UPON THE MIDNIGHT CLEAR

by Sheila Paulson

Originally published in Slime Trails 3

"We're finished now, Dr. Spengler," said Jake, the head of the cleaning crew as he paused in the lab doorway. "We're taking off home for Christmas. This is a nice thing you did."

"It was--" Egon stopped. He couldn't say it was nothing; his good deed had impacted on a number of people, and was still doing so.

"It was a good deed for Christmas," Jake replied as if he'd sensed Egon's thoughts, scratching his grizzled head. "Dr. Kimball was jumping around all excited last night when we came in here, telling everybody he could be with his family on Christmas Eve after all."

"He has three young children," Egon replied levelly. "It's important for a child to have his father home for Christmas." He'd learned that lesson from Peter Venkman and it was what had ultimately decided him to keep watch over Tim Kimball's lab experiment on Christmas Eve. His job was to take readings every hour on the hour and jot them down. Though the computer system monitored everything, it wasn't set up to readjust the equipment should something become off balance. Egon, who had once worked with Tim in the physics department, was the only one his old friend could think of when trying to find a colleague to stand in for him from six p.m. Christmas Eve until nine the next morning when another friend had volunteered to come in until three. If anything went wrong with the experiment, Egon would know what to do about it.

Egon had considered the request long and hard. "I know your mom will be in Ohio this year, Egon," Tim had said seriously. "And as far as I know, you don't have any other relatives here. This is the first Christmas Janie will be old enough to appreciate, Jennifer is so excited about it she hasn't been able to sit still for weeks, and Mike is just about to that age where kids don't want their parents around so much. He'll be his old self at Christmas, though, and I hate like hell to miss it. If you've got big plans, tell me, and I'll check with someone else." From the tone of his voice, he was nearing the bottom of his list, and his vision of spending the evening with his brood was becoming a distant hope. He pushed his spectacles into place, a gesture he and Egon shared, and one that had caused them both to be teased when they were still at Columbia, since they often did it in sync with each other. Among the professors in the physics department, Tim had been Egon's closest friend, though never as close as Peter and Ray. He hadn't understood Egon's fascination with the spirit world and would never have been able to share it the way Ray and Peter did, though of all the physicists there, he'd been the most willing to grant Egon the right to his own interests.

In spite of that tolerant friendship with Tim, the thought of young Mike Kimball had decided Egon to help his friend out. Egon could clearly visualize Peter at that age, his father off on some business while Peter waited expectantly, refusing to give up his hopes until it was clear Charlie Venkman hadn't managed to make it home that Christmas either. Egon hated the thought of doing that to another boy, and he was sure Peter would understand when he told him about it.

It was Ray who had sounded the most upset when Egon explained that he'd be away for Christmas Eve. "But it's Christmas, Egon," he burst out, eyes widening in disappointment. "We were gonna open our gifts on Christmas Eve and everything, just like we always do. Peter's even making some of that lethal egg nog of his." His mouth fell open and he turned to stare at Peter in even greater dismay as he remembered how long it had taken Venkman to come to terms with Christmas. Now that he had, Egon could see Ray wondering if Egon's absence this year would cause a setback?

The object of his scrutiny was still watching Egon, his face as inscrutable as Peter could make it when he was hurt and didn't want to admit it. Egon stiffened as he saw a flash of disappointment, quickly masked, in Peter's green eyes."I don't want to do this," the physicist said quickly. "I'd far rather be here, but Tim has three children who want their father home for Christmas. You should know how they'll feel, Peter, if he isn't there." He hadn't intended to chastise Peter and it didn't really come out that way but he was afraid it had.

Peter's expression took on the look of someone who knows he's wrong but doesn't want to admit it. Egon knew he hated the whole idea, and he was about to open his mouth and say he wouldn't go after all, but before he could speak, Peter's face cleared. He took a deep breath. "Well, yeah, I guess we can't disappoint those kids. I think it's lousy timing, Spengs, but what else could you have done? So what time do you get sprung, buddy?

