"There it goes!" yelled Winston Zeddemore. He shot his particle-thrower. The streams just missed the huge red blob of a ghost. "Heads up, Egon! It's headed your way!" He heard the crackle of particle streams and headed toward the sound.

"Oh darn, I missed," came Egon Spengler's low monotone. Winston reached the tall lanky scientist as he checked his trusty PKE meter. The little machine was beeping away as Egon continually adjusted the dial.

"According to these readings, the ghost is now heading in a south-southeasterly direction," he reported. Winston grinned at his colleague.

"That's right towards Peter and Ray," the dark man said. "We've got Big Red now."

Egon nodded thoughtfully, never taking his eyes from the meter.

"Hey, Ray?"

"Yes, Peter?"

"Do you think there'll be the usual flock of reporters and news cameras outside the factory to report on our wonderful handiwork?"

"I doubt it, Peter. It's just a simple class-four corporeal phantasm. No big deal. As far as they're concerned, it's just old news."

"'Old news'? Isn't that an oxymoron?"

"Who you callin' an oxymoron?" Ray asked, almost indignantly.

Peter opened his mouth to answer, thought better of it, and mumbled, "Skip it."

Both of their radios buzzed as Egon's distinctive voice was heard.

"Peter. Ray. The ghost is heading directly for you."

"Thanks for the tip, Egon," answered Peter Venkman on his walkie-talkie. "By the way, have you ever considered a second career as a sportscaster? Peter out."

"Listen," whispered Ray Stantz. Both men heard a faint squashing sound. "It's coming from over there. Let's go get it!"

"Ray, we must do something about this low-key attitude of yours," commented the psychologist. "Okay, here's what we do. You head down that way. I'll circle around and come up on it from behind. With any luck, we'll catch it in a crossfire."

He gave Ray a thumbs-up and winked. Stantz returned the sign with a grin and nodded.

They split up.

Pete Venkman watched the chubby occultist move off down the aisle. He took another look at his surroundings and moved to circle around the opposite way. "I hate places like this," he thought. "Dirty, messy, dark ... scary -- no place to maneuver at all." He glanced again at the boxes, crates, and barrels that towered above him. "But then again, these places hold the most ghosts and bring in the most money." He smiled to himself at that last thought.

The familiar crackle of particle beams snapped him out of his reverie. He looked up in time to see the red ghost headed straight for him. Panic gripped him as he fired wildly at the apparition. His aim was way off and all he blasted were several stacks of boxes, sending them and their contents flying. He ducked as debris flew everywhere. When the dust finally settled, he looked around. The ghost was gone and he knew whose fault it was. He pulled out his walkie-talkie.

"Venkman here," he said into it with a cough. "Sorry about the mess, guys. I'll get it next time, I promise."

There was no answer. Puzzled, he tried again.

"Guys? You didn't leave without me again, did you? Guys?"

The radio crackled.

"Peter," answered Winston. "Peter, I think you'd better get over here fast."

"Where are you?" asked Peter. "I kinda got turned around in here. Give me an idea." He didn't like the tone of Winston's voice; he sounded worried.

"Near the main aisle, man, and hurry."

Quickly, Peter hooked his thrower onto his proton pack and headed for what he hoped was the main aisle. As he rushed down the row, he saw that he had caused more damage than he first thought. 'I'll never hear the end of this,' he thought. "Peter Venkman, Ace Warehouse Wrecker."

Nimbly jumping over the rubble, Peter continued to hurry toward the entrance.

Breathlessly, he called into his radio, "What is it, Winston? What's wrong?" His only answer was static. "Talk to me Winston, what's happened?"

Zeddemore's voice finally broke the silence. "Peter," his friend said softly, "I'm afraid there's been an accident . . ."

"Oh, that," interrupted Venkman. "That was my fault. I . . uh . . I had the beam set too high and blasted a whole bunch of junk down. But I'll clean it up in no time."

