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Chapter Text

Thump! The baggage went as we set it on the ground. I had lived in some shady apartments, including of course, my Grandfather's strange farm, but this took it to another level. Winston had given us the keys to what he said was "historical", but I was skeptical. Apparently Venkman had lived in it, and kept it since it was rent-controlled. Mom looked around, and sighed, wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. "Well. This is awesome," she says, and I snort. Gary enters a moment later, with a Gary-fied reaction. "This is..." he tilts his head like he does when he's trying to find something positive to say. "Rustic." Trevor, having already made himself at home, yells from a small kitchenette "It's not that bad!" "It looks like your room, of course you think it's fine," I shoot back, with no power behind it.

He makes an affirming noise, as if to signal that I've won. I pick up my singular bag and drag it to the couch, inventorying my surroundings. One bedroom, two other rooms, a bathroom, and all purpose living room, kitchen, and.... "What is that?" I ask, pointing toward the medieval torture looking device in the corner. "Exercise equipment?" Gary tries, and we all laugh, because otherwise we'd cry. Everyone is exhausted from the past week. I got back today, and when we entered the firehouse, Winston politely explained that was under repairs. We were allowed to get our stuff, and were handed the keys to this monstrosity. I sigh. "At least it's temporary," I say, and then it's the rest of the family's turn to groan. Gary gets up and decrees that he is getting pizza. "I'll be back!" He yells, and leaves the apartment. Callie and Trevor go for a walk soon after, and then it's just me. Or, well, just me and Melody. We sit in silence, not knowing what quite to say. We haven't talked since she and I-the bathroom. No time. Tomorrow, I go to the Paranormal Research Center and continue a project I started because I didn't think Melody would ever come back.

"Hey, I have a question." I look up from my lap, which I've decided is the safest place for my eyes to be. "Yeah?" I ask, voice a little hoarse. I stand to get some water, walking to the kitchenette and praying that the sink works. "Do you want a glass of water?" I ask, and Melody pauses. "Um... no?" I realize who I'm talking to. "Ah. sorry. Uh, continue?" She smirks, and if it wasn't already awkward in here (and it was), the tension could make either of us spontaneously explode. Probably me. Grabbing a cup from the sparse cupboards above the sink, I turn the 'cold' tap, and it actually spills water. (Hallelujah.) "What... what's pizza?" I almost pour water onto myself. This is an interesting development. Trevor would probably kill her. "It's um, a kind of flatbread with sauce and cheese and meat." "So kind of like a lasagna, but with bread." I nod. "Yep." Having not embarrassed myself in the presence of the goddess that is Melody, I sit down in a well-worn armchair and quietly sip my water.

Soon after, Gary reenters the apartment with the promised pizza. Trevor and Mom aren't back yet though, so we attempt setting the table. The napkins are nowhere to be found, so we go through the bag of sides until we find a small stack of paper ones. The only glass in the apartment is the one in my hand, so Gary runs downstairs to get sodas from the nearest bodega. It's a whole adventure of making do. Finally, after about 15 minutes of running around looking for substitutions for basic necessities, Mom and Trevor get back from their walk, holding a boxes full of Ghostbusting stuff. "Winston told us to take our stuff, so that we could continue with our jobs for the time being," Callie announces, and sees the pizza. Trevor almost drops the box he's holding to run for the pizza, but politely sets it down on the floor first before lunging for the couch. "It looks like all of those years of little league worked out," Mom says, and we burst into laughter. And it's nice. Sure, we're eating greasy pizza in an apartment that violates several building codes, but it's still the happiest I've seen anyone since Melody arrived. The lights are bright, and Gary is clueless, and the easy banter of family dinners sinks in, leaving me filled with a sense of bliss.

Later, once Trevor has gorged himself on pizza and we've divided the beds, I'm laying on a pull-out couch with a blanket pulled over me, watching Melody float around the room. She's standing guard, and though I've tried in vain to convince her I'm fine, I think she still feels some guilt for why we're in this situation in the first place. Next to me, Trevor snores, completely oblivious to the ghost just above his head. Melody spies my obvious consciousness and shakes her head. "You have got to sleep," she says, and I raise one eyebrow. "You know, my Mom is in the next room. You don't need to act like her. I'll be fine." "You have your internship tomorrow, right? So you need to sleep." I close my eyes, and though I fight to stay awake, I can feel sleep taking over. "G'night, Mel," I mumble, and she smiles. "Good night, Pheebs."

