Author's note: I'm very sorry for the incredibly late update, but I wasn't able to write for a very long time for personal reasons. I will hopefully be able to update this regularly in the future, if anyone is still interested in reading it.

Thank you very much for the kind reviews and favs!

Part 3

"I'm getting out of here!" The young lady with the expensive manicure rushed for the exit as soon as she caught sight of the blond Ghostbuster lying motionless on the floor. She didn't want to associate herself or her laundromat with such a dangerous bunch of shysters.

"Hold it!" Peter barked in a barely controlled fit of rage.

"Peter..." Ray pleaded quietly, quite alarmed when Peter's harsh tone forced their guest to come to a dead halt.

"None of you are leaving until we're positive that you're clean. Winston, get a PKE meter!"

"We can't just..."

"DO IT!" Peter commanded, remaining where he was, kneeling beside Egon.

"You can forget about me investing in your two-bit operation," Ms. Harrison announced through clenched teeth. "You'll be lucky if my lawyer doesn't have this building condemned."

Ignoring Ms. Harrison's threats, the bickering men, and the young lady's sniffling, Peter settled his full attention on Egon. His deft fingers pressed lightly to his friend's forehead and temple, examining for hidden injuries. But other than the bruise and the slime, Egon hadn't sustained any mortal damage. As Winston returned from the reception area with a PKE meter in hand, Peter set to work trying to rouse the physicist from his unnatural slumber.

"Egon. Can you hear me? Come on, Spengs. It's not nice to scare Dr. Venkman." Peter pressed the palm of his hand against Egon's cheek, receiving a low moan in response. Then, slowly, Egon began to regain his senses. His eyelids squeezed tightly, as if to shake off any ill affects that the fall had left him with. "Egon?"

"Peter?" Egon cautiously squinted against the bright light overhead, feeling slightly disoriented at first. "W-what happened?"

"We're not sure." He cast a quick glance at Ray peering over Winston's shoulder, measuring the PKE readings as Winston went from person to person, scanning them from head to toe. "By the looks of it, you were probably hit by a ghost. And that ghost might still be among us." And if it was, Peter was going to enjoy throttling it for messing with Egon. He stiffened as the promised threat that the entity had made to him echoed in his mind. "Release me now, Venkman. Unless you want to be sharing that pretty blond with me. And believe me, after I've had my fun with him there won't be much to return."

"Peter..."

Peter collected his thoughts and quickly erased the vicious expression that had no doubt colored his eyes and tightened the muscles in his face. The expression that Egon could not have missed and probably wanted an explanation for.

"Are you okay, Spengs?" Peter laid on his concern thickly, distracting his too-keen friend from the uncharacteristically dark emotion that Egon had witnessed.

"I'm fine, Peter. Just give me a moment."

"Winston?"

Winston finished with his scan, shutting the PKE meter off with a disappointing shrug. "Sorry man. They're all clean."

"May we go now?"

Peter nodded to the group, realizing that none of them were aware of his thoughts or intentions. If the other Ghostbusters hadn't trusted him so much, they would have seriously questioned his erratic behavior and sudden outburst.

Four of the guests tore out of Ghostbusters Central as if it were a crazy house for wackos. Only Calistan remained, watching Peter help Egon off the floor and into a sturdy chair.

Calistan hesitated for only a moment before approaching the tipsy Ghostbuster, offering Egon a glass of water. "Maybe you should call a doctor. I can recommend a good one - a friend of mine with an office a few blocks away," he suggested helpfully.

"Nah, Egon's a survivor. Besides, it's just a little bruise." Peter refused the offer on Egon's behalf, knowing how much his friend disliked doctors.

Egon gratefully accepted the water, his earlier misgivings regarding Calistan long forgotten. However, whether he was still feeling dizzy from the fall or was preoccupied with Peter's odd behavior nobody knew, for the glass easily slipped through his fingers. It would have shattered onto the table top had Calistan not reacted with startling reflexes. He snatched hold of the glass, overtop Egon's fingers, securing it safely and preventing the near-accident.

