The first time he woke, Peter was vaguely surprised at how comfortable he was...considering he'd been kidnapped. In his time as a Ghostbuster, Peter Venkman had been through a great deal, including being captured by some rather unsavory characters, living and not, but this was not at all what he expected when a cross-rip opened on the sidewalk and sucked him through. The surface he was lying on was well padded, the temperature was mild, no foul stenches or horrific screams drifted past him on the air.

Well, this is a first, he thought blearily as he surfaced from the transition shock which had incapacitated him. Snatched by a kinder, gentler ghost. George Bush would be proud.

Long experience had taught Peter never to give anything away to an adversary, so he played dead for a few moments while he listened with every fiber of his being. Nothing. No sounds of someone (or something) moving in the background, not even the faint whisper of someone breathing. Just a very faint tinkling that might have been a distant wind chime.

So far, so good. Let's see if we're not in Kansas anymore.

He opened one eyelid a bare slit to survey his surroundings. Still no one. He slowly opened both eyes to make certain. The "room" he was in had walls that appeared to be made of slowly drifting mist with faint, pastel blues and lavenders swirling through it. Peter slowly turned his head. He was lying on something like a featherbed covering a slab which probably would come to about hip height on him when standing. As far as he could see, nothing was restraining him.

Okaaaay, definitely not Kansas. Well, the coast is clear. Time for Petey to blow this pop stand.

Peter started to sit up...and was stopped. Some invisible force pressed him back down into the padding.

"This is so not good," he muttered as he began to struggle, testing his unseen bonds. Whatever it was, it was strangely gentle but overpowering. Peter found he could shift his position slightly on the slab and even slowly bring a hand to his face to scratch his nose, but any attempt to sit up or scoot over to the edge of the platform was met with resistance.

"You are awake."

Peter's head jerked around to see a dim outline of a form through the mist. He glared at it as it came closer.

"Hail, Master of the Obvious," he snapped with his trademark sarcasm. "I'm awake and I'm mad as hell. If you don't want to see me royally pissed off, let me off this oversized pillow. I am not now, nor have I ever been, into the bondage scene."

The being that stepped into the "room" didn't look very threatening compared to the goopers the Ghostbusters had faced in the past. He estimated it was a little taller than Egon and twice as slender. But it wasn't human. The head topping the flowing, cream-colored robes resembled that of a lizard with jewel-toned scales weaving simple, elegant patterns across its skin. A ridge of white hair ran like a horse's mane from the crown of its head and down its neck. Its teeth were pointed but small, and the long-fingered, scaled hands that peeked from the sleeves of the robe ended in well-trimmed, blunt claws. No, it didn't look that bad, but Peter knew that looks were deceiving, especially when the spirit world was involved.

The entity slowly walked over to the platform and sat down on it next to Peter. It folded its hands in its lap and looked down at the floor. For a moment, Peter thought it looked ashamed.

"I am sorry," it said almost in a whisper.

Peter's eyes narrowed to slits. "Not half as sorry as you're gonna be if you don't let me up. You realize who you're dealing with here, Barbizilla?"

"You are called Peter Venkman," the creature replied. It took a deep breath and looked up into Peter's face. Large, amber eyes met green. "You are what my people would call a teh'cherin. A hunter of fell spirits."

"That's Ghostbuster to you, bunky."

"You are one of a team of teh'cherin," the creature continued as if it didn't notice the interruption. "Of the four, you are wisest in the ways of the mind, knowledgeable in the hidden workings of the soul..."

"Nice to see you've done your homework. Have you reached the chapter on the world of hurt you're gonna be in when the other 'teh'cherin' find me?"

The entity's mouth twitched, almost like it was suppressing a smile, but only for a fraction of a second. Its shoulders drooped and it shook its head as if it were readying itself for an unpleasant task it had been putting off.

"You are strong and stubborn. The bond you have with your fellow teh'cherin is strong. I hope it will be enough."

A chill ran down Peter's spine as the look in the creature's eyes hardened. "Uhhh...enough for what?" he asked as he discretely tested the bonds holding him to the platform. As the creature stood and moved to stand behind his head, Peter increased his efforts, but the bonds tightened. They didn't hurt, but now he was denied any movement at all. The entity gently brushed a strand of hair from Peter's eyes and looked down at him. Through his fear, Peter almost thought he saw pain in the amber depths.

"I am sorry. Please believe me when I say that, but I do not ask forgiveness. What I am about to do to you is unforgivable."

