Peter was up in his room, reading over some things, and writing some notes. His place was starting to look more lived-in, at least clutter-wise. He still hadn't gotten around to bother decorating it much yet. The only thing were some pictures of Dana and Oscar, and a couple taken of the guys around the Firehouse, and on busts
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"Dr. Venkman? Peter? You have a moment?"
The door opened, and Peter blinked at him, "I was pretty busy... nah, c'mon on in. Pull up a chair." He stepped back to admit the other man.
Johnny nodded, and stepped inside. He found a chair handy, and sat down.
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Johnny replied, "I recently found out some things about my father. He had visions like me. Nobody believed him, though Rev. Purdy, a friend of my parents, humored him. Eventually Purdy and my mother agreed to have my father committed. He was diagnosed with..."
Peter's face was pale at this, recognizing this story, "Schizophrenia? Right?" He recieved a grim nod confirming this. "Shit...I know this."
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"So, I guess you found out the vision, and were able to stop it?" Peter asked him.
"Yes I was. It took a while since I was having nightmares, and Rev. Purdy asked me to talk to a psychiatrist. The same one who talked to my father in fact."
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"That's right."
He then got up, and held out his hand, "In that case, there's some things you need to see. I know how this story goes." Johnny hesitated, but then took his hand. Peter clasped Johnny's wrist as their surroundings shifted around them.
Over Johnny's shoulder, there was a bearded man talking to a young boy.
Over Peter's shoulder, there was a dark-haired woman talking to another young boy.
The images shifted to both adults now wearing straitjackets, and being administered shock therapy. One boy slowly grew up as he visited, the other boy was never there. Explainations showed a boy and a man committing the woman, while a woman alone committed the man.
Suddenly, the boys were now men, and there was a parent standing behind each, their hands clasped on their son's shoulders. Sophia Venkman and Herb Smith gazed back calmly at each other.
This is my son, and my struggles, my pain, my yearnings, are now his.
"I can't explain, but maybe you'll understand ( ... )
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