Catalyst  

Eia Parcae, ab tertio condiscipulo ad nostrum domum peterimus. Ingeniosum hominem quarerimus. Sensus facetae oportet. Cogitatio beneficia, etiam arcano et mysteria mundi animum intende. Inter ordem verae doctrinae et turbam animis rationis habitare posse. Duos condiscipulos cum ipsam diversam sententiam ab omnia suparare posse, nervem habe. Ineunte aesta locare volumus, ita probationem tres mensis optio est. Merces iustes, et domus tranquillum asylum ero. Si tuum tramem caperes, --- ---- voce.

Oh Parcae, goddesses of fate, we petition you for a third roommate. We seek one who is intelligent, sense of humor is a must, imagination a plus. You must have an interest in the occult and all mysteries of the world, must be able to live between the order of pure science, and the disorder of psychology. Have enough strength of character to survive two roommates with very different opinions about everything. We hope to rent beginning this summer, thus a three-month trial period is an option. The rent will be reasonable, the house a quiet sanctuary. If you feel that this is your path, call --- ----.


Whoa. I paused, my sandwich falling to my lap in a mess. I'd grabbed the college paper, just to hide behind in the cafeteria. Anything to get away, get some quiet... and wow. This was the answer to my prayers. Asylum, huh? I took a quick swig of my coke, and reread it a third time. Sanctuary.

I cleaned the tuna off my jeans, and ignoring the sniggers, left. My backpack weighed a ton, 'cause I had every textbook for my classes today, and tomorrow. But it was better that than go back to the dorm. God. I'd managed to escape Morrisville, and my foster parents, the Dullaghans... only to end up with Hank, the roommate from hell. I didn't think anyone could be worse than the guys at high school. Boy, was I wrong. Guys like that go to college too, guess it was inevitable that I'd end up with one of them. Dammit. I kicked idly at a rock that was in my path. I'd been so excited about going to Columbia, getting accepted despite all the stuff -they- said, that it'd never happen, that nobody wanted me before, so why would a big time university? But Columbia did, enough to offer me a scholarship too. So did other places, but this was where my dad went, where he met Mom, and I wanted to go here more than anything. And then I got here and found out that this wasn't the magical haven I thought it would be. The only thing that kept me from going back to Morrisville was the fact that I loved the classes, loved engineering... and couldn't bear to think about returning there the loser they predicted I'd be.

I looked up, and found I'd wandered into one of the quieter quads. Tossing my bag under a tree, I sat on it, and read the paper again, running my hands over the ink like it was the Holy Grail. I hadn't thought about moving off-campus. Figured it'd be too expensive, at least that's what my foster folks had said. But it was my trust fund, and there was more than enough money for housing too. And for silence... and this sounded good. I mean, it's in Latin. The kinda person who'd write this probably would be interesting. They're interested in the occult... and, wow, I've loved that since I was a kid, and Mom told me all about the Sidhe. Not sure if I've got the nervem, the strength of character... but I've got the rest.

I carefully tore out the ad, and placed it in my breast pocket. I'll call. Definitely.

Sanctuary.

Wow.

"Hey, Spengler, phone!"

I had just finished a lecture for an ill advisor, and was heading out the door to go back to my apartment. I sighed, and headed into main office. Taking the phone from the crimson claws of the physics departmental secretary, who Peter had so aptly dubbed Jungle Woman, I spoke. "Egon Spengler."

"You are dead." Ah. As I'd anticipated, Peter was aghast at my advertisement for a roommate.

"Now, Peter..." I said soothingly, winding my hands nervously in the cord. Peter in a temper is always a dangerous thing.

"Dead, Spengler. Who the hell is going to be able to read that, much less reply? Huh?"

"The kind of person I believe we would want to have as a third..."

He cut me off. "A third what, Egon? Head case? Brain box? We'll be getting crank calls from now until the end of term, you know that, right? Probably end up with some psychotic Latin-reading nut job with interests in occult that won't be pleasant. I swear, if they take to sacrificing sheep in the living room, you get to clean it up."

"Actually, Peter, I got a call this afternoon. He seemed most reasonable..."

A skeptical snort met that statement. "Honestly, Peter, he did. I was just about to leave for my apartment, and then I am to meet him at the campus library. 5 pm. Would you care to join us?"

Judging by the aggravated sigh that met my ears, Peter was most likely pulling at his forelock. "Egon, you drive me nuts. Look, I'll meet you there. I'll be a bit late, I got practice. Try not to get sacrificed yourself, okay?"

Amused, but not wishing to encourage him, I simply replied dryly, "I'll try." As I prepared to put down the receiver, I heard him shout, "Hey, Spengs!"

Really, my reaction to his nickname for me would bear testing. I seem to have a Pavlovan response to it, as upon hearing it, my heart races and I can almost feel phantom caresses. I returned the phone to my ear, and replied somewhat more huskily than I'd like, "Yes?"

There was a pause, and he cleared his throat. Yes, definitely more husky than I would've liked, to have had such an immediate reaction on him. "Ah... What's the guy's name, Spengs? Just so I know." His voice had dropped and deepened to match mine.

I fumbled in my pocket and pulled out the scrawled note I'd made. "Stantz, Peter. Raymond Stantz."

I'd spent the last hour waiting in Butler library. My home away from home. I'd been studying here every day since the fall. Hank and I made a deal. He'd stop playing loud music after midnight, if I stayed away from the room until then. My dorm room was a place to sleep, nothing more. I looked at the walls of the library, with its book-laden shelves, and old maps. Oh well, just like back at home. The library there was where I lived pretty much too. This one has lots more books, but I missed Ms. O'Neal, the Morrisville librarian. I always liked talking about books with her, and she fed me too.

I looked at my watch for the umpteenth time. This was really exciting. Like James Bond, or a spy novel. I'd called the number, and spoke to a guy with a deep bass voice. We set up a time...and he never told me his name. I almost wonder if I should be wearing a red carnation or something. I grinned at the thought of myself in a full tuxedo, ladies draped over my arms, with a martini (whatever that is) in hand. Shaken, not stirred. The man with the deep voice will come up; gun in his jacket, with secret documents in a case handcuffed to his arm, and say...

"Raymond?" The deep voice fit so well into my daydream that I shot up out of the chair, and all my books scattered. Oh great. Good way to introduce myself. Guess my foster mom was right, being an idle daydreamer was going to kill my chances to make friends.

I stooped to pick them up, and found myself looking into a long sharp face with bright blue eyes, and topped with wild blond hair. Wow! I'd seen him in the physics lab. Didn't one of the profs say he was the next Einstein? 'Course, he was also sorta famous for his pink shirts and suspenders...

He smiled at me, and helped me get all the books together, and then held out his hand. "Forgive me for startling you. I'm Egon Spengler, you'd called me about the room?"

