Archive of Our Own ^beta

"Was it a good way to die?"

Ironhorse jerked his head up, startled by the clear strong voice.t? Where ..."
"Debi. Close your eyes."
Memories. His hand went to his throat. No wound, no blood. He looked around, ebony eyes touched with fear. He was sitting cross- legged in waist high grass laden with wildflowers in a glen, a deep thick forest surrounded him, stretched beyond his vision. Sun shone brilliantly between the trees. A gold eyed owl sat in a brush directly in front of him.

Ironhorse regarded him closely. not unsettled by the spirit. "Where am I?"

"Where do you want to be?" Owl asked.

"I'm dead, aren't I?" Ironhorse questioned levelly.

"Yes."

The blunt answer made Ironhorse take a quick breath. He stood, walked a little ways away. The wind sang through the ancient trees; there was a wide, sun-dappled trail through the welcoming woods; the smell of woodsmoke drifted from somewhere close by. He started toward it; something deep in his soul stopped him at the edge of the meadow.

His thoughts went to his team, to the events of the past long hours. Norton was dead. Omega had been wiped out. The Blackwood Project had ceased to exist officially.

Owl's original question echoed in his mind. "Yes," he answered softly, "it was a good way to die."

"Where do you want to be?" Owl repeated.

"Back with my team," Ironhorse answered in a whisper.

"Then that is where you should be."

Ironhorse whirled around. "But I'm dead. How can I.."

"Time has no meaning here." Owl smiled.

"Time?" Ironhorse questioned. "You mean I can change what happened? Somehow go back in time and change..."

"No, Paul Ironhorse, you can not change what has happened."

Frustration gave way to exhaustion. Ironhorse sat down. "I don't understand."
"Wachisu think in lines of time. We do not," Owl explained vaguely.

Ironhorse looked up to find himself alone; panic touched him but he fought it away. He spotted a long pipe, lit, in the grass before him. Picking it up gingerly, he raised it to the four directions, to the earth and sky, then took a pull, letting it relax and reassure him. From somewhere very far away, a hawk sang to him and he didn't feel as alone.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, thinking aloud. "I can't change what has happened but time has no meaning." The wind laughed at his confusion.

No matter what had happened or was going to happen, he was still a soldier. He needed to start thinking like one; which meant he needed to know what had occurred after... he sighed, after he had blown his brains out in front of Harrison. But how did he get back there?

The shock and fear in the room hit him. He was standing next to his body. It should have disturbed him, but it didn't. All he could see was Harrison, the sorrow and raw pain that flooded the wide blue eyes.

"Oh, damn, Harrison," Ironhorse whispered. "I'm sorry."

Suzanne rushed by, hand covering Debi's eyes, trying to block a sight that should never have been. Harrison took a half-step toward the shattered body.

"Harrison!" Kincaid grabbed the doctor, shoved him toward the
door. "Now!"

The house was empty then, only three bodies laying in wait for the
explosion that would close their tomb.

Warm sun touched his face, shining straight down into the small clearing. From somewhere beyond the forest came the sound of rushing water and children laughing. The sound called to him. He stood, struggling with the desire to go home and the need to help his friends and world.

Did they really need him? Harrison's pain had been deep, but he had lost before, had recovered before. And they had Kincaid. He was not as experienced but he was good. Ironhorse sat down in the grass, closed his eyes.

Underground. He was in some kind of underground shelter. Harrison was sitting against one wall on a small cot. Ironhorse's heart constricted. There was a deadly blank look in Harrison's blue-gray eyes, a look that Ironhorse knew too well, the thousand mile stare of a soldier too long at war.

Suzanne came in, dry tears on her cheeks. "Debi's asleep." Her voice was hoarse.

Harrison only nodded. She touched his arm lightly. "Harrison?"

There was no answer. She sat down next to him, put her arm around his shoulders. "Harrison, it's alright to cry."

Harrison shook his head. When he answered his voice was distant, broken. "I can't, Suzanne... I can't."

Ironhorse spun away and was back in the meadow. Tears coursed down in his cheeks. There were no chants on the wind now, no lure of woodsmoke or white water. He was going to get back. He had to.

Pushing up, he started pacing, hands tight behind his back. He had to contact Harrison, talk to him somehow without sending him over the edge that he was obviously very close to. Ironhorse needed help. A smile, a slight lift of the right side of the tight lips touched his face. A good officer always knew when to consult the experts.

*****

The ancient building fairly rattled with the calliope of alarms. The tall blonde man ran through the hall, a flashing meter in hand. A shorter, dark haired man joined him and they sprinted into the locker room.

"We've got a intruder, Peter!"

"No, kidding, Sherlock, what gave it away?" Peter Venkman flung open his locker, scrambling into a dark brown jumpsuit and slinging a heavy pack over his shoulders.

"Egon," a sleepy voice called from the door, "what kind of manifestation are we dealing with?"

Dr. Egon Spengler stared at the PKE meter in his hand. "I'm uncertain at present, Ray. The readings are very strange."

Winston Zeddmore, the last member of the famous ghostbusting quintet, pulled the zipper up on his suit and unhooked the nozzle on his proton pack. "I take it as a personal insult when a goober comes into my place without a formal invitation. Give me a target, Egon."

Ironhorse stood in the corner, mentally kicking himself for not thinking his approach through. Of course the Ghostbusters would shoot first and ask questions later. That's what they'd been doing for years, what made them the best. More importantly, it's what had kept them alive and together while the rest of New York had gone to hell.

The hum of massive amounts of contained power filled the room as the deadly packs charged up. If he had been solid Ironhorse would have put his fist through a wall. There had to be a way to talk to these men. They were the acknowledged experts in the world on all forms of occultism and mysticism.

"Twelve degrees to the left of the desk," Egon suddenly yelled.

Four barrels came to bear on Ironhorse. With a sigh he closed his eyes to return to the purgatory of the meadow.

"Hey, guys," Ray said suddenly, looking at his own meter. "This one's not moving."

"What did you expect it to do, tango?" Peter demanded.

"No, it's just..."

"Hold your fire," Egon commanded suddenly. "Ray's right. There's something unusual about this apparition."

Weapons still lined on the invisible enemy, both Peter and Winston eased off the buttons just a little. "Now what?" Winston asked.

"It's still stationary," Egon observed. "The entity doesn't register like anything we've encountered before."

"Come on, guys, can't you feel it?" Ray said, soft brown eyes asking their understanding.

Still skeptical but knowing that sometimes Ray's sensitivity gained them insight they would never have found, Egon asked quietly, "Feel what, Ray?"

"The difference. This one's not... I don't think it's hostile."

"You don't think!" Peter's voice went up just a little in disbelief. "Ray, that doesn't..."

But Ray's simple statement seemed to have given Winston a trace of doubt. "Maybe it's not after us but I'm not taking my finger off this trigger until I have some proof."

