Janine Melnitz

Leave a message, and we’ll get back to ya.  Prank calls or anything vulgar will be deleted off the machine.

My Resume

Ground Rules

All common sounds to emit from the lab when Janine walks by its door, any time of the day or night.

But now she stands frozen outside the door, one hand curled tightly around the cool copper handle.  

Her stomach had dropped when she had first heard the broken sobbing.

Swallowing, she called out, “Knock knock”,  before slowly opening the door, fighting the urge to just throw it wide open and let it bang into the wall.  

Her heart breaks as she catches sight of her friend.  Her boots thump softly on the floor as she crosses to Egon, and she sinks to the floor to kneel in front of him, and when she speaks, it’s quiet and soft around the edges in a way that it normally isn’t.]

He heaves a weary sigh, melting and slouching into the couch. Why did crying have to leave such a heavy exhaustion in its wake? Why did he feel so sleepy and vulnerable? He lets his head flop back onto the headrest and stares at the ceiling.]

Mm. Wonder if there’s any magic in feeling like the victim of a hit-and-run.

[He scratches Cakes beneath her chin with one hand whilst the other absently doodles little circles in the soft blanket covering a portion of his leg.]

I suppose it could’ve been worse. At least I’ve got bragging rights now — a deity threatened me and I lived to tell the tale. Yippee.

[He says all of this flatly, staring blankly at the ceiling. At his unenthusiastic exclamation, he raises a listless fist in the air in mock celebration. The emotion wells up again, stinging his eyes. A single tear escapes the corner of his eye and he wipes it away quickly.]

…But good G-d was that terrifying. I…genuinely thought that Gozer would zap me into oblivion. I’d be here one moment and a char mark on the tile the next. …Or worse. Gozer could’ve bypassed me entirely and gone for —

[He’s getting a bit worked up now, so he stops the sentence in its tracks. Slowly, he shakes his head, swallowing tensely.]

Nevermind. …I don’t even want to consider it.

[Egon sniffles a bit and blinks the tears away. He considers his next words carefully. ]

You know, in a way, I’m…I’m glad it was you who found me. …I don’t relish the idea of anyone else seeing me like this. …Aside from the cat, I mean.

[Janine snorts.]

Well, sure there is.  There has to be.  When you’re well rested and back to your old self, that’s when the magic comes in.

[Every movement Egon makes exists in Janine’s periphery - the ripples in the air from his motions all feel heightened somehow, and she strains herself to notice them as if they’re tiny whispers made from the bottom of a well.]

Yeah, can you imagine?  Peter especially.  I’m glad he’s off with Dana right now, she’s a good influence on him.  Makes him actually start considerin’ other people’s problems and sense of peace.

[She pauses, and crosses her legs for something to do.  When she speaks, it’s careful and measured in a way that Janine normally doesn’t even consider, but she wants to leave it open to him.]

All common sounds to emit from the lab when Janine walks by its door, any time of the day or night.

But now she stands frozen outside the door, one hand curled tightly around the cool copper handle.  

Her stomach had dropped when she had first heard the broken sobbing.

Swallowing, she called out, “Knock knock”,  before slowly opening the door, fighting the urge to just throw it wide open and let it bang into the wall.  

Her heart breaks as she catches sight of her friend.  Her boots thump softly on the floor as she crosses to Egon, and she sinks to the floor to kneel in front of him, and when she speaks, it’s quiet and soft around the edges in a way that it normally isn’t.]

[Empty.  She didn’t often feel that way - lucky enough to have enough gumption, to lift an eyebrow and have it cause waves had, for so much of her life, protected herself against the feeling.  She ran hot and cold but never lukewarm.]

Maybe we can go find someplace where there’s a blanket and maybe one of those little cats of ours runnin’ around.  That’d be nice, right?

[A blanket sounds good. A cat sounds even better. Both sound like much better, warmer options than sitting in the fetal position on the floor. He nods somewhat listlessly.]

Mm. Yeah. …Maybe the couch. …Cakes likes to sleep there.

[Even as he agrees to getting up, he’s not sure he can will his joints and muscles and bones to work together long enough to accomplish the monumental task of standing.

His brain still evidently works somewhat well; as he stares blankly into the distance, his mind is coming up with new and more creative ways to describe his emotional state every few seconds.

He feels like a shattered urn.

Like a pitiful half-deflated helium balloon that doesn’t quite float like it should.

Like a heartfelt letter that’d been ripped up before it reached the mailbox.

Like a busted piñata.

Like a once-frozen burrito that didn’t spend quite long enough in the microwave, so that the exterior is tepid and mushy while the inside remains a block of bean-flavored ice.

Whatever he’s feeling, it’s not good.

Heaving a sigh and a low grunt, he very slowly and carefully stands. His knees momentarily ache in protest and the strange weight of nothingness in his chest makes him feel as if his legs are about to give way. G-d, that was tedious.

[But that was…six years ago.  Damn.]

[Then, aware that she’s been holding his hand for what is now turning into a very long time without letting go, she drops her hand to her side.  Her hand feels warm all of a sudden, and she surreptitiously flexes it and attempts to wipe off any sweat against her thigh.]

Alright, to the couch we go.

[She opens the door, her eyes immediately landing on the couch on the other side of the room.] 

[There had been some…interesting interior decorating choices when the business had just started, including but not limited to, a disgusting plastic-looking thing that was more of a bench than a sofa.  Some time ago, the monstrosity had mysteriously disappeared, and in its place, a much plusher, much older green-grey sofa had shown up, laboriously carted up the stairs by Jonathan and his friend Sonny.  A blanket was always draped over the back—also donated by Sonny, who’d claimed hurriedly it was just laying around for no reason at his apartment and thrust it into her hands, and it was so soft, impossibly soft—and there was always a pillow hiding somewhere off to the side, too, for when, not if, someone invariably fell asleep there.]

