"Dr. Spengler?" said the blonde secretary, holding out her hand as she greeted him in the building's attractive lobby. "I'm Mr. Hart's secretary, Elaine. I've been expecting you."

Egon shook her hand distractedly, and mumbled something indistinct.

Elaine took in his tense, worried expression, but didn't comment. "If you'll come this way, I'll show you to the conference room that has been set up for you."

The physicist followed her purple-clad form down the corridor wordlessly. As they got in the elevator, she cleared her throat and said, "Will it be just you this afternoon, Dr. Spengler, or should I be expecting the others later?"

"Just me."

She led him into a large conference room which had been set up with four pairs of chairs, with a pad and paper on one of each pair. Picking up a folder from a small table in the corner, she handed it to Egon and said, "Mr. Hart spoke to Miss Whittier this morning; these are the notes he jotted down from their conversation. We should have copies of some newspaper files for you arriving by courier shortly."

"Thank you," Egon said, opening the folder immediately. While he looked at the notes inside, the secretary discreetly rearranged three of the pairs of chairs and picked up the extra pads and pens.

"Is there anything else I can get you, before I send in the first contractor?" she asked. "Would you like a cup of coffee? There's a fresh pot just down the hall."

"Uh, no." Egon looked up, frowning, from the folder. "Oh, excuse me, I might be getting a telephone call. If it's Raymond or Winston, or from the hospital, could you come get me, please?"

"Of course," she replied. "Raymond or Winston, or from the hospital," Elaine said, writing it down on one of the pads she had collected. After a moment's hesitation, she asked, "Dr. Spengler, is there something I should tell Mr. Hart for you?"

"Or Janine, our secretary," he added distractedly, still looking through the notes in the folder. "Do you know if Mr. Hart has any as-built drawings of the Heathley house?"

"I'll find out for you." He didn't see her shake her head as she left the conference room.

When Peter Venkman got back down to the third floor, he realized what had been bothering him before. There was no peeling paint on the pale green walls, no dirt on the soft, bright green carpet. "Now this is beyond weird," he complained as he surveyed the well-cared-for hallway.

He opened a couple of doors at random; both rooms were neat and fully furnished. "Yuck! What ugly wallpaper!"

He closed the door to the second room, and contemplated his options. He sighed. "Well, I've been up, so I guess that leaves down..."

As he started down the stairs, he eyed the burnished railing uneasily. On the way up, it had been dull and pitted; now lovingly polished wood slid easily under his hand. He rolled his eyes and hummed the Twilight Zone theme, then he shivered again; it was getting colder the further down the steps he went.

Stopping on the second floor, he called out again. "Ray? Are you here?" This time he didn't really expect an answer, but he had to keep trying. It was too quiet in this cold, empty house.

The psychologist poked his head into several rooms at random on the second floor, leaving the doors open as he passed. "Ray? Egon? Winston?" he called. "Anybody home?" This floor, too, looked like someone had just finished cleaning it.

"Grumble, grumble, grumble," he said with a scowl as he started down the stairs again, this time to the first floor. "I better find out something pretty soon, because I'm starting to get really ticked!" Half-way down the stairs, his teeth began to chatter.

Standing in front of the nurses' station, Dr. Li took the vial gingerly from Winston Zeddemore. "I'm not very fond of spiders," she said with an apologetic grimace in his direction.

"Join the club," he replied heavily.

Regaining her usual professional air, the petite Oriental held the vial up to the light. "This is the same kind of spider as the one which bit Dr. Venkman?"

"Yeah, I think so." I sure hope so, he added under his breath.

Dr. Li looked around the corridor and then turned to the motherly-appearing woman behind the counter. "Janet, where is the bug man?"

"He went to get a cup of coffee, Doctor," the nurse replied, gesturing down the hall.

Dr. Li sighed. "Here." She handed over the vial containing the spider. "Find him. Give him this. Tell him I want his report yesterday."

"Yes, Doctor," the nurse answered, taking the vial carefully between two fingers.

"Mr. Zeddemore, please follow me. Dr. Venkman's room is this way." Dr. Li gave him an odd look as she spoke. "You may wish you were wearing long johns." She started off down the corridor.

Winston followed her, a sinking feeling in his stomach. "Pete's room is cold?"

"Yes. We thought at first it was something wrong with the air conditioning in the unit he was in, so we moved him to a unit further down the hall. As soon as we moved him," she added grimly, "the first unit returned to normal temperature, and the second unit turned frigid." She stopped outside the glass door to the ICU cubicle. "I assume it has something to do with ... ghost busting?"