"No, Pete," continued Winston, "you don't understand. There's been an accident, a very bad accident. Egon's gone to call for an ambulance."

"An ambulance? Why?"

Rounding the corner, he caught sight of Zeddemore. The black man was crouching over something.

Suddenly, he realized what Winston had been trying to tell him.

"Ray! Oh, my God is he ... ?" He dropped to his knees beside the injured man.

Just then, Egon rushed in followed by the paramedics. It took all of Winston's strength to hold Peter away so that the attendants could do their work.

While the paramedics were putting the injured Ghostbuster in the ambulance, Winston and Egon were having a quick conference.

"I'll go to the hospital with Ray," said Zeddemore. Egon nodded in agreement. "I'll let you know right away if anything happens. Right now, I think you'd better stay with Pete. This shook him up quite a bit."

"I will, Winston. You get going."

Just before he climbed in the back of the ambulance, Winston looked over at the psychologist. Venkman stood with his back against Ecto-1, his arms wrapped tightly around himself. He stared at nothing -- the picture of frustrated helplessness. Not only had he been treated as a hindrance by the medics, the final blow came when they had forbidden him to go to the hospital.

Egon watched the ambulance pull away. He walked over to Ecto-I and put his proton pack in the rack with the others. He then gave Peter a gentle shake to break him out of his self- imposed silence. Peter looked at Spengler, the shock of the recent event plain on his face.

"It was an accident, Egon. Honest. If only I'd been more careful; if I'd been paying attention like I was supposed to, this never would have happened." The words tumbled out. "It's all my fault Ray's hurt bad, because I wasn't thinking."

Egon didn't know what to say to his friend, so he did the only thing he thought proper. He quietly listened as Peter's tirade against himself continued.

"Some Ghostbuster I am!" said Peter angrily. He smashed his fist onto the side of Ecto-1. "I panicked, pure and simple. I saw the ghost and lost my head." He paused. "But Ray's a good guy, he'll be up and around in no time, right? Yessiree, Ray's gonna pull through with flying colors -- he's got to. If he doesn't, I ... I . . . ."

Peter's brave front ended as the last of his reserves gave way. He turned away from Egon, and resting his head against Ecto-1, cool, calm, always-in-control Peter Venkman broke down and cried.

Egon offered no comfort to his friend. He stood by staring mutely, unsure of how to react. He had seen Peter angry, silly, drunk, exhausted, but never had he witnessed him so close to a total collapse. When they pulled into the Firehall, secretary Janine Melnitz was waiting for them with news.

"Winston just called. He told me all about what happened. According to the doctors working on Ray, he sustained a couple of fractured ribs and a concussion. He's in guarded condition. They'll keep a close eye on him for sure. The fact that he's comatose worries them, but they'll call at the first sign of anything. And Winston said he'll be home soon." Janine ran to Egon and looked up at him. "Ray will be okay, won't he, Egon?"

"Only time will tell, Janine," he answered.

He looked over at Peter. The psychologist had withdrawn inside himself since the outburst at the factory. The ride home had been in total silence. That worried Egon. He watched his colleague carefully as Venkman methodically unloaded Ecto-1. "Like an automaton," Egon thought. Peter removed the proton packs for recharging. No emotion showed on his face now, as though something had been switched off. Egon remembered back to their college days when Peter would become deeply melancholy; how he and Ray were always trying to keep him going and not let him give in to black moods. The silence had been deafening the way Venkman would close himself off. He and Winston would definitely have to keep an eye on their friend until Ray was over the crisis period. Peter would be unpredictable in his present mode of behavior. Egon glanced at his watch.

"Look at the time," he said somewhat awkwardly. "Winston will be here soon. Peter, will you help me make dinner?"

Peter stopped what he was doing and looked at Egon, then he nodded slightly.

"I'll go up and change," he said in monotone. "I need to wash up."

"Okay, Peter, I'll be up directly. Don't worry about the rest of the equipment."