The first thing I hear when I wake up is Trevor, snorting and rubbing his eyes. Slowly, I open my eyes. Melody is nowhere to be seen, so I pull my glasses on and sit up. I am suddenly aware of a stab of pain in my back. "Oof," I groan, and see Melody, who has been sitting on a windowsill, look up. "What's wrong?" She says, and evidently appears abruptly by my side in Trevor's vision too, because he screams. Gary runs into the room, looking for danger. "WHAT?!" He yells, and I point to Melody. "She scared Trevor on accident," I reply, and my brother groans from where he had landed after falling off of the bed. "I though it was Pheebs," Gary says sheepishly, and from the side of the bed I can't see comes a certain finger. "The early bird gets the worm," is all my step-father says in return, and I snicker. Callie enters next, looking for hot-water. She sees the gesture still pointed at her partner, and gasps. "Trevor. Please don't flick Gary off." I stand up, announcing my plans for the Internship, and walk into the bathroom with a change of clothes from the box. Inside, I start to change, and then realize that Melody is there, too. I pull my shirt back on quickly once she explains, and set the glasses outside. Unfortunately, my original pair were destroyed by the ghost, so I'll just have to make do.

Once changed, I open the door and find my glasses, squinting until I see the glare they emit. Callie has apparently given up on a shower, and the mood is substantially more somber than usual. I check the time. !0:00. That makes 30 minutes until I need to check in. I need to move fast. There's nothing I can bring, no projects I can grab, so I grab my shoes and head for the door. Gary happens to be leaving too and offers to buy breakfast, and my stomach forces me to give in. From then on, my movements turn to the most efficient possible, mechanical. Down the stairs as fast as possible. Head left to the bodega. Get a juice, an orange, and a small bag of chips. Thank Gary. Move on to the subway, and pull out the metro card. Take the correct line down to Staten Island, get off. Walk the extra two blocks to the dilapidated aquarium, and go through security. Explain to the guards that the whole haunting thing is totally okay, and no, it's not going to be a problem. Walk in, change into lab outfit. Pretend you don't see the stares.

Everyone can tell, of course, when you're being haunted. Which is awesome when you work with Lars Pinfield. "Do you need help with the exorcism?" He asks, and I smile painfully. "Nope. It's a long story, but it's actually a good thing I'm being haunted." He makes a strange noise, and goes back to his work. Every time I look up though, he's staring at me. "Is there a problem?" I ask, and he shakes his head quickly, and then hesitates. "Would you mind being a volunteer for this project I'm working on? I need people who are being haunted." I see no reason to say no, so I don't. "Sure." "Great!" He says, and then physically drags me across the room while Lucky stares at us. He sits me down in a metal chair, and tries to slip one of those brain readers on my head. He has trouble with my hair. "Wow. Your hair is.." "Poofy?" I supply, and he nods. "Yep." He gives up on it, and sits across from me, in one of those chairs doctors use when you go get a check-up. He asks me a series of questions starting with "What's your name? What's the name of the ghost haunting you?" "What object has been haunted?" And ends with, "Whats the nature of your relationship with Melody?" I blush at that one, and he writes something down. "Okay." He gets up, and releases me. I return to my work, a bit confused. It's not that I don't like Lars, it's just that he, and really, all of the people who work here, including me, are a bit socially awkward.

But no one else realizes it. And so, over the course of the day, I'm part of several experiments from other interns and scientists, and each one seems confounded. None of them ask about why I'm being haunted, so I'll probably end up being the weird factor in their data. Oops. Finally, having been approached by too many haunting science people, I yell in frustration. "I'm being haunted because otherwise a bunch of ghosts from the fabric of the universe will murder me!" Is what I want to scream. Instead, I try calmly, "Does anyone want to meet Melody?" Just to allay the questions. Melody appears from where she'd been hiding, and murmurs echo from around the crowd. Then, the tension breaks. "CATCH HER!" Someone yells, and they race to get traps. I stand there for a moment, stunned, and then start chasing them. "NO, don't!" They turn back, having gotten various prototype traps. "She's not bad!" I try, but they ignore me. Releasing the seals, Melody tries to get away. "Can you even catch a ghost that's haunting an object?" She asks, and I shake my head. "But it looks like they want to try." We back up, Melody still refusing to leave my side. My legs hit the back of my desk, and I choose to climb on top of it. "Hey, lets maybe not bust my..." I pause, searching for the right word. I blush. Oh God, I hate social interactions. "Partner?" That's what I say, and the romantic pretenses of it make my cheeks hotter.

