milliways_bar | (no subject)

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It was over...

The bastard was finally gone for good. He could see people returning to normal. Part of him wondered if waiting a little longer, would it have passed like this? Not to have asked for so many sacrifices?
No, part of him knew he couldn't wait. The curse would have lifted, but it would been lifted off a corpse.
He fingered the rosary again, brooding some.

No, he should be happy. Evil got its ass kicked again.

But where was Ray?
His eyes flickered to the wall in wonder.

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And there, somewhere, the door opened. There was a blinding light, partially eclipsed by a form-

Well.

Er.

The form isn't exactly standing, now is it. More sort of... being held off the floor, really. By its suit collar. Rather like the way a momma cat hauls around a kitten. And oh, boy, is it ever radiating an air of palpable embarrassment.

Peter blinked, and walked over in wonder and shock.

"...Ray?"

"eheh. Um. Hi, Pete."

Ray looks up from where he's dangling, trying to retract his head into his shoulders and failing miserably. The only suit he's had for the past ... what, week? Time's a little fuzzy right now... does not allow for that. Yes, he's wearing a regulation-issue Men in Black suit, but there is no way that's Rho.

Especially not given that the person holding him off the ground pokes his head through the blinding light. His eyes scan the room once, just once, and settle on Venkman.

"I believe this is yours, sir," says the black man in the black suit.

Hell no, that ain't Rho, and Peter never thought he be so damn thrilled to see that familiar sheepish face.

"Why, yes he is. Well, different world, but yeah, that's our boy." There's a huge grin on Venkman's face now, as he walked up to the door.

"Good," says the man, and oh that voice is familiar. That's the Ernie Hudson voice, not the Arsenio Hall one, and it might not go with the shades or the suit but oh does it ever go with the face. "If he sets foot in my dimension again any time before the Mayan calendar expires, he's got a one-way ticket to Cottman IV."

Pause.

"Hey, you're that guy from Caesar's Palace-"

He recovers himself, snorts once, and lets go of Ray's collar.

The door slams shut.

Peter blinked, "Winston?? Caesar's Palace, what the hell?" He winced at the door slamming shut.

He went over to steady Ray.

He then asked lightly, "So, enjoy your vacation then?"

"Kinda blew up Columbus Circle by mistake," Ray muttered. "And my butt hurts-"

He reached around back and pulled out his lightsaber. He stared at the thing, blinking- and jumped to his feet.

"Where is he? Where's that boney bastard?"

Peter blinked at that, and for some reason he thought this was the most hilarious thing he ever heard. It was such a "Ray thing" that he really had to laugh.

After a few minutes, he said, "Cool your jets, chief. He's gone. The Other got his ass kicked, and sent away."

Ray had been just about to light up the 'sabre when Peter's words sank in. "You're sure? He's-"

And then he stopped, because you couldn't really keep asking questions in the face of a laugh like that.

"Oh, man," he muttered. "You have no idea how good it is to be back here..."

Peter was still grinning like a fool, "Missed you, too, buddy. Rho's got his good points, but that guy was *scary.* Boy am I glad you're on our side."

"Rho was here? Seriously? I've been doing his job for something like a week. The guy lives on a thirty-seven hour day/night cycle, that's gonna mess with your pineal gland something awful-"

Something occurs to Ray, and he leans over to poke at Peter with one finger, Egon-style. "Hey, you're standing on your own! That's fantastic! What was up with that, anyway?"

Peter nodded, "Sounds about right. You should have seen him with a proton pack. It took him a minute to use the equipment better than we had done in *years*. And he's..." He shook his head.

"I dunno, something died in him, and was replaced with something else. Something *cold*. Every now and then, there'd be traces of something more, but it wasn't often."

Peter jerked at the poking, and grimaced, "Sit down, Ray. I'm better now, but you better sit down for this. The Other whammied me, me and several others here. Including you. Only for some of us, it was a lot worse." There was a grave expression in his eyes.

Ray blinked, but obeyed, although he started taking his tie off as soon as he sat down. "He's got a gift for technological adaptation, apparently," he said. "It seems he's known for picking up devices he's never seen before and has no idea how to work, and making them do what they're supposed to. They were kind of pissed that I couldn't, until I started showing them dimensional physics-"

And then he stopped, and listened, frowning a little.

"Okay," he said. "I'm listening."

"Yeah, reverse engineering he said. Figured out the PKE meter some too."

Peter sat down across for him, and said right off the bat, "All right, first of all, I'm fine now. Everything's good now. Whammy's gone."

He sighed, and the recent stress and strain was present on his face. There was a few white hairs at his temples, revealing the extent of it.

"The curse I had was a draining one. Gradual drain of my lifeforce, that's why I was getting so weak, and tired all the time. It was causing my body to shut down. It got really hairy, and I was lucky Magius got better when he did, and Aughra to return when she did, or I would have been a goner. That, and I now know why the ghosts we bust are so pissy. You can't really do much of anything except, float around, go through stuff, and occasionaly slime people."

Blink. Blinkity blink.

"Please tell me you just discovered astral projection, and not that you've joined Barry in the dead-with-a-pulse contingent..."

"Yes and no. I was in between for a bit. My heart stopped for a moment, but it came back. In the meantime, it was enough for me to yanked out of my body for a while."
Peter added grimly, "And the curse had a keep out sign, so I was stuck as a Ghostbuster ghost right around Halloween weekend, and up to the other day. I only got out of the infirmary this morning."

"Ugh." Ray grimaced. "Yeah, that must've sucked. I can see that. Good to see you're up and about and feeling better, though- I was pretty worried for a while there, when I had the extra brain cells to spare for it. No lingering side effects, no after-traces or psychospiritual scars or anythign?"

Peter frowned, "I'm not sure. I meant to scan myself with the PKE meter, and didn't get a chance to with all the hell breaking loose, and nearly dying. Hank said he noticed some changes in my brainwaves. Some areas are stronger, others aren't. I haven't been able to use my telepathy since this whole thing started. Which stunk on ice with Naraht's communication problem, his whammy turned out to be a type of aphasia. First spoken, then written communication breakdown."

Ray sucks his breath between his teeth. "Ouch," he says. "That must've been hell for him. That poor kid! That'd be enough to drive anyone insane..."

He thinks for a minute. "You're sure about the no-teep thing?" he asks, and reaches out to put a hand on Peter's forehead. It's the 'got a temperature?" gesture, but as he does it he concentrates on the first thing to pop into his head-

I've seen the lights go out on Broadway / I saw the Empire State laid low / And life went on beyond the Palisades / They all bought Cadillacs / And left there long ago-

Namely, Billy Joel lyrics.

There was absolutely nothing. Peter frowned and shook his head.
"Still nothing, Ray. For all I know it somehow got fried or something."

Ray drops his hand.

"I'm going to have to get my PKE meter from upstairs and check you at some point, but right now I could really use a drink. How about you?"

Peter wearily nodded, "Hell yeah, and I'm lifting my personal ban for myself. Something alcoholic for this."

Ray grinned and leaned over to ruffle Peter's hair with one hand. "Hey, you made it back from a temporary visit to the land of the dead, even if it only got as far as having your passport rejected at the border. That's pretty cool. I'd say you're entitled."

So he led the way over to the bar.

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