"What?!" Peter yelped as cool, scaled fingers closed around his head. "What are you gonna do? Leggo of me!"

"I am sorry, but there is no choice."

And white-hot pain exploded through him.

***

At a particularly loud yell from downstairs, Egon looked up from his latest mold experiment. It had been a quiet Sunday. No 'busts had been scheduled, and the weather was quite balmy for mid-autumn. The four Ghostbusters figuratively scattered to the four winds to take advantage of it. Ensconced in his lab, Egon had absently noted the sounds of people coming and going all morning but nothing seemed pressing enough to take him away from this particular attempt at hybridization. He turned back to his work, but another shout of exasperation jarred his attention again. This time the physicist frowned. That was Ray shouting...over what, he could not imagine. In any case, high-decibel vocalizations of stress were more the style of Dr. Venkman than Dr. Stantz. His attention now firmly diverted from the mold, Egon also noticed his stomach was loudly protesting the fact that it had been entirely too long since breakfast. He checked the clock, half past three. Definitely time for a break and perhaps a breath of fresh air

He tidied up his workbench and made his way down the spiral staircase to the second level. After throwing together a quick sandwich, he peeked into the rec room from which Ray's voice (at the moment, a frustrated murmur) was coming. Winston was lying on the couch, his latest mystery novel lying open on his chest apparently forgotten as he watched Ray clicking the mouse of the newly-designated game computer with fervor. It used to be the main lab computer until Egon and Ray finally convinced Peter that the processor was not powerful enough for their latest research programs. When Peter had finally caved in, this one had been relegated to the rec room for games, Net surfing and Ray's attempts to "drag Peter, kicking and screaming if necessary, into the twentieth century". The latter project had only been minimally successful, but the old processor was doing quite well in its second life.

"What the..." Ray suddenly snapped at the screen. "No, you're supposed to rescue him, not eat him!"

Egon's eyebrows lifted toward his hairline. He couldn't see the screen from his angle and that non sequitur made absolutely no sense. Winston noticed him standing in the doorway and shot him an amused grin.

"Hey, m'man." He pointed with his chin toward the sandwich the scientist held. "Finally come down for lunch? I was about to organize a search team to go after you."

"What, pray tell, is Ray up to?"

"He's playing 'Black & White'."

"And that is?"

Winston laced his fingers together behind his head and grinned. "It's a new computer game where you get to play a god. Ray's having a little trouble controlling his 'divine servant'."

Just then, Ray pounded on the desk in frustration. "No, no, no! Bad monkey! No pooping on the villagers!"

Winston slapped a hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh while Egon's eyebrows rose even higher.

"So Ray has a divine servant that defecates on the Faithful," he murmured to Winston after a long pause. He took a deep breath and chuckled quietly. "Only Ray. Sometimes I worry about him. Has Peter returned yet?"

"Nope. He said he was going to run out to check on Mrs. Faversham today. May be a while before he gets back if she has some chores that need doing."

"Stupid monkey," Ray muttered as he saved his game and quit the program. Only then did he notice the other two Ghostbusters in the room. "Oh. Hi, guys. Have you been waiting for the computer or something?"

Egon smiled quietly. "Not at all, Raymond. Have you successfully housebroken your Holy Primate of Doom?"

Ray blushed slightly. "Well, he's not really a monkey. Just kinda looks like one. If I could only figure out how to keep him from eating all my worshipers."

"Yes, that would be a distressing problem for a deity," Egon said with a twinkle in his eye. "Have you considered having him neutered?"

Winston burst out laughing at that. "I can just see it now! Ray Almighty leafing through the Heavenly Yellow Pages trying to find a place to 'fix' a holy monkey."

"Guys!" Ray groaned, but couldn't help but join in the laughter. It would have likely escalated from there if the phone had not rung. Winston made a long arm to snag the receiver.

"Ghostbusters Central," he said cheerfully into the mouthpiece.

"Winston! Thank God you're still there. Are the others all right?"

Winston blinked as he recognized the voice and his adrenals went into overdrive. "Mrs. Faversham? What's wrong, ma'am?"

"Oh, it's so terrible!" Mrs. Faversham said, her voice trembling with fear. "Something took Peter!"

***

The second time he woke, Peter was in considerable pain. His entire head throbbed in time with his pulse, the muscles at the back of his neck felt like they were caught in a vice and two sharp pains had settled behind his eyes as if someone had stuck a pair of icepicks through his skull. Peter had experienced a fair share of headaches from migraines, concussions and even as an aftereffect of possession, but this was leaps and bounds beyond any of them.

