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Continued from here:

There were meters. There were sensors. There were sniffy things that normally got reserved for testing the air in entire apartments. There were things that got stuck to the temples with medical temporary glue. There were gadgets and gizmos and all kinds of things in the second-floor lab at the Firehouse, and all of them got used with the kind of enthusiasm that was endearing (if a bit freaky) in Ray and outright terrifying in Egon. The in-depth examination of the two Drs. Venkman could have gone on for hours, save that even Ray had enough sense to clap a hand over Egon's mouth and say, "I think we're done," when he sensed the word 'probe' making its way to the physicist's speech queue. "What've we got in the way of results, anyway?"

"Not nearly enough analysis to say," Egon answered with a faint scowl. "Give me ninety minutes and I'll have some proper answers for you."

"All right." Ray pulled a couple of coils of wire from the latest device off his shoulder and set them down on the nearest shelf. "So where do we go from here?"

"Anywhere you like, but I would stay relatively close to the Firehall if I were you. If the patterns of the last few days are anything to go by, I have a feeling there's going to be a call coming in this afternoon."

Ray nodded and glanced over at Peter. One of him, anyway. "You heard the man... preferences?"

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"If it were at all possible to do so I would want to get some kind of retinal sample from the both of you," Egon began, picking himself up off the floor. "Some of Ray's information from Milliways indicates that certain individuals in at least one world-line are capable of seeing the section of the energetic spectrum where ordinary electromagnetism and the psychokinetic frequencies overlap. From what he said, it sounds as if the PKE manipulators of that particular world are born with a different distribution of cells in their retinas- the usual rods and cones are interspersed with cells exclusively sensitive to that part of PKE best referred to as 'thaumic energy'."

Peter looked at him.

"Magic, Peter. The people of that world who use magic, can see magic." Egon sighed. "Imprecise terminology is going to be the death of somebody someday… at any rate, the important part is that as nearly as I can tell, the both of you have marginally peculiar neurological 'wiring'. The mild electrical current I ran through your hand-"

"Yeah, about that-"

"Nothing you won't recover from, Peter. Lacking Ray's PKE generation apparatus, which I still want to examine in detail, I had to improvise a proper test. The two of you not only generate low-level psychokinetic energy, but appear to respond to direct stressors with increased levels of PKE output. I’m a little surprised neither of you were the focus of pseudo-poltergeist activity as teenagers."

"We had other things on our minds."

"I'm sure." Egon's mouth twitched a bit. "As it stands, it's entirely possible that what would have become uncontrolled low-level small radius telekinetic ability in another individual was channeled in another, less spectacular direction. The ability of intoxicated passengers to escape serious injury in car accidents compared to sober passengers is a documented phenomenon- their uncoordinated state prevents the kind of subconscious tension that often makes for inconvenient limb placement and muscle damage."

"They're too flexible to get hurt, is what you're saying."

"They can't avoid injury entirely, but- yes. It's my suspicion that your low-level field is just active enough in the face of direct stress or danger, whether you perceive it or not, to either deflect the worst of whatever might be coming your way or to set yourself in motion in such a way that by the time your conscious mind and ordinary reflexes take over, you already have a head start. There were some interesting indications of higher than expected neuronal excitation levels in the brain at the time your field spiked as well, although I'd need more testing to prove that the two are related entirely."

"You are so not getting a sample of my brain tissue, Egon."

"I didn't say I wanted one," Egon protested, but he did look disappointed.

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Venkman sighed, trying to take it all in. It was a lot to understand. He sat down, really uneasy. Apparently he was weirder than he ever expected of himself. He glanced up at his other self, and the younger Peter seemed to be taking it pretty hard as well.

"So what does it all mean? I mean, what happens now?" He asked Egon.

Peter added, "Maybe we should also say something about Mom, especially if any of it's genetic."

Venkman glanced at him, "Yeah, but I'll leave that to you, and you probably want to tell the group about it. Past time they knew the truth anyway."

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Egon lifted an eyebrow. "I can't get you much more information without further testing of one form or another. I'll definitely be working up some form of passive-sensing PKE device with remote recording capability. Something that can be worn during the course of an average day around here, to map exactly what goes on in response to which events. Beyond that, I can feel my blood sugar plummeting like a block of depleted uranium, so if we could make whatever briefing you plan to deliver happen quickly, I would appreciate it."

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Venkman nodded, "Alright, so in for more of the poking and prodding then? Just try to lay off the big needles, that's all I ask."