Winston sighed. "Probably. Can I go in?" He gestured in to where Peter lay, among tubes and wires and monitors.

"Yes," she replied, but she caught his arm before he could move. "Can you do something about the cold?" she asked pointedly. "It's not exactly good for Dr. Venkman, and it's ... disconcerting for the staff."

"Uh, we're working on it," Winston answered. At her doubtful look, he added, "Really! Ray and Egon will be back as soon as they find out some stuff. They'll know what to do." I hope, he thought grimly.

Dr. Li didn't look particularly satisfied, but she let go of his arm, and he went into the intensive care unit.

Pushing the glass door open, he stood just inside for a moment. Then, face bleak, he approached the still figure in the hospital bed, shivering slightly at the icy feel of the air.

Peter's hand, when Winston picked it up from under the blankets, felt glacially cold, and the psychologist's face was pale and shuttered, his lips still an unhealthy bluish hue. "Peter?" He got no response, so Zeddemore squeezed his friend's fingers, and tried again. "Hey, Pete!"

There was no change in the slow beeping of the heart monitor, no change in the infrequent, shallow breaths drawing in oxygen through the airway down Venkman's throat. "Oh, man," moaned Winston as he watched for any sign of movement under the closed eyelids. "What have you gotten yourself into this time?"

Carefully, he put Peter's hand back under the covers and sat down in the straight chair beside the bed. "I'm sorry, man," he said. "I'm really sorry." He folded his hands, and looked at the floor. "I should have come upstairs sooner. There must have been something I could have done." He rubbed one thumb over the other, time after time. "Why didn't we both zap the thing? I could have directed my stream once I saw where you were aiming."

The black man sat silently for a moment, then glanced up again at the man in the bed. There was still no change. "Damn it!"

Peter descended the last marble step to the first floor, lips and fingernails blue. Shivering, he stuck his hands in the pockets of his brown jumpsuit and looked around.

"Huh," he said. "Ray thought this place was beautiful before; he'd really get off on it now." If the psychologist hadn't been so cold and so angry, he would have wanted to be careful walking across the glossy wooden floor.

"Yeah, right," he snorted, and strode deliberately across to the front door of the house and yanked it open, thinking to see if Ecto-1 were still parked at the curb.

He didn't really expect to see the Ghostbusters' vehicle, but he wasn't prepared for what he did find beyond the door. "Gah!" he exclaimed, rocking back on one heel to keep from falling into the swirling gray fog where the front steps and the sidewalk should be.

He slammed the door quickly, whirling around, and leaned against it. "All right," he shouted through chattering teeth, "that does it! Now I'm really ticked!" He blew out a breath and straightened up. "Whoever it is who's playing this game," Peter bellowed, "I'm coming to get you!"

There was no reply, still no sound in the old house. It was much too cold to stand still, so he stomped through the first floor, furious, flinging doors open as he passed. Peter found nothing of interest until he reached the library, a huge comfortable room with high ceilings and walls full of beautifully-bound books.

Across the luxuriantly-carpeted room, a fire burned in the fireplace, the flames crackling and dancing. Venkman was so entranced with the idea of possible warmth, he almost didn't see the figure ensconced in an easy chair to the left of the fireplace as he started in.

A middle-aged man regarded him through narrowed eyes. Anger seemed to radiate from him in waves. There were marks in the carpet behind the chair, as if it had been dragged. Unfriendly-looking type, Peter thought, putting his hands on his hips. Now we'll find out something.

Aloud he said, "All right, you. Who are you and what have you done with Egon, Ray, and Winston?" He sounded very belligerent.

The man stood up and faced him confrontationally. "This is my home. Who are you, and what are you doing here?" he said in icy tones.

Peter scowled, realizing that the blazing fire was putting out no heat that he could feel. "Oh, I think you have a better idea about that than I do, don't you, Bunky?"

When Ray, Janine, and Slimer arrived at the hospital and went upstairs, they found Winston slumped in a chair in the waiting room, staring dejectedly down the hall toward the intensive care unit where Peter lay. He was so deep in thought he never heard their approach, and jumped when Ray spoke his name.

The black man stood up abruptly when he realized who was there, and jerked his head in the direction of the cubicle. "It's down here," he said. He led the way, and then stood in front of the door.

"Did you find anything?" Winston demanded.

Wordlessly, Ray shook his head, looking over Zeddemore's shoulder.

"Peter?" said the ghost pathetically. He oozed through the glass to hover over the comatose Ghostbuster.

"How's Dr. V?" Janine asked, following the direction of Ray's gaze. "Is there any change - oh!" she exclaimed as she got her first look at the still figure in the glass cubicle beyond. She and the psychologist might squabble often, but there was never any real malice in their verbal skirmishes.