"Yeah! I mean..." I fumbled for the words, and latched onto the main reason I called. "Sanctuary?"

One of his eyebrows rose, just like Spock's in Star Trek. Cool. "Yes. Is that why you called? Are you in some sort of trouble?"

He looked awful concerned, and I shook my head at him rapidly. "Oh no, I mean, not more than I usually am.… It's just.…" He sat down and gestured for me to do the same. I plunked myself down, and fiddled with the strap of my bag. This wasn't going right.

"Raymond." I jerked my head up and looked at him. He seemed sympathetic, his blue eyes warm like Mrs. O'Neal's, and before I knew it, I'd told him all about my problems with Hank.

"That's outrageous. Why ever didn't you ask to change roommates?"

"I didn't want to be a bother.…" He waved that off, and frowned. Noticing that I was really getting worried, he shook his head at me. "I'm just upset, Raymond, that you've obviously been placed in a terrible position. I think.…"

"Hey, Spengler!"

I think I'd noticed the atmosphere in the room change, people talking louder or something. The guy who'd just called out strolled across the room like he owned it, and everyone there too. He was wearing a grass-stained football uniform, with a towel slung around his neck, bag and helmet in one hand and a squirt bottle of water in the other. Oh boy. This was the kind of guy that treated me the worst in high school. The Jock. People were talking to him, trying to get his attention, but he looked like he was on a trajectory for Mr. Spengler... Egon. I sank back into the chair, and just hoped he wouldn't notice me.

"Ah, Peter, there you are." Egon said this casually, and I bet my eyes bugged out. Peter? A science guy calling a jock by name? I wondered if all the definitions of people I'd formulated in high school through observation were wrong. Egon looked at the watch around his wrist, and tapping it said, "You're very late."

"Told you I would be." He sat down heavily at the table with us, flinging the helmet and sport bag onto it noisily. His feet soon followed. Egon actually frowned at him.

The jock turned to me and grinned. He was... different than any football guy I'd seen. Slender, fast-looking. Most of them that I met were great big brutes who held me up by the ankles to shake me down for change. Sweat-soaked brown hair lay plastered against his forehead, and he seemed out of breath. He'd run here? Suddenly, I noticed that he was looking at me too, with an intense and sharp green-eyed gaze. I flushed and started stammering.

Egon came to my rescue. "Peter, this is Raymond Stantz. He's interested in taking the third room. Raymond, this is Peter Venkman." My jaw must have hit the floor. These two wanted to be roommates? I looked back and forth at them. I mean, yeah, the ad said they were very different...but this was, wow, more opposite than I'd ever imagined. And now that I thought about it, I'd heard of him. Peter Venkman. Columbia's star quarterback. Hank was always talking about football, and said that our college had one of the fastest quarterbacks ever, able to run like hell was baying at his heels. That he should be at some major university with a real team, but for some reason stayed here. A super star.

I grabbed at my bag, both for comfort and because I wanted to bolt out of there. No way could I room with these guys. I mean, one of the university's BMOC, and the physics lab's prize TA? I was way out of their league. Before I could even try to leave, a warm hand grasped my wrist and tugged me back down into my chair. Peter Venkman. He smiled at me, gently I think, and chided Egon. "Spengs, you didn't warn him, did you? I know you stressed that we were poles apart in the ad, but judging by Ray's expression..."

Ray? I don't think anyone's called me by a nickname before. He still held onto my wrist as he kept talking to Egon. "... I think he just went bye-bye."

He smiled at me, really friendly, and though I was feeling pretty foolish, I had to smile back. He was a lot nicer than any football player I'd ever met. Not that I'd met lots. He cocked his head, and asked in a tone that was surprisingly calming, "You gonna be okay? Don't pass out on me here, I don't tend to do mouth to mouth on first acquaintance." He patted my hand.

I started blushing. Egon tsked, and said, "Peter" in a reproving tone that my foster mom would've killed for. All it did was make Peter stick his tongue out at Egon, and then grin at me. "Let's get outta here. This is a public library after all, we should go someplace private." Judging by the look that flashed between them, there's got to be a personal joke about that. Egon stood up, and kicked Peter in the shins as he did so, a wicked sparkle in his eyes.

Before I could stop him, Peter grabbed my bag, and flung it over his shoulders. "Jeez," he said with a grunt, "What the hell do you have in this thing?"

I wasn't sure if I should explain, I wasn't even sure I should have told Egon about my problems with Hank. I was still trying to decide as we left the library, but Egon told Peter about my problems anyways, after asking my permission.

"What?!" Peter looked really mad. For my sake. Wow. "That's just…." With a thunk, he put down my bag and his, and grabbed my shoulder. My face probably matched my hair, and I was trying to look everywhere but at him. Everyone was looking at us, or, well, really at Peter. My eyes dropped to my shoes.

"Ray." He shook me lightly. "Look at me." I did so, and met serious green eyes that looked directly into mine. "Ray, I barely know you. In fact, you've not even said a word to me. But if you had the brains to read Egon's ad, and are the kinda person it'd attract, you're someone I can respect. Hell, I could tell that right away. Back me up here, Spengs."

Egon quietly nodded, and reached out to grip my other shoulder. "I concur, Raymond."

Peter smiled at him and then looked at me again. "This roommate of yours sounds like a grade A jerk. Probably one of the guys that'll want to be in my frat." He looked rather disgusted at that. "You can't let that sorta person walk all over you. They'll take advantage of it, and then press for more, and more, until you're left with nothing."

I thought about how Hank had squeezed me out of all the space in the room, leaving me with only my mattress, and bowed my head. A gentle hand grabbed my chin and pulled it up. "Hey." Green eyes met mine, compassionate…and then mischievous. "You knew my name, right? From him?"

I nodded, puzzled.

He grinned…and suddenly, I had a feeling that Hank was in big trouble.

Raymond unfortunately had an evening class, and had to leave. Peter and I made arrangements to meet with him at the university cafeteria for lunch; I with some trepidation for I'd not eaten there as yet, Peter with a silent anticipation that was most worrying. In the end, Raymond did say a few words to Peter, in a very shy and quiet manner, and then dashed for his class.

I touched Peter's shoulder lightly as he watched Raymond dart off. "He'll improve, Peter. I do not think it is due to your doubtlessly fearsome reputation." He smiled at me, still looking slightly haunted.

Grabbing my coat suddenly, he said, "C'mon." It wasn't until we had reached the bus stop, that I was able to inquire as to our destination.

"Somewhere private." He grinned. "The Humanities Research Building."

Ah. I felt myself flush slightly at even the mention of where Peter and I had first truly kissed. We had not gone there since three weeks ago, before our amazing spring break. I hesitated, but Peter hauled me along with him onto the bus downtown. As we traveled, I turned to him.

"Raymond?"