The conversation had stopped Ironhorse's flight but left him completely stumped. His thoughts went to the legends his grandfather had told him of spirits. Spirits were not the same as ghosts. They guided, sometimes hindered; talked in the wind and rain, though visions and animals, sometimes directly to people who had the ability to listen.

"Still no movement," Egon said again, drawing Ironhorse's attention away from the long ago stories.

He took a deep breath, it would be talking. All he could hope was that one of these men had a spirit open enough to hear him. "I'm not a ghost," he started rather lamely.

Ray straightened, tilting his head to the side. It was the only reaction. Ironhorse's frustration built as he thought of Harrison sitting in the dark, lost.

"Damnit! I need some help."

Eyes wide, Ray said, "What?"

"Ray?" Peter Venkman's voice held concern and a touch of confusion. "What what?"

"Shush, Peter, I heard something."

Peter and Egon exchanged quick confused glances.

Ironhorse took a step forward, encouraged by his success. "My name..."

"It's moving!" Egon warned.

Three weapons came up, deadly white/gold rays ripping out toward Ironhorse. Twenty five years of training and danger saved him. He leapt sideways, the shots destroying the desk behind him.

"No, wait!"

The next volley drowned out his words.

He blinked and the world became one of blue skies and deep green pines. He sat down with a thump. He'd been close, had almost made it. Helplessness ripped through him, bright as the rays he'd dodged. Ironhorse brought his legs to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and dropping his head against his knees.

*****

"Crease fire!" Egon held up his hand. "It's gone."

Winston cut the power to his beam. "Gone? You mean we destroyed it?"

Egon shook his head, blonde hair bouncing, studying his meter. "No, I don't believe that was the outvcome. The disappearance doesn't met with any known perimeters we've experienced before."

Peter closed with the youngest team member. Ray Stantz's weapon was cold in his hands, having not been fired.

"Hey, Ray," Peter said jokingly. "You have a thing about not blowing up desk?"

The other two turned toward the duo. Ray glanced at Peter, then stared at Egon out of sincere brown eyes. "Egon, I don't think it was like anything we've encounter before."

"What's so strange about that?" Winston questioned sarcastically. "Lately, nothings been like what we've encountered before."

Ignoring the statement, Egon moved closer, asked, "Can you explain what you mean, Ray?"

"It didn't feel evil." He paused searching for words. "It felt ...sad."
*****

Ironhorse came to his feet. He had not gotten to be a lieutenant colonel by sitting around feeling sorry for himself; being dead was no reason to start now. He considered the problem coldly. It might be possible for him to try to contact the one called Ray while the team was in the field. That would avoid the alarms. He shook his head, black hair falling over his forehead; the middle of a fight was not the time to distract someone.

With a deep breath, he straightened. He would just have to try again, be more careful and hope he could get through enough to stop them for firing right away. The world blinked, became the solid red brick walls of the firehouse. The alarms started again, weapons came up.

"It's baaacckkk," Peter quipped. His weapon humming, aiming for the same spot.

Egon pushed it down. "Wait, Peter. If Ray's correct we might be able to establish communications, find out what the apparition is here concerning."

From across the room, Ironhorse stared. He didn't know what to attribute the sudden change to but he was certainly willing to take advantage of it. Not wanting to repeat a mistake, he took a step back as a sign of good faith.

Egon's blue eyes widened as he stared at the meter. "The entity moved back one meter."

"Is that good or bad?" Winston questioned.

Before they could decide, Ironhorse started talking, calmly, lowly, "I need your help."

Ray stiffened. "What did you say?"

Keeping his position, Ironhorse swallowed his impatience and said a little louder, "My name is Ironhorse. I need help."

"I can hear it," Ray said with a combination of amusement and nervousness. "But faintly, like a far away whisper and I'm losing
parts of it."

"Maybe if you were in closer proximity to the entity?" Egon suggested.

"No way," Peter and Winston said at the same time.

"Yes," Ray overrode their protest. "It needs help."

"And it could be a trap!" Two voices spoke again.

"Come closer so I can hear you," Ray invited, ignoring the other two.

Egon remained silent, watching his meter. Peter and Winston's weapons came up, hold in white knuckled grips.

Very slowly, very warily, Ironhorse approached. He stopped several meters from the auburn haired ghostbuster. "My name is Ironhorse," he repeated.

"Ironhorse," Ray echoed.

Winston draw a quick breath. "Who?"

"It, he says, his name is Ironhorse," Ray explained.

"There was an Ironhorse in 'Nam," Winston whispering, without knowing why. "I never met him but he was highly decorated. The service papers did several stories on him."

Surprised but seeing it as another opportunity to affirm his identity, Ironhorse said wryly, "The papers usually exaggerated."

"He says the papers tended to exaggerate," Ray informed his teammate with a smile.

Ironhorse plunged ahead. "This is a long story but I'll cut to just the important part. I need help. I need to know a spell or magic or medicine or something that will..."

Ray's hand went to his head. "Hold it, hold it."

Reluctantly stopping, Ironhorse frowned. Ray turned to his companions, noticing Egon's expectant, scientist look, the worried looks from Winston and Peter. "This isn't working, Egon. I'm only getting about every fourth word, like it's in a long tunnel."

"The transdimensional portal!" Egon said suddenly. "If it... he can transfer into the other dimension, he could use the portal to communicate with us on this side, minus the warpping effects offered within this dimension."

"Point me to it," Ironhorse demanded.

"Upstairs," Ray pointed through the roof.

"Egon?" Peter said lowly as Winston and Ray started out. "What's your plan?"

"Plan, Peter?" Egon questioned innocently.

"We can't just let... whatever it is run around..."

"It won't do much running around in the other dimension," Egon intoned quietly.

"Got it!" Peter agreed. "We can check it out and trap him if necessary."

Ironhorse stared at the portal in front of him, at the floating, surreal landscape. There was something about the place that sent a shiver up his back, though he couldn't think of anything to be worried about. The team came up the stairs behind him. They paused at the door as Egon swept the meter over the room.

"It's by the portal. I take that as a sign that it... he does want to talk."

Sarcasm entered Ironhorse's voice. "No, I came back from the dead to check the football scores."

Ray laughed, the others looked at him. "I'm not exactly sure what he said but I think it was a statement on our intelligence."

"We're just trying to help here," Peter stated. "There's no need to get snippy."

"Get ready," Egon said, "I'm going to switch off the field."

Glancing at the door shaped portal Ironhorse said, "I hope you know what you're doing. I'm a spirit, not a ghost."

Before Ray could reply, the glowing layer over the entrance vanished and Egon said, "It's open."

Ironhorse stepped through, found himself standing in nothingness. After the events of the past few hours, days, mouths, it didn't bother him. He turned and was facing four puzzled, intrigued gazes from the other side of the frame.

"Can you hear us?" Ray questioned.

"Just fine, thank you," Ironhorse replied calmly.