"What about the spider?" Ray asked.

"Harmless," Winston replied grimly.

The occultist sighed, and, reaching past Winston, put up a hand to push the door open.

"Did you get told that it's cold in there?" Winston said to prepare his friend for what he would encounter inside.

"Someone called the firehouse with a message from Dr. Li," Janine said, nodding distractedly.

"Come on," said Ray with another sigh. "We need to take some PKE readings." He paused. "Have you heard from Egon yet?"

"No, not yet." Winston raised his eyebrows. "Why two PKE meters?" he asked, following Ray into Peter's room.

"This one's set for Peter's biorhythms," Ray replied, holding up one of the meters in question and activating it. "Oh, no!" he exclaimed in dismay.

"What's the matter?" demanded their red-headed secretary, who had also followed him in.

"I expected everything to be slower, but the pattern should still be there," Stantz explained earnestly. "It's like something is - I don't know - almost masking Peter's biorhythms!"

"Bad ghost," muttered Slimer unhappily.

Winston took the other PKE meter from Ray and activated it, also aiming it toward Peter. He let out a low whistle. "Look at this, man! No wonder we didn't get anything when we went back to the house!"

"My name," said the angry man, "is Jedediah Heathley. It is most certainly not 'Bunky'." He stood very straight and eyed Peter Venkman with distaste.

"Jedediah, huh? Any relation to poor old Jonas?"

Jedediah's frown deepened. "Jonas is my son," he replied in frosty tones. "Are you acquainted with him, to speak in such familiar terms?"

"I'm a Ghostbuster," Peter said with a shrug. "We're often on familiar terms with the dead." He took a step forward across the carpeted library floor, scowling. "But we're getting off the subject, Bunky - where are my friends? Why am I stuck in this drafty mausoleum with a nasty old grump?" Venkman was still very angry himself.

"Jonas..." Heathley sat down abruptly. "How did my son die?"

Peter raised an eyebrow at the question, but he answered readily enough. "Natural causes, I heard. Old age, probably."

"Old age?" A hint of a quaver had come into Heathley's voice as he echoed that phrase. "Would you be so good as to tell me what year this is?"

"1993."

Heathley visibly flinched. "So long..." he murmured, putting a hand over his eyes.

Peter tilted his head to one side and regarded the man. "You wanna tell me about it? I'm Peter Venkman, psychologist extraordinaire," he added with a bow and a flourish. "Maybe I can help." The flippancy was absent from his voice during that last statement, and his gaze was very direct.

Jedediah Heathley looked up at him, and, after a moment, waved Peter to another chair on the right side of the fireplace. "Please," he said. "I've been angry for so long..." He raised one eyebrow sardonically. "And you are the only one here."

"Well, I like that," said Peter indignantly, making no move to sit down. "Listen, Bunky, I'll leave in a flash as soon as you tell me exactly what you did to me! This wasn't my idea, you know!"

Heathley winced. "Dr. Venkman, if you could refrain from calling me 'Bunky' I'm sure we could get along much more smoothly."

"Yeah?" retorted Peter, waving his arms again. "Well, listen, Jed, if you could warm this place up enough so my teeth stop chattering, I might not tend to be so cranky."

Jedediah Heathley let out a huge, gusty sigh. "Dr. Venkman, I don't believe you know exactly what it is you're asking of me..."

Wouldn't you be surprised, thought Peter irrepressibly as he checked the comfort level of the chair Heathley had directed him to.

"Help Peter," urged the green ghost hovering over the hospital bed.

"They're trying to, Slimer," Janine assured him. "You just remember your promise to be good, okay? No slime on Peter or any of this equipment."

"Slimer good, uh huh, uh huh," replied the little green ghost. "Peter sick," he added mournfully.

Janine shivered, and silently agreed with Slimer. Things did not look good.

"Maybe we should call Egon," Ray said to Winston, oblivious to the byplay between Janine and the ghost. He worried at his lower lip with his teeth. "I mean, if Peter's apparition is here, we don't need drawings and blueprints of the house and such."

"You got Hart's office number?" asked Winston.

Ray fumbled in one of his pockets. "Egon has Hart's card, but I know I wrote the number down before we split up." He produced a ragged piece of paper. "Here it is."

"I'll call him," said Winston, taking the slip of paper from Ray's fingers. He turned to Peter, and lightly patted his arm through the blankets. "Hang in there, man. We're starting to figure this out."