"All right, Egon." That same disconcerting monotone. He slowly trudged up the stairs.

Janine and Egon watched in silence until Peter vanished around the corner at the top.

"Oh, Egon," said Janine. "He looks terrible. I've never seen him like this before. He's taking it real hard, isn't he?"

"You have to understand something about his background, Janine," began Egon. "Peter never had many friends in college. Ray and I were really about it. We became quite a trio in those days." A nostalgic smile flickered briefly in his eyes. "Peter is actually quite sensitive and very intelligent, but he always tries to hide these qualities. Don't ask me why. His main problem was the fact that he had no real goals, no idea of what he wanted to do with his life after college. He studied parapsychology only because Ray and I did. As a consequence of this indecision, he would occasionally fall into massive depressions. Ray and I helped him through plenty of them."

Egon paused, took off his glasses, and rubbed his eyes before continuing.

"At the same time, he was always there for us. He seemed to have an uncanny ability to sense when either of us was having a difficult time, and he would do everything short of standing on his head to cheer us up. Perhaps that's why we became a team. We complimented each other; what one was lacking, the others filled in." Egon's narrative was interrupted by the arrival of Winston Zeddemore.

"Yo, Egon, my man!" came Winston's voice. He closed and locked the front door. "I don't think we'll be going out anymore tonight. At least not until we hear from the hospital. Am I starved! What's for dinner?"

"That will be decided shortly," said Spengler. "Peter's upstairs washing up. He's going to help me fix . . ."

"EEEYYAAAHHHI" The scream came from upstairs. --

"That's Peter!" exclaimed Winston. He dashed up the steps, followed closely by Egon and Janine. They found Peter on the bathroom floor, pressed up against the tub. He looked absolutely terrified.

"Peter, what is it? What happened?" asked Egon, urgently.

Winston helped the trembling psychologist up off the floor. Peter turned and grabbed the black Ghostbuster by the front of his coveralls.

"Did you see him?" shouted Venkman, wild-eyed. "Tell me you saw him! He was right there in the doorway!"

"Easy, Pete, take it easy, man," said Winston, trying to unlock the death-grip Venkman had on his uniform. "Now take a deep breath and tell us who, or what, you saw."

Peter let go of Zeddemore and steadied himself by the sink. Taking a deep breath, he turned to the others.

"I saw -- Ray," he said, slowly and clearly, "standing in the doorway. Just as plain as you or me. He was in his coveralls. He . . . he just stood there, looking at me."

Egon, Winston and Janine looked at each other, then back to Peter. The strain of the day must have gotten to him; yet, he seemed desperate for them to believe him.

"Peter," started Egon, "we know you've been through a tremendous strain today and you are exhausted. Forget about helping me with dinner. Why don't you go in the dorm and lie down."

"Don't patronize me, Egon!" spat Peter, furiously. "I know what and who I saw. Ray knows I caused the accident, and now he's come back to haunt me. I'm a paranormal professional. I should know a ghost when I see one."

"One way to check that out, Egon," said Winston, giving Egon a 'we'd better humor him' look. "Do you have it with you?"

"Never go anywhere without it," answered the tall scientist. He unhooked his PKE meter from his belt and switched it on. It hummed quietly, but didn't make a single beep. He swung it around the hallway and even paid particular attention around the bathroom door. He frowned at the meter, then switched it off.

"I'm sorry, Peter," he said finally, hooking the meter back on his belt. "There's nothing here."

Peter's strength finally gave way, and he would have collapsed if had not been for Zeddemore's quick reflexes. Slowly, color returned to the psychologist's face.

"You okay, home boy?" asked Winston.

"I thought I was," answered Peter with a sigh. "Egon, I apologize. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that; I wasn't thinking."

"That's all right," said Spengler. "I understand."

"Thanks. Oh, and I'll see about starting dinner."

"Are you sure you want to?" asked Winston.