"Egon relaxed. Peter didn't like it, but he could live with it and that was what mattered. The old Peter wouldn't have been as quick to accept a holiday disappointment. "Nine o'clock Christmas morning," he said. "I'll come straight back here and we can open our presents then." He straightened. "Of course if the rest of you would rather not wait, I'll understand." It was a major sacrifice. Egon didn't often descend to the child the way Ray could at the drop of a hat or even Peter could, given proper provocation, but Egon reserved his more childlike moments for special times, like opening Christmas presents.

"Of course we'll wait for you, Egon," burst out Ray in earnest reassurance. "Besides, we'd do that anyway, since Winston has that family thing on Christmas Eve."

Mentally Egon kicked himself. He was the second Ghostbuster to opt out on Christmas Eve, and while he knew Peter could handle it--he'd done it the year everyone else had been forced to be away and had risen to the occasion beautifully--he also knew Peter would be unhappy about it.

Now Peter draped his arm around Egon's shoulders. "Yeah, Egon, Tex here"--he gestured at Ray--"and I will wait till Christmas morning when the whole team's here before we touch one present. Of course keeping the spud off your stuff isn't going to be easy. I might have to bribe him--or maybe you'll have to bribe him--and Ray and I wouldn't say no to being bribed either. We're both very corruptible."

Egon grimaced wryly. "I'll buy him some Christmas cookies," he said with a twinkle in his eyes. "He might even allow you and Ray to eat a few."

* * *

The cookies had gone over well--or rather, gone down quickly. Egon had made sure to buy a separate lot for his friends and conceal it so Slimer wouldn't discover the goodies. They'd eaten them last night while they watched TV after a late bust. They'd tried to make it seem as much like Christmas as possible. But no matter how hard they tried, the team was going to be split up on Christmas Eve, and everybody was sorry about it.

Now Jake headed out the door. "Gotta run. Dr. S. Nice to see you back here, and I hope you have a great Christmas. The Mrs. is waiting for me at home and we're gonna fix a big dinner tomorrow for the grandkids. You got plans for tomorrow?"

Egon nodded. "It will be a fine day," he said. "Presents and a big dinner. I just hope Peter doesn't ruin the turkey. You remember Dr. Venkman, don't you, Jake?"The old man chuckled. "Nobody could forget that character. Wish him a Merry Christmas for me, and Dr. Stantz too. Hope you don't get called out to bust ghosts on Christmas."

Egon agreed and Jake continued, "Now you're the last one in the building, Dr. Spengler. We're gonna lock up, though, so you'll be perfectly safe here. A few people have keys, but the odds are they won't be in tonight. Tonight's for families." He caught himself. "Well, you'll have your big day tomorrow. This is a great thing you're doing for Dr. Kimball. He was so thrilled when he found out you'd cover for him. He talked about nothing else all last night."

Egon smiled a little. Yes, Tim's reaction made him feel good. He was glad he'd been able to help his friend. The only problem was his concern for his closer friends. Egon could still remember their faces as he outlined his plans, Ray's eyes wide with disappointment and Peter's face carefully blank. Egon had worried about their reactions, but they had risen above that, and had even called earlier in the evening to see how he was managing.

"Yo, Spengs," Peter had caroled over the phone. "This is Ebenezer Scrooge calling through the time warp just for you. I finally figured out what a 'phone' was."

"Judging by the size of our last telephone bill, 'Ebenezer,' I think you figured that out a long time ago," Egon returned dryly, feeling the happiness rise up in his chest at the call. He had been missing the cozy atmosphere of the firehall, the blaze of lights from Ray's huge Christmas tree, the smell of baking cookies, even Slimer's hideously off-key attempts to sing Jingle Bells.

"Peter said we had to call." Ray was obviously on one of the extensions. "Gosh, Egon, I wish you were here. We're watching Scrooged on TV. Peter says we have to because Bill Murray's in it, and after all, Murray played him in our movies. Have you got a TV there?"

Egon did, a small, black and white Sony portable, but he had shut it off after the news. He felt remarkably uncelebratory, and the programs on every channel were full of good cheer, more cheer than Egon could muster. He had expected to deal with his volunteer duty in a businesslike manner, knowing he'd be home in the morning, but the lab building, gradually emptying of any overtime-working professors as the evening closed in, was bleak. The holiday decor here and there seemed almost out of place, a travesty of the real thing. Egon told himself it wasn't rational to feel that way, but right then the sound of his friends' voices moved him to such warmth that he realized how lonely he'd felt before they called.