Melody doesn't look much better, but she's being chased, so it's probably that. "Um, Melody?" I say, turning to her. It looks like they might catch her. The interns and some of the scientists are closing in. One grabs my leg, making me trip. They have a plan. "Why do you hate ghosts so much?!" I yell, and no one answers. I see Lucky to my right, and suddenly, fear and adrenaline rush into my chest. Her eyes aren't moving. Everyone is being possessed. There is no way out, there is no way out. I whimper, and see Melody try and kick some people off of me. They haven't managed to climb up the desk, probably because the ghosts haven't figured out what to do yet. But I'm pinned. "Mel," I whisper, tears streaming down my face. "If I die, I wanted you to know..." She kicks someone else to the ground, freeing my arm. I take advantage of the situation, and free my right leg. "You're not going to die. If you do, I will... I don't know. But it'll be amazing." I smile a little, blinking away tears. I free my other foot and kick everyone else off, and make a break for it. The security guards are possessed too, and one of them catches my leg with their taser, burning it. I cry out, and push them into a wall so they pass out. Melody sees me, and tries to remain solid to support me, but I shake her off, hobbling toward the exit. "We need to go," I say weakly, and Melody follows me wordlessly.

Once outside, we run for the subway as best we can, hoping to outpace the ghosts. Soon though, we see our error. They've gotten everyone on the subway. But the doors close behind us, and my leg gives out from the taser wound. I pull myself up with a nearby post, and asses the situation. I quickly realize that even with more people, and if I weren't injured, we wouldn't stand a chance. The car is packed. Melody immediately sees this and tries to reason with them. "Spare us. Please. She hasn't done anything!" I stare blankly out the window to the brown tunnel walls. The ride takes 20 minutes. If we can hold out.. I hobble up to Melody and whisper, "stall. Please." She nods, and I go back to where I was, next to the doors. I unlock my phone and call my family. "Help." Is what I say first, and Callie simply says, "Where are you?" I glimpse up at the station map, and figure it out. Once we have the location, they hang up. "We'll be there soon," Trevor says last. I see Melody still reasoning with the ghosts, and I drag myself to them. "Are you going to behave, little girl?" One asks in a mocking voice, and I smirk, giving them my signature look. Brows furrowed, jaw set. I see Melody, her face flushed, hair tangled. I suddenly have the overwhelming urge to tuck a stray strand back into place, and I force my eyes back to the ghosts. I don't say anything, but I don't need to. Phoebe Spengler never backs down.

It's not going well when Trevor, Callie, and Gary arrive. We're almost destroyed. The musty car is scorching, and sweat drips down my back from over-exertion. My injuries strain, my back aches, and Melody looks winded. We both apparently don't get much exercise these days. Trevor bursts on to the car with proton pack in hand, shoving five traps onto the ground and trudging into the car like a soldier. Callie and Gary follow. By now, some of the ghosts are passed out, but even with fifteen traps, we'll still have quite the battle. But 20 seconds later, once all traps are released, there are now 15 clueless people witnessing a bust. We finish off the others as efficiently as possible, but it's still grueling. We stumble off the Subway at our stop, and walk, or really, hobble, down to the apartment. There, we patch up our wounds and take cold showers. "Wow," I say, the first words exchanged since the call. "I think that was our first family bust in like, five months." Gary nods, having been the first out of the shower. Winston called us about 10 minutes ago to explain the situation, but I don't think we're leaving our spot for the next few days. Callie gets out of the shower next, leaving only Trevor and I.

My leg is spread out on the couch and wrapped up in bandages from the equipment box. I move it for Mom and wince. "Ugh," I groan, a broken noise. Mom makes a noise and grabs the bandages for her arm. I lift the sleeve for her, and she groans in response. "That bad?" I ask, and she nods in response, not saying anything as she grits her teeth. She finishes, and sets the gauze down. "Gary made it out okay, though" Somehow. Trevor has a black eye now, but Gary was uninjured, despite his roll in the fight. "At least we're okay," I say, trying to be positive. Mom sighs. "Yeah. At least." She ruffles my hair, and smiles. I'm trying to convince my brain that I'm fine, and it isn't working. But right now, it's enough that Callie Spengler can still smile in the face of danger. That's enough.

Chapter Text

   Melody nudges me awake, careful as can be. "Phoebe," she whispers, and I groan, reaching for my glasses. "Is there a ghost attack?" I ask as I sit up, stretching out the sore parts of my body. Which these days, is everything. She shakes her head, still whispering. "I have an idea. Last night, some ghosts visited." The low tone resonates deep in my stomach, and I gasp, quickly standing up. "Is everyone okay?!" "Yes! Yes, they are. It was-have you ever met another ghost who didn't attack you, try and kill you?" I ponder for a moment, coming up with nothing. "Just you." "Well, that's because most of them aren't exactly social, except among each other. I was wondering whether we could convince them to protect, or rather, haunt, the citizens of New York. There are a lot of them, a-and if we could have them haunt civilians, without harming them, it would decrease the chances of another Subway Incident." Huh. That could work, actually.

 "Do you think it could work?" Melody asks. "We'll have to talk to Ray about this. I'm pretty sure it could work, but it depends on whether people carry around objects just waiting for haunting. Otherwise it would be a question of possession, and that wouldn't work. He could tell us." Melody nods, her jaw set. "Then lets find Ray Stantz."