"Yeah, I do. It'll keep me busy. You guys go on downstairs. I'll be there as soon as I change."

Egon led Janine out. Winston was about to follow when Peter grabbed his arm.

"Ray is alright, isn't he, Winston?" asked Peter desperately. "I mean, you aren't keeping anything from me, are you?"

"No, man. I wouldn't do anything like that to you. You know Ray; he's got a head like a rock. He'll be fine, Pete, believe me. But I'll bet he'll have a real nasty headache when he wakes up." Winston gave Peter a playful punch in the arm and left the bathroom.

"Ow," said Venkman quietly. He slowly rubbed the spot on his arm, but doubts filled his mind as he thought about Ray Stantz, all alone in the hospital.

That night, Peter lay wide-awake in his bad. He just couldn't get himself to relax. In the darkness, he could hear the quiet snores of his two-comrades and he envied them. Briefly, he considered waking them up with the reasoning that if he couldn't sleep, they shouldn't either. But, no, someone needed a clear head -- might as well be them. He sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes, wishing sleep would come. He looked across the room at Ray's empty bed. Slimer, their little green ghost mascot, floated above it sound asleep. Peter laid back down with a sigh. Somehow it didn't seem fair that the spud was asleep and he wasn't. He closed his eyes and tried to will himself to sleep, but it was not to be.

"This is stupid," he said to himself under his breath. But when he opened his eyes, he got the shock of his life.

Ray Stantz stood next to his bed, regarding him calmly.

"YE --- !" the scream started automatically, 'til Ray motioned for silence with his finger over his lips.

"--ikes," ended Pets with a tiny squeak. He clutched the covers to his chest and stared at the figure. It was one thing to face an unknown ectoplasmic apparition, but when confronted by the ghost of one's best friend -- that was an entirely different matter Peter held his breath as he watched Ray look around the bedroom. When he saw Slimer, he smiled. Then he turned back to Venkman and gave him the thumbs-up sign. Ray seemed about to speak, when suddenly he vanished, just as before.

Peter lay in bed, heart pounding in his chest. When he finally permitted himself to breathe again, his first act was to pinch himself.

"Ouch" he said aloud, then froze and waited, but nobody stirred. "Whew, that was close," he whispered to himself. "Okay, dope, now what? You couldn't sleep before, you sure won't sleep now."

In his exhausted and anxious state of mind, Peter convinced himself that the Ray's ghost was trying to tell him something.

"Let's see ... when Ray appeared, he looked around the room. No, wait, he gave me the thumbs-up. The last time he did that was at the factory, just before he, before I ... awww, nuts." He had to force his mind back to his purposeful resolve. "And he looked at Slimer. That's got to mean the ghost at the factory. That's what he was trying to tell me . . . get the ghost at the factory!"

Peter got out of bed with new resolve. In a matter of seconds, he had convinced himself that Ray could only rest if he himself went back to the factory and confronted the red ghost. He quickly dressed, not realizing that his zeal and state of mind would lead him into a highly dangerous situation.

Winston was dreaming about being caught in a rainstorm without an umbrella, when he awoke with something dripping on him. He opened his eyes to see Slimer hovering over him in a state of extreme agitation.

"Ick! Slimmer! What's with you? My bed's a mess!" he said, trying to wipe the slime off his face with his pajama sleeve. "Yuck! Now I know how Peter feels. I'm liable to change my vote about you."

Slimer burbled wildly as he flitted around the room, finally stopping over Peter's bed. He waved his arms frantically. Winston saw the reason for Slimer's panic. He leapt out of bed and ran over to Egon.

"C'mon, Egon, wake up! We've got a big problem!" he yelled.

Egon immediately awoke and grabbed for his glasses. Missing them, he fell out of bed.

"What!" shouted Egon. "I'm awake, I'm awake!"

"Bad news, man. Pete's gone."

They quickly searched the Firehall from top to bottom. Not only was Peter missing, so was Ecto-1 and one proton pack.