Ray, Winston and Peter gave a sigh of relief, already high-strung over the misfortunes of the day. They paid no attention when Calistan's hand lingered over Egon's much longer than was necessary nor did they notice the predatory way with which he appraised Egon from where he stood.

Blissfully ignorant when it came to flirting and other forms of social human interaction, Egon usually would have been hard-pressed to differentiate between normal physical contact versus sexually motivated contact. This was not one of those times. For whatever reason, Egon's perception felt extra sensitive at that point. He pondered over the prolonged contact but that curiosity mutated into a difficult to describe emotion when the other man's large hand released his, sliding away in an almost caress that rubbed over the back of his hand. But it didn't stop there. Calistan's hand trailed up Egon's arm until it reached his shoulder to squeeze there... and linger once more.

From somewhere deep within, Egon felt his heart thudding against his chest - wildly. He had to be mistaken. It was scientifically impossible for a man of Calistan's background to be interested in him. And even if he was, he wouldn't blatantly display such an interest in front of the other Ghostbusters. It was ludicrous... unscientific... Above all else, it was unnervingly intimidating to have such an aggressive man hovering over him like a vulture marking its prey.

Egon jerked his shoulder away from Calistan's touch, clearing his throat uncomfortably.

"Egon, is something wrong?" Ray had dropped out of the conversation with Peter when he'd felt a pair of desperate blue eyes staring up at him. But when he looked again, his imagination proved to have gotten the better of him for Egon's eyes revealed nothing more than they normally did.

"Everything is fine, Ray. I think that we should conclude our discussions with Mr. Calistan for today and retire for the night." Egon indicated the cheap plastic clock that hung on the kitchen wall. It was nearly eleven o'clock.

"Look at how time flies," Peter quipped. "It is past my bedtime and you, Egon, need to rest."

"I'll drop by tomorrow to finalize the arrangements of our deal then," Calistan agreed, already a significant distance from Egon's chair.

"Deal?" Winston repeated dumbly.

"I did sign on as an investor, didn't I? You're going to have to disclose some of the finer details of your business as well as go over the advertising selections."

"Absolutely!" Ecstatic that Calistan hadn't backed out of the deal, Peter cheerfully rushed over to him to shake his hand. "Welcome aboard, Mr. Calistan, Sir! You won't regret this. It's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity." He retrieved the contract that he'd been concealing, hastily added his signature below Calistan's, dated it, and tore off a carbon copy which he handed to Calistan.

"Oh, I'm sure that it is." He firmly shook Peter's hand, then Ray's, and Winston's and finally held his hand out to Egon.

Egon was sluggish at responding but swallowed his discomfort to accept the handshake.

It proved to be just as creepy as the first time, Calistan's palm was warm and clammy. But this time, it turned out to be much worse because he'd been expecting it. Egon quietly breathed a sigh of relief once it was over and wiped his hand off on the leg of his pants.

"Good night gentlemen!" Calistan called out cheerfully as he made his way to the front entrance, led by Winston, and disappeared into the night.

As soon as Winston was back in the kitchen, he exploded at Peter. "What the hell was that all about, man? You scared the hell out of those people! Treated them like they were lowly class-three spooks. What got into you?"

"I thought that they might have been possessed. It was a risk that I couldn't take after Egon was attacked like that," Peter retaliated.

"Attacked? Why the hell did you jump to the conclusion that he was attacked?"

"It was really dark, Peter. I doubt that anybody - ghost or human - would have been able to easily identify Egon in the dark," Ray added. "It must have been an accident."

"I don't believe in accidents. Anyway, I'm going to check the containment unit."

"Peter, did you have a particular ghost in mind regarding this 'attack'?" Egon queried. He thought back to the bust three weeks ago where Peter had worn a similarly hostile expression. He still hadn't been able to surmise what had transpired between his friend and the rampaging entity before he'd barged in on the scene.