The guys had chatted with him for half an hour until it was time to take his next readings, then they said goodbye reluctantly. Egon was sure Peter could tell how he was feeling just from the tone of his voice. But then Peter would. He always did, even when he didn't let on. Peter Venkman, appearances to the contrary, was a sympathetic friend and very good psychologist.

He heard Jake's footsteps fade away down the corridor, a few distant words between him and one of the others in the cleaning crew. Finally the slight sense of human companionship he'd felt each time he heard a rattle of a bucket on the floor or the sound of another door closing as the crew finished that room faded away too. Egon had worked here many nights both as a student and professor at Columbia, often the last one to leave the building, but he had never felt like this before, so isolated from his fellow man.

The alarm on Tim's project sounded and Egon carefully jotted down the readings. He made a few slight adjustments, remembering the look on Peter's face when he'd tried to explain the experiment to him. Ray had known enough to grasp some of the elementary principles but higher physics was Greek to Peter and he said so.

"Yeah, right, Egon. I bet you can't tell me what it means in English." Egon discovered he couldn't, not unless Peter had a far better grounding in plasma physics than he did. In fact any grounding in physics might help. Peter approached Ghostbusting from an entirely different perspective than either Egon or Ray, coming into it through psychology, which had led him to parapsychology. Anyone who thought Peter was all mouth and no brain hadn't seen him complete two doctorates in a remarkably short time. There were many approaches to Ghostbusting, and between the three of them, they covered a lot of the bases.

Peter was good at understanding the whys and wherefores of a complex haunting. He could get at the ghost's motivation when it was necessary to bust it, and could deal with their harried customers best, soothing them and assuring them that their fear and skepticism was normal--and he was best at presenting the bill. Peter had fast-talked them out of a lot of crises that might have been far worse without his insight.

Ray's was a hands-on type of science and he was never happier than when building some new gizmo that would help them in the business--unless it was when he was reading his Captain Steel comic books or just being with his friends. Egon could invent and design equipment and build it, too, but he worked better in tandem with Ray.

Winston had come to them later but he had proven a valuable asset too. Combat trained in that hard school, Vietnam, he taught them techniques that enabled them to deal with dangerous ghosts in the safest manner possible. He had some college, some engineering training on a very practical level, and he and Ray between them kept Ecto-1 in topnotch condition. They were a team, each bringing his own talents to the composite that was the Ghostbusters. Though several copycat operations had sprung up around the country, the original team was still the best.

His work done for another hour, Egon started for his books. He'd brought a stack of them: the current version of Who's Who and What's That, one of Sam Beckett's quantum physics texts that had recently been adopted at a number of universities, the definitive treatise on fungus, a Mary Higgins Clarke mystery that Winston had pressed upon him as he started out the door, several layman's books about ghostly encounters which he wanted to check for possible realism and to cross reference with some of the Ghostbusters' own experiences. He had done some reading earlier in the evening, but none of the books appealed at the moment. Instead he crossed to the nearest window.

It was snowing. The snowfall must have started half an hour or more ago because the huge, fat flakes that drifted silently to the earth had begun to whiten the campus scene and caused it to resemble a Christmas card. Egon stood there quietly enjoying the beauty of the view for almost ten minutes, his thoughts far away, then he caught himself and turned away from it abruptly. The last thing he wanted right now was to be reminded of Christmas.

He made himself picture Tim Kimball and his wife, surrounded by their children, digging under the tree for gifts. That stereotypical domestic image made him feel some satisfaction but it also enhanced his own solitude. "Don't be ridiculous, Egon," he told himself. "It's only a few hours more, and you'd have slept most of it in any case." While true, it didn't do much for his present sense of isolation, and the satisfaction he felt for helping a friend at Christmas was heavily outweighed by the thought of Peter and Ray back at the firehall, enjoying Christmas Eve on their own.