He then remembered in his pocket, "Oh here, I grabbed these out of the kitchen earlier, forgot I had them with me." He fished a packet of Peanut M&M's out, and hands them to Egon.

"Thanks for all your help with this. Been having a hard time, and Ray's done a lot for me, a lot more than he probably should have at times. Not to mention he wasn't in a good shape when I first got to the bar, too."

Peter headed out, and yelled down the stairs, "Hey Ray, Winston? Can you come up? Janine, you should be up here too. It's important. Venkman twins got an announcement to make."

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Egon snatched the packet out of midair with the lightning reflexes of a Staten Island cockroach. "Thank you."

Winston was the first to make it up the stairs; Ray wandered in after him, hair still damp in places. He hadn't found a shampoo yet that could take out ectoplasm without a hell of a washing. Janine brought up the rear, saying, "It's really startin' to be a zoo on the switchboard, Doctor V... what's up?"

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Venkman nodded to Egon, and just said, "It's really important, and it's something we should have said a long time." He then shared a look with Peter, and gave him the go-ahead signal.

Peter then sighed, "Ok, I know I never really talked about my family, but this is something that I've been dealing with for a long time, and before I get to the point of Macro-Me here got, it's gotta be said. Also it'll explain some of Egon's results."

He then started about his mother being diagnosed with schizophrenia when he was five, and instituitionalized until the day she died. Her belief that ghosts were after her and her son, and how they both could see them. His interest in the study of parapsychology and psychology being started by this. Wanting to help people, and prove his mother wrong. How his own denial of what he saw that night, not wanting to scare his father, led to being inherently skeptical about anything and everything. How he still has a hard time dealing at times due to repression.

He didn't say anything about Egon's findings, leaving it to the scientist to explain when he felt better, or after they could run more tests.

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Winston leaned back in his chair as Peter spoke, letting out a long, low whistle at the end of it. "That's heavy, man," he said. "That's beyond heavy. I'm surprised you didn't go to pieces already, carrying something like that around. I'd ask why you didn't say something, but I've met enough guys carrying loads like that of their own to understand what you mean..." He glanced to Egon, then back to Peter. "What do you need from us now?"

Janine, who had scoured the excessive makeup from her face before coming up the stairs, murmured, "You know we're right behind you, Doctor V. All of us. Right, Ray?"

Ray nodded. "No question about it. Anything we can do to help, we're there."

"For either, or both, of you," Egon added quietly.

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Peter shrugged, "Right now, just your support with this. Egon told us he needs to take more tests to verify a couple of things. Maybe see if we glow in the dark too, or something."

Venkman then spoke up, "Yeah, and keep an eye so we don't go cuckoo in the next couple of days. I'm managing, but trust me, one crazy Peter is bad enough, much less two."

Peter resisted an urge to shudder, "Damn straight."

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"Good, because tomorrow after the tests, I'd like to go up to Albany." Egon adjusted his glasses. "We have a trail to pick up, assuming the police don't do so first." His tone implied that his opinion of the police catching anything, let alone Mike, was extremely low. "I was originally planning on taking Winston along, but given the number of disturbances we have scheduled for check-out tomorrow, I don't know that we'll be able to spare anyone. Will the two of you be all right under the circumstances, do you think?"

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Peter frowned, "Are you sure, Egon? What if you run into anything or even Mike? He took down two guards, and I doubt they were light-weights."

Venkman could see his point, but wht if the busts down here got bad. Another thing. "Does this Mike know where the firehouse is?" Obviously he probably have a general idea where to find them since they were well-advertised. "And if so, should we have somebody to hold down the fort here?"

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"His coming back to the asylum is a probability that doesn't concern me very much, Peter. Albany has procedures in place for locking down the area around the psychiatric facilities up there and sweeping the surrounding region. Michael Draverhaven was an extremely intelligent man before the accident. I doubt he'll be lingering in the vicinity very long." He took a breath. "As for the location of the firehouse... He's been confined to the asylum since the late 1990's. Unless they were foolish enough to give a convicted murderer a phone book from 2002 or later, I doubt he's come into possession of our address."

Ray shifted uncomfortably in his chair, rubbing at the side of his upper torso.

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Both Venkmans caught this at the same time, and both asked simultaneously, "Ray, you ok?" They then stared at each other, though missing the weird looks they got at the stereo effect from everyone else.

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"Sorry," Ray said, dropping his hand immediately. "That's where, uh..."