"Where could he have gone?" pondered Egon.

Winston glanced over to Janine's desk, and saw a small, folded piece of notepaper. Retrieving it, he quickly scanned the hastily scribbled sentences, and moaned. "Look at this."

"Saw Ray again. Gone back to the factory. Peter," read Egon.

"Oh, man," groaned Winston, "he's gone back to try and trap Big Red. I think he's tryin' to prove something."

"You're right," agreed Egon, "like the old saying about falling off a horse. However, I don't think Peter realizes just how dangerous this horse is. See if you can get a hold of Janine; we'll need her car. I'll get the equipment. And hurry, there's no time to lose!"

Peter moved quietly through the factory. He was grateful that the security guard had let him in with no questions asked. He stopped and pulled out Egon's P.K.E. meter. He fiddled with the knobs, trying to remember how to adjust it to pick up ghostly emanations. Finally, he just closed his eyes and guessed. The little machine started beeping, showing the location of the ghost.

"Talk about luck." he said to himself. He began following the signal, when suddenly the meter flickered a couple of time, then fizzled out. Peter stared at it in disbelief. "I shouldn't have said that. Come on, you can't do this to me. Not now! PLEASE!"

He shook the meter, twisted the knobs and even hit it three times, but it was, indeed, burned out. He hooked it onto his belt and shuddered to think what Egon would say. He surveyed the dark factory and decided that one direction was as good as another. With that thought, he headed deeper down the dimly-lit aisle. Sweat began to bead on his brow. Suddenly, he felt a presence behind him. He spun, ready to fire, but stopped himself in time when he recognized who it was.

"RAY!" he exclaimed.

Stantz stood in front of him, a worried look on his face.

"Don't worry, Ray. I'll get it for you, if it's the last thing I ever do." Without thinking, he reached out his hand to touch Ray's arm. Ray backed off, a sudden look of panic on the chubby occultist's face. He looked straight up; automatically, Peter followed his glance. He discovered Big Red directly above him. Instinctively, Peter crouched, protecting himself and his particle-thrower. The huge blob descended and engulfed him. Completely immobilized, Venkman was like a fly trapped in amber.

"Looks like this WILL be the last thing I do," he thought. He wondered briefly how long both he and his small pocket of air would last.

Outside, Egon and Winston pulled up in Janine's car. She was not happy about being left behind, but someone had to be there in case the hospital called.

"Okay, Egon," said Winston, as the guard passed them through, "let's go find him."

"This could be particularly dangerous since we cannot track the location of the ghost."

"Well, why not?'

"I don't have my P.K.E. meter."

"Say what! I thought you never left home without it."

"I don't, unless someone else has it first."

"Oh, man," moaned Winston. "We'll never find him now." He paused, then added, "What should we do?"

Egon never got a chance to answer. At that moment, over Winston's shoulder, he saw something that made him stop dead in his tracks. Winston saw-the physicist's jaw drop, and quickly spun around to see the cause.

"GREAT GOOGLEY MOOGLEY!!" he exclaimed.

Dr. Raymond Stantz stood down an aisle, motioning for them to follow.

"Lead us to him, Ray," said Egon calmly, his voice in no way revealing the true nature of his feelings at the moment.

Stantz nodded, then hurried down the aisle, making no noise whatsoever. They followed.

"Man, this is spooky," said Winston. "I guess Pete was right. Ray is a gho ..."

"No, he isn't! How could I have been so blind!" Egon puffed as he ran after the translucent image of his colleague. "Astral projection!"

"What?"

"Winston, what we are witnessing is Ray's disembodied consciousness. His body is alive in the hospital, but he has literally sent his spirit out to help us. He must have appeared to Peter in the Firehall."

They continued to run after the flickering form. "This is fascinating," thought Egon. "I'll have to question Ray about this when he recovers." Suddenly, Stantz stopped and disappeared from sight.