To the ghostbusters the apparition standing on the other side of the portal looked like any average human; dark, Ray's height, wearing a blue shirt with jeans over a slender body with black hair tinged with silver. Only when Ray looked into the ebony eyes did he see anything different; they glowed with anger, the lean jaw clenched in determination.

Egon pushed his glasses up on his nose. "This is absolutely fascinating. I have several questions for you. Are you an ectoplasmic entity or..."

"Egon," Winston interrupted, "I hate to spoil your fun but I think the captain may have some reason for being here other than to satisfy your scientific curiosity."

"Lt. Colonel," Ironhorse corrected automatically, then added with a slight lifting of the right side of his mouth. "At least, that was the case when I died."

"Did the manner of your death have something to do with your manifestation?" Egon questioned, unable to resist.

"No, the living have something to do with it," Ironhorse said. "I think you gentlemen had better get comfortable. This is a very long story."

*****

Norton was already dead," Ironhorse stopped suddenly, breaking the spell his deep voice had been weaving. "Norton? Why isn't he here? Why just me?"

His wistful tone said he didn't really expect an answer but Winston cleared his throat. "I have a theory about that."

"Isn't that against union rules?" Peter joked. "I thought only Egon was allowed to have theories around here."

Winston wisely ignored him. "I think that what a person believes has a big affect on what happens to them after they die. Haven't you guys noticed that most of our 'clients' seem to come from the stranger end of the religious scale?"

"Yeah," Ray agreed with a frown. "Not many Christians, Muslims, or Buddhists."

"Was Norton a Christian?" Winston asked.

"Not the church going kind," Ironhorse replied. "But his family was and he kept a bible in his room."

"If a person believes that dead is dead and heaven awaits," Winston said quietly, "maybe that's where he goes."

Ironhorse blinked away a mist of tears. "I hope so. He was an exceptional human being."

"Colonel?" Egon urged.

Ironhorse shook himself away from the memories. A few minutes later he finished the story in the same even, rich voice that had so often told tales by the cottage fireplace. There was silence for a long time as the human team tried to absorb everything he had told them.

It was Ray who spoke first, gently, "That was a very courageous thing to do, Colonel. You must care for them very much."

Ironhorse darkened, embarrassed by the insight.

Egon was attracted to the other aspect of the problem. "Colonel, do you know how the extraterrestrials have infiltrated as far as evidence suggest they have?"

"No," Ironhorse admitted. He had alternated between pacing and sitting cross-legged on the nothingness. Coming to his feet, he said firmly, "They can be beat. But we need Blackwood to do it... and he needs me."

"That's why you're here?" Egon questioned in surprise, sky blue eyes wide. "To find a why to get back among the living?"

"No, yes..." Ironhorse said in confusion. "I need to talk to them. I've seen Harrison," he said quietly, pain tight in his voice. "Even with Kincaid there to protect him, in his present state of mind he'll get himself killed."

"Colonel Ironhorse," Winston said softly, "we bust ghosts. We're not priests or..."

"We've done it before!" Peter suddenly spoke up.

Everyone looked at him.

"Well, sort of," he added reluctantly.

"Of course," Ray picked up, snapping his fingers. "When that demon took over Egon's body and sent his soul into the other dimension."

"Peter got him back!" Winston finished excitedly.

Black eyes went very wide. "You mean back back? Back into the real world? Alive?" Excitement crept into Ironhorse's rough voice. It was more than he had hoped for. "You can to that? You can..."

"No," Egon's voice was so flat that Ironhorse's hope was still born. "The circumstances in that instance were completely different. My body was still functioning."

"While mine," Ironhorse said with an arched eyebrow, "is in less than prefect condition."

"Oh, yeah," Peter said in apology. "Sorry..."

Ironhorse sank back down, thoughts going back to Harrison alone in the dark. The answer presented itself with sharp clarity. "The clone!"

The four living men looked at each other, then at Egon, leaving it up to the scientist to deny the desperate plea. "The clone? You said the clone died when you ... when you died."

"Yes, but I don't think it was from anything physical." Ironhorse came to his feet, stood with hands clasp behind his back. "It was more like... I was it's power source and when it was cut, it died."

"Psychic shock?" Egon questioned. "It might be possible. We'd need to check...."

The doubt in his voice didn't escape Ironhorse. "What?" he cried in exasperation. A sudden smile touched the grim features. He'd heard that tone in his voice many times when dealing with Harrison.

Egon hesitated. "Actually, there's no way to be absolutely certain about the shock but if there are no obviously fatal wounds..."

"I'll check," Ironhorse said quickly.

Before anyone could say anything he closed his eyes and thought again of the cottage... and Harrison. When the dark eyes opened he was staring at the same four men and the red brick walls.

"I guess I can't do that from here." He was surprised and vaguely disturbed by the unexpected imprisonment.

"Well, we do call it a containment field," Peter said flatly.

A single nod of agreement went between Egon and Peter. They believed Ironhorse.

"I'll lower the interdimensional gate." Egon pulled the large knife switch.

Ironhorse stepped through - and was knocked into the center of the room by something fast and large. He rolled on instinct even through he couldn't feel the floor beneath him. As he came to his feet there was a general yell of alarm from the ghostbusters.

"It's loose!" Winston yelled.

"Grab the packs. Power up!" Egon commanded.

Ironhorse spun to see what had them scrambling for the packs they had laid aside, pushing up the power on their units. A very large, vaguely worm shaped, green creature reared up on its two sets of back legs and lunged at Venkman. He didn't have time to see anything else as the room exploded with the deadly rays. Despite the creatures size it moved quickly, dodging the beams, that slammed into the walls behind it.

"It was waiting for us to turn off the gate!" Peter surmised.

"It's a class six!" Ray warned.

"What about Ironhorse?" Winston demanded, the unit in his hands bucking. "We might hit him!"

"He'll have sense enough to get out of here," Ray said in confidence, added under his voice, "I hope."

Across the room, Ironhorse was preparing to do just that when he spotted the second creature slinking through the gate. It was only five feet or so, dust colored and rail thin; all of which was forgotten in the sight of it's six inch claws and ten inch fangs.

The others were firing on the first creature. Peter's ray caught it, was joined by Ray's and Winston's. Unseen by the humans the smaller entity moved, it's target the tall blonde scientist who was preparing a trap for it's companion ghost.

"Behind you!" Ironhorse screamed.

No one heard him over the intense crash of unleashed protons. The creature was read, if not exactly corporeal, and Ironhorse lunged for it, not stopping to think of what would happen. His hands closed around one slimy tentacle and he almost let go out of sheer disgust. Kicking out he hit the ghost a solid blow. The creature screamed, whirled around at him, claws flashing out. They connected, cutting deep furrows in his arm, sent pain racing up his shoulder. The shock knocked him flat.

"Egon!" Peter yelled, alerted by the shriek from the ghost. "Behind you!"