He cocked his head, and studied the streets. "Yeah, I think he'll do. You were right about the ad, Egon." I must have looked surprise at this admission, for he laughed at me. "I know, shocking, right? Peter Venkman admitting he was wrong. But yeah, I think he's okay. Obviously a freshman, and he's been through some kind of hell…."

I murmured, "He mentioned foster parents to me, very briefly. I gathered it wasn't a pleasant experience."

Peter froze, and then let out a whoosh of breath. "No. No, it isn't."

Alarmed, I looked at him. His face had tightened, and his hands had grown white-knuckled. Noticing my concern, he shook his head. "Tell you when we reach the library. Don't ask me now, Egon."

I wanted to place my hand on his, to give comfort by touch. But we were in too public a place, and so all I could do was nudge his shoulder with mine. Green eyes looked up at me, lightening, and a faint version of the smile that I loved curled his lips. He nudged me back.

"Thanks, Spengler."

"We'll see if you thank me after we talk, Venkman."

We spent the rest of the journey in companionable silence. I gave Peter time to think, which judging by the way he fiddled with his helmet and sport bag he was doing heavily. We reached the library, and walked in, heading towards the back rooms. Mrs. Hilder was agog at Peter in his football attire. Really. Perhaps we should have stopped at his fraternity first so that he could change. Peter was at his most charming, explaining away his dress, until the affection that she already had for him seemed to transform into hero-worship. It was all I could do to get him down the stairs.

"Really, Peter."

He grinned up at me, setting down his sporting apparatus. "Jealous, Spengs?"

I snorted at him, and tried to stamp on the feelings that the nickname evoked. Yes, I will definitely have to do some kind of test on that. I sat upon the chair next to him, and looked enquiringly his way. After a time, he spoke.

"Foster parents. He said that, Egon?"

"Yes, Peter. I may be a bit older than you, but I am not as yet going deaf."

"Testy enough in your old age, huh?" He smiled at me, and took my hand in his lightly. I didn't respond to the teasing, and curled my fingers in the warmth of his palm. He looked down, and then spoke quietly. "I spent a few months in a foster home. Wasn't fun."

"You?" I was astounded.

"You know how ill my mom's been. This time wasn't the first." He squeezed my hand gently. "When I was fourteen, she had the same thing, bad case of pneumonia, and my dad was in Mexico, or Tijuana, or some god-forsaken place. I don't have any other relatives, so the state, well, they put me in a home for a short time. I hated it. Made me feel helpless, Egon. You know how I hate that."

I did. I leaned against him, pulling him close against my chest so that he could hear the sound of my heart and know that I was there for him.

He sighed against my neck, and then asked, "Any idea how long Ray was with this family?" I smiled fondly into his long hair. For all his outward cynicism, Peter Venkman was a romantic and a deeply caring man.

"I am not certain, Peter." I told him truthfully. "I dare say you will be able to get such information out of him with less effort than I."

"You think?" His voice came out muffled, as he pressed his lips against my collar, his warm breath touching my neck.

Huskily, I replied, "I'm positive. I do not think anyone could resist your powers of persuasion when you put your mind to it." He turned his head further, and a warm tongue brushed my throat, climbing in damp tracery to my ear. "Really, Spengs?" He said, voice roughened, and nipped my earlobe. "Let's put that to the test, hmm?"

"Peter, must we have another discussion over the meanings of public and private again?" It was very difficult to sound properly stern when his nimble fingers were running light patterns across my chest, undoing buttons. I attempted to swat them off, and had him laughing softly in my ear. Honestly.

He moved back, and I straightened my shirt and suspenders, giving him a exasperated look that was not a hundred percent meant. He obviously knew it, for his smile widened.

Taking my hand, he pulled me out of the chair. "Wanna show you something, Egon." He leaned in, the words caressing my cheek. "Over here."

I looked towards where he was heading, and raised an eyebrow at him. "The darkest corner of this sub-basement?"

His lips twitched. "Don't analyze, Spengler, get over here." With some trepidation, I followed him into the back of the stacks… suspiciously out of any line of sight to the stairway. Peter tapped a small collection of leather books, and moved further down the row to collect a small step stool. Puzzled, I eyed the books in question. Ars Arcani. We'd looked at these befo….

Without warning, I was pressed into the shelves by Peter's full weight. It was odd, however…and then suddenly I realized that he was standing on the stool, so that for once he towered over me. "Pe…." His left hand covered my mouth, and he whispered into my ear, "Shh."

He pressed harder into me, and at this unusual angle, it was very apparent how aroused he was, the searing heat of him firm against my buttocks. I sucked in a breath around his hand, and was immediately as aroused by the feel of him, the knowledge that it was I that caused such a fierce reaction in him and, I'll admit, by the very nature of our precarious location. All these, combined with the fact that in the two weeks since spring break we had little more than a few snatched kisses….

I shivered, and reached behind me with both hands to pull him closer, clutching the silky fabric of his uniform that stretched tightly over his muscular thighs. He whispered, "That's the spirit, Spengs," and his other hand dropped to cup my erection in a warm firm grip. I gasped, and bucked into his palm, and he nipped my neck lightly, and returned the thrust against my back.

"You know…." His voice spoke throatily in my ear. "I was so late to meet you, that I didn't take my shower. So I've got a nice, clean towel in my sport bag." He thrust against me once more. "What say we get it dirty?" His hand slid upwards, applying a torturously exquisite pressure, and then slid down again, taking the zipper with it.

"Peter!" I protested half-heartedly against his hand. He again laughed softly, and reaching into my boxers took me in his palm. I closed my eyes, overwhelmed with the sensations, enveloped in the smell and feel of him. He lowered his hand from my mouth, and trailed it downward, caressing my Adam's apple, the hollow of my neck, and then slid into my already unbuttoned shirt to touch my nipples teasingly.

Groaning, I arched back into him, almost upturning the stool in my urgency. He tottered, clutching me more forcefully than he'd meant to in the teasing mood he was in, and we both nearly lost control. Gasping with laughter, he pushed me harder into the bookshelf, muttering, "Gotta get you a better sense of balance." Before I could retort that it was he lurching on the stool like a drunken sailor, he began to roughly run his tongue along the curve of my neck. His hand moved in rhythmic strokes upon my erection, and whatever verbal sally I had on my lips was lost. Instead, I kissed the inside of his hand, which had returned to cover my mouth, licking the salty sweat off his palm lightly. In response, he applied pressure and suction against my throat, and bucked into me, his hand gliding faster over me. It was too much, too devastating, and both he and I climaxed fiercely, I gasping his name against his hand and he breathing mine softly in my ear.

Breathless, we sagged against each other and the shelving, and slid unceremoniously to the floor in a fulfilled heap. He leaned over me, and kissed me tenderly.

"You know, Spengs, I always did love libraries."

I was late, not terribly so, I think, but late. My lecturer ran overtime, and my shoelace came untied in the rush to get to the cafeteria, sending me headlong into a bush. I was still covered in twigs and leaves.