He wasn't even certain they were enjoying it. Ray had such a good imagination, too good really, and he might easily picture Egon alone in the lab--on Christmas. Ray had sounded upset for him on the telephone as if he knew how much Egon had regretted his good deed and wished himself home. Peter hadn't. Peter had sounded bright and funny, full of smartass comments, each new one topping the last. Peter usually did things like that for two reasons, first, to cheer up someone who was down, and second, to conceal his own unhappiness. Peter probably did feel disappointment at Egon's absence, but Peter was well able to deal with it these days. He'd made his peace with Christmas, and if there were lingering resentments over his childhood unhappiness with the season, the last few years had given him better memories to fall back on. Egon wasn't sure if a history of disappointments on Christmas could be so easily overcome, but last Christmas Peter had pitched in wholeheartedly and enjoyed every minute of it.

Once, Egon had found him standing alone by the window looking out into the night and Peter had looked up, his face for once revealing his feelings, and said, "I hope Dad got his card." Egon had quickly reassured him, stomping down his feelings toward Charlie Venkman, who didn't even manage a card for Peter at Christmas time most years."Yeah, I know, Egon. But it's Christmas. He's not a young man, you know. He's always lived by his wits, getting in and out of trouble, picking up and going where the spirit moves him. What's gonna happen to him when he can't do that any more?"

"You'll help him," Egon reassured him with complete certainty. For all Peter's frivolous nature, Egon had never seen him weasel out of a serious responsibility in his adult life. He'd been fairly good at it when Egon had first met him at Columbia, but within a year or two, Egon had seen a major difference in Peter's attitude toward life in general. When he'd once remarked on it to Peter's mother, when she'd come up to the university for a visit, she had smiled a little."You should look in the mirror, Egon, if you want to see the cause."

"The mirror?" He'd been startled. Yes, he'd tried in some ways to influence Peter, but never strenuously, believing that Peter must find his own way."He admires you," Mrs. Venkman had told him. "Probably more than anyone he's ever met. He trusts you and that was a hard lesson for him to learn." Her mouth tightened, then she pushed aside whatever memories had caused her mood to darken and continued. "He wants to impress you. Then, too, there's Ray. He took Ray under his wing when he was a freshman, like a kid brother. That's a responsibility, and accepting responsibility matures a person. You and Ray have helped Peter become the man I always knew he could be. I'm glad he's done that, and I'm even gladder he hasn't lost his mischievous spirit along the way."

Neither of them had mentioned Charlie Venkman, but neither of them had needed to. Many of Peter's problems could be traced back to his father, but Peter loved him wholeheartedly, loved him enough to sacrifice the joy of Christmas for his father's sake. Peter would help his father in a shot if Charlie ever needed it and Egon had no hesitation pointing it out.

Now, as he turned away from the Christmas-card view and deliberately crossed to pick up his books, he felt, for the first time, what those Christmases had been to Peter. He'd had his mother, of course, and gifts, but not the person he wanted most. Right now, Egon realized, to a much lesser degree, how that would feel. He'd have his friends tomorrow. He wouldn't miss Christmas with them. But in these hours alone in the lab, watching the minute hand jerk its way around the dial, hearing the near-subliminal noises empty buildings made, Egon pictured the small Peter waiting and waiting for his father to come home, watching clocks as the minutes, then the hours, stole away a time that should have been the happiest possible time.

Then there was Ray. Ray adored Christmas. He awaited it eagerly each year, full of joy in the holiday, yet he'd been perceptive enough not to force his happiness on Peter. Ray had not had a traditionally happy childhood. He'd lost his parents young and never found a niche for himself again until he came to college and met Egon and Peter. All joy of living should have been crushed out of a boy who had grown up in a town where no one expected much of him, a place that had hurt his confidence in himself so badly that merely returning there had made him revert to insecurity. Yet Ray was almost uncrushable. He bounced back, full of an eager zest for life that captured his friends and pulled them along with them. Though disappointed at Egon's defection this year, he'd bounced back from that too, and was anticipating the big gift exchange in the morning. Egon was sure it had been Ray's idea to call, and he would have been willing to stay on the phone all evening, never running out of things to say. Ray was often the bright spot in their lives, the one who kept them feeling good when the chips were down, who could make Peter shrug off a dark mood and try to make the best of a bad situation.

Winston wouldn't have been there for Christmas anyway, but Winston's family was right here in town, as was Janine's. Yet Winston had phoned too, not too long after Peter and Ray had."How you doing, homeboy?"