"Nothing specific. Just want to make sure."

Watching Peter's retreating back, Egon felt his chest constrict again but this time with a different emotion. "Ray, would you kindly assist Peter with his inspection of the containment unit?"

"Sure thing, Egon. You just rest up and let Winston take care of you."

"I hardly need to be taken care of," Egon muttered in annoyance.

Outside Ghostbusters Central, lounging in the driver's seat of a very expensive red Ferrari sat Calistan. He grinned smugly to himself as he checked out his appearance in the rearview mirror with renewed interest. The purple entity nestled safely inside Calistan's body expressed its approval in its host body. There hadn't been much time to pick and choose but this one really wasn't all that bad. A little bit old for his tastes if the driver's license was legit, indicating a man in his forty-fifth year of mortality. Otherwise, this mortal was a fine specimen - tall, roguishly handsome, not too flabby, and full of sin. Best of all, this host form evoked unease and fear in Egon, even if he refused to acknowledge it. He could intimidate the blond in this body without causing any suspicion. After all, Peter had readily accepted him - had shaken the hand that he'd used to stroke Egon's arm with and not batted an eye.

The impact in the kitchen had been a mistake. He hadn't intended to hit Egon, thereby alerting the Ghostbusters to his presence. It was just a wonderful coincidence that Egon had chosen that precise moment to get up, placing himself in the path of a berserk ghost.

And Calistan... Another stroke of good luck.

To top it all off, Calistan himself was physically attracted to Egon, making the man's possession incredibly delicious. Calistan could not be forced to do anything that he felt morally opposed to. And so far, Calistan had revealed absolutely no qualms with any of the mental images that the entity had enticed him with.

He would have his revenge on Peter Venkman, perhaps more successfully than he'd originally intended.

The Ghostbusters didn't start to get ready for bed until well after one o'clock. Peter had insisted that Egon himself go on down to the basement to verify that the readouts from the containment unit were accurate and that the backup generator was functioning normally. To humor Peter - not that he didn't trust Ray's own inspection - Egon trudged down to the basement and spent fifteen minutes giving the system a full scan while Peter supervised.

"Are you satisfied now?" Egon had asked in exasperation.

Peter had still appeared skeptical at that point but reluctantly nodded. "Yeah, I guess so. If you say that everything is in top working condition then I believe you."

"It is. The field is impregnable."

"No chance of it failing?"

"There is always a miniscule possibility of the grid failing during a power outage if the backup generator doesn't start up instantaneously. However the odds of a ghost being in the vicinity of such a phenomenon at the precise moment that it occurs... and the even slighter odds of said ghost having sufficient time to escape through that assumed space..."

"Okay already!" Peter had thrown his arms up into the air by way of surrender. "Bottom line is you don't think anything escaped."

"It's highly improbable. Once a ghost has been incarcerated in the containment unit, it usually incorporates itself into one of the existing cliques - if you will - that are already in existence. And you're supposing that this ghost remained in solitary confinement, awaiting an opportunity to escape, for three weeks?"

At that point, Peter's face had grown sour. "Nice try, Spengs. I didn't mention anything about which ghost I suspected."

"It wasn't really necessary for me to determine the most likely candidate. Peter... about that bust..."

"Goodnight, Egon!" Peter had brushed off Egon's attempt to understand what had transpired three weeks ago, heading up the basement stairs and out of possible danger.

And now they were all showered and dressed for bed, not interacting much due to the awkwardness of the night's events.

To one side of the bedroom, Ray was propping up his pillow and leaning back to browse through one of his latest magazines - Unidentified People from Mars - and hopefully find some new toys that he could send out a mail order for. Winston had a letter from a friend that he was responding to so he was hunched over his bedside table, scrawling out a 'long time no see' message in his illegible handwriting.