I looked around the crowded noisy room, and sighed with relief at the sight of Egon's blond head. He seemed equally happy to see me, waving at me to get lunch from the quieter corner he'd found. He had all sorts of papers scattered across the table, and two Styrofoam coffee cups. No, three. Gosh, I really hope I wasn't that late.

I grabbed the first things to hand at the counter, a plasticy sandwich and an apple, and grabbing a coke, joined him. He smiled at me, and ignoring my protests, cleared the papers from the table into a neat stack.

"It's alright, Raymond. Peter has frequently accused me of single-handedly denuding the rainforest with my paperwork. An exaggeration, as it's my students who are at fault."

He smiled at me, just little kinks at the corners of his mouth, but the laughter in his bright blue eyes made it seem like a full-blown grin. I smiled back, encouraged. He was in his trademarked pink button-down, with dark brown suspenders and slacks today.

Hey. I tried not to really look hard at his collar, but still…. Wow. Egon had a hickey?! I was really surprised; he didn't seem the kind of guy to date, or well, at least not date the kind a girl that would leave, um, a mark. I tried to picture what she'd look like, and failed miserably.

Before I could ask about it, darkness fell over our table, and both and Egon and I looked up to see the massive forms of Hank and his pals. Oh boy. I looked worriedly at Egon, but he seemed unthreatened.

Hank loomed over us, and in a sorta menacing way said, "Well, well, the geeks have landed. What's all this?" He grabbed a handful of Egon's papers, and started passing them around to his buddies. I tried to snatch them back, and in the process, my lunch hit the floor. Hank stomped on it. Great.

Egon's deep voice said calmly, "Return those, please." I glanced at him, and while he seemed pretty unmoved, his eyes flashed behind his red frames. He pushed them further up his nose, and added firmly, "Now."

Hank and his pals just started laughing. No, this was too much. Peter barely knew me, but he was right yesterday, I've got to deal with these guys. I got up and said, "Hank, whatever problem you have with me, leave Egon out of it. Give those back to him."

He looked at me, and gave a toothy grin. "So, Stantz, you do have a backbone, huh?"

Stiffly, I replied, "Yes." My fists curled at my side. I really didn't want to fight. I mean, it'd probably go on my record or something… but this had gone on too long. How long had it been since I'd been able to eat in here without hiding? Or slept in my room with out worrying that I'd wake up to find something awful? I wasn't very sure, and that was worrying. No, Peter was right. I've got to start standing my ground.

Hank eyed me, and then shrugged, tossing Egon's stuff back on the table. "Later, Stantz."

I turned to Egon, who nodded at me in a supportive manner. "Well done, Raymond."

I flushed a bit. "Um, do you need a hand getting these papers sorted again?"

"Don't worry about Egon, Ray. He's got some funky sorting system that no-one in the world understands but him." I spun at the mellow tenor, and there stood Peter.

He walked over, and clapped my shoulder lightly, grinning. "Good job! See, told ya. Those guys need victims, and you just proved that you're not gonna be one any longer."

I frowned worriedly at him. "But…"

Peter shook his head. "Not gonna say you aren't in for a bit of a ride, Ray. You can't go from mouse to man in a single bound." He shook my shoulder lightly. "But you'll do it." Peter got a glitter in his green eyes that was part fury, and part laughter, and a hundred percent unnerving. "Now that you've stood up to the jerk on your own, I can give you a hand." He gave me a final friendly shake, and wandered over to Egon.

"What tortured souls are you grading now, Anubis?"

Egon pushed his glasses into position, and fixing a blue stare at Peter, said, "You anticipated this Hank person's actions, correct?"

Peter grinned. "Those kinda guys are predictable, Spengler. Dime a dozen. I knew that between their former practice target," and here he punched my shoulder lightly, "and your wacky fashion sense, they'd come and pick on you."

Egon snorted, and adjusted his collar. "Are you saying, Venkman, that you stood by and merely watched?"

Peter nodded. "I knew Ray could handle it." I felt like I grew ten feet taller. Wow.

Peter snagged a seat from the table next to us, and sat on it backwards, leaning his chin on the back of it. He watched Egon sort his papers with a fascinated look, throwing in the occasional acerbic comment amid bites of his lunch. Egon replied dryly to each, and I mentally kept count. By the time the stack was reorganized to Egon's liking (and I couldn't figure out his ordering system either), the scores were even.

Peter and I had finished eating and had slid into a talk about the paranormal. It was really neat to talk to someone who was interested in it, though he seemed enjoy bashing holes in my theories more. He wasn't mean about it though, the way he did it made me think hard. I bet if I did some more research, I could prove it to him.

"Raymond, Peter is Columbia's resident skeptic, barring Professor Ogilvy from the Theology department. If you can convince Peter, you will be able to prove the existence of the paranormal to anyone." Egon's eyes laughed at Peter behind his frames.

Peter melodramatically swept his hand to his chest. "Moi? A Doubting Thomas?"

I had to laugh, he'd been very much one the entire discussion. He beamed at me for a second, and then tried to look aggrieved. It struck me that I'd seen only bits of him, like a kaleidoscope, tiny colored beads of something, distorted in mirrors that didn't let you see the whole. I'd seen flashes of anger, and amusement, but everything so brief. No wonder Egon liked him. He was, well, interesting.

"So when shall we three meet again?" asked Egon, placing the papers into a battered looking briefcase.

I grinned. "In thunder, lightning or in rain?"

Peter just groaned. "The only thing that 'bubble, bubbles, toils and troubles' that I know of is Spengler's cooking." He shot me a worried look. "Do you know how to cook, Ray?"

I cheerfully said, "Nope!"

His head sank to the tabletop, and his voice came out, muffled, "We're doomed."

Peter had arranged for us all to meet an estate agent the following weekend, someone he knew through friends of his family. Knowing this meant a link through his father, I didn't enquire too hard, although it was worrying. Peter tended to use such contacts sparingly. While in all likelihood we would get a very good bargain, there might be invisible strings attached to Peter…and he would never let such on to me.

As close as we had become, through the daily talks that were still part of our routine for the ostensible purpose of his tutoring, there were sections of his life into which I was not encouraged to pry. I would wait. There were, after all, some things which I kept hidden from him. With luck, these secrets will do neither us, nor our relationship, harm. I felt, however, that with Peter's inherent skepticism, telling him about my childhood encounter with the supernatural would be an impossibility.

Raymond had begun to join us for our lunches. While I regretted the loss of our tête à têtes, it proved to be quite interesting. Raymond soon relaxed his vigilance, and exhibited a startling amount of intelligence and enthusiasm for debate. Peter took to the challenge well, and I found our discussions both enlightening and stimulating fun.