Ray had better not have scheduled another 8 a.m. bust. This has got to be the Mother of All Migraines, he groaned to himself. God, my hair hurts! I wonder if I can try for the Tylenol on my own without my head falling off my neck. Better not risk it.

"Hey, Spengs," he called softly, firmly telling his skull that it would not pop off like the lid of a pressure cooker at the sound. "Mind fetching some Tylenol for your buddy? My head's reaching critical mass here."

No answer. Just the faint sound of chimes in the distance which, to his sensitized ears, sounded like Quasimodo having a field day in the belltower. Memory started to trickle back.

"Egon?" Peter called a little louder. When there was still no answer, he braced himself and cracked open an eye. The dim light refracting through the surrounding mists impacted his retina and sent his pain levels soaring into the stratosphere. After a heartfelt (though muted) "Damn!" he squeezed his eyelids shut again.

Just my luck, it wasn't a dream.

His bonds had loosened, but Peter had absolutely no desire to shift position. Any motion sent waves of pain and nausea through him. However, he did manage to lift his hand up enough to check his watch through slitted eyes.

Okay, it's been about two hours. Mrs. Faversham probably saw me get nabbed, and she would have called the guys right away. Shouldn't be much longer. As soon as they run down the right frequency, they'll fire up the ole' dimensional portal and have me out of here in time for supper. Not that I'll be eating much with my stomach twisting like this, but what the hell.

"You are awake."

Venkman's eyes flew open, ignoring the pain in his fury. "No shit, Sherlock!" he snarled at the entity who had just returned. "Is this the best you can do? I've had worse hangovers."

The creature drifted over to the platform and placed a cool, pebbly-skinned hand on his forehead. Peter batted it off and tried to glare and squint at the same time. The creature's lips twitched in a sad half-smile.

"You are well named. Peter. Stone. And strong and stubborn as stone you are."

"Yeah, Yoda. And annoying, sadistic bastard are you!"

The entity winced and looked away. "The pain is an unavoidable consequence of what I must do. Believe me when I say I find no pleasure in it."

Peter snorted and rolled his eyes. "Well, what an amazing coincidence. And I don't get off on being in pain. Major misunderstanding, pal. It's okay, could happen to anyone. Can I go home now?"

The creature shook its head, and Peter felt the restraints tighten once again. "I am sorry."

"I'm warning you, Mr. Sorry," Peter said trying to cover his fear with bravado. "My buddies will be storming in here any minute. If you want any chance of not spending the next few eons in the containment grid, you'd better let me go like yesterday."

The entity looked down with a mix of resignation, dread and determination. "I saw you looking at your time keeping device just now. You must know that time does not march at the same pace in my realm as it does in your world. I will have finished my task with you long before the teh'cherin find a way to pierce the veil."

Peter looked up in horror as the creature gently grasped his head again.

"I am sorry," the entity whispered.

And white-hot agony exploded through him.

***

Winston had pushed the speed of sound in their mad dash to the elderly widow's house in the suburbs. While he concentrated on getting them there post haste and in one piece, Egon poured over their field copy of Tobin's and Ray kept trying to reach Janine on Ecto's mobile phone. Each time her answering machine picked up their hearts sank a little lower. What if Peter hadn't been the only one taken? Just as they'd pulled up to the old Victorian house and piled out the mobile rang. Three hands reached for the receiver, but Winston reached it first.

"Ghostbusters mobile," he said hopefully. "I hope that's you, Janine." Then his eyes lit up and he gave Egon and Ray an "okay" sign. "Glad to hear your voice, girlfriend. We were starting to think whatever nabbed Pete got you, too. Here's the situation..."

Confident that Janine was safe for the moment, Egon and Ray jogged up to the house, cutting across the lawn to avoid the sidewalk where Peter had vanished and hopefully any ectoplasmic traps left behind. Mrs. Faversham met them on the porch.

"Oh, Ray! Egon! It was so horrible!" Mrs. Faversham cried, holding her hands to her face in distress. Ray forced a reassuring smile and put his arm around her.

"It'll be okay, Mrs. Faversham," he said soothingly. "We'll get Peter back in no time. Won't we, Egon."

"Of that there is no doubt," Egon replied with a determined edge to his voice. Half his attention was already directed at the P.K.E. meter which he slowly panned across the front yard. "Just tell us what happened, ma'am."