   Before we go off on a wild ghost chase though we have more pressing matters to attend to. AKA, Trevor's attempt at making breakfast. I walk into the kitchen, Melody in tow, and inhale the brisk smell of pancakes burning. A very strange scene is unfolding. Trevor cowers in the corner, making a wall with his hands, probably to shield himself from the fire raging in the pan still sizzling away on the stove. The counter is in disarray, boxes of flour strewn everywhere, and what appears to be an entire box of baking powder spilled on the floor, along with a spatula.  "What the heck is happening in here?!" I yell, and turn the dial to "Off." Trevor stands on one corner of the kitchen, freaking out a lot less than he was a minute ago. "Pancakes?" He manages weakly, and coughs.

I decidedly do not glare at him, and take a breath. "Did you manage to save any pancakes?" He nods toward a plate stacked high with them. More pancakes than we could ever eat, and Trevor knows it. "Did you invite a bloat of hippos to eat breakfast with us?" "A bloat?" Melody asks, floating into the kitchen with us. "Yeah, it's the plural noun form of 'hippos'." I turn back to Trevor. "What happened?" "Well, Podcast is eating with us, and I misjudged how much more batter to make." "Ah. That's understandable," Mom says, already dressed in her Ghostbusting outfit. "We just got a call for a bust, Trevor. Get your dang uniform on, like I've been telling you for the past two minutes." She walks over to the plate, grabs a piece of parchment paper from the box left on the counter, and wraps up as many pancakes as will fit in here. "Apparently Podcast will be here soon," she says, hurriedly, opening a window for the smoke to exit. "So you'll have to take him with you on your inevitable adventures today." Here she directs her attention toward Melody. 

  "If you hurt my daughter, Melody-no-last-name, I will ruin your chance of a happy after-life. Don't ask me how." She nods quickly, and Callie smiles. "Bye, girls! I'll see you when we get back!" And then she's gone. Gary doesn't appear to be in the apartment, probably having already left. A few minutes after my family disappears, there's a knock at the door, which turns out to be Podcast. "Hi Pheebs," He says as he enters, and notices Melody. "Hi, ghost who's name I don't know!" "Melody," she answers dryly. Then she gestures toward the still-smoking kitchen. "There's more pancakes than you could eat in three days in there, if you're interested." Podcast is definitely interested, and a couple minutes later, we are all seated at the small kitchen table, eating small circles of baked goodness. "Sof-I hearf thaf you neef to talf to-" here, Podcast swallows a bite of his breakfast, "Ray. Why?" Melody looks over from where she's standing at the window and says "Because otherwise you and everyone else in New York can be used as pawns in order to destroy Phoebe's-and her family's-lives." I nod in agreement. "Pretty much what she said." 

   The boy in front of me pales, and looks down at his pancakes like they might betray him at any moment. Then he shakes his head and starts toward the door, confidence renewed. "Okay! Lets go find Ray!" 

   I open the door to Ray's shop, and find Winston already inside. "Mr. Zeddemore!" Podcast says, and rushes toward him. Everyone ignores the jingle the door plays, a rendition of the Ghostbusters theme-song. Ray chuckles, and gestures toward Winston. "We all kept up after the band was...separated." He speaks carefully, dancing skillfully around my grandfather's sudden disappearance. Everyone was crushed, but Ray doesn't even talk about anymore. I suspect that he and Egon might of been romantically involved, but if he isn't going to tell me, than I'm not going to talk about it. "Winston, why are you here?" I ask, since I didn't think that the old group ever talked outside of when the world was about to be destroyed. 

  "The research center is conducting an experiment on the mysterious Chess games happening in Central Park. Until recently, the hauntings were frequent. But now, they seem to have stopped." I watch as Melody blushes a little, but doesn't say anything. Ray hands him a box full of something I recognize as micro-film. "Every article about the Chess games since 1960. I couldn't find anything from before that," he explains. Winston thanks him with a wink, and then turns to go. "Hey, Phoebe," he says, one hand on the door knob. "Yeah?" I reply wondering what his request will be. "I sent a package with some... interesting articles from about seven years ago. It appears that... the Spenglers might not be the only Ghostbusting group in town. I would look into them." 

    Then, he's gone, the only trace of him being the song playing from the door. Ray disappears into the back for a second, and then comes to counter again, carrying a box of Stay-Puft marshmallows, squirming and squeaking from inside. "This place is infested," he complains as he sets on the counter next to several others. "Podcast brings one, and it turns into this. I don't even buy these anymore." Podcast shrugs, and then walks into the back, probably to grab his recording devices. "Ray," I begin, wasting no time, "We need your help." He notices Melody next to me, but doesn't say anything. "With what?" he asks, and the ghost next to me answers first. "We need to know if it would be possible to bargain with a group of ghosts and get them to haunt, not possess, a large amount of the population of New York." Ray blanches. 