On the opposite side of the bedroom, Peter was busying himself with his little black book. He couldn't get his mind off of Egon or the purple ghost that presumably still lay trapped in the containment unit. Perhaps it was just a coincidence that the thing that had knocked Egon down had been purple as well. But what were the odds? Aside from his worrying over Egon's mishap, he found that he couldn't keep his imagination out of the gutter. One glimpse of Egon traipsing into the bedroom with a pink fluffy towel knotted over his skinny, angular hips and Peter found himself wishing that he hadn't taken his shower first. The best distraction that he could summon up was the little black book filled with the names and contact numbers of all the pretty ladies that he encountered throughout the year. He'd dated most of them, crashing and burning after the first date, or shirking commitment after the first sleepover. But there were a few that he hadn't solicited for a date as of yet.

A few steps away from Peter's bed, Egon was sitting up in his own, going over the file that he had pulled from the filing cabinet behind Janine's desk. It contained information on the bust from three weeks ago - the one that still angered Peter and kept him silent on the details. They'd logged the ghost as a regular class-five poltergeist. Rowdier than most class-fives but it hadn't been anything special. They hadn't been whisked away to a parallel dimension by it. Nor had they required emergency medical attention afterwards. It had been an ordinary case... hadn't it?

So why was Peter acting so defensive? Why the secrecy? In all their years together, even during animated quarrels where they flung insults at each other, Egon had never heard Peter speak to him as he had that day. That brief altercation had left him feeling as if he were missing something. Something important. And today Peter had used that tone of voice again. His tone had been harsh even though his touch had been gentle.

Egon quickly pushed that thought out of his mind when he felt his face flush with heat. He didn't wish to associate his friend with these kinds of thoughts, not when Peter had obviously acted with his best interests at heart. To do so would burden Peter with his inexperience and sexual confusion. Regardless of the inappropriate way he sometimes received physical contact from his best friend, Peter would never touch him with those kinds of thoughts in mind. Besides, Peter was a lady's man. He had the track record and - Egon raised his head out of the file to give Peter a sideways look - the black book to certify his raging hormones for the opposite sex.

Several minutes passed by.

Winston grew tired of his letter writing and dropped everything back into the top drawer of his bedside table. He clicked off his lamp, lay back, and was soon snoring softly in his dark little corner.

A few more minutes and Ray followed Winston's lead, leaving the magazine open where he'd left off. He yawned and waved to Egon and Peter. "G'night, Egon. Peter."

"Good night, Ray," Egon and Peter called out simultaneously.

Ten more minutes went by before Peter was certain that Ray was off in slumber land. Then he shifted over to observe Egon. "What'cha doing, Spengs?"

"Oh... research." Egon guiltily shut the file folder, stowing it away underneath his pillow in case Peter were to get a closer look.

"How about a game of chess?"

Egon looked at him incredulously. "Chess? Do you realize what time it is?"

"Is that a 'no'?" Peter gave Egon his best whipped puppy dog look, at which point Egon caved and retrieved the chess board while Peter took the chess pieces out from their separate hiding spot. He then patted the empty space on his bed, urging Egon over.

Egon tiptoed over to Peter's bed, mindful on not waking Winston or Ray. Winston was still upset with Peter over the fiasco in the kitchen but he usually got over it given enough sleep. Egon settled himself on Peter's mattress, placing the chess board down on the comforter between them. "Are you sure that you want to play chess now? You never win." This was not meant to be hurtful, only factual. Egon didn't fancy Peter going off into one of his moods and pouting like a sore loser in the middle of the night.

"I'm learning. Learning is fun. Just give me some time and I'll be kicking your ass before you know it." Peter winked at Egon as he made the first move.

"That's highly improbable."

They got through the first game fairly quickly, with most of Peter's chess pieces resting in a pile behind Egon. The next game started off slower, giving Peter more time to consider his strategy.

"So," Peter began conversationally, the psychologist in him having lured Egon off guard enough to begin with the questioning that he'd planned earlier. "What do you think about Calistan?" The only telltale sign that he'd caused Egon some discomfort was the way that the blond's fingers narrowly skipped over the king, instead knocking down the queen.