"Where'd he go?" queried Spengler, looking around.

"I dunno, but look over there!" Winston pointed at the huge mound of glistening red slime. "It's the ghost! Let's blast it!"

"No! Wait!" Egon stopped him. "Something's wrong. Look carefully at it. There's something in there." They crept as close as they could to the semi-transparent mass. A look of horrified realization crossed Zeddemore's face.

"That's Peter in there!" he exclaimed. "Man, we can't shoot or we fry him along with the ghost. But we have to get him out or he'll suffocate! Egon, what do we do?"

"We may not have to do anything," said Spengler, pointing at the ghost.

"Look!" The two men watched as suddenly, from inside the red mound of ecto-jelly, there came a short but extremely powerful burst of light.

"Hit the dirt!" shouted Winston. He grabbed Egon and together they dove for cover, as Peter shot out of the ghost like a cork out of a bottle. He crashed into a pile of boxes and lay there, barely moving.

"Fascinating," analyzed Egon. "He employed the particle stream as a type of rocket propulsion. Crude and highly dangerous, but it worked."

"Save the lecture for later," said Winston. "We've still got a ghost to worry about. And it's not happy."

In fact, the ghost was screeching in pain as it tried to slither over to where Venkman lay unconscious.

"Oh no, you don't!" Winston fired the particle thrower to block the ghost's path. "Egon, get Peter out of there""

Spengler made his way over to his slime-covered comrade. He grabbed hold of the shoulder straps of Peter's proton pack and dragged the psychologist off to the side behind the cover of some crates. The red ghost tried to block their path, but it was too late.

"Now, Winston!" Egon stood up and fired his particle beam.

"You got it!" called Zeddemore.

Together, they snared the ghost in a crossfire. In a well-practiced move, Winston unhooked the trap from his pack and tossed it under the apparition. Getting the nod from Spengler, he hit the pedal. The trap flashed open, the ghost was pulled in and it snapped shut.

"YAHOO!" shouted the black Ghostbuster. "Ghost in the side pocket! I love it!" He collected the trap and hurried over to his two friends. Peter lay on the floor, barely able to move as Egon worked to remove as much of the sticky red slime as he could. Peter's eyes slowly opened and focused on the blond physicist.

"Hi, Egon," he whispered. Suddenly his body was racked- by a massive coughing spell, an he spat red ecto-slime in an effort to catch his breath.

"Easy, Peter, take it easy," spoke Egon reassuringly. "You've been through quite an ordeal." The coughing subsided, leaving Peter exhausted.

"I . . must be . . a sight," he said weakly, and coughed again.

"Well, Pete, I have seen you look better," said Winston. "Besides, green slime is more your color."

"You'd think . . I'd be . . used to it. . by now." Venkman looked at Egon, he fumbled with his belt and managed to give Spengler the burnt-out, red slimed PKE meter. "I'm afraid . . I broke it," he added guiltily.

"Don't worry about it," said Egon.

"But, how did you find me ... without it?"

Spengler and Zeddemore didn't answer right away and each glanced at the other. Peter noticed the exchange and became suspicious. Without help, he managed to pull himself up into a sitting position. He confronted his two colleagues.

"You're hiding something from me. What is it?" he demanded. "You guys had better tell me, or, so help me, I'll drip on you!"

"I think you'd better tell him, Egon," said Winston.

"Yes, tell him Egon," echoed Venkman.

"Well, Peter," began Spengler, matter-of-factly. "Ray led us to you."

"You saw him! You really saw him, too!"

"Why, yes, we did. It was the most ama--"

"Skip it, Egon," broke in Winston. "I don't think he's listening."

What Winston had said was true. Peter Venkman had fainted dead away.

Peter awoke with a start in his own bed at the Firehall. His hope that this had all been a nightmare ended when he spotted his slime-covered jumpsuit draped over the chair next to his bed. He looked around, saw that he was alone, and noticed that the clock read a little after eight in the morning. He was just debating whether to get up or go back to sleep, when he heard footsteps entering the dorm.