     "Excuse me?" he says, and I explain the situation. "Oh. Well, in that case, possibly. You, of course, considered whether the general population would have objects worth haunting, yes?" That's what I love about Ray. He always assumes that I've gone through the basic thought process. "Yes." "So... I mean, generally, yes? I've seen a lot of people on the show who wear the objects that they want me to test. It could be worth trying. The only down side is what you bargain in order for this to be happen." "That's what we need help on. What would a ghost want?" "Well, presumably, the ones you would make a deal with like the place that they're in, or at the very least, have accepted that humans aren't the problem. The places they congregate wouldn't be welcome to the hostile ghosts, as they don't tend to be... good team builders. So there's a grudge built. If you could manipulate that, and promise them safe places for them to meet afterwards, they might take it." I look at Melody. "You have experience. What do you think?" She considers for a moment.

      "I think it could work. I didn't talk to a lot of other ghosts, but I knew that places like that existed. Condemned buildings, parks, places that humans aren't typically, at least, at night. Ray, do you have a map? Of where those places might be?" He nods. "Give a minute," he says, and then walks into the back. "Podcast, have you seen the rolled-up maps? I thought they were near the spirit books in the left corner.." his voice drifts from the back. "Found it!" Podcast answers a minute later. Ray enters again, and hands it to us. "Anything else?" He asks, and I take my glasses off. "Yeah. Ray, do you recognize these?" I ask, and he examines them, gasps. "T-these are Egon's." I nod. "I didn't get to explain anything when you showed up, but... Egon wanted to tell you something. He seemed really distressed, and I-I couldn't deal with not telling you." His eyes are watery, and he smiles, a little. "No need to worry. He told me himself, that night we all stayed at his house." Now it's my turn to gasp. "He-I thought he had left for good," I say, and he shakes his head. "He had a little unfinished business. He's gone now, but I don't know. Sometimes it feels like he comes back, from time to time." He hands back the glasses, and I slip them back on. 

       Ray smiles. "Thanks, Phoebe. Your grandfather and I appreciate it." He winks, and ushers me out, calling Podcast. "Now get out! I'll see you later!" And then the door swings shut. I can hear him humming along to the blasted door jingle. 

       "Well, that was informative," Podcast says, and then takes out the map I've given him control over. "Ooh, the first one is only a few blocks that way!" He starts a direction, and then turns around. "That way! Follow me!" He yells, and then we follow him. Melody drifts over, sensing my distress, and bumps her hip into mine, letting it become solid for a single moment before it sinks through, becoming nothing more than an illusion. "Cheer up! You're with the best company in all of New York," she says, letting her arms spread wide, as if talking about the whole world. "Podcast?" I ask, teasing. She frowns. "No, silly. Well, Podcast is pretty great, but I was referring to moi." I smirk. "Good to know. I wasn't aware." She gives me a knowing look, and I can't help smiling. Suddenly I notice our proximity to each other, only inches apart, and I gasp a little.

       "Melody. What opinions do you have on the 21st century?" Podcast bursts through the two of us, making Melody flicker for a second. She looks a bit confused, opening and closing her mouth. "Um-it's fine? Less heteronormativity, more pollution." Podcast laughs at that, and then presses further. "Do you have any comments on that?" "Heternormativity or pollution?" "The former." "Uh-I'm not heterosexual, so I dislike the practice?" He nods. "Fair. Fair. Do you-" I disrupt the conversation, pointing toward an ancient brown-stone listed with a sign reading "The historic home of Ivo Shandor!" A name I recognize, and intensely dislike. "Is that it?" I ask, and Podcast nods. "We've made it to the home of a man who's existence has haunted us, quite literally, for years," he narrates for his viewers. I knock on the door and a pasty man, somewhere in his 30s, smiles creepily at us. "Are you under the age of 18?" He asks, and I nod. "Yes." If it's possible, then he smiles further. "Then you have free entry! Welcome to our historic location." He flings the door open, and ushers us inside. The interior is mostly Pinks and Acid yellows, and I immediately hate it. "Uh-is this the original interior?" Podcast asks, squinting against the bright colors. "No, actually! Ivo took all of his interior with him to Summerville, so we redecorated in the 70s." My friend nods. "We're from Summerville actually. And-" he looks around, and whispers "I'm actually the world's leading expert in Ivo Shandor." 