"Oh," said Peter, comprehending instantly. "Sorry. Bad memories, huh?"

"Yeah." Abruptly, Ray stood up. "I'll be in the bunkroom if you need me."

Peter watched him go. Eventually, he said, "Psychic defense, huh? Got anything in there about protecting yourself from yourself?"

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Venkman shook his head, "Not in there. But there is information available on that. Defense mechanisms would come to mind."

Peter glanced back at him, "Yeah, it took him a long time to recover after when it happened. I did everything I could to help, and it still took weeks for him to come out of his shell."

Venkman grimly replied, "I know the feeling. Here pass word on that I'll help where they need me. Here, on a bust or whereever."

Peter's eyes narrowed, "Are you sure you're ok?"

He just said, "We both know the answer to that."

And his younger self nodded, and replied, "No, you're not. In fact, you could go wacko at any point again." He seriously asked, "What the fuck happened to you?"

"Gods, death, end of the universe, past horrors haunting me, been getting hit left and right with it. Thought coming here would help."

"And it isn't, is it? Sure, it's like a lot like home, but differences are annoying, and just reminding you that it isn't. And meanwhile we've discovered that we're freaks of nature, and it's adding up to one loony Venkman."

The elder Venkman remarked candidly, "At least here I have a built in second opinion, even if I might as well be talking to myself."

"Maybe it's because you are?" Peter sighs, "Alright, I'll tell Egon. Guessing you're going after Ray."

"Jahwohl, mein doppleganger." And Venkman gives him a slight salute with his index and middle finger together to the side of his forehead.
He then headed after Ray.

Arriving in the bunkroom, Venkman opens the door. "Ray?"

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The lights are out when Venkman arrives. Ray's seated on the end of his bed anyway, a box in his lap and a pillow shoved under one arm. As the door opens, he turns his head. "Sorry," he says quietly. "I had to get away for a minute there."

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He nodded knowingly. His counterpart was right, as much as he wished it was home, it wasn't, and staying here would only make things worse. After they dealt with this Mike character, he was going to head back to Milliways. The old saying, 'You can't go home again,' holds true when you're dealing with multiple worlds.

He sits at a bed right by Ray.

"All right, you want to level with me here? Something about this's eating you, and guessing it's not just the fact your old buddy went nuts and tried to kill you. So what is it?"

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"Nothing. Everything." He shrugs. "Things nobody in the world ought to be able to understand, I can accomplish. Things that ordinary people deal with every day of their lives, I can't fix. I used to be upset that what we did scientifically made so little difference in people's lives- I mean, you'd think that proving life really does exist after death would make a difference- but I'm okay with that now. At least, as okay as I'm gonna get. It's the idea of some of the difference I could make that scares me... I mean, I was at the controls when the machine exploded- the one that drove Mike over the edge. It was a design flaw or a, a weakness, or something, I don't know. I don't think it was me that did it, but it might've been. The thing with Tim happened, and you turned up, and I thought it was the greatest thing in the world. And then it hurt you." He sets the box aside, giving a small, bitter smile that probably goes unseen in the dark. "Ever get drunk and do something you don't remember the next morning, but really, really regret when you find out about it?"

Before Peter can answer, Ray flicks his holocomputer on. The schematics that pop up may or may not look familiar to Peter, but they're complicated, detailed, and frighteningly realistic. It's not until Ray rotates them through about a hundred and sixty degrees that the design becomes familiar- it's heavier and more powerful than the design Peter knows, but still recognizable. And even if it weren't, the words 'PROTON ASSAULT CANNON MK 0.2' are hovering at the bottom of the three dimensional display.

"I don't like the idea of making this kind of a difference, Pete, but I seem to be good at it anyway. People I care about get hurt and I don't know how to fix it- and I can't even leave myself alone for a minute, apparently. I guess I'm just worried that I'm going to leave a mark on the world after all, and that it's going to be exactly the opposite of what I've ever intended."

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Venkman stared at the display.

"Jesus," he mutters. He wasn't sure what was more disturbing, the fact that Ray came up with it at all, or the fact he could come up with it while drunk. Pickled brains should not even be capable of making coherent sentences, much less creating weapons of destruction. Not to mention he had an idea of the when and why Ray would be drunk in the first place. Which meant he held some responsibility for this as well.

He sighed, and rubbed his forehead a bit, his index fingers grazing his temples.