After our dinner ran quite late on the second Thursday, I offered to drive them both onto campus. Raymond declined, smiling, "No thanks, Egon, I was planning to catch a late night film over at the 'plex. A really bad b-movie, Plan Nine from Outer Space. You guys want to come with me? It'll be great!"

Peter shook his head. "Nope. Sorry, Ray, I draw the line at cheesy movies. You're on your own, I think."

I had to agree, such movies were not to my taste. We waved him off, and then strolled to my car.

Inside, Peter leaned against the door, and watched me start the engine. "Spengs."

I looked up at him. The streetlights lit his hair softly, but darkened his eyes. His hand lifted and lightly fell upon mine on the gear stick.

"When are we going to tell Ray? About us."

I hesitated, and then shut off the engine. I had gained some awareness of how difficult it was for Peter to trust. Know this, I had left this subject alone, waiting for him to bring the issue up.

Quietly, I replied, "I don't know. Do you trust him, Peter?"

He looked down at our hands, and said softly, "Yeah, I think I do. Ray… I don't think he's going to split on us, even if it changes his mind about rooming with us. He may wig out, Egon, but I'm not sure. He's a bit, um, naive. At least I think he is." He squeezed my hand lightly, and then let go. I missed the warmth immediately. He leaned closer, so that I could see the somber green of his eyes. "Do you trust him, Egon? You don't have to keep my paranoia in mind, you're part of this too."

I reached over and held his hand this time. "I do trust him, Peter."

He smiled at me. "Okay. This weekend. I don't want to go house-hunting to find out he'll go screaming back home."

Shaking my head, I said reprovingly, " I don't think that's what will happen, Peter, and neither do you."

"No." His tone sobered, although I had meant my comment in jest. "No, I don't think he'll go home, Egon. You ever notice that he doesn't talk about it? I've been to his room now, and Ray has almost nothing from home, even though his roommate has given him back his own space. "

Peter's eyes narrowed, and I suspect that there was an epic encounter between him and the egregious Hank.

I said softly, "It bothers you."

"Hell, yes, it bothers me." He frowned. "He's a good kid. Rather young to be going to college. D'ya know, he's got a stuffed dog on his bed? From that cartoon, Dopey Dog?"

He hesitated, and squeezed my hand. "Egon, it had light brown stains on it. I asked, teased him about spilling his Kool-Aid…he fidgeted, but told me…god, Spengs, he had it with him when he and his parents were in a car crash. They died." He leaned his forehead on my shoulder, and I felt him tremble with the empathy and compassion, the strength of which I suspect he had hidden in part from Raymond. "They died, Spengs, and all he was left with was a trust fund, a house, and that toy. The stains were their blood. God."

I held on to Peter tightly while I absorbed this horrifyingly tragic information. It explained much. Raymond's quietness, his tendency to be subdued at times…if he had a bad experience with his foster home in addition to the death of his family, it was no wonder. And yet, he still could be enthusiastic with his interests, and seemed to take joy in even the simplest of things. That appeared to be an innate part of his nature.

I reminded Peter of that, and he leaned back, rubbing surreptitiously at his eyes. "Yeah, that's true. God knows what he'd be like, unleashed upon the world with that excitement unbridled. Doubt New York would survive."

I smiled at him, relieved at the lighter tone in his voice. I suspect that the near death of his mother this past winter had combined with his strong empathy to cause such a reaction in him. That he trusted me enough to let me see those deep emotions…. What an amazing thing. I gave his hand a final squeeze, and started the car once more.

"Let's get you home, Peter."

His tenor replied huskily, "Won't be home until we get our place, Spengs. The frat'll do for now."

Saturday came sooner than I expected, and I woke extra early, just about to burst with anticipation. It was better than Christmas, really. The dorms are okay, but they're not a home. The Dullaghan's farm, that was never a home, either. But I think that with Peter and Egon, I'll have a place that's mine, really mine. I can't wait.

Hank groused about the noise I made, and I apologized. We'd gotten some things straightened out, especially after Peter came last Saturday to drag me to some game. Hank was floored that I knew Peter. The respect I got from him for standing my ground just skyrocketed when he found out that "Victory" Venkman was my friend. Peter treated him all right, but with a frosty look in his green eyes that made me glad he liked me.

I made my bed, and place Dopey on the pillow. I told Peter about the crash, and I think he took it hard. I didn't mean him to take it that way. I keep Dopey because he's, well, a connection to my parents, not through their deaths, but through the best Christmas I ever had. I straightened Dopey's cape out, and remembered the crazy trip we'd made to Aunt Lois's that winter. She'd gotten back from one of her many trips to the Orient, with tons of books for me all in strange beautiful languages, and beads for Mom, and weird sculptures for Dad. She wasn't really my aunt, just my mom's old college roommate, but she'd been a member of the family long before I was born, and treated me like a nephew. Wonder when she'll get back from Tibet….

I grabbed my backpack, almost empty now except for a Snickers bar and an ideas journal. Dad had gotten me into that habit, him being an inventor. Told me you never know when an idea will hit, and boy, he's been right.

I left, and whistled my way down to Butler, grabbing a snack at the cafeteria on the way. The day was perfect, blue with white clouds, everything gleaming in the sunlight. Almost May, my favorite month, with everything blooming. Perfect.

To my surprise, I made it there first. Usually, Egon's waiting, sometimes Peter too. I double-checked my watch, but no, 9:00, I'm on time.

At about 9:30, they came in together. Peter looked awful, and I jumped up concerned to help him. Egon waved me back.

"I fear, Raymond," he said in an amused bass rumble, "that you will now wish to back out of living with us. This is, unfortunately, Peter before noon at his best. He's articulate, and capable of cognitive thought. Barely."

Peter flipped Egon the bird, and sat down with a thump before eyeing me blearily. "Coffee, Ray. We're hitting Dunkin' Donuts, and getting caffeine and sugar before I go house-hunting anywhere with pernickety over there."

I looked at Egon. "He gets worse?"

Egon snorted. "You have no idea."

By 10, Peter was better, though yawning so hard, my jaw clenched from not joining him. The coffee definitely improved him, and soon he was up to his normal speed at trading jibes with Egon, who apparently is addicted to all things sugary. We took a box of donuts for the road, and headed towards Egon's apartment to get his car.

"Hey, Ray." Peter was walking next to me, hands buried in his pockets. "Spengs and I… we gotta talk to you about something important before we go and look for a place."

I shot him a worried look. They don't think it'll work with me?

Egon must have guessed what I was thinking, for he spoke from my other side, "No, Raymond, it's you who may not wish to room with us, not the other way around."

I gave them both a surprised look, looking to either side of me baffled. Me? Not want to room with them? I couldn't picture it, I mean, I really liked them both. Peter, because, well, he was sort of what I'd always pictured a big brother to be, a bit over-protective maybe, but caring. And Egon, he was interested in my studies, and great to talk to about my ideas. Sort of a different big brother. I'd only known them a couple of weeks, but I just couldn't imagine not having them around.