Egon spun, bringing his beam directly onto the smaller creature. He shoved the trap he'd been preparing toward the new threat, watched in satisfaction as it was sucked in with a howl of dismay.

"Trap!" Winston demanded. The bigger monster was starting to overload the packs with it's struggles.

In a graceful arch, Egon tossed a second trap under the thing. There was the whoosh of dimensional gates and the uninvited visitor vanished in the multi-colored glow of capture.

Silence, punctuated only by the adrenaline fed breathing of the ghostbusters, filled the room.

"What made it yell like that?" Winston questioned as he picked up the two smoking traps.

"Ironhorse," Ray said in confidence. "He must have done something to it."

In dismay, Winston stared at the trap in his hand. "You don't think he was standing nearby when..."

"I'm here," Ironhorse said from his position on the floor, cradling his wounded arm. "Here."

"He's still here,"

Ray assured them but the brown eyes darkened. "What's wrong?"

Ironhorse gained his feet, touched by the concern in the other man's voice. "Can you open the gate?"

"He wants the gate open again," Ray passed the message on.

Nervous looks went between the others. Egon nodded. "He'll have to be quick. There maybe another entities waiting to attempt an escape."

There was a collective gasp when Ironhorse stepped through. The blood from the deep scratches had stained most of his side by now.

"How the hell..." Peter started.

"What happened?" Egon demanded.

Calmly, Ironhorse took his belt off and tied it just above the wounds. "I kicked that, whatever the hell it was, to get it's attention." With an arched eyebrow he added, "It worked."

Egon stared at him. "This is incredible. And more that just a little disturbing. It shouldn't be possible for you to be injured. You are, pardon me for saying so, dead."

"It doesn't matter." Ironhorse sighed. "I have to go check on the clone."

"I don't think that's a wise move at this time, Colonel," Egon continued. "We need to examine this phenomenon more closely."

"I know you're trying to help," Ironhorse said patiently. "But I've got more to worry about than a few scratches."

The reasonable, firm tone had always worked on Harrison and Ironhorse smiled to himself as he saw the blue eyes fill with doubt.

"It's not the scratches I'm worried about but very well, Colonel. I have one request, however." Egon took off his glasses and wiped them on the edge of his shirt. "The meadow that you started out in, go back there, rest for awhile and let me pursue the research on this a little further. There are too many variables between this situation and the incident in which Peter rescued me."

"Pardon me for saying so, Dr. Spengler, but what have I got to lose?"

The blonde cleared his throat. "I hate to put it so bluntly, Colonel Ironhorse, but it's not just you I'm concerned with. Peter could be in great danger trying this."

Ironhorse's humor died. "Danger? How?"

"Yeah," Peter spoke up. "How?"

"We'll discuss it while the colonel does his checking," Egon said firmly.

On three Ironhorse stepped into the real world and the gate snapped into place without incident.

"Good luck, Colonel," Ray said into the air.

"Paul," Ironhorse said, suddenly not feeling very much like a colonel.

"Good luck, Paul."

*****
Ironhorse refused to let himself look at Harrison; watched as Kincaid give a cursory glance toward the fallen enemy, then flee with the others leaving Ironhorse alone again with the dead. Anger pushed through him at the atrocity of the duplicate, the destruction the aliens had wrought. He fought it away, concentrated on his task. As he knelt to make certain, a genuine smile went across his face. The body was unmarked, no wounds, no blood.

The house exploded around him. He ducked instinctively but the debris passed through him unnoticed. The body he was standing next to didn't fare as well. The initial blast threw the clone against the far wall, riddling it with shrapnel. The second floor came down, finishing
the job, burying the copy under tons of plaster and wood.

The situation was only too clear, he would have to claim the body immediately on its... his death. After that he would have mere seconds
to escape the inferno.

Much as he wanted to let the ghostbusters know his observations, he forced himself to follow Egon's advice. He thought of clean grass and open skies. He opened his eyes to bright sun and a cool breeze. Pain shot up his arm, the wounds still bleeding. The sound of a hunting hawk fell down to him, changed to a healing chant. Sweetgrass smoke carried with the sound. The chant became clearer, forming words he'd never used but always known. Picking up the song he could feel the power flow through him. Gradually his eyes drifted closed, the words
running from power to comfort. He opened his eyes, not surprised to find his arm whole and untouched.

*****

"Egon?" Ray said quietly.

The scientist pushed his chair away from the desk, rubbed his eyes. "Yes, Ray?"

Affectionate eyes regarded him in the dim light. "You've been at this nearly fifteen hours," Ray scowled him. "Working into exhaustion won't help."

"I know," Egon reluctantly agreed. "But I'm..."

"Too intrigued to sleep." A deep voice spoke from the door and Winston joined them.

"Yes," Egon admitted. "I've formed a partial hypothesis. I believe..."

"I hate to interrupt this little theological discussion," Peter spoke up, also from the door, "but it is after one in the morning. Isn't anybody going to sleep?"

Everyone jumped to the defense.

"Look who's talking..."
"I needed to see..."

"This problem is most.."

Peter held up his hands. "Yeah, yeah. Cut it out, guys. We all know we're up because we want to help this guy."

"The kind of loyalty that Ironhorse represents is extremely rare," Egon commented.

"He reminds me of us." Winston put plainly into words what Egon was trying to say.

"Yes," Egon agreed, always one to control his emotional statements.

Peter patted the tall man on the shoulder. "Okay, Einstien, what have you found..."

Alarms rattled the windows. Winston strode to the wall control and turned it off.

"Ironhorse?" Ray questioned. "Paul?"

"I'm here." Ironhorse moved directly next to Ray.
"He's here," Ray confirmed with a smile.

"To the portal!" Peter shouted, leading the way up the stairs. A few minutes later, with Ironhorse visible, Peter commented. "Well, you're looking a lot better."

"Dr. Spengler was correct about the meadow," Ironhorse explained.

"The clone?" Egon questioned.

"No visible damage," Ironhorse told him with carefully controlled hope. "At least not until the cottage blew up."

"You were unharmed by the explosion, correct?" Egon speculated.

"Yes," Ironhorse nodded, curious at the obviously known answer.
"I think that's a great lead in for your theory," Peter suggested to the tall blonde.

Egon took a deep breath. "This has all been extremely fascinating. After consulting several texts, including..."

"Egon," Peter interrupted. "Can we have the Reader's Digest version?"

Looking slightly put out Egon said, "I believe, Colonel, that three things influenced your situation after your death. The most important being the clone."

"The clone?" Ironhorse's brows drew together.

"Yes. You've referred to two impressions concerning the clone, being linked and being its power source. I am convinced that the alien transference gave the clone not only your memories but also, probably unintentional, part of your spirit."

"There was nothing of me about that... thing," Ironhorse said through clenched teeth.