         The tour guide, who's name tag reads "Bartholomew", (a fact that makes me hate this place more), grins even wider. His mouth must hurt, right? He and Podcast walk over to a corner to continue their discussion, after he opens the door to the first room and waves us through. Melody gasps. Not only is this room painted in the worst lime-green I've ever seen, it's full of dozens of ghosts. Bartholomew doesn't seem to notice, but strides away with a wink to a room labeled 'Employees Only: Restroom'. Podcast walks over with a ring of keys after a couple of minutes. "I told him I'd like to interview him about the Spiritual Awareness book he's 'written.' Little does he know that Ray owns the only copy of that book, and that he stole it a couple years ago. Also, he says to call him 'Barty.'" Melody grins. "Hah. Great work, Podcast!" He nods and then observes the room, getting out his recording device. 

        "We're here. The first room has about 8 dozen ghosts in it. Phoebe, do you have a plan?" I look at him. "Uh-well-talk to them?" Podcast nods. "Will our heroes survive this encounter? Will they-" the microphone makes a loud squeak, and suddenly, all of the ghosts in the room stop their chatter and turn to the source of the interference. Podcasts mouth opens and closes, and then he clears his throat, restarting the recording device. Before he can speak however, Melody raises her voice. "Spirits! My name is Melody!" "No last name," I murmur. "And this is Phoebe! We have come to bargain!" That gets their attention. They all turn to one ghost, a woman who's figure it so distorted with dust I can barely see them. "What could you possibly have to give us?" Now it's my turn. "There are a lot of... other ghosts who would like to destroy my family, and probably the city in the process. If that happened, you would have no place to hide. But if you helped us... by haunting suitable items carried or worn by a large portion of the civilians of this fine city, they would be protected, much like I am protected by Melody. Help us, and rally others, and no harm will come to this place. Surely you must see the benefits!" The lead ghost considers. "We'll see. When would you propose we do this? And when are you going to defeat these... hostile spirits?" I look around at my friends. 

        Then, some device on Podcast makes a sharp 'ring' noise. The Ghostbusters theme from earlier. He digs around in his pockets, finally pulling out his phone. He looks at the message, and then at me. "It's Ray. He and Winston are planning a mass capturing. In one week from now." Melody looks back at the ghosts. "There. You have your date. Show up at the battle-field, prevent any civilians from being possessed, and we vow to never disturb this place, or any other establishment like it. And the city remains intact." The lead ghost raises an eyebrow. "Send us the battlefield location. We'll think about it." Oh, the sweet taste of victory, for once. 

        Once back on the street, having dispatched of Barty, we begin the long walk home. The lead ghost, her name is Beth, promised to tell the others, so there's no need to walk around more. Melody and I are walking together, giving Podcast space to record the day's events. We don't talk. When we pass a shop selling dolls though, she giggles. "Look," she says, pointing at a doll with short, curly brown hair and glasses, "She looks like you." I roll my eyes, but point at a blond, slender doll, wearing a blue dress embroidered with flames. "That's just a generic doll. Now that one, that one is special." Podcast announces that he has to use the bathroom in this shop, so we remain outside, staring at the dolls. I find my gaze settling on Melody's jaw-line, illuminated by the street-lamps that have turned on by now. It's sharp, and I find myself imagining kissing the little freckle right at the side of her head. I remind myself that I can't, but my imagination wanders down lanes so dirty I blush. She catches me looking and casually flicks me off, making me smirk. After that, I simply let my eyes wander over the dolls visible in the window, until I feel a gust of cold near my shoulder. Melody has gotten so close, we almost touch. Almost, but not quite. She bumps my hip with hers again, and I shiver at the brief touch. Then... 

       "What are you two doing?" I turn around, seeing Podcast. He's looking at us with an expression of confusion. "N-nothing!" I manage, blush spreading all over my face. He raises an eyebrow, but then shakes his head and drops the matter. "Come on. I got a text from Ray. We're supposed to have dinner with him, since your parents and Trevor are out on another bust, and it's taking a while. We walk off into the distance, and eventually, I feel Melody's arm wrap around my shoulders. I lean into her for a split second, before it falls through my chest. My shoulders droop, but then I remember that's she's here. Finally. And that's enough. 

Chapter Text

 I've never been in Ray's apartment, and I'm starting to be thankful for that. Since Podcast, Melody, and I stepped over the threshold, at least three different items have tried to trap my friend inside. Melody keeps looking around nervously, now, even though Ray has promised that the enchanted box of whatever was the last object that might go after any ghosts. I take a deep breath in, calming my nerves, as Ray rounds the corner into the living room/dining area with a steaming pot that smells like Slimer. "Is that... ectoplasmic goo?" I ask, breathing through my mouth. The man in front of me chuckles, and sets the pot down. "No, it's failed vegetables. If we're ordering pizza, what do you two want? Unless-Melody, are you solid enough to consume solids?" He asks politely, and Melody smiles softly, looking a bit mournful at her loss of taste buds. "No, but I've heard that there's a particularly troublesome ghost who can," she responds wryly. With that comment, I suddenly get an idea. "Podcast-I know you encountered my family on a recent bust. Did you happen to see Slimer?" Podcast nods as he gets up to walk to his room, probably to get more batteries for his recording device. 