"Very well, thank you, Winston." It seemed better to sound positive. "I'm looking forward to our big dinner tomorrow."

"Man, so am I. We had a huge one tonight. I'm going to be a human butterball before this Christmas is over. When we go on our next bust, you'll have to roll me out to Ecto and force me behind the wheel with a shoehorn."

"I can believe it. Save some room for Peter's turkey."

Winston groaned. "Peter and turkey? Just doesn't seem to go together, does it?"

"If it turns out badly, we can always call out for pizza," Egon had replied, making Winston laugh. Then voices in the background summoned him and he had to go. "Merry Christmas, good buddy," he told Egon before he hung up.

After Winston's call, the lab seemed emptier than ever. Egon made himself pick up the Beckett book and begin to read it, but while he realized the subject matter was fascinating, and some of the chapters dealt with theories about time--and possibly time travel, it began to run together and he set it aside.

"What's wrong with you, Egon?" he chided himself. "Just because you've never spent a Christmas Eve alone before doesn't mean you can't handle it. Peter went through this for years." Yet Peter had only been completely alone over the Christmas holidays once that Egon knew about, the first year he met him. When Christmas came and Egon realized Peter meant to stay at the university instead of going home, Egon had instantly invited Peter to join him in Ohio with his family. Peter had declined.

"Are you kidding, Egon? This is my big chance. I can't study while the guys are around. They'll think I'm some kind of grind. I'm gonna get a lot of work in while nobody's here to notice. We can't wreck Peter's reputation, can we? Besides, Brigitte is going to be in town at the end of the week." He managed a creditable leer and winked at Egon.

Egon had agreed to it and only later, when he was on the plane home, did it occur to him that Peter might not have had plane fare and would have been too proud to accept it from Egon. The following year Ray was there, visibly devoid of family except cousins out of town and an aunt who was 'doing Europe.' Ray had looked crushed at the thought of a solitary Christmas, and his scholarship was stretched to the breaking point already. Egon, whose family was not remotely hard up, would have sprung for plane tickets for the pair of them, but Peter was resistant and Ray's pride wouldn't allow him to take something he couldn't give back. Egon had left them behind reluctantly, but when he had returned Ray had talked glowingly of the great Christmas he and Peter had spent together, going to a Christmas concert and eating a big traditional dinner in a restaurant.

"Well, yeah, Egon," Peter had said later, his voice carefully offhand. "So it's just a day, but it meant a lot to the kid. Didn't hurt me any, and Ray was happy. Don't tell him I'm not into Christmas. He'll find out soon enough on his own."

Egon had concealed a smile, realizing Peter had found satisfaction in the day, in bringing happiness to Ray, even if Christmas was still something for him to shun on his own. You're not so far gone as you like to pretend, Peter, he thought, but he didn't say so. Someday you'll find you like Christmas after all.

Ray did eventually discover Peter's feelings for the holidays and, for several years, he did his best to bring joy to Peter's Christmases but Peter resisted him. Finally Ray accepted it, though he included Peter in every holiday thing he did, as if hoping someday Peter would come to love Christmas as much as Ray did.

Then, a couple of years ago, they had been swept through a time warp and managed to destroy Christmas entirely by trapping the three ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, and Future. The cold and desolate world they returned to in which the day was devoid of light and joy, and every man and woman they met was quick to cry, "Bah, humbug!" had finally taught Peter to accept Christmas. Egon, who had known and understood Peter's feelings from the beginning, had been delighted with the change in his friend. Like Ebenezer Scrooge, Peter had finally accepted Christmas. Egon didn't believe his defection this one Christmas Eve would do any harm to Peter's attitude, especially since his motive had been to allow a father to spend Christmas with his children, something Peter would appreciate.

Egon tossed the book aside in a gesture of uncharacteristic frustration. He could concentrate on his work in the middle of a hurricane. Why was tonight so different?

It was because it was Christmas Eve, and because he was alone. With a near-inaudible sigh, Egon rose again and went back to the window. The huge flakes were still falling, silent and beautiful. The clock stood at 11:30. Half an hour before Christmas day began. Egon heaved a sigh. The guys were probably in bed by now. Visions of sugarplums dancing in their heads? No, with Peter, it was probably visions of gorgeous women. He had a date the day after tomorrow with a new girlfriend and he was looking forward to it.