As he left the cubicle, he saw Egon with Dr. Li, approaching from down the corridor. "Egon!" he said. "Ray says Peter's apparition is here. Whatever it is is partially masking Peter's biorhythms."

Egon nodded grimly. "Dr. Li was just informing me of the intense cold in Peter's room," he said as he reached Winston. "I need to see the PKE readings."

"Come on." They both headed in the direction of Peter's room, Dr. Li trailing behind.

"That would explain how Peter seemed to fall through a hole that wasn't there," Egon said slowly, thinking aloud. "Peter's initial absorption would have required an enormous amount of ectoplasmic energy, totally masking his essence. Once complete, however, the energy levels would fall, allowing Peter to 'solidify', as it were - hence we found him on the floor on the third floor."

"Uh huh," Winston said dubiously. "What did you find out?" he demanded.

"Just a minute, please," interrupted Dr. Li. "Is it really necessary for -" She paused as she caught sight of Slimer, cleared her throat and continued. "For all of you to be in there? We're already breaking several hospital regulations."

Egon and Winston exchanged glances. "We're sorry about that, Doctor," said Winston, "but at the moment I think we may be able to help Peter more than you can."

"Winston is correct, Dr. Li. However, Peter will undoubtedly need your assistance if we do succeed in ridding him of whatever is causing his debility," added Egon.

"I just hope you appreciate how well I'm taking all this," she muttered as she gestured to them to enter.

"Egon!" exclaimed Ray as he looked up to see his blond friend enter. "What did you find out about the Heathley house? Was there anything we can use to help Peter?"

Egon didn't speak for a moment, just stood staring at the brown-haired man in the hospital bed. After one disbelieving look at Slimer, Dr. Li slid past the physicist to move up close to the bed and began to examine her patient. Janine moved nearer to Egon.

Spengler blinked, and looked up at Ray. "Miss Whittier knew of no murders or suicides in the house," he declared. "However, there were two deaths in that house that she knew of - Jonas' father died when Jonas was thirteen, apparently of an allergic reaction to a spider bite; and Jonas' mother died of a fall down the attic stairs when Jonas was nineteen."

"Wow!" said Ray, wide-eyed. "There definitely sounds like there's a connection there!"

"I tend to agree with you," Egon said as he activated his PKE meter and studied the readings. "Class three..." he muttered to himself, then looked up at Ray. "Especially since one of the newspaper reports at the time included a paragraph about one of the servants insisting that she heard screams from the attic before Mrs. Heathley fell. The police dismissed what she had to say because nothing was found in the attic that they believed would cause such fear."

"Will this help you help Dr. Venkman?" asked Dr. Li from beside the head of the bed.

Egon looked up from the PKE meter that Ray had handed to him. The three Ghostbusters exchanged glances. "This gives us a very good idea where to start," Egon stated firmly, shutting down the device. "I need -"

"Guys," Janine interrupted, "is it me, or is it getting warmer in here?"

"Peter!" exclaimed Slimer happily, only remembering at a glare from Dr. Li not to fling himself at the man in the bed.

Janine was right; it was becoming warmer in the crowded cubicle, and some of the blue appeared to be leaving Peter's pinched face. Dr. Li bent over him, eyeing the monitors warily, one hand against her patient's cheek, the other hovering over the alarm button.

"What's happening?" demanded Winston.

"Is Peter all right?" Ray inquired anxiously.

"Everybody out," ordered Dr. Li in a tone not to be disobeyed.

"Dr. Li -"

"I mean it," the petite Oriental woman said, not looking up. "Everybody out, now."

A nurse arrived at the door, and pointedly shooed them all out. "Please wait in the waiting room," she insisted.

As they walked down the hall, Winston said, frowning, "It sounded like he was choking."

"The pharyngeal airway appeared to be triggering his gag reflex," Egon replied, eyes narrowed in thought.

"But that's a good sign, isn't it?" asked Janine, making no move to sit down.

Ray brightened where he stood. "That's right - it means he's trying to wake up!"

"Bad ghost gone," Slimer declared cheerfully. "Peter not mad any more."

All four people looked at the little green ghost in surprise. "What's that, Slimer?" Winston asked after a moment.

"Dr. Peter talk to bad ghost, bad ghost go away," replied Slimer, shrugging.

"Dr. Peter?" echoed Ray, perplexed. That was not the way the little ghost normally referred to the stricken Ghostbuster.

There was a hint of a smile on Egon's face, but whatever he had to say was forestalled when the nurse entered the waiting area to tell them that Dr. Li had requested that they come back to ICU 7.

They hurried down the hall. When they entered, the air inside the cubicle was nearly the same temperature as the air in the hall, and the terrible blue was gone from Peter's lips. The airway had been removed, and Dr. Li was smiling and shaking her head.