  "I got a sample, too! Trevor let me get it off of his uniform!" He calls from down the hall, and returns a moment later with a jar of pinkish-gray slime. He sets it down on the table, and moves back to his chair. In the meantime, Ray picked up his failed dinner attempt, and I can hear the dial tone of his wall-phone. "Have you done anything with it yet?" I ask, moving closer. "And can I have a teensy, tiny bit of it? I'm wondering if I could replicate the way that Slimer turns solid for the ionic welder." Podcast's eyes go wide, obviously excited at another break-through in the world of ghost-science. "Sure. But I want three interview sessions, and to be the first one with access to this information. Think about it. I could go from being a small podcast to being a respected scientific record! And, you know, you might be able to kiss-" "STOPPING YOU THERE!" I scream, and Ray makes a hushing noise. "What pizzas?" He asks, and, being that I am incapable of speech, Podcast responds with our usual. Two medium-size pizzas, mine with mild peppers and sausage and his with extra sauce and Anaheim peppers. 

  After returning to the couch about thirty minutes later, three pizza boxes in hand, Ray returns to the couch. Five minutes later, with his mouth full and brandishing a pizza slice, (his with extra cheese and anchovies), he says, "But it might be useful. Look at these..." still holding the slice like a ruler in a classroom, he points to the rest of the armchair he's sitting on, covered in photo-copied articles with pictures of smiling women. "Do they not look like they could destroy a legion of ghosts? They kinda did. They saved New York a while back." "I don't remember that..." I say, searching my brain for any mention of them. But Melody perks up. "They totally did. I remember that. You must have not been in town." Then I recall, with a wince, what I was doing in 2016. "Oh-yeah. I was in California, watching my parent's marriage fall apart. I didn't watch the news, but Trevor might have. Maybe. So I didn't witness any of the carnage." 

  Ray chuckles, remembering what must have been a wild time with the Ghostbusters. "Where do you think they are now?" I wonder, and Ray shrugs. "One of the Ghostbusters, Patty Tolan, was a worker for the subway system. Employee of the month records all the way to the month leading up to the massive event. But nothing since, so I think she might be doing something else, now." Melody closes her eyes, and breathes in slowly. "None of them are dead. I can't feel them." Podcast gulps. "That's a good thing, then." Melody just looks off into the distance. 

  When Melody and I get home, she's still distant. I wave a hand in front of her face, and wiggle my fingers. "Earth to Melody! Are you there...?" She shakes her head slowly, and I chuckle softly. "Okay then. Be that way." Then I head toward my room, and watch Melody glide behind me, the flames surrounding her body growing larger. "Melody...?" I ask, growing more concerned. "You okay?" She doesn't answer. So I turn the handle on my bedroom door, and stroll into the room. Inside, I immediately notice the heat radiating from the ionic welder seated on the desk. Melody drifts toward the half-finished machine, and absently lays her hand on it. She yelps a second later, snatching her hand back. I notice that her palm is a deeper blue, and rush over, cursing. "Oh-god-are you okay?" She scowls. "No, obviously. I was trying to cool it down and it-hey, your echinoderm slime or whatever is glowing." I reach into the messenger bag at my side, now illuminated by the sample I took from Podcast. When I pull out the slime, I almost drop it. The small amount I retrieved has grown in size, almost tripled. It's struggling out of the jar, looking almost... "It's sentient," I say, and then quickly set it down on the desk. 

  "Almost like psycho-reactive slime. But-Slimer's goo is different, right?" I mumble to myself, and spy the confused expression blooming gracefully on Melody's face. I wasn't even aware one could gracefully be confused.

"Psycho-reactive?"

"Mood slime. It's something my grand-father and Ray studied, along with Winston. But as far as I know-" 

"It's the only slime to do that." I pick up a pair of tongs and lift the mason jar from its spot.

"Exactly."

"So what's it-"

When I wave the jar over the ionic welder, it glows green and melts a spot of the mason jar. "Grab one of my sample jars-quick!" Melody gasps, and freezes the room in her panic, calming the slime down. For now. I wipe frost off of my forehead, and smile. "Great job! Now we've got to find those jars." She winks. "I'll bet it's cooler in here, now."