"Well, good morning," said a familiar voice. Peter turned to see Winston coming towards him. "And how are we feeling today?"

"WE feel like WE have been put through a wringer, thank you very much for asking," said Peter, who accentuated the statement by sticking out his tongue at his friend. "NNYAH!"

"Now, now," chided Winston, shaking his finger at Peter. "if that's how WE are going to behave, WE are not going to hear the latest news, are WE?"

"If WE don't hear some news fast, WE are going to cause US some severe bodily damage."

"I'd say you're back to normal, Pete," laughed Zeddemore. He sat down on the bed.

"Well, out with it, Winston! What's the news?"

"We got a call from the hospital this morning. Ray's out of danger. The doctors reported that he awoke early this morning and he's resting comfortably. We can go visit him any time."

Downstairs, Egon was explaining the previous night's events to Janine.

"and so when we trapped the ghost, Peter ...."

"YAHOO!!" came a happy shout from upstairs.

"I take it Winston gave Peter the news," said Janine wryly.

"Indubitably," answered Egon, a slight smile crossing his face.

Over at the hospital, the three men and Janine were getting an update from the doctor handling Ray's case.

"He's awake and out of danger. However, he is in a weakened condition. Don't stay too long and don't overexcite him."

"Thank you, doctor," said Egon.

"Peter, will you relax, man," said Winston, as he watched his colleague pace nervously back and forth. "The way you're acting, you'd think that something in there was gonna jump out and bite you."

"I nearly killed him, Winston," said Peter anxiously. "He'll hate me for the rest of my life."

"I don't think you're givin' Ray enough credit, man. Come on."

Venkman put his hand on the door knob and hesitated. He turned back to the others.

"You know, I really hate the way hospitals smell. I ... I need some fresh air." He made to leave, but Egon and Winston got on either side of him and picked him up.

"Janine," said Egon blandly, "would you be so kind as to open the door?"

"Certainly, Egon." She opened the door and led the procession into Ray's tiny hospital room.

"Aw, come on, guys," protested Peter lamely. "At least let me turn around."

The door closed. Quietly, they surrounded Ray's bed. Ray's eyes were closed and his breathing was steady.

"Ray," whispered Winston. "Ray, are you awake?"

"Uh, huh," Stantz murmured. He immediately opened his eyes and grinned. "Hi, guys."

"You're lookin' good, buddy," said Winston. "Did you ever have us worried."

"Thanks. Gee, it's really great to see you guys."

"Ray," began Egon, his scientific impatience getting the better of him. "I'd like to discuss the recent incredible event of which you were an integral part. When did you first become aware that you were having an out-of-body experience? How did it ...."

"Egon," scolded Janine, "this is not the time or place for shop talk."

"Uh . . well, I . ." Egon muttered. "I guess it can wait."

"Right," said Winston, "'cuz Pete here has something to say." He nudged Venkman, who jumped, caught unawares at the turn in conversation.

"I do?" Peter fidgeted, but finally looked at Ray for the first time since being dragged into the room. He cleared his throat, and focused his eyes on the floor.

"Ray," he started, "I want you to know that if you want to hate me forever, I won't blame you. What I did was unprofessional and inexcusable . . ."

"It wasn't your fault," said Ray quietly.

".. I panicked and shot wildly . . ."

"Peter, it wasn't your fault."

". . . and I could have killed you . . ."

"Peter!" Ray realized that he was getting nowhere fast. As Peter continued his breathless monologue, Ray turned to Winston and pleaded, "Winston, if you would be so kind."

"Not at all, my man." The smiling black man unceremoniously clapped a hand over Mr. Motor-Mouth. Startled, Peter looked at Ray for the second time since entering the room.