"Peter?" said Ray hopefully.

The psychologist's eyes fluttered open. "Hi, guys," he whispered. "You too, Melnitz."

"You're awake!" Ray exclaimed joyfully. Winston grinned and gave a great sigh of relief. Egon's eyes twinkled and his whole body seemed to relax. Janine leaned against him, smiling broadly.

Slimer swooped down toward Peter, stopping at the last second just at the level of his head. "Hi, Peter!"

"Hey, spud," Peter whispered. The fact that the little green ghost hadn't slimed him, and the looks on the faces around him, gave the psychologist an idea of just how much he had frightened his friends. He tried to smile reassuringly at them.

"How are you feeling, Peter?" inquired Egon.

Venkman closed his eyes in bliss. "Warm again, thank God," he said all but inaudibly, then opened his eyes again as Ray said his name cautiously. He eyed his auburn-haired friend with affection.

"I'm sorry, Peter," said Ray remorsefully. "I knew I should have taken the attic."

"No," replied Peter, the word coming out more strongly. He tried to shrug a little. "This needed the famous Venkman touch, Ray," he said, his voice hoarse and hard to hear, but undeniably a little smug.

Egon smiled. "Slimer told us Dr. Peter talked to the bad ghost, and the bad ghost went away," he told Peter.

"Good job, Spud," Peter whispered, looking at Slimer, and the little ghost bobbed in the air in happiness.

"Slimer good, uh huh, uh huh."

"Who was the ghost, Peter?" Winston asked curiously.

Dr. Li, who had been keeping an eye on her patient, said, "I think maybe we ought to postpone the rest of this conversation, people. Dr. Venkman is doing much better than I expected, but he's one very tired fellow, and his throat has to be sore from the airway."

Peter waited until she finished speaking, then answered Winston's question anyway. "Jedediah Heathley."

"Jonas' father," Egon said, nodding.

Peter looked like he wanted to say something else, but his eyes drifted closed. Dr. Li leaned over him briefly, then straightened. "He's asleep," she informed the worried people around her. "Give him some time, and come back later," she instructed them. "Like maybe tomorrow morning."

The next morning found Peter Venkman in a regular hospital room, his friends gathered around his bed, Slimer as close as he could get without covering the psychologist with sticky green goo. Hart had been notified of the ghost's departure, and Peter's proton pack recovered from the attic. The Heathley house was again full of workmen.

"Seems old Jedediah was a real stickler about housekeeping," Peter explained. His voice was still a little hoarse, but much stronger than the day before. "The place had to be spotless. If he ever found a spider in the house, he threw a hissy fit and accused his wife of having insufficient regard for the virtue of cleanliness." He paused to take a sip of ginger ale.

"We did find out that he died of an allergic reaction to a spider bite," Egon offered.

Peter nodded. "Yeah, but the dumbbell never bothered to tell his wife or the servants that he was allergic to spider bites, so they all thought he was just a tad obsessive about this cleanliness thing," he said. "He was alone when he got bitten, and couldn't get anybody to hear him calling out, so he didn't get any help. He died absolutely furious at his wife, so he sorta stuck around to find a way to 'punish' her."

"It was Jedediah who frightened her in the attic?" Ray asked.

"You got it," Peter replied. "'Course, he never meant her to fall down the stairs and break her neck. But he couldn't allow himself to realize that it was his fault, so he blamed her for 'overreacting', and just hung on to his anger."

"Sounds like there was a lot of guilt there," Janine observed sagely.

Again Peter nodded. "That was what kept him hanging around the house. He had to let go of his anger, which was what caused the patches of cold. Then he had to acknowledge his fault in his own death, as well as his wife's." He shook his head. "I almost felt sorry for the fool," he mused.

"Almost?" echoed Egon with a hint of a smile.

Peter grimaced. "Yeah, almost," he insisted. "I was too cold to have too much sympathy - I just wanted him to get it over with so I could get warm again!"

"Of course," Egon agreed, eyes twinkling.

"So what happened to him?" Janine asked after a moment.

Peter shrugged and sipped at his ginger ale. "He, uh, passed over."

Ray tilted his head to one side, and smiled warmly at his friend. "You talked him into forgiving himself, didn't you," he said. It wasn't a question.

Zeddemore looked up from his scrutiny of his own folded hands. "I've been trying to figure out exactly how I should apologize, Pete. I -"

"Apologize?" Peter echoed, frowning. "For what, man?"

"I didn't exactly do too much to help, now did I?" Winston said with a grimace.