I don't get very much sleep that night, having made a breakthrough. Melody offers assistance by picking frost crystals out of various places of the room (including my hair, an action that makes me sharply inhale at the proximity of her), and yelling "EUREKA!" every time I slowly exhale, making progress. At first, I shake my head and smile secretly with my head down, but eventually I just laugh out loud, too tired to hide my joy at just being around her. But by the time my family gets home, my eyelids are so heavy, they are dragging my head down onto the desk, jar of slime knocking over. Typically, I would care, but right now, I just give myself over to the cloak of sleep being swept over me. 

  Callie Spengler sighs as she enters Phoebe's room, and then gasps when she sees the knocked-over jar her face is lying in. It's a symphony of noises. "Oh, Pheebs," she says with a slight shake of her head and a slight smile. She scoops the girl into her arms, and Phoebe groans. "Melody..." she sighs, and Melody almost doesn't hear it. "What am I gonna do with you, huh?" Is all what Phoebe's mother says in return, carefully ignoring the word that slipped out of her daughter's mouth. "Come on. Let's get you to the bath so we can clean you up." She tenderly carries her out of the room, and because Melody is attached to the glasses her friend is still wearing, she has no choice but to follow. 

  Once in the bathroom, Callie starts the wash-basin, filling it to the one-quarter mark with warm water, (probably warm. Melody has no idea), and slipping a wash-cloth inside. She balances Phoebe's head on her knee and washes her face of the goo from Slimer. "I'm not going to ask how you got this," she mumbles to the still-sleeping girl in her arms. She finishes up, and drains the basin. And Melody could swear that, for a moment, Phoebe's eyes opened. Then, Callie carries Phoebe back to her room and tucks her in, shivering all the time. "Melody," she calls out, and the ghost appears in front of her. "You're a great mother," she says, and Callie seems taken-aback. "T-thank you. I'm afraid I must say though, you made this room a little c-cold. Do you think you could...?" "Oh! Yeah. Sorry, I don't really feel it," she says in apology, and then unceremoniously pads over to the window and opens it. "We just have to wait now." Phoebe's mother slaps her forehead, obviously a little disappointed. 

 Then, Gary walks in, carrying two cups of what appears to be tea. "I made tea, ooh, it's cold in here." Callie nods, and takes one of the mugs. "We might have to move her," she whispers. "Melody can't do anything about the cold." Gary grabs a blanket out of the closet and wraps his daughter up in it. "Let's do that," he says, and they both nod, some silent exchange between lovers happening that Melody can't quite translate. But she's pretty sure it goes like this:

  Callie: Should I kill this ghost for ruining Phoebe's room temporarily?

  Gary: No, love. 

  Callie: (grumbles) Fine. I love you. 

  Gary: I love you, too. 

  (Cute little smiling) 

 It is then that Melody realizes that she could never decipher these types of conversations before... She can't remember. A couple weeks ago, in the back of an ambulance, Melody resolved to kiss Phoebe, maybe? She hadn't the chance yet, but she'd tried. Several times. Perhaps she would tomorrow. But for tonight, she would simply watch over her, and make sure no ghost went after her. 

  Then next day, I wake up with a cold. At first, it's just a bit of sniffling and a couple (hundred) tissues. Around noon though, three hours after I woke up (three hours spent working on the ionic welder), I develop a splitting headache and maybe a little fever (just a little one). I had just wrapped the final wires around the core of the machine, no resembling a watch, when I fell out of my chair. "Phoebe! Are you okay!" Melody screams, rushing over in order to just... 

  A couple minutes later, I surface from the sea of fever now rising to find myself tucked into bed, Gary looming over me, a nervous expression on his face. "Pheebs, you don't look so good... do you need anything? I'm gonna go grab some fever meds." I push myself up, ignoring the pounding hammer inside my brain. "No-I need..." "What?" "To work on the ionic welder!" I choke out, but the fever is too strong, and it drags me under again. In the background of my haze, I can hear Melody murmuring "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..." 

 I don't know when I wake up again, but I can see Callie glaring at Melody, as she shrinks into the corner, half in the wall. "Pheebs-are you okay? Do you need anything?" I shake my head. "Don't be mad at Melody, she panicked, she didn't know that I would-" "Shh. Hush, dear. I'm not mad at her, I know it was an accident. Just get some rest. I nod, already slipping back into a space between asleep and awake. "G'night," I say, and find myself actually asleep. 

 The next day, it's just Melody by my bedside when I awaken. "'Morning, Ghostbuster," she mumbles, and I shake my head. "I'm not a Ghostbuster. I'm just their engineer." She ruffles my hair. "Pshh. You're my favorite Ghostbuster." "And you're my favorite ghost. I-I think I love you," I respond, and she inhales sharply. "Hehe. Thanks." Then she kisses the corner of my mouth, and I seriously think that my fever breaks. Or maybe it gets hotter, I don't really know. "You too, Pheebs."