"Not in any noticeable way," Egon agreed quietly. "The crux is that when you died the clone did also, but there was enough of a delay, enough that had to be drawn from the clone, that it acted as an anchor to hold you partially to this existence."

The scientist took a breath. "Coupling that with Winston's theory, which I find quiet sound, concerning your own beliefs in a spirit world and spirit helpers, that kept you here even after the clone died."

"What's the third reasons?" Ray prompted.

Egon smiled. "I also believe, Colonel, that you're simply too stubborn to go without a fight."

There was a quick flash of amusement in the dark eyes. "Agreed, Doctor. So, where does all that leave us?"

"Vunerable," Egon said bluntly. "While you're in the other dimension, you are still human enough to be harmed. You and Peter are both open to attack."

"Oh, joy," Peter commented.
"Wait," Winston held up one large hand, "why is Peter necessary? Why can't Ironhorse just claim the body himself?"

"He needs a gateway," Peter explained, knowing from experience. "I have to connect him to the other body. Like I did Egon."

"The task should not be that difficult," Egon assured them. "In the case of my spirit, Peter had to find me. You are together; Ironhorse can just transfer you both there. Once the connection is made, Peter should be thrown back here."

"Should be?" Peter squeaked.

"We've forgotten something," Winston observed.

"What?" Exasperation touched Ironhorse's voice.

"What happens, Colonel," Winston questioned, "when you come running out of the cottage toward your friends?"

Ironhorse took a sharp breath. "Kincaid shoots me."

"Thinking you're the clone."

Ironhorse stood. From somewhere in the far distance he heard a hawk call. He was tried, confused and could hear the wind call an answer to the hawk. "No," he said firmly to the wind and the hawk.

"We can contact the Blackwood team and explain the situation before we spring you on them," Peter volunteered.

"What about the time paradox?" Ray asked Egon.

"What?" Ironhorse found himself repeated, completely lost.

"If you succeed, Colonel," Egon explained in his best teacher tone, "you will have never been here for us to met or tell anyone about."

"Oh." Ironhorse took command. "We need two things. One -we have to be certain Peter gets back safely. Two -we need to keep track of all this so you'll remember it and be able to use that information to let the other's know I'm alive and not to shoot me on sight."

"That about covers it," Peter said sarcastically.

Without warning Ray and Egon immediately put their heads together and began a highly technical discussion of their scientific options. Peter and Winston smiled fondly behind them, glancing at Ironhorse who was staring impatiently. The discussion continued in spite of his glare. Peter nudged his larger companion, winked and they left silently. Five minutes later they returned, motioning to Ironhorse for
silence. The right side of Ironhorse's mouth edged up as he saw the equipment they were carrying.

"Egon," Peter said lightly.

"Not now, Peter, please."

"Ray," Winston sing-songed.

"Later, okay buddy?"

The two members stepped around in front of the desk, catching their teammates attention, blue and brown glanced up. Peter had a remote headset on and a long, thin steel cable hooked around his waist. Winston was holding a tape recorder and the other end of the cable.

"Hum..." Egon cleared his throat, pushed his glasses up. "Yes, I suppose a low tech alternative is possible."

"Good idea, guys!" Ray smiled then frowned. "But will the recorder work?"

"In theory, if we place it in the other dimension, yes." Egon explained. "Time works differently there."

"We need to figure out how long it will take you to catch up with me given the current state of the airlines and scarce cars and where to met," Ironhorse said thoughtfully.

"And how to find your friends once we do," Ray said.

Ironhorse looked thoughtful. "They've gone into hiding. Underground somewhere."

"It might be best if you ascertained an exact location before you attempt the transfer," Egon suggested.

Thoughts of the dark underground, the oppressive dim room, and Harrison... Ironhorse nodded, taking a deep breath. "I'll be back."

The gate went down. An instant later Ironhorse spoke to Ray and it opened again. When Ironhorse became visible, his back was to them, arms crossed firmly in front of his chest.

Without turning around he said quietly, "I know how to get in touch with them. After we meet, I'll take us there."

Whatever he had seen had left sorrow and desperation warring for control of his voice. The other's stood for a moment, giving him time, knowing they were doing all they could. When he turned to them, his voice was strong and firm, the sorrow hidden behind the dark eyes.

"Let's go."

Peter nodded, for once knowing that a flippant answer was not what was needed. He shouldered into his proton pack, tightened the straps over the wide shoulders and around the narrow waist. Behind him Egon began to make a recording of the events up until that moment.

"Ready!" Peter said firmly.

Three hands touched Peter's shoulders.

"Good luck, buddy."

"Get it done, Peter."

"I have every confidence that you will be successful."

Ebony eyes caught fire as Ironhorse let the chance to do something ignite his blood. He was going to get back and neither aliens, heaven or hell was going to stop him.

The shimmering gate vanished and Ironhorse had company in his strange exile. They stared awkwardly at one another for a long minute, a smile on Peter's face and an arched eyebrow on Ironhorse's. Egon put the recorder just inside the gate, anchoring it down while Winston held guard.

"Okay, go to it," Peter said confidently.

"How?" Ironhorse questioned.

"Hey, it's your nickel. Call home."

"According to my theory," Egon said from the other side of the gate. "You should be able to establish physical corporeal contact." Seeing their blank looks, he rolled his eyes heavenward and said, "You should be able to touch each other."

"Okay," Peter told Ironhorse lightly, "but watch it, this is only our first date."

Tentatively Ironhorse reached out and touched the rough material of the jumpsuit. A mist of relief clouded his vision. It seemed like forever since he'd touched another human being.

Peter smiled gently, letting the new friendship reach his sea-colored eyes. "Lead the way, mon colonel."

"I'd suggest, Colonel, that you hold on to Peter and simply repeat whatever process you followed previously to reach your destination."

"If there's any trouble," Winston told them. "Tug on the rope and we'll drag you back."

"What kind of trouble?" Peter said with more confidence than he felt. "What's the worse can happen? We end up in Indian hell?"

Peter extended his arm and the two locked hands around each other's wrist. Ironhorse nodded to the three on the other side of the gate, closed his eyes and thought about the cottage, the clone and Harrison.
"Colonel!"

Ironhorse felt the grip tighten around his wrist at the same time as the cry of alarm. His eyes snapped open. They weren't in the cottage. They were in hell. A wide and flat plain, littered with buffalo bones on brown, burned grass, stretched, under a bloody sun that cast on evil glow over the land.

"Look out!" Peter yelled at him.

Ironhorse whirled in time to be knocked off his feet by a skeletal horse. It's rider was a mass of gray slime over jutting yellow bones, wearing a blue coat with brass buttons that glowed an angry red. Above the rider flew a black and white flag on a lance, an old-fashioned seven emblazoned on it.

"The cavalry? The seventh?" Ironhorse fell back, pulling a stunned Peter with him. "What the hell is going..."