We'd made it to the graduate housing, and instead of heading for the car, Egon led us to his apartment. I'd been here once already, Egon had lent me a book, and we ended up talking all night about ghosts and physics.

We went in, and they sat me down, looking really serious.

"Ray…" Egon spoke, and then nervously fussed with his glasses. "We don't want you to think that we neither distrust you, nor merely wish your presence as camouflage…"

Peter shot him an exasperated look. "That's not the way to go about this, Spengler." He sat next to me on the sofa, and leaned towards me, waving a hand towards Egon. "Ray. Spengs and I… we're a couple."

Puzzled, I frowned at him. "A couple of what?"

Egon gave an amused snort, and Peter sank his head in his hands. "God save me from fools and little freshmen." He looked up, green eyes laughing. "A couple, Ray. An item. Spengs here is my one true love, and I'm his sweet patootie."

"You're my what?" Egon sounded both aghast and amused. "Really, Peter, I would never call you that."

Peter just flashed a grin at him. "Why, what would you call me, Professor Spengler?" he drawled, and actually fluttered his eyelashes teasingly at Egon.

"An insufferable nuisance. A curmudgeon with the occasional beneficent moments. A sheet-stealing…"

I raised my hands in a t-shape. "Time-out."

They both stopped and looked at me. I swallowed hard, and then said, "Um. You two are… lovers?" Whoa. Though, if I thought about it some, it did explain a lot.

"Yes, Raymond." Egon said that gently. Peter just sat there silently, eyes opaque and watchful. It struck me. "You've…not told anyone this before, have you?" I breathed.

"No, Ray." Peter rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. "No, you're the first we've trusted with this, well, besides my mom, but she guessed right away. Doesn't really count."

I looked slowly between them. "You trust me that much?"

They both said, surprised, and at the same time, "Of course." Peter grinned and said, "Jinx!" Egon just sniffed haughtily at him, and said to me, "We didn't wish you to join us in a household not knowing this, Raymond. Do you still wish to share in a townhouse?"

I gaped at him. "Of course, Egon! I mean…," I blushed a bit. "It's not something I'm against or anything. Not my, um, thing…"

Peter nudged me in the ribs, and looked up at Egon. "A real ladies man." I think I blushed harder, because Egon lightly smacked Peter's head. "Behave, Venkman." He dropped down on the couch at my other side. "Are you truly alright with this, Raymond? Peter and I will be sharing a bedroom. We also need to keep this…" He hesitated.

I nodded, understanding. "You need it kept quiet. Sure, that makes sense." I shot a worried glance at Peter. "It'd be bad for you, wouldn't it, Peter."

"Me and Spengs, Ray. It's a no-no for teachers to fool around with their students."

"Not that I've managed to teach Peter anything." Egon commented with dry amusement. "Some things truly do require miracles." Peter reached across my back to take a swipe at Egon's hair.

They looked at me gravely. What ever they saw must have relieved them, because they both pulled me into a huge hug, and then bustled me out the door to the car. Peter sat in the back, well, sprawled in the back, and I rode shotgun. We talked about what sort of things we'd all require.

Egon and I both wanted a basement of some sort, with decent power, like the kind you use to hook up the washer and dryer. Egon said he'd be able to borrow from the university some pretty neat equipment. Peter just groaned in the back, and began praying that we wouldn't lose our down payment. I asked for a decent size room. I've never really had one all to myself, though I didn't tell them that. Peter agreed, and said that he and Egon wanted a large bedroom themselves.

Egon cut in, "If only to have enough room for Peter's dirty laundry."

Peter snorted. "Does this mean we need an extra fridge for your mold collection, Spengler?"

I took it as a joke, but Egon looked reflectively, and said, "That's actually not a bad idea, Peter. We could purchase a small college refrigerator, perhaps, just for that purpose."

"Good." Peter stretched lazily. " 'Cause as much as I love you, Spengs, your mold is not going in my icebox."

It struck me that the war with words they were perpetually engaged in, the jibes, all the teasing remarks; they were all just a cover. They really did love each other. I think that if I hadn't been so aware of their differences, I might have spotted it straight away. Watching them bicker, I leaned back and smiled. It's not often that you get to see true love.



We had spent hours traversing New York, Peter's real estate agent before us like some elusive will-o'-wisp. By the end of the day, even Ray's so far unflagging energy was beginning to fade. I had decided that enough was enough, and now we were parked at a McDonalds before returning to the university.

Peter sagged in the back, hands barely cradling his soda, eyelids at half-mast. Raymond was trying to rouse him through a rather amusing puppet show he was putting on with the toy from his Happy Meal. Peter was pretending very hard not to notice, but I could see by the minute shaking of his shoulders that it was difficult for him.

I leaned back in my own seat, and watched the two of them. In many ways this day had fulfilled both my best and worst expectations. Raymond had accepted our relationship with an ease and aplomb that I had not anticipated… although with some consideration of Raymond's personality, perhaps I ought to have. Once the veil of inhibition caused by his foster family had been drawn, his natural enthusiasm and joy in all things blazed through like a miniature sun, warm and brilliant. I watched Peter, as he finally cracked up in the backseat. Raymond will be very good for him. And good for myself as well, I think. Some of his ideas have already led me to some fascinating conclusions about the paranormal, and I suspect that between the two of us, we shall be able to accomplish what parapsychology was lacking, a true scientific validity.

Peter lunged for the toy, and ruffled Raymond's hair until it stood on end. Ray returned the gesture, and I smiled wider at Peter's loud protests. They both noticed, and tackled me. After several minutes of this, made extraordinarily difficult by our close confines, we all stopped breathless with laughter, all three of us looking like dandelions due to electro-static energy.

"Hey, I want to get an apple pie, you guys want one?" Ray grinned at us. Peter glanced at me, and replied with unfortunate accuracy, "Ray, if it's got sugar, of course Spengs does. C'mon, I'll go with you."

They left the car, tussling boyishly. My thoughts followed them for a bit, and then turned more fully to Peter.

As I had feared, the estate agent did have connections with Peter's iniquitous father. The fist local we were shown was in fact fascinating, a small house on the docks. It would have been more than adequate for our needs, and the rent was particularly reasonable. Too much so, it seems. Peter told Ray and me to go to the car, while he and the agent had a 'talk.' Raymond look puzzled, but I didn't explain the problem, merely taking us both away. What Peter said, I do not know, but the wind from the river brought snatches of sound, and his hands moved in swift jabbing motions. He was extremely upset. From then on, we were taken to far more normal, far more expensive places, well over the budget that we had agreed upon. It was exceedingly frustrating.