Egon started pacing the room. Somehow it was time to check the experiment again and he did it quickly. Where had the evening gone? What had he to show for it? Two pages in the Beckett book and a list of charted data for Tim. It didn't mean anything, not when the snow was creating a beautiful vista outside the window and the building was creaking and making little noises that only disturbed the silence. Egon hated it. He missed the guys more than he'd expected to, and even Slimer would have been welcome company right about now.

That was when he heard a noise that didn't sound like the building settling. It was like a distant footfall. There was another. Suddenly voices, as suddenly hushed. This didn't sound right. Egon froze. Surely Christmas Eve was a strange time to break into a University building. Could Tim's experiment be interesting enough to some high tech lab that they'd send someone to steal it?

The hours of solitude had made Egon jumpy. Surely those were irrational ideas. He was imagining it. Or else some other late-working professor had let himself in to check something, pick up forgotten material. Egon strained his ears, listening, but the sounds were not repeated. He thought he heard a creaking sound like the stairs made but no real footsteps. That indicated a surreptitious approach, someone coming in his direction, someone who didn't want to be overheard. Suddenly Egon began to wish he had a thrower. Should he conceal himself? Should he go out to investigate? It might only be Jake returning for something he had forgotten--but no. Jake would make no secret of his presence.

Egon edged over toward the telephone. If a criminal had broken in, he should have heard the sound. This was someone with a key--or someone who knew how to pick a lock.

A muted crash in the distance convinced him he hadn't imagined any of it. Someone laughed and was hastily shushed. Stealth seemed the order of the night. Egon curled his fingers around the receiver and lifted it, a long finger reaching toward the buttons to key in 911. If criminals burst into the lab, he could push those numbers in a second and let the open phone line do its work for him.

"Ho ho ho! Merry Christmas!" The voice was deep and jovial, and obviously disguised. Startled, Egon let the receiver slip back into the cradle. Burglars would hardly pretend to be Santa Claus. This was ludicrous. It was--

The lab door burst open and a miniature Christmas tree advanced into the room, followed by several grocery bags, resting in the arms of Peter Venkman and Ray Stantz. Both of them were caked with snow as if they'd had a snowball fight en route, but the little tree was decorated and intact, the snowflakes in its branches adding atmosphere to the Christmas mood. "Hi, Egon," cried Ray with delight.

"Santa's running late this year," Peter said with a crooked grin. "We thought we'd help him out. Come on, Spengs, grab some of this before I drop it."

"What is it?" Egon asked, automatically taking a package. "What are you guys doing here?" He felt a smile begin, spreading from ear to ear as sudden warmth filled him.

"We didn't want you to be alone on Christmas," Ray told him earnestly, setting the tree on the nearest lab table and hunting around for an outlet. He plugged it in and a tiny string of miniature lights started blinking on and off. "Isn't it pretty? We found it in the drugstore on the way here." He peeled off his coat and tossed it on a chair.

"Yeah, Egon, half price," Peter added. He set his parcels on the table beside the tree, took the package back from Egon and set it beside the others. "So, buddy," he said, grinning, "are you glad to see us?" His coat missed the chair and slid to the floor. Automatically Egon picked it up and shook the snow off it before he draped it over the chair back.

"You know I am, Peter. I found that Christmas alone doesn't come close to--"

"Christmas with the Ghostbusters," Peter returned with a deliberately egotistical grin. "Yeah, when I'm not here, people miss me."

"Peter," chided Ray, though he couldn't hold back a smile.

"And when you're not there, big guy," Peter continued, meeting and holding Egon's eyes, "people miss you. Next year, your buddy can bring his family to the lab if he wants a family treat. 'Cause next year, we're gonna do it right."

"I think this is nice," Ray said, looking around with a grin. "It reminds me of the old days. I used to like coming in here to watch Egon play mad scientist."

"Yeah, he does sorta have the look, doesn't he?" agreed Peter. "What are you up to, Spengs? Building monsters?" He glanced at the computer screen and the rest of the equipment. "The excitement level is rising to never-before-seen levels as we examine the famous whatever-it-is. You gave up our company for this, Egon? I've gotta say I'm really hurt." He didn't look hurt. Delight filled his eyes. Egon knew with complete certainty that his friends' foray into academia had been entirely Peter's idea.