Peter fired up his proton pack. The sound of pounding hooves warned them a second before the creature hit them. Ironhorse threw himself to the left. Peter dove to the right, loosing on quick shot, that skimmed over the creature's head. Flames shot off the horse's hooves, showering them with heat.

"This isn't right!" Ironhorse screamed over the space between them.

"Looks right to me!" Peter replied, dodging another charge. He fired a bolt of gold/white missing by inches as the horse spun away.

"But we don't believe in hell!" Ironhorse argued.

Two pair of radically different eyes met across the bloody space, both widening with realization.

"It's me," Peter stated. "I've caused this."

From far away there was the sound of many horses running to battle, a bugle sounding their way. Ironhorse dodged another attack, ducking under the lance, forcing Peter to hold his fire. The rider spun, bore down on the parapsychologist.

"Pull the cable!" Ironhorse commanded.

"Not without you!" Peter snapped back.

The ghostbuster threw himself toward Ironhorse, hit and rolled away from the razored hooves. He was a fraction slow and the lance cut a groove across his chest. He yelled in pain and surprise; blood, black in the hostile sunlight, stained his jumpsuit. But the move brought him closer to Ironhorse.

"Go!" Ironhorse ordered again.

"Together," Peter gasped, reaching out.
Riders topped the bloody ridge and the ominous sun reflected off long, red barrels. Ironhorse jumped, knocking Peter down as the guns spoke. Peter yanked the rope. As suddenly as it began it was over. They were laying in front of the portal, three concerned faces peering through the glowing opening.

"Oh, dear God," Winston mumbled.

Peter sat up, his chest protesting hotly, yanking him back flat. Ironhorse was a dead weight face down on his chest. They were both drenched in blood, only part of it Peter's.

"I'm opening the gate," Egon yelled, reaching for the switch.

Winston sprinted across the room and grabbed his pack. "I'm on it."

The glow died and Ray scrambled in, grabbing Peter's shoulder.

"Peter?"

"I'm okay," Peter said with a small moan. "Help him."

Egon joined them. Together he and Ray gently lifted Ironhorse by the shoulders off Peter. There was a gasp of pain from the desperately wounded body, dark eyes opened, obsidian and malachite met. Peter lay a hand on Ironhorse's wet shoulder.
"I'm sorry. My fault," Peter said hoarsely, grip tight.

"No..." Ironhorse whispered. "We tried..."

Ironhorse jerked, shivering. Ray pulled him close ignoring the hot, sticky blood that covered his legs as he lay Ironhorse across
his lap.

"Egon?" Ray begged, tears running down his cheeks.

"The meadow!" Egon said intently, supporting Peter with an arm around his back. "Ironhorse, you have to get back to the glen. I'm going to open the portal."

"Can't..." Ironhorse whispered, letting his eyes drift closed.

"The hell you can't!" Ray's hand tightened.

"If you... die, in this dimension," Egon explained intensely, "that's where you'll stay - forever. Colonel!"

In his darkness Ironhorse heard a familiar pleading voice, remembered desperate hands hauling him up, away from the death that lurked in the alien device. He opened his eyes slowly, met the startling blue pair begging him to live. So much like an old friend.

A soft smile touched the pale lips. "Okay, Harrison..."

*****

There was the smell of pine and animal musk. The eyes that meet his were black over a sharp nose, lined with red-brown fur. Wolf blinked at him.
"I can carry you home, if you wish," Wolf asked with sympathy. "It's very close now."

"No," Ironhorse whispered. "Sing for me."

"Owl said yours was a stubborn spirit, Paul Ironhorse," Wolf said with laughter in his deep voice. "Are you sure? It may never work."

"Have to try." He vaguely noted the blood running off his arm to color the pristine earth.

Wolf sighed and in the first people's language began to chant. Very softly, choking on the blood that rose in his throat, Ironhorse joined him. The sun's heat reflected off the cold blood, drying it.

Ironhorse watched the grass bow under his deeply exhaled breath. He sat up. Wolf was gone.

*****
"Ouch!"

"Well, hold still," Egon complained at Peter's complaining. "It's not that bad."
"You try getting skewered by a demon cavalryman! It's no fun."

"The weapon seems to have cut through the upper layers of skin but I do not believe the muscle was damaged."

Peter did not have a comeback and Ray looked at him, seeing the dark depression settling on the expressive face. "Peter?"

"It was my fault."

"You keep saying that," Winston told him levelly, sitting down across the table from him. "Why do you...?"

"You heard the tape. I took us to hell," Peter said flatly. "I don't know how or why but it happened and Ironhorse nearly died because of it."

"Peter," Egon explained gently, "Ironhorse is already dead."

"You know what I mean," Peter sighed.

Deadly silence filled the small kitchen. Egon helped Peter ease his shirt up over his shoulders, gently buttoning the front, put the supplies back into the first aid kit.

"So, what are we going to do next?" Ray questioned. "When he comes back we should have another plan ready."

"If he comes back," Winston said pessimistically. "I haven't seen anyone that shot up since..." The pain on Peter's face stopped him. "Sorry, Pete."

"He'll come back," Ray said, trying hard to inject some optimism into the darkening mood.

Egon sat down, deep in thought, tapping a pencil on the battered wooden table. "We choose Peter to lead Ironhorse because he's been through that dimension before. That may have been a mistake on our part."

"No kidding," Peter said blandly.

"What do you mean?" Ray ignored Peter's statement.

"Peter, you had a hard time finding me when you came in the first time, correct?"

"Yeah," Peter nodded, intrigued despite himself.

"And you were expecting it to be that way again?"

"Well, maybe... I hadn't really thought about it." He thought about it now, rubbing the back of his neck. "Damnit! Yes. When you said it would be easy, Egon, I believed you but there was this little voice in the back of my mind that said there was no way."

There was only one alarm turned on this time, an almost sad single tone.

"Hello, Ray," Ironhorse said quietly.

"Are you okay?" Ray blurted. They all knew who he was talking to.

"Yes," Ironhorse said coolly. "Thank you. How's Peter?"

His detached manner started a thread of worry through Ray. "He's fine."

"Good."

"We'd better go upstairs," Egon suggested.

"No."

"No?" Ray questioned.

"What no?" Peter repeated. Egon and Winston exchanged confused glances.

"Why not?" Ray ignored Peter and addressed the air.

Relieved that he couldn't be seen, Ironhorse said, regret obvious in his controlled voice, "I've come to say goodbye."

"Goodbye?"

Ironhorse nodded, remembered himself. "If it was just me involved in this, there would be no problem trying again. But I won't endanger any of you again."

This soft farewell was almost drown out by the other three's reaction to Ray's one word.

"Goodbye?" Winston demanded. "What the hell does he mean..."

"Now, wait a minute..."

"This decision is in all probability..."

"Shut up!" Ray ordered. The other's fell silent surprised by the bark in their normally soft voiced teammate.

"Paul? I'm not sure I heard you right. You're leaving?"