I removed my glasses and rubbed at my eyes. I was tired. Tired and concerned. However, while Peter was fully capable of putting on an act for Raymond's and my benefit, he hadn't done so. This was, I feel, a good sign… as much as his pensive mood could be considered good. Raymond worked on cheering him up, not knowing some of the reason for Peter's depression. I knew, if not all then at least part of it, and let Peter know my concern through gentle touches…and by not asking. I dare say he knows I'm waiting. While Raymond would doubtlessly support Peter fully, it would be too much of a day of confessions.

There was a rap at the window, and I jerked, my attention draw from my introspection.

"Lost in thought again, Spengs? Got to get you a road-map." Peter smiled at me, his green eyes warm, though slightly darkened by the long day's events.

I stretched, feeling the kinks from sitting in the driver's seat for too long. "I fear, Peter, that I have more than my quota of both driving and road-maps."

He grimaced with amused distaste. "You and us both, right, Ray?" Raymond nodded, and handed me not one, but three apple pies. I looked at them both, and they started laughing. Honestly.

We returned to Columbia, and dropped Raymond off near his dormitory. Peter anticipated my taking him to the frat house, and was highly surprised when I headed the car for my apartment.

"Ah, Egon, my place is that away."

"I know, Peter. And mine is this way." I continued driving.

He rolled his eyes at me. "I'm in for the third degree, aren't I? You've got an interrogation chamber all set up, right?"

I turned into the parking lot, and stopped the car. "Actually, Peter…" I cleared my throat. "I only found out this morning that my roommate was to be away tonight." Peter's head shot up. "While I may be making a terrible presumption, I thought…"

He leaned over and stopped my words with his mouth. A warm kiss, but far too brief. "You thought right. C'mon." His hand ran lightly over mine on the steering wheel. "Let's go inside." He smiled faintly. "You can grill me, and then I'll claim a reward for being a good boy, hmm?"

He squeezed my hand, and got out of the car. I followed him, still trying to stretch out the kinks, musing on whether Peter would be any good at back rubs. The warmth that thought brought was distracting, and I walked into him as he waited beside my door.

"Penny for your thoughts, Spengs?" He grinned affectionately at me. "Although judging by your expression, they've gotta be interesting enough for more money than that."

I opened the lock, and we entered the darkened apartment. As I shut the door, he leaned in and held me. It was not the fiery embraces that he usually initiated, but a comfort seeking one. I enfolded him gently, running my hands through his thick hair and placing light kisses along his brow and widow's peak. After a time he relaxed, and let me go with a rueful smile.

"What a day, huh?" He took my hand, and led me to the couch. "Sit down, Spengler, you're moving like Frankenstein's monster in one of Ray's b-movies. Lemme help you with that."

Peter was in fact very good at massage, I discovered. Divesting me of my shirt, he began a firm kneading of my sore muscles. He smoothed out the pain that had been flaring in my neck and shoulders in a manner that was almost professional, barring the occasional addition of his mouth pressing against my skin. I relaxed, sighing in relief. "Thank you, Peter."

His lips quirked upwards. "Least I can do." His hands slid around my ribs briefly, and then pulling off his own shirt, he leaned across me, so that my back was covered by the warm smooth expanse of his chest. We lay there for a while, just absorbing the closeness of each other's presence. It was more a sensual than sexual experience.

He spoke against my ear. "Ray took it well." He kissed the base of my neck gently. "Have I thanked you for that ad, Spengs?"

Chuckling, I said, "No. I'm glad it worked out, Peter. I was concerned…. Although needlessly. Now, however, I've other things to fix my attention upon." I eyed him askance.

He sighed, and snuggled in closer. "The dock house. It was cheap 'cause they wanted someone to just be living there. It's a front for a smuggling operation." I made a surprised noise, and he squeezed me lightly. "Not drugs or anything majorly illegal. We'd never have found out, you know, they'd've kept us out of it entirely. But I could tell, Dad's been involved with this sorta thing before. All it would require would be one police raid, and we'd lose our home. Uh-uh, so not going to happen."

He buried his face in my hair, and breathed slowly. His voice muffled, he continued. "I told Jerry that I wanted legit places only… And we spent all goddamn day with out finding any. What are we going to do, Egon?"

I lifted my head from where it had been resting on my forearms, and turned over, until we lay chest to chest, heart to heart. He looked down at me, face grave, although his expression lightened as I took his face in both my hands.

"Peter. It will be fine. Where ever we end up, it doesn't matter." I ran my thumb across his lips, and continued voice husky as he kissed my palm. "So long as you're with me."

I think all three of us were sorta depressed. Exams were starting, the year wrapping up, and we still hadn't found a place. Peter was keeping his worry mostly to himself, though he took it out on some people with razor sharp barbs. Egon seemed almost preternaturally calm, but I think he was getting nervous too. They were both thinking that if we didn't find a place fast, we'd be in a real jam.

My problem was that I had a solution… just not one I was keen on. Sitting in my loft, I gazed into Dopey's plastic eyes, and tried to think of other options. Nope. Running my hand through my hair for the billionth time today, I sighed.

"Jesus, Stantz, what the hell's wrong, girl dump you?" Hank looked up at me from his desk. It was sort of funny, I'd spent so much time being scared of him, and now…well, I can't say we're best friends, but I kinda like him now. We found out we both like goofy horror films, and his pals were cool with it once I dragged Peter along to see one with us.

I set Dopey aside, and hung slightly over the edge. "We can't get a house."

He shrugged. "It's New York. That's why I'm hoping to get into a frat. Better than the dorms, that's for sure. But that can't be why you're acting like the world is ending."

I twiddled absently with the loft's bolts. "No…I, um, I think I've got a solution, I just don't really know whether I like it."

"You talked it over with your pals?"

Shaking my head, I said, "No. It's…." My hands stilled, and I gripped the wooden frame so hard my knuckles went white. "My parents. They left me their house. It's in Queens. My legal guardian, she's out of the country a lot, and left it with a lawyer. We've been renting it out, but…."

Hank sat up, and looked hard at me. "You got a place, and you could live there rent free?"

I nodded. "Yeah. But…."

"But your folk lived there, and it's gonna be hard. Man, Ray, your life is hell." He shook his head with disbelief. "I dunno how you stay so fucking cheerful." He stood and walked to my loft so we were face to face. "Ray. Look, I'm sorry I was a jerk all year. Lemme give you some advice. Talk to your pals. Maybe living there will bring you closer to your folks."

I think he got uncomfortable about saying that, 'cause he then thumped my shoulder hard, and left, saying he had to get some notes from a friend. I got off my loft, and left too. I'd taken my main hard exam already, and the rest, well, I wasn't worried about them very much. I need to think, and maybe unwind a bit, and the best thing I could think of, barring movies, was the library. Not Butler, because everyone was in a panic cramming, and the vibes were all jangly, but the downtown one. Peter and Egon had introduced me to Mrs. Hilder, who was just like Ms. O'Neal, and I could just go to the basement, and read the old books until my head was clear.

