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Don't Know Why	By : JustMeAgain Category: G through L > Ghostbusters Views: 2102 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I make no money from this story nor own any of the Ghostbusters or songs mentioned within.

Chapter List
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2008
Egon didn’t know what he was expecting when he sent the wedding invitation to Rebecca. He’d almost always been a rational man, however, when he did have lapses in reason, it almost inevitably involved Rebecca Venkman. Or Reynolds. It was Rebecca Reynolds now. She had married and divorced since the last time he’d seen her. He hadn’t known she’d had a child. The people he’d hired to find her hadn’t mentioned it. He’d never been a very sentimental man, either, but he had taken a different view on life after nearly losing his twice in the past five years. Being a Ghostbuster was a dangerous job. Life was too short to not spend it with the people who were most important to you, and Rebecca was important to all of them. If it hadn’t been for her there would be no Ghostbusters. None of them would have gone into parapsychology if what had happened to her hadn’t happened. Surely Peter couldn’t still blame her. It wasn’t her fault. He should have learned that by now. If Peter still blamed Rebecca, he’d have to blame Egon, too. He was just as much a part of what happened as Rebecca was.
~~~~~ 1992 ~~~~~
Rebecca Venkman looked better than any fifteen year old had a right to... well, she was almost sixteen. Egon Spengler had just turned twenty, though, and she was one of his best friend’s sister. He shouldn’t be looking at her that way. Ray didn’t look at her that way, and he was just as close to her as Egon was. She didn’t tease Ray the way she did him, though. Her own brother, Peter, tended to ignore her more often than not. Ray stepped in to be a big brother to her. Even now, as they gathered for Thanksgiving dinner at the Stantz’ house, Ray was lifting her off the ground in a bear hug. She shrieked and giggled, nearly dropping the cake she carried. Egon rescued it just before it toppled from her hands. It was a pistachio bundt cake. The smell made his mouth water. "Jeez, Spengs, guess we know what’s more important to you, me or the sweets." She teased him as Ray settled her back to the floor. He was confused... was he supposed to have saved her? From Ray?
"Ray wasn’t dropping you." He told her. She just rolled her eyes and took the cake back. She brushed past him, her hip brushing against him as she squeezed between him and Ray. He could smell cinnamon or cloves, but he didn’t know if it was her or the cake. Either way, the physical contact made his scalp tickle with tiny jolts of electricity, and his mouth went dry. He watched her walk into the kitchen. She stood more than an half foot shorter than him, but she wasn’t petite. He was tall, actually, and she was about average height. It was the only thing average about her. Her hair was a brilliant shade of scarlet, and it hung in thick waves down her back to curl around her hips. She’d used a barrette to pull it back from her face. Sometimes he simply watched her hair. It could seem alive at times, twisting and curling against her backside. Other times he concentrated on her legs. Right now was one of those times. She wore a royal blue dress that showed off her long legs and a pair of high heels that showed her toes and had little bows above them. Her distracting qualities didn’t end there, either. Her breasts were just large enough that he was sure they’d fit his long fingered hands perfectly, and her eyes... sometimes, as she teased him, he could almost feel like she wanted him as much as he wanted her. Her attractions went further than mere looks. She took care of the people she cared about, even when they didn’t deserve it. She’d done her best to care for her alcoholic father, even though Egon suspected he verbally abused her. She was a good cook, too. She’d learned that from Ray’s mother. She wasn’t as smart as he was, but she was smarter than average. She read voraciously, and she’d taught herself to speak French, German and Gaelic. She sang, too. Many summer nights he’d listened to her sing when she thought no one else could hear her. Her voice had carried, though, through her opened bedroom window to his. Despite all this, all the things she made him feel, he didn’t know what to do about it all. All his doctorates couldn’t tell him what to do with the lust, and his reason told him being with her would be an affront to Peter. Egon only had two friends. He couldn’t afford to lose any.
**********
I sat the cake down on the counter with a sigh. It was pointless to pursue Egon Spengler. The man just didn’t get it. It didn’t matter that he was a genius, at love he was dumber than the molds, spores and funguses he collected. Nana Stantz stood at the stove when I walked in. "What can I do to help?" I asked her. She turned to inspect my outfit over the rims of her glasses.