"Because," Peter cut in, standing in a vaguely familiar poise with arms folded across his chest, "he's afraid one of us will get hurt."

"That's a very noble sentiment," Egon said. "But an unnecessary worry since I have figured out the method by which we can reach our goal with a minimal risk factor."

"You have?" Peter questioned in surprise.

"Of course," Egon said haughtily.

"How minimal?" Ironhorse demanded.

Ray started to translate, stopped. "This is silly." He focused on a spot just in front of the brick wall, no where near where Ironhorse was standing. "Can't we please go upstairs?"

Ironhorse hesitated. He didn't want to hear the arguments he knew were forthcoming. But he owed these men for the help they had tried to render and his honor wouldn't let him leave without acknowledging that. Part of him, still desperately hoped the plan would work, remembering a dear friend alone in the dark, still desperately hoped the plan would work.

"Okay," he agreed. "Upstairs."

Two minutes later he stood defiantly in front of them, his expression daring Egon to give him his best argument.

"How minimal?" Ironhorse repeated.

"Very," Egon answered vaguely. Before Ironhorse could voice a protest he continued, "The problem arose, and will again, due to Peter's preconceived idea of the other dimension."

"If it will happen..." Ironhorse started.

"Let me continue," Egon urged. "I theorize that if a person were to concentrate his thoughts and keep his preconceived visions under control, the task would be successful. That's why I will be the one to go."

"No," Ironhorse answered hoarsely. "I won't..."

"You have no choice, Colonel," Egon said intently. "If what you suspect about the aliens is true we all have an interest in assuring that this menace is controlled."

"Why you, Egon?" Ray interrupted. "Why not me?"

"Or me?" Winston added.

Peter was silent.

The blonde turned, sky blue eyes smiling at the concern from the other two. He met Ray's hazel gaze. "What's hell like, Ray?"

"According to my mother, it..." Ray flinched, he had answered Egon without thinking, years of being together making the answer open and
honest. "Oh, I see."

Egon ruffled the short hair; turned to met the worried eyes of the ex-soldier. "Winston," he said gently, "you're the most religious of us. What's hell like?"

Winston glanced at Ironhorse standing impassive inside the gate. Dark looks met and Winston gave a one word answer, "Vietnam."

Ironhorse smiled softly at him. "Been there. I'll pass."

"I'm a scientist. I can look at this in a more clinical fashion. Besides," Egon continued as he walked to the desk, "we're not going directly to the cottage. We're going to Ironhorse's meadow first."

One of Ironhorse's eyebrows arched up. "We are?"

"Yes. You draw your power from that place. If we go there first I believe that you will be able to overcome any stray subconscious images I might accidentally produce."

Silence claimed the room. As usual Egon had thought all of his arguments through calmly and logically. There was nothing to say. Taking a deep breath, Ironhorse nodded once shortly. Egon slipped on the mike. Ray retrieved his pack and helped him slip it on while Winston secured the cable around his waist.

Watching the proceedings, Peter suddenly smiled. "Someone should put 'March of the Toreadors' on the CD."

Egon smiled back nervously. "Ready."

"Be careful, Egon," Peter said firmly. He looked at Ironhorse. "Take care of him."

"I will," Ironhorse assured him.

"The next time we see you, Paul," Ray said confidently, "I expect to be able to shake your hand."

"On the count," Winston said, standing by the gate switch.

A second later Egon joined Ironhorse in nothingness. The tall blonde extended his arm. Ironhorse took a strong grip around the narrow wrist. The smile that met his held a trace of fear and the long arm trembled minutely. Ironhorse smiled at him, a quick flash of white against the lean, dark face.

And they were in the meadow, surrounded by a wind that spoke of secrets ancient and powerfully. Surprise lit the sky blue eyes and
Ironhorse was again reminded of another tall, wild eyed scientist.

"You're very adept at interdimensional transfer, Colonel."

Ironhorse didn't answer. At the edge of the forest stood Bear, watching them with quiet eyes.

"You have brought company," he observed casually.

"Yes," Ironhorse answered.

"What?" Egon questioned, scanning the area.

"He cannot see me," Bear confirmed Ironhorse's unasked question. "I am not in his mind or spirit. But he is a good man."

"I know."

Egon didn't question this time and Ironhorse could feel him watching with scientific curiosity.

Bear continued. "The world you wish to save, no longer know us."

"They have," Ironhorse said firmly, "and they will again if given a chance. Will the aliens?"

From somewhere in the sun painted forest, Wolf laughed. Bear was silent. The wind sang a chant to the world, the song part of the trees and rocks. Wolf joined it, then Owl. Bear was last, his voice carrying the weight of the earth and all it's ages. They were singing the morning chant, the chant to the great roundness of the world.

It touched Ironhorse's spirit, cut it free, let it soar for the first time in many long hard years. He finished the chant with them. When he turned, Egon was regarding him with wide eyes. Ironhorse laughed, let the power fly through him. He grabbed both Egon's wrist in a tight grip.

"Let's go kick some alien butt!"

The dark room blinded them for a moment after the bright meadow but Ironhorse knew exactly where he was going. He jerked Egon toward the body that lay sprawled near the fireplace, not letting him become involved in the tragedy being played out around them.

"Harrison! Now!"

It was time. Sky blue and night black touched. Egon pulled the startled Ironhorse into a quick hug. "Good luck. Two weeks."

With one hand keeping a death grip on Ironhorse's wrist, Egon reached for the body. He touched the clone's arm.

Ironhorse was on the floor, looking up. He had the quick impression of a smiling blonde face then Egon was gone. He climbed shakily to his feet. A hawk screamed somewhere. There was a bomb ticking away his life. Grabbing the gun that had been dropped, Ironhorse ran for the nearest window, knocked the glass out with the barrel and sailed out into the cold, winter day. He got twenty yards toward the woods when the house behind him exploded with phenomenal force and he was pushed down into the hard ground. His last thoughts were that no matter how close the explosion - it was not going to kill him. He'd gone through too much to get back once.

*****

"I still can't believe we're here," Peter complained again.

"Ah, come on, Peter," Ray chided. "Aren't you the least bit curious if this will turn out to be real?"

"There isn't any explanation for the tapes other than the fact that we have experienced some kind of supernatural encounter which we do not remember," Egon offered.

"Yeah, man, and how else do you explain the fact that we all had nearly the same dream?" Winston asked.

He pulled the rented heap to a stop in front of what was left of a once elegant mansion. It was now a mass of broken stone and burned timbers.

"Okay, okay, I admit there have been some pretty strange coincidences lately..."

"You mean like the Indian looking guy that just happens to be waiting for us?" Winston questioned innocently.

"Oh, wow," Ray exclaimed.

The team climbed out of the car, watching warily as the man approached. He was average height, slender, wearing a rumpled khaki uniform shirt over a pair of jeans that were too big for him. It was obvious he had not had much rest lately; there were bruised circles under his eyes.