Mrs. Faversham relaxed slightly and looked down into the yard. "Well...Peter had come over earlier. Actually, he was already here when I got home from church." Even through her distress, she managed a faint smile. "He had come over to rake the leaves for me, but you know how he is. He would never just admit it."

Ray grinned, sneaking a look at the leaf-free lawn. "No, he never would. What was his story this time?"

"Something about losing a bet. Oh, Peter's been such a dear friend to me. And if helping me has gotten him hurt..."

"Now don't think that way, Mrs. Faversham," Ray chided gently. "This isn't your fault."

"But what if it was...something my father called up?"

"You can rest easy on that, Mrs. Faversham," Egon said. "The entity your father summoned is still safe in the containment unit, and I detect nothing coming from the house itself." The meter beeped softly but steadily as he targeted it at the sidewalk. "In fact, the only signal is coming from over there."

Mrs. Faversham's eyes widened as she looked where the physicist indicated. "Yes, that's where it happened. After Peter had finished, we had some tea and he would have to hurry to catch the bus if he wanted to get home before supper. Just as he was leaving..." She paused, trying to put the memory into words. "Something opened up right where my walkway met the sidewalk. It was as if someone had taken a pool of water and stood it on its edge. It wrapped itself around Peter like a blanket. Then it folded in on itself and vanished!" She raised one hand to her mouth. "It all happened so fast. Peter didn't have a chance to escape. He was just...gone."

Ray and Egon exchanged a look. "Did you see anything through the portal?" Ray asked. "Was there anything on the other side?"

Mrs. Faversham shook her head. "I'm not sure. It seemed so distorted. Maybe."

Egon nodded grimly. "Stay with Ray and see if you can remember anything else, ma'am. I'll go take some readings at the site." He strode down the walkway, his meter held out in front, and made his way toward the area where Peter had disappeared. Halfway there, Winston met him.

"Got something, Egon?" he asked.

"Perhaps. How's Janine?"

"Mad as hell and ready to kick the ass of every demon in the Netherworld," Winston grinned. "She wanted to come straight here, but I managed to convince her that we needed her at headquarters. I asked her to postpone tomorrow's busts and get the trans-dimensional portal ready to go. But she told me in no uncertain terms that we were not leaving her behind on this one."

"Indeed."

"Yeah. Her exact words were, `Just try to leave me out, and I'll put all three of you in traction.'"

Egon allowed himself a small smile as he slowly inched his way forward, taking readings all the while. "You did warn her she might be the next target? If whatever took Peter is only waiting to catch us alone..."

"Way ahead of you, m'man," Winston interrupted smoothly. "I told Janine to throw on a pack the moment she gets to the firehouse, and she said she'd snag an extra meter and keep it hot just in case something opens up at headquarters."

"Excellent idea. In fact, an attack of that kind may be the best way for us to find the right frequency." Egon frowned down at the PKE meter. "Whatever did this is very good at covering its tracks. These residuals are indicative of a powerful but very localized cross-rip. However, these readings are so jumbled I'm having difficulty getting a clear pattern." Suddenly, he froze and knelt down on the concrete. "Hmmm..."

Winston looked over his shoulder with a grin. "I know that `hmmm'. What'd you find?"

"A very faint residual. Right here." Egon's finger traced a line across the walkway just short of the cross-rip site. "It seems to be a separate entity from the rest of the residuals...but it's connected."

"Like a tripwire on a booby trap," Winston said grimly.

"Precisely. What puzzles me is how something so complex as this trap could be created so quickly. There could not have been more than three hours between the time Mrs. Faversham arrived and the time Peter left."

Winston looked around the yard, then at the surrounding neighborhood...something clicked. "Hey, did Pete come to do some yardwork for Mrs. Faversham?"

Egon looked up, surprised. "Why yes. How did you know?"

Winston indicated the pristine yard and the leaf-littered neighbors with a smug smile. "Elementary, my dear Egon. What I'm saying is, if Pete was gonna do raking, he probably didn't use the sidewalk at all. The tool shed is over there." He pointed at a low building at the edge of the property. "He would have cut directly over there and probably didn't walk through this place till he left."

"And if this `tripwire' was set to Peter's electrometabolic frequency," Egon said with growing dread, "it could have been set up days ahead of time."

"Which means whoever's behind this knew he'd be here and we probably wouldn't be." Winston finished, looking around like he expected an attack to come at any time. "I don't know about you, Egon, but I just got a baaaad feeling about this. Someone knows us way too well. Gonna be much longer with those readings?"