"Sorry." Egon fixed Peter's game pieces but withdrew his right hand afterwards to rub it with his left. He could almost feel the displeasing sensation of Calistan's fingers on his hand again.

Ignoring what Peter assumed to be Egon scratching, he rephrased the question. "Do you think he'll stay on long enough for us to pull out of debt?"

"That's hardly an event that I can predict, Peter."

"You researched his rental shop, right? More than I did I'm guessing because you used the word 'lucrative'. Just how lucrative are we talking about?"

"Surely you must have seen the red Ferrari he parked in the street. How many rental video store owners do you know who drive their own Ferrari?"

"He might have bought it used... got it as a present... has it on ten-year-financing."

"I assure you that it is brand new."

"What kind of dirt did you dig up on the guy?" When Egon shirked off the question and began to fidget, Peter reached over to grasp Egon's shoulder. He was unprepared for the defensive way that his friend avoided the touch. Now Peter felt more than a little concerned over Egon's odd behavior. "Egon... are you sure that you're okay?" Peter dropped his act when Egon neither answered nor looked up from where his gaze was focused on a random chess piece. "Game over. You win." He rounded up the board and its pieces and swept them onto the floor where he'd be sure to step on them in the morning. "Time for a serious talk."

Egon resolutely remained opposed to a conversation about Calistan, beginning to stretch his legs and push off of Peter's mattress.

But Peter had been anticipating the escape and caught hold of Egon's arm, pulling him back and anchoring him there. "Uh uh, Spengs. You're not worming out of this. If you have damning information on Calistan, now's the time to share."

"We need the money," Egon protested dully.

"Not if it means getting involved in anything illegal or unsavory. Give me some credit. I wouldn't compromise my ethics - or force you to compromise yours - over money."

For what seemed like an eternity, Egon sat there collecting his thoughts. Peter was about to prompt him again for some insight but hesitated when he noticed that Egon was trying to speak... only he was having a great deal of trouble getting the words out.

"I ran a background check on Nathan Calistan, previously known as John Stantford. Tried and convicted for drug trafficking fifteen years ago, served a three-and-a-half year sentence in prison. Eight years ago, arrested and charged for aggravated assault with a weapon. Directly after that, he returned to prison to serve six months for stalking and uttering death threats. Since that time, he has accumulated parking fines, speeding tickets and was recently audited for neglecting to pay his income taxes."

"Oh boy..." Peter exhaled sharply, beginning to see red himself. He'd welcomed that kind of shady character into their home? Endangered his friends? Conducted business with? "Dammit, Egon, why didn't you say something earlier?"

"Other than participating in a suspected illegal pornography ring, he has not been involved in any serious crimes during the past seven years. And you were so adamant on taking him on as an investor..."

"If I had known about this..."

"What would you have done?" Egon challenged Peter with both his question and the intensity of the searching look he gave his friend.

"I'll tell you what I wouldn't have done. I wouldn't have finalized the deal between us with that contract." Raking his fingers through his messy brown hair in exasperation, Peter gave up with a groan of defeat. "Too late for regrets now. He has a copy of the contract. It's settled." Still, the irksome feeling that Peter was neglecting to notice something else nagged at the back of his mind. "Is that all?" But Egon only nodded in response. If Egon had wanted to tell him more... "I'm beat. What say we give our brains a rest?"

"A reasonable idea," Egon agreed.

"Staying or going?" Peter puffed up one of his three pillows as a means of invitation and began to rearrange the sheets and comforter.

"I suppose there's no sense in returning to my own bed." Egon lay down at the place that Peter had arranged for him, drawing the sheets and comforter up to his chin. Even in the summer he tended to feel chilly during the night.

"Nope. That would be illogical." Peter flicked off the bedside lamp and flopped down beside Egon, steering clear of the sheets that would cause him to sweat in his sleep. "Goodnight, Egon."

"Goodnight, Peter."

To be continued…

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