As he drew closer a shiver went up Ray's back. The fire in the ebony eyes was very familiar. They regarded each other awkwardly for a few minutes. Then the man's mouth moved up slightly on the right, his eyes lighting with amusement.

"I'm Paul Ironhorse. I see you got my message."

*****

The man sitting in front of them was not at all what they had expected Dr. Harrison Blackwood to be like. His crystal blue eyes glittered with a feverish intensity in the single overhead light; the beard giving him a hardness which was highlighted by the automatic weapon resting very visibly in a holster under his arm. Despite all this, there was soul deep sorrow behind the glitter.

"Your friend, Kincaid," Winston observed, "is not happy about letting us in."

"I only did it because I'm familiar with your work," Blackwood said coolly. He looked at the floor and a little of what he must have been like two weeks earlier slipped out of his solid walls. "And you've come a long way."

Ray smiled, widely, his innocent enthusiasm lighting the room. "I think, Dr. Blackwood, you'll be happy you met us once we've finished our story."

Ten minutes later, Blackwood staggered up, backing away, going very pale. "What... what are you.. why..." his voice was hoarse, laced with remembered horror. "Why are you doing this? God damnit! He's dead!"

Shocked by his reaction, but realizing he should have expected it, Ray stood and reached for Blackwood. "Please, Dr. Blackwood, this isn't..."

The gun was in Blackwood's hand. The other's drew back, trying to cover one another. Their movement startled Blackwood made him take a quick look at the gun in his hand, at them. The rage in the crazed blue eyes gave way to unfathomable sorrow. He savagely shoved the gun back into his holster. Wrapping his arms around his chest, he turned away, shaking so hard the Ghostbusters could see it even in the bad light.

"Dr. Blackwood," Egon began calmly. "Please give us a chance."

"Don't you understand?" Blackwood said harshly, not turning. "I saw him die. I watched while my best friend..."

"Harrison." The voice was very gentle.

Blackwood went absolutely rigid, stopped breathing. The Ghostbusters watched a slender shadow move into the room, stop just short of the small pool of light.

Blackwood whirled around, gun coming out again, aiming double handed toward where the voice had come from. Ray started to step forward, to put himself between the deadly menace and the man he had very quickly come to consider a friend. Winston's strong hand on his arm stopped him.

Ironhorse stepped into the light, black eyes filled with longing, hope and, strangely, apology. Standing still, arms loosely at his sides, he glanced casually at the gun rock steady in Harrison's hands, then up into the hazy blue eyes. And waited.

An eternity stretched by, the gun in Harrison's hand gradually becoming more and more unsteady, knuckles going white with the hard grip. Peter started to say something to break the deadly standoff but Egon gripped his shoulder, shook his head.

"Paul?" Harrison begged very softly.

"It's really me, Harrison." With a sad touch of humor, he quietly said, "You could tell me a joke. But I might not get it."

The gun dropped to the floor with a loud clatter. Harrison took three hesitant steps, a large hand touched Ironhorse's cheek, light as a
woodland breeze or the brush of a owl's wings. Harrison's hand slipped down, grabbed a lean shoulder, becoming painfully tight.

Two pair of radically different eyes met, two souls seeking and offering comfort and truth.

"Oh, God..." Without warning Harrison sank to his knees. Ironhorse went down to the filthy floor with him.

"Dear God, dear God..." Doubt, confusion and fear washed out of the grey-blue eyes with the tears that flooded them.

They were wrapped in each other's arms; Harrison sobbing openly. Ironhorse held him tightly, hand tangled in the limp curls.

"Harrison." Tears that would no longer be denied spilled from the ebony eyes, ran down the drawn, dark cheeks. "I'm here. You didn't think something like dying could stop us, did you?"

Behind them, unnoticed by the two men on the floor; Ray smiled at Egon, poking him playfully in the ribs; Peter and Winston exchanged a high five. Peter then hugged Ray and pushed Egon's glasses up on his nose. And they all tried to wipe the tears off their faces without the others noticing.

*****

Debi had fallen asleep against Ironhorse's shoulder. Suzanne was on the floor near his feet, nodding off on his knees. Harrison had not moved more than a few feet from the other man in five hours, gripping his arm or shoulder every few minutes. Only Kincaid seemed mystified; obviously pleased to have his old commander back but a little confused about how to handle it.

They listened first to Ironhorse and the ghostbusters relate their tale. After that Harrison caught Ironhorse up on what had happened after his death. For the ghostbusters, after their part of the tale was finished, the jet lag, coupled with worry over the outcome of the adventure had left all but Egon asleep draped across various pieces of furniture. Egon was too intent on the information Blackwood and Kincaid had discovered about the aliens.

Suzanne stirred, smiling widely as she realized who she had fallen asleep against, extended the pleased look to Debi. Ironhorse stroked her hair, revelling in the warmth.

"I'd better take her to bed," she whispered.

"Let me," Kincaid said gently.

Debi stirred as he lifted her. "Colonel?"

Ironhorse stood, gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, answered her real question. "I'll be here."

Dark blue eyes met Ironhorse's and the mercenary's hard look faded into a smile. "We'll count on it, Colonel."

Debi was asleep again when he started for the other room.

Suzanne hugged Ironhorse from behind, resting her chin on his shoulder and giving him a soft kiss. "Thank you, Paul."

He didn't have to ask for what as he watched her follow Kincaid out.

When he turned Ironhorse was surprised to see that Harrison had quit staring at him like he was about to vanish. Egon was showing him, one of the proton packs that had been brought in rather than left in the car, not trusting them to stay in the car given the climate of the neighborhood.

Ironhorse smiled at his friend's wide back; Harrison looked years younger than the man he had held only a few hours before. He continued to scan the dark room, including the New York team in his affectionate gaze. They might not have remembered everything they had done for him but he did.

"It'll work!" Harrison's yell startled him, waking everyone.

"Harrison?" Ironhorse took a step forward and found himself in a hard embrace, lifted and spun, like a small child. He tried to glare at Harrison but his smile interfered.

"It'll work, Paul!" Harrison's arms were almost painful, eyes sparkling blue with excitement. "Venkman! Wake up!"

"I'm awake," Peter said sourly.

"We all are," Winston added with a yawn.

"The proton packs," Harrison said breathlessly, releasing Ironhorse with an absent pat on the shoulder. "I can adapt them!"

Egon looked at him suspiciously. "Adapt them to do what?"

"To kill aliens without harming humans! And in a wide area!"

Harrison was moving, dragging one pack to a battered metal table. "Come on!"

Egon joined him, excitement a twin in the lighter blue. Winston and Peter were still trying to catch up. Ray moved to stand next to Ironhorse.

"Is he always like this?"

Ironhorse smiled fondly. "Yes, thank the Spirits, yes."

Somewhere close by, Bear laughed.