Before I went there, though, I made a side trip.

When I got to the library a couple of hours later, Mrs. Hilder was nowhere in sight, so I just let myself into the back area, heading for the stairs. To my surprise, as I entered the stairwell, I heard the voices of Peter and Egon talking quietly. I was torn between not wanting to intrude, I knew this was sort of a private place for them, and wanting to talk to them both. I hesitated on the stairs, and hearing Peter mention my name, I froze.

"…he's gonna be crushed, Egon. We've got to find a place. That damn boat house seems our only option, 'cause otherwise, he'll go back to Morrisville or wherever."

Egon's deep voice replied, "He might be able to get a dorm room this late, Peter."

"Yeah, but…what are you going to do? Your lease is up, Spengs, and I don't want you moving back to Ohio."

I think that settled it for me. Hank was right, going…going -home- might banish some ghosts for me. I'd hate to lose Egon, just when I'd really got friends for the first time in my life. It'd probably kill Peter, too.

I walked down the stairs, just about to call out to them, when over the shelves I could suddenly see them. Egon was holding Peter gently, murmuring into his hair…and then…. Whoa. They had told me they were a couple, and I did know what that meant, but I'd never seen two guys kiss before. I could feel my face turn red with embarrassment. Gosh, bad enough eavesdropping on them, but voyeurism? Oh boy. Still, we'll be living together, and I think I'll be seeing a lot of this.

I cleared my throat, and they jumped apart so fast that Peter's chair went over in a crash.

Egon helped him up, dusting him down lightly. "Peter, as the team quarterback, I had supposed you to be more coordinated."

Peter waved a finger at him, and they both grinned at each other.

"Speak of the devil, Egon." Peter smiled warmly at me, and forestalled my apologizing with a wave. "Don't worry about it, Ray. I've been falling for Egon for months now."

Egon blushed slightly. I don't think he's used to Peter flirting with him in front of another person. He grabbed Peter's arm and sat him down in the righted chair, gesturing me to take a seat.

"Raymond, we fear that…"

I cut him off. "It's okay, Egon. I, um, well, came in for a bit of what you were talking about."

Peter gave an amused snort. "We need to hire a look-out, Egon. We coulda given Mrs. Hilder the shock of her life." He laughed. "Or fulfilled her wildest dreams."

Before Egon could retort, I tapped them both on their shoulders. "Guys." It got their attention. "I've…I've got a solution."

Egon's eyebrow went into his Spock routine, while Peter leaned forward intently. Relieved that they were really listening, I told them about my folks' house.

Egon looked puzzled. "Why didn't you tell us…"

Peter kicked him in the shins sharply. "Spengs." He turned to me, and spoke quietly. "Ray. This is a last resort thing for you, isn't it."

I answered truthfully. "It was, Peter, but not anymore. I…I thought that if I went back there, it'd be, well, bad. All the memories I have of it as my home, I didn't think I could go back and not remember it sadly. But…." I took a deep breath. "I went back there today, Peter. And instead of feeling like I was empty, the only empty thing was the house. I think…I think I want to live there again. As an adult." I reached out and grabbed their hands, trying to express everything and feeling like my next words might not be enough to convince them. "I want to live there with a family again. You guys."

Peter kicked him in the shins sharply. "Spengs." He turned to me, and spoke quietly. "Ray. This is a last resort thing for you, isn't it."

I answered truthfully. "It was, Peter, but not anymore. I…I thought that if I went back there, it'd be, well, bad. All the memories I have of it as my home, I didn't think I could go back and not remember it sadly. But…" I took a deep breath. "I went back there today, Peter. And instead of feeling like I was empty, the only empty thing was the house. I think…I think I want to live there again. As an adult." I reached out and grabbed their hands, trying to express everything and feeling like my next words might not be enough to convince them. "I want to live there with a family again. You guys."

Peter's eyes widened in shock, I think, and Egon's hand shot out to steady him.

"Ray…," Peter hesitated, the first time I'd ever seen him really at a loss for words. Worried, I tried to fill in the pause. "It'd be great, Peter, really. It's got a workroom already set up for power, and a washer and dryer, and a bunch of rooms, and…"

"Ray. Whoa." Peter's hand covered my mouth briefly, and then dropped to my shoulder, gripping it tightly. "Family, Ray?" It was odd, he seemed almost frightened. Puzzled, I shot a look at Egon, who still held Peter's hand.

Egon nodded at me, and spoke to Peter quietly. "He means it, Peter. As do I, for I too would love to live in a place with you as my family." He reached out to hold my arm gently as well. "And with Ray as well. I can think of no other people in this world who I consider family more than either of you."

That surprised me, I mean, I didn't have anyone other than my aunt, but Egon had his folks, didn't he? And Peter…I'd met his mom, she was really nice, although rather sad.

I sat further back in my chair. I thought this would be perfect, like the kind of happy ending in a fairy tale. The three of us riding into the sunset, well, the house, and it would be great. But Peter….

Peter lifted his eyes from Egon's hands where they'd fallen, and looked at me. "Sorry, Ray. You… you caught me off guard, that's all. I…I've not really had a great family life, the word scares the pants off me."

Oh. "Gosh, Peter." I latched onto his arm tightly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you, I just…."

He smiled. "S'okay, Ray, I know here," and tapped his head, "what you meant, just my heart's a bit outta whack."

Egon spoke up chidingly, "Peter Venkman, don't be ridiculous, your heart has always been in the right place."

Peter rolled his eyes at me, but he seemed to loosen up. Shaking both Egon and I off, he leaned back, and looked at me seriously. "Family, Ray?" I wasn't sure how to deal with him; I don't really know him as well as I thought I did. The only thing I could think of was to tell him the truth.

"When I was at the orphanage…we used to wish on falling stars, well, they were probably planes heading for JFK, but you know." I knotted my fingers in my lap, and then looked steadily at them both. "Every one wished for families. I…I couldn't picture having any mom or dad better than my own, so I never wished for that. What I wished for…what I wished for was three big brothers, who'd watch out for me."

I could feel tears stinging in my eyes, but I just kept looking at Peter and Egon. "It's taken more years than I thought, and there's only two of you guys. But I got my wish."

They looked at each other, and then back at me. Suddenly, Peter grabbed me into a great big hug, and gave me a noogie. I yelled, "Peter!!" but he didn't let go. Grinning down into my face, the fear in his eyes replaced by laughter, he said, "Just getting into practice, Ray. Just getting into practice." He raised an eyebrow at Egon. "Care to join us, Professor Spengler?"

Egon leaned back, and studied us thoughtfully. Then with a whoop that surprised both Peter and I, he knocked us over to the ground. We had a three-way free-for-all, until Mrs. Hilder came down and told us off.

It was the perfect ending after all. It was great.

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