(no subject)

[gone_byebye]

The last time Ray spent New Year's at the Firehouse was... forty-seven plus twenty-five, plus one... ow. Nearly seventy-five years ago. Not a number he likes to contemplate. The implications are simply far too weird. On the other hand, the last New Year that Ray actually experienced was... damn. Less than two months ago. He spent it in Antarctica, with Lake and Pabodie and the rest of the expedition crew. Also not something he likes to contemplate, though for different reasons.

Stupid time travel. Stupid immortality. Stupid alternate universes.

He's still thinking about the Dyer expedition and its new Year at the bottom of the world tonight. Peter and Dana made a date tonight, and so did Egon and Janine. Winston was off with his sister and her kids. That just leaves Ecto, and Slimer, and technically Peck. That's fine with Ray; he's not ready to celebrate another New Year just yet. Being surrounded by people intent on partying would be much too weird. So he begged off hanging out with his daughter (Ecto said it was fine, as she had some foreign markets to check up on), fed the Siamese fighting fish, tucked Slimer in for the night, and went upstairs.

The Firehouse is located in lower Manhattan, at the heart of one of the biggest pits of light pollution on the Eastern seaboard. Between the mucky sodium light scattered uselessly upwards and the clouds that ghost over the island, headed out to sea from the Jersey side, it's almost enough to let him forget that they're coming 'round right.

Comments

[etananesoe.livejournal.com]

There is a kind of laughter which has nothing at all to do with menace, and yet is menacing. The laughter which echoes over the rooftops is that of someone who has seen something amusing beyond all reckoning, and that laughter pours from a spot one foot behind Ray Stantz, and from a being which does not look at all like him.

What, exactly, the figure looks like is blessedly obscured by the tatters of nightmare and flame that cloak his body, but the hand offering the Ghostbuster a champagne glass of something the color of Shoggath eyes in the dark is the bitter black of charred wood and tipped in equally black nails that fail utterly to reflect the lights around them.

"Happy New Year, Raymond Stantz; Ghostbuster."

[gone_byebye]

There is a noise at which Ray has become very, very good over the years, and it is:

"Gnk!"

Fortunately, while his throat and speech queue might have locked up, the rest of his body hasn't. The lone neuron in all of his body responsible for handling common sense and survival instinct requests fires off the needful impulses without bothering the consciousness about it, and when Ray remembers to blink he'll find that he's taken the glass whether he meant to or not. "Thank you," he manages, and then, a little more steadily: "No, really. I, uh... think I have to thank you."

[etananesoe.livejournal.com]

"Do you?" the Crawling Chaos asks, head tilted just a little more down to look at the man before him, "Why?"

[gone_byebye]

"Well, for one thing, I didn't go bugnuts booga-booga in the head for twenty-five years, either at Arkham or in Antarctica," Ray says. "Which is a pretty big thing and if you didn't have a hand in it I'd be really surprised. But, uh, also? Because compared to those whose power and plans you're the embodiment of? The other beings of power and destruction beyond mortal ken that've taken an interest in me are really... well, um, kind of comprehensible and easy to deal with."

What? It's true!

[etananesoe.livejournal.com]

"You are more interesting sane." is what he is told in return, "The year to come would not be as amusing if you were one of my younger sister's."

[gone_byebye]

This gets some thought.

And some more thought.

And then Ray actually smiles. "You know," he says, "that makes three things I have to thank you for. I'd been wondering."

The common sense neuron looks at this statement, turns it over several times, fails to work out exactly how that was supposed to make any sense at all, and hands in its resignation to run off to Tahiti instead. Which is how that glass of whatever-it-is gets raised in a gesture of toasting. "Do I at least get to ask what this is?" he inquires at the last moment.

[etananesoe.livejournal.com]

"Rest." Nyarlathotep says, without smiling, "One night of peaceful rest."

[gone_byebye]

Ray thinks about that, and then inclines his head soberly; another repetition of 'thank you' would be over-much right now, he figures.

If this year is anything at all like the time between his last New Year at the Firehouse and tonight, he's going to need whatever rest he can get.

"Bottoms up."

[etananesoe.livejournal.com]

Another bout of truly amused laughter echoes as Ray drinks and by the time the glass is lowered the Ghostbuster is alone on the roof.

[gone_byebye]

And the great thing is, the thought that it was the freaking soul and messenger of the Outer Gods, the Crawling Chaos, Nyarlathotep who felt it was necessary to give him one night of genuinely peaceful rest for the sake of his sanity?

TOTALLY doesn't sink in until he wakes up the next morning.

All things considered, Ray's just gonna go for a hangover next year.