He said, "Ray, first of all, not all of it is your fault. Don't try to take the weight of the world on your shoulders. People screw up and make mistakes. Look at me. I just try to move on from them, because that's all you can do."

"Alright, so you ended making an advanced powerful proton weapon while drunk, and you do realize that's a hell of a lot more than most people can do sober?" Venkman then added, "And you're a scientist, as in find a problem and fix it. That's why we're scientists, and not philosophers or moralists. We think of solutions not ethics. And you've also made good things. Hell, you recently proved a working PKE beacon can be built, and it did its job. Nothing wrong with that. Do you know how many scientists who've probably built things or invented things that were applyed in bad ways? Most if not all. That's the problem with discoveries. Somebody out there's always going to think of evil ways to apply it, but that's not us, Ray."

"I mean, you've haven't built it yet, just proved it can be built. And we might actually be able to do a lot of good with it. Ok, I don't know who we're going to get to fire something like that because I know it's not me." He can't help shuddering a little.

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Ray watched the designs turn slowly in midair for a while.

"I think I meant well with it," he said softly after a bit. "I think... from what little I remember, I think I wanted something that'd hold the beings in the Bar at bay, if they ever went south on us. I don't know. I might've just been doing it because the idea occurred to me and I couldn't stop myself. I like the first idea better."

He shrugged, and switched off the machine.

"Doesn't matter. The point is, I'm tired of people being hurt." His hand went to the same spot as before. "We have to find Mike as soon as we can, though... before he hurts somebody else."

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Venkman immediately agreed, watching his troubled friend, "I am, too, Ray. I honestly wish there was more I could do to stop it from happening again." He added, muttering just to himself he thought, "If I wasn't walking on eggshells half the time with my burnt-out head here, that is." Ray didn't need to hear how messed up he was right now, and he knew his other self wouldn't say anything unless he ended up as a detriment to the group. He already had an idea he was going to have to remain behind here. His younger self was right, he wasn't in any shape to handle a bust. Not like this. It was too soon, and he just had a helluva more dumped on him. But like hell, he was going to worry his friend with anything about it.

He responded, "We'll get him one way or another. We'll stop him. We've taken on a lot bigger fry than him. He's just some possessed little pissant with some hopped-up powers. That's nothing to us. We're Ghostbusters, when the going gets tough, we get tougher, and go out to face it. Right?"

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Ray lifted his head a little at the half-heard murmur, but said nothing. He was in no mood to puzzle the meaning out of the words anyway. When Venkman spoke again he listened, and thought for a bit, and then smiled- maybe not the smile he normally used, not the face-splitting grin that half the papers in New York and virtually everyone in Milliways was used to, but still a smile. "Right," he answered, as firmly as he could. "That's why we get to wear the funny suits, as I believe I said to Andrew when we first started talking in the Bar. All right, then. We'll deal with him tomorrow, but in the meantime there's one other really, really big question..."

He glanced meaningfully at the arrangement of the room. "You gonna arm-wrestle Peter the Younger for the bed, or what?"

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Venkman tensed when he thought Ray heard his offhand remark, but relaxed again.

"Peter the Younger?" He laughed slightly, but it sounded forced, and devoid of his usual humor. He then sagged a bit, and his face briefly revealed how much strain this trip on top of everything else was taking on him, "It's his bed, I don't feel like arguing for it. I'm tired enough I'll just crash anywhere, even the floor." He stood up, and stumbled a moment before he took a proper step.

*Shit, I hope we can get this guy by tomorrow. Before it's too late.* But his mind was divided on whether it was Mike or himself that was running out of time quicker.

"So, time to turn in then? I think I might have spied a couch downstairs with my name on it."

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"Nonsense. Even if we didn't have a decent couch, we make a point of having cots and pillows in storage just in case. Let's get you downstairs and set up for the evening, and we'll deal with Mike tomorrow. Who knows? If he's still traveling on foot, we could have him nailed and returned to the pen in time for happy hour."

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Venkman nodded tiredly, worn out, and only semi-focused for several reasons.

"Sounds good, Ray," he yawned, and headed downstairs with Ray to get some sort of temporary sleeping arrangements. He wasn't aware of some of the looks he got as he slowly walked along. Egon seemed thoughtful, Janine looked frazzled and worried, Winston was studying him a bit. But his other self was especially focused on him, his eyes grim, and inner alarm bells going off in his head.

Once the cot was set up, Peter barely said good night to Ray, before his head hit the pillow, and he was asleep in a matter of seconds.