"So I see. What did you bring, Peter? I thought we'd open our presents tomorrow when Winston was back."

"Presents?" Peter demanded gesturing at the packages. "These aren't presents. These are food, Egon. Food and drink." He dug into the nearest one happily and pulled out a small punchbowl. "Yo, Ray. Where's my eggnog? Don't worry, Egon, we won't let you get falling down drunk, not with this blowing-up-the-world gizmo simmering away over here. Just a little bit mellow."

"If I wake up tomorrow with a headache, I'll know who to blame," Egon said as Peter poured the contents of a milk carton into the bowl and Ray pulled cups from another package. The physicist shook his head as he watched Ray take out a wreath and hang it on the back of the door, and light candles around the room. Amazing how quickly the old lab had turned into a warm and happy place.

"Peter? Ray?" Egon faced his friends with a smile. "Thanks."

"Hey, no biggie, Spengs," Peter said, but his eyes acknowledged Egon's gratitude for their presence. "After all, I can only take It's a Wonderful Life so many times before I want to haul out the barf bag."

"Aw, Peter, I like it," Ray defended his favorite movie.

"You like Lassie Come Home," Peter accused. He was at the top of his form, bouncing around with happiness, full of good spirits. Egon didn't think he'd ever seen Peter looking so full of the Christmas spirit, and suddenly he knew why. All those other years, when they'd tried to make up to Peter for his unhappy Christmases, they'd been doing something for him. This year, he'd looked past his own feelings and done something for someone else. He'd always had it in him--look how he'd treated Ray on their first Christmas together. But this was the first time he'd done it with his whole heart."Merry Christmas, Peter," Egon said solemnly as if conferring a blessing.

Peter's eyes glowed. "Hey, Spengs," he returned. "Merry Christmas to you." He gestured at Ray and the two of them pounced on him and hugged him enthusiastically before Ray headed for the punchbowl to fill their cups and Peter opened another sack to reveal a dish of fudge and a plate of cookies.

"Is this a private party, or can anybody join in?"

"Winston?" the three Ghostbusters turned at the new voice to see their final member in the doorway.

"Hey, Egon, you sounded down in the dumps over the phone so I told Dad I'd run over here for an hour. Looks like I got here just in time for the party." Winston smiled. "Hey, food and no Slimer. You can't beat that. Or do you have him hidden in one of those sacks?"

"Come on in, Winston," Egon said, his smile expanding. "Join the party."

"Yeah," agreed Ray, raising his cup of eggnog. "It's Christmas and it's snowing. Isn't it great. I want to propose a toast."

Peter edged over beside him and clapped a hand over Ray's mouth. "If you say 'god bless us every one,' I'm gonna throw up," he announced, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

"I was just gonna say what a great Christmas this is turning out to be," Ray mumbled around Peter's fingers. Venkman grinned and let go and Ray said as quickly as he could, the words running together, "Godblessuseveryone."

"Arrgh," cried Peter, but he kept his arm around Ray's shoulders as he raised his own cup to second the toast.

Egon smiled to himself as he watched Winston grab a cup--interesting they'd brought four, wasn't it? He was beginning to detect a conspiracy. But then, that was all right. This was what Christmas was all about, and all of them knew it.

Peter said something about the presents and Ray joined in and Winston caught Egon's eye. "How do you like Pete's party, homeboy?" he asked with a grin.

The best part was that they were all here and it was Peter's idea. Egon nodded. "It's a Christmas to remember, isn't it?"

"Hey, look!" cried Ray, pointing at the lab clock. "It's midnight. Christmas day. Merry Christmas, guys."

Everybody echoed him and raised their cups to the day. Egon looked up and found Peter at his side. "Thank you, Peter," he said quietly.

Peter only nodded but the contentment in his eyes said it all. He slung his arm around Egon's shoulders and stood beside him as Ray found a tape player in one of the sacks and Christmas music started playing."And before we leave here," Peter said in Egon's ear, "I want you to explain this gizmo to me so I can understand it. Got it, big guy?"

"Got it," Egon agreed happily.

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