"Are you trying to give the poor boy a heart attack?" She asked me with raised eyebrows. I scoffed.
"Like ‘the boy’ even noticed. Maybe if I wore a dress with the periodic table on it." I smirked.
"Oh, he notices. He just doesn’t know what to do about you." She said.
"Well, I wish someone would tell him." I sighed, leaning against the counter.
"So tell him." She shrugged.
"I can’t be the one to tell him." I said, feeling flustered at the very idea.
"If you aren’t going to tell him make yourself useful and set the table." She said, turning back to the stove. I reached for a stack of plates, and, as I did, I felt my dress creep dangerously high. Nana swatted my backside with a wooden spoon. "No more reaching for you. Not in that dress." She scolded. I grabbed at my backside, losing my grip on the plates. Luckily I’d only succeeded in pulling them forward, and they peeked just over the edge of the shelf. "Egon!" Nana called, and he came through the door almost immediately.
"Nana, I could’ve just used the step stool." I told her.
"Not in those shoes. Egon, will you help Becca set the table? You can reach everything down for her." Nana instructed him.
"Of course." He agreed, easily getting the plates down.
"Becca, you’ll have to find yourself a tall man to marry, like Egon. Lord knows I love Papa, but we’re both short, and so are the kids." Nana said, making my cheeks turn pink.
"Technically, according to Mendel’s research with pea plants, she could still have children of average height. Particularly because both her parents are of average height." Egon explained. Nana rolled her eyes, and I chuckled.
"I think Nana gets it, Spengs. Can you get down the glasses?" I called him off as I dug the place mats, tablecloth, napkins and napkin rings from the drawer.
"What else can I do?" He asked me.
"Come help me with the tablecloth." I said, leading him out to the dining room. Ray, my brother, Peter, and Papa Stantz all sat in the den watching football. Ray had an older brother and sister, but Connie lived in California and his brother was in the army. "You know, you can go watch football if you’d like. I can manage the rest on my own." I said, unfolding the cream colored tablecloth with brightly colored autumn leaves decorating the border.
"I don’t mind. I don’t particularly enjoy sports." Egon replied.
"You don’t say?" I teased him, but he didn’t catch it.
"My time is better spent on mental pursuits." He said. I shook the tablecloth out over the table, and he took the opposite end. We worked together to pull all the wrinkles flat, and I began putting down the place mats. As I did, I brushed against him. Just the tiny amount of physical contact gave me electric tingles.
"You can’t think of any physical pursuits that would be worth your while?" I flirted with him. If he even noticed he gave no indication of it. He didn’t even bother to answer.
"I’ll bring the dishes." He said, disappearing into the kitchen. A wave depression washed over me so strongly it nearly buckled my knees. I’d had a crush on Egon since I was twelve years old, but, back then, it had been puppy love. He’d been such a misfit I’d been instantly drawn to him. He was always so serious. The only time I’d ever seen a full fledged smile on his face was when I’d given him his first Twinkie. His parents didn’t allow him to have sugar. They didn’t allow him much of anything except school work. I’d been eleven, and he was fifteen. We sat in Nana’s kitchen as he helped me with my math homework. I’d found the uneaten Twinkie in my backpack and offered it to him. He’d started to refuse, but I promised it would be our secret. He’d eaten the cake in two bites, and he’d broken out into the only full smile I’d seen on his face ever or since. That had started it all. I couldn’t exactly pinpoint when the puppy love had matured, but every time I heard his deep voice I got shivers. The angular planes of his long frame made my stomach do flips, and his dark eyes seemed to burn into my very soul. I was fairly accustomed to him ignoring my flirting, but there were times, times like now, when I would give anything just to have him kiss me. I physically ached for him, and, at times like this, I didn’t know how I could ever live without him.
I had myself semi-composed by the time he returned with the first stack of dishes. He put a plate on each place mat, and I rolled the napkins and slipped them into their rings as I longed for his attention.
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Don't Know Why