“I feel her,” she furrowed her eyebrows, touching her chest, “in here.”
Despite them both agreeing - without saying it verbally - that science would disagree with everything that they were saying and believing, it was a nice thought. And they were both taking comfort in that.
“Thank you, Dr. Ray.”
Ray smiled at her, once again, and offered her a light tap on the shoulder.
“You're not on your own, Spengler," Ray told her. "Never forget that."
"Neither are you, Dr. Ray," she threw her arms around him, shocking them both at the sudden initiation of touch. Ray melted into the hug, holding her tight.
"Nobody ever is."
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