"Not much longer. But I will also need to do a round of the perimeter and the neighboring houses. We need to make sure it is safe for Mrs. Faversham to stay here. If I find anything else, we'll bring her with us."

Winston nodded fiercely. "Got ya', Egon. I'll tell Ray to help her get some things together just in case. Don't wander off till I get back. If the bastard's done its homework this well, it may be waiting for you."

***

The third time he woke, Peter was filled with dread. Not because awakening would mean more pain. No, by this time the pain had become so constant and consistent that he could almost ignore it. His thoughts were scattered, drifting, disjointed, but as they started to piece themselves together he started to sense a little of what was really going on. The white-hot energy being poured through his mind and body was doing something to him. Like floodwaters pressing against a levee, they were wearing away at...at what? The psychologist didn't know, but as he floated further into painful consciousness, terror filled him at the thought of whatever it was giving way.

A cool hand lightly touched his face. "You are awake."

Peter whimpered and tried to pull away. The hand withdrew but not the presence. "This will be the last time. However, I know that is cold comfort to you."

The last time. The "levee" would break. He would break. And there was nothing he could do about it. Where were the guys? How long had it been here...and there? Did they even know what happened to him? Peter cracked open exquisitely sensitive eyes to look at his tormentor.

"Why?" he croaked.

The entity groaned. "I am prevented from giving you even that comfort. You will know the reason eventually. But for now...necessity drives me."

Peter made one last desperate effort to pull away from the gentle but merciless hands. "No...please..."

"I am sorry. You can never know how sorry."

White-hot pain exploded through him...and something broke.

***

"Yeah...I know it's inconvenient but we've had something come up," Janine rolled her eyes at the ceiling as the third client she'd called (and the most irate one so far) railed at the injustice of having to live with a Class Two fixed repeater in her pantry for one more day. "Look, lady!" she finally snapped. "Even Ghostbusters have emergencies. We'll get your moan-and-groaner as soon as possible." Janine jerked the phone away from her ear as the client slammed down the phone on her end. "Hmph! And Dr. V. says my phone etiquette needs work."

The thought brought full-fledged worry back to the forefront of her mind. Peter Venkman, her nemesis and surrogate big brother was who-knew-where having who-knew-what done to him. She brushed a bit of lint from the sleeve of the jumpsuit she'd thrown on the moment she reached headquarters and shrugged her shoulders to settle the proton pack she wore a little more comfortably. Everything in Egon's lab was ready to roll. Janine had even pulled the destabilizer out of storage in case they wound up going against a demon. Fortunately, Slimer was off on his daily round of the neighborhood's garbage cans so she hadn't needed to deal with his panicking at the news. Now all she had to do was wait.

Waiting, she thought sourly. Half of my job is waiting for these clowns. But not this time. I want a piece of the creep who did this.

She sat down on the edge of her desk (the chair was out of the question with a proton pack on), pulled her thrower and absently checked the settings. They didn't need it any more than the last five times she'd checked, but it was just something to keep her hands busy and work off nerves.

And once we get Dr. V. back, I'm going to kick his ass for worrying us like this. I swear, Peter must have a psychic "Kick Me" sign on his back or something. He's almost as bad as Egon.

Janine holstered her thrower and picked up the appointment book from her desk. She'd managed to reach all tomorrow's clients but one, and the last had not been home the first time she'd called. However, just as she was starting to dial the number, the activated P.K.E. meter she'd left on the desk went off like a three alarm fire.

"Awww, crap!"

Janine jumped off the desk and pulled her thrower in one smooth motion. Slowly, she turned in place, panning her thrower around the ground floor of the converted firehouse, determined not to be caught off guard.

"You guys had better be on your way back," she muttered. "I think all hell just broke loose."

About eight feet in front of her desk, the air started to waver like a heat-mirage on a summer day. Only a nanosecond after she noticed the distortion, it took on a golden tinge and seemed to solidify slightly. Ripples chased each other across the surface like water. It reminded Janine of the wormhole entrance in Stargate only it was white and yellow instead of blue. She leveled her thrower and nudged the control knob up to maximum power.

"That's it, you slime-sucking creep." A feral grin crept over her face. "Come and take your medicine."

But before she could fire, the portal's surface went transparent to reveal...

"PETER!"

Beyond the rippling surface of the cross-rip, the psychologist was cradled in the arms of a tall, reptilian creature. Janine's eyes quickly scanned the motionless form. No obvious wounds, but Venkman was unconscious and that was never a good thing to be after being kidnapped. The secretary angled her thrower up to aim at the entity's face.