"Thank you, Winston," said Ray with a sigh of relief. "Now you listen to me, Peter Venkman. It . . was . . not . . your . . fault! If you had taken the time to think, you would have realized that I was nowhere near you in the factory. I was at least an aisle away. The accident was actually caused by that big red ghost. It knocked the boxes over on top of me before I could move. And, Peter," Ray continued, "why in heaven's name did you go back to the factory all by yourself. Dumb, Peter, dumb!"

Venkman was ashamed of himself, but there's wasn't much he could say (especially with Winston's hand still over his mouth).

"You may release him now, Winston. Now, Peter, do you promise to be a good boy from now on?" said Ray, flashing that old grin that told Peter everything was all right.

"Yes, sir!" replied Peter with a smile and a snappy salute. "Oh, by the way, I brought someone here to see you."

He reached into his jacket and pulled out a plastic bag, which appeared to be filled with lime Jello. Ray's eyes lit up.

"Hey, Slimer!" he called, then winced. "Remind me not to do that again," he added, clutching his head.

"See, Pete," said Winston nudging his friend. "I told you -- head like a rock."

Peter opened the bag and the little green ghost gushed out. He swooped over to Ray and planted a huge ectoplasmic kiss on his face.

"Boy, I'm glad that's not me," said Peter aside to Zeddemore, but Ray overheard anyway.

"Okay, Slimer, show Peter how much you love him, tool" said Ray pointedly.

"It's a conspiracy, I know it!" yelled Venkman, as Slimer backed him into a corner. "Haven't I been slimed enough?"

"No," replied Ray with a wicked grin.

Slimer splatted against Venkman's face. Peter slowly slid down the wall and ended up sitting on the floor. Slime oozed all over him. Slimer pulled off and floated back to Ray giggling all the way.

"See, Pete, I told you green was your color," laughed Winston.

"HA. HA. Very funny. Now you can help me up," complained Peter. "I'm stuck to the floor."

Egon, who had been standing by passively through all of the persiflage, could contain his curiosity no longer.

"Ray, I must know," he said earnestly. "What was it like? How did it feel? What could, or couldn't you do?"

Stantz raised a hand to stop the bombardment of questions.

"Give me a second, Egon." Ray took a deep breath, organized his thoughts, and continued. "It was the most amazing psychic experience I have ever had. When it happened the first time, I was scared. But, when I actually began rising out of my body, I realized what was occurring. It was quite a shock to look down and see my body lying in a hospital bed. I began testing myself, and I discovered that I could go anywhere in the blink of an eye. My first thought was to let you guys know I was okay. The only thing I couldn't fully control was materializing in front of you. Though I did manage to see Peter when he was in the bathroom."

"Next time, knock," muttered a sarcastic voice. Zeddemore clamped his hand back over the mouth that said it.

"The last time I was able to fully project was at the factory when I showed you and Winston where to find Peter."

"Yeah," agreed Peter, pushing Winston's hand away, "and if it hadn't been for ol' Egon here, telling me what to do, I sure wouldn't be here now."

"What?" asked Spengler, a puzzled expression crossing his face.

"Well, sure. You yelled to me how to blast myself free of that big red blob."

"Peter," said Egon slowly, "I never had the chance to say anything to you."

"Aw, cut it out, Egon. I distinctly heard a voice telling me to . . . ."

"Throw it on negative and blast, you oxymoron!" interrupted Ray, a huge smile beaming on his face.

"THAT WAS YOU?!"

"Sure, it was me," continued Ray. "I might have disappeared from sight, but I was able to linger long enough to help one of my best friends when he needed me."

In the short pause that followed, all eyes turned to Dr. Venkman.

"Okay, enough of this," said Peter, blinking hard. "Ray, when you get outta here, we are going to party in a serious way. Egon, you'll have to wait 'til then for the rest of your answers. The man needs his rest."

As Peter hustled them out the door, he turned back, and said, "And Ray, one last thing."

"Yes, Peter?"

"Get well soon, ya oxymoron." Peter winked, then quietly closed the door.

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