"Drop him, buddy. Or face the Wrath of Melnitz," she snapped, her eyes narrowing.

The creature sighed. "I will do that if you wish, but I fear that a fall onto a hard surface would not much improve his condition."

"Ha, ha. Then lay him down gently, Mr. Literal. And no sudden moves or you'll be eating protons."

"My purpose here is to return him to you. However, I may not pass into your world."

"Oh, so you want me to jaunt over there to the other side and take him from you?" Janine answered, her voice thick with sarcasm. "Think again, buddy. First, he's too heavy for me to carry. Second, I don't trust you as far as I can throw you." But I'll do it if I have to, she thought to herself. At least Egon will have the readings to find the damn place and bring in the cavalry.

"There is no need of that," the entity said soothingly. It slowly lowered Peter's feet to the floor and shifted its grip so that it was now holding him under his arms. "Come closer. I will hand him to you. You have my word I will not attempt to pull you through."

"And I'm supposed to trust you just like that."

"I have done nothing worthy of your trust," the creature replied, shaking its head. "However, I cannot maintain this portal forever. Unless you wish to add a concussion to Peter's difficulties..."

Janine didn't like it. Whoooo boy, did she ever not like it. But she realized there was no choice. If she fired, she would most likely hit Peter who now was shielding most of the entity's body. If she did manage to hit it directly on the head and it was in direct control of the cross-rip, the portal might collapse trapping Peter in whatever dimension he'd been pulled into. She nodded reluctantly.

"Okay, but no funny stuff."

Janine inched forward, her thrower still aimed at the creature's head. When she reached the cross-rip, she let go with her left hand to reach for Peter. At that moment, the entity shoved the unconscious Ghostbuster through the portal. Janine dropped the thrower in a desperate attempt to control his descent. As they tumbled to the floor the cross-rip folded in on itself and flashed out of existence. Janine let loose a string of profanity as she struggled out from under Peter's limp form.

At least I managed to keep him from hitting his head. Peter's gonna owe me big time for those bruises on my backside.

She rolled Peter over and felt for his pulse. It was rapid but strong. Gently, she tapped his cheek. "Come on, Dr. V. It's not nice to worry me like this. Hello? Anyone home?"

Peter let out a faint groan and moved his head slightly, but that was all the response she could get from him. "Hang on, Dr. V. I'm gonna get some help."

Janine lunged for her desk and dialed 911 for an ambulance. After she confirmed the paramedics were on their way, she hung up and started dialing Ecto-1's mobile number.

"...uuuurrrrhhhh..."

Janine jumped and dropped the phone. She spun around to see Peter moving feebly. "Peter!"

Peter managed to roll on his side and turned his head toward the sound. "J-janine?" He opened his eyes, then quickly squeezed them shut with a strangled cry of pain. Janine darted back to his side.

"Don't try to move, Dr. V. Don't you worry. Help's on the way."

Peter fumbled about till he found her hand and squeezed it tight, as if reassuring himself she was real. "I'm...home?"

"Yeah, you're home. A good thing too," she said, keeping her tone light. "It's your night to cook supper."

"No rest...for the wicked," he riposted with a ghost of a smile. Then his face froze as if he realized something. "The guys! Where are the guys? Are they..." his eyes flashed open which brought a fresh wave of pain. He buried his face in his hands with a moan.

"Shhhh..." Janine soothed. She sat down on the floor and gently pulled his head into her lap. "The guys are fine. They're at Mrs. Faversham's house. I was just about to call them. What about you? You look like something Slimer dragged in."

It took everything she had to keep her distress out of her tone and manage even an approximation of their usual banter. But it worked. Peter relaxed just a bit.

"That bad, huh? Light's too bright...headache."

Janine finger-combed his sweat matted hair out of his face. "Just relax till the ambulance gets here, Dr. V."

"Don' like hospitals."

"What makes you think you've got a choice? I want a doctor to back me up when I say there's nothing wrong with you that keeps you from doing your share of the chores."

Peter smiled slightly. "Slave...driver..." With that, he relaxed into a light doze.

Janine smiled down at him with a mix of worry and fondness that she would never let Peter see himself. "Don't you ever forget it," she murmured as she stroked the tangled, brown hair. "And if you tell anyone about this, I'll strangle you." She cautiously leaned back to snag the phone dangling from her desk and call the others.