[It was dim, but light enough that she could see the outline of Cakes nestled on the sofa, looking up and mrrping at them.]

He feels a tinge of disappointment when she releases his hand. Instinctually, he curls it into an impossibly soft fist, as if he’s trying to cradle and preserve the lingering warmth.

He follows after Janine, spotting Cakes square in the middle of the soft, squishy sofa.

His instinct when he felt like this was to get somewhere safe. To find a spot in which to lick his wounds and allow only a select few to enter this sanctuary. This looked perfect. He hums a half-laugh at Janine’s musing.]

Always in the right place at the right time, isn’t she?

[He passes Janine slowly, his knuckles brushing softly across her arm. As he makes his way towards Cakes, she stands and stretches, arching her back and flexing her toes.

He sits next to her and she half-climbs into his lap, positioning her front paws so that she can rhythmically knead the leg of his flight suit. She purrs loudly, the cat equivalent of an “I love you; I’m content to be around you.” He scratches her on the head to return the sentiment.

Janine is right. The cat inexplicably knows exactly what he needs right now. He gives Cakes a small, appreciative smile and winces as her sharp little claws prick into his thigh like needles.

She sure is.  I think she’s got some kind of feline superpowers, if I’m bein’ honest.  Though maybe that’s also just ‘cause I hang around all of yous all day with your signs in everything...

[She covers her arm where she could still feel the ghost of the touch, more of a graze, really, but it feels different and significant.  But now is decidedly not the time, and so when she sits down on the sofa she sits with enough space to seat at least one of their friends between them, grabbing the blanket that sits over the top of the couch, stretching her legs out instead.]

[Sitting side-by-side staring ahead at nothing would be too awkward.  Instead, she busies herself by smoothing the blanket out and throwing at least a little bit over Egon’s leg—the one Cakes-free, that is.]

But it didn’t, it hadn’t, and that was how Ray found himself now. Staring at a machine that still stubbornly refused to work no matter what he did to it, feeling frightened and worn down and so very small in the face of all of this chaos.]

God damn it.

[Swatting some miscellaneous bits and pieces off of the countertop, Ray despondently laid his head down on the table’s surface, letting out a low groan of displeasure. How could he just....just sit here when his friends were in danger? Tiamat was a god more powerful than Gozer themselves had been, and it had been dumb fucking luck that they had even managed to defeat Gozer the first time—but there had to be something he was missing. Something other than smashing a stupid computer modem that had to help here. Surely there was some bit of research that he hadn’t done, or material he hadn’t looked over, or—

—hadn’t there been an apple sitting on the table a minute prior?

Egon muses briefly at how strange it is to be regarded like this by his best friend. Well…not his best friend. The other him’s best friend. Which he supposes makes this Ray his best friend too, even if he’s technically a version of his best friend, not the exact same man.

He shakes the thought off before it can become even more convoluted.

Ray has a different look on his face now.

That “the assignment was due today??” look. That “it’s the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man” look. That “get me out of this hole” look.

All common sounds to emit from the lab when Janine walks by its door, any time of the day or night.

But now she stands frozen outside the door, one hand curled tightly around the cool copper handle.  

Her stomach had dropped when she had first heard the broken sobbing.

Swallowing, she called out, “Knock knock”,  before slowly opening the door, fighting the urge to just throw it wide open and let it bang into the wall.  

Her heart breaks as she catches sight of her friend.  Her boots thump softly on the floor as she crosses to Egon, and she sinks to the floor to kneel in front of him, and when she speaks, it’s quiet and soft around the edges in a way that it normally isn’t.]

[Empty.  She didn’t often feel that way - lucky enough to have enough gumption, to lift an eyebrow and have it cause waves had, for so much of her life, protected herself against the feeling.  She ran hot and cold but never lukewarm.]

Maybe we can go find someplace where there’s a blanket and maybe one of those little cats of ours runnin’ around.  That’d be nice, right?

[A blanket sounds good. A cat sounds even better. Both sound like much better, warmer options than sitting in the fetal position on the floor. He nods somewhat listlessly.]

Mm. Yeah. …Maybe the couch. …Cakes likes to sleep there.

[Even as he agrees to getting up, he’s not sure he can will his joints and muscles and bones to work together long enough to accomplish the monumental task of standing.

His brain still evidently works somewhat well; as he stares blankly into the distance, his mind is coming up with new and more creative ways to describe his emotional state every few seconds.

He feels like a shattered urn.

Like a pitiful half-deflated helium balloon that doesn’t quite float like it should.

Like a heartfelt letter that’d been ripped up before it reached the mailbox.

Like a busted piñata.

Like a once-frozen burrito that didn’t spend quite long enough in the microwave, so that the exterior is tepid and mushy while the inside remains a block of bean-flavored ice.

Whatever he’s feeling, it’s not good.

Heaving a sigh and a low grunt, he very slowly and carefully stands. His knees momentarily ache in protest and the strange weight of nothingness in his chest makes him feel as if his legs are about to give way. G-d, that was tedious.

[But that was...six years ago.  Damn.]

[Then, aware that she’s been holding his hand for what is now turning into a very long time without letting go, she drops her hand to her side.  Her hand feels warm all of a sudden, and she surreptitiously flexes it and attempts to wipe off any sweat against her thigh.]

Alright, to the couch we go.

[She opens the door, her eyes immediately landing on the couch on the other side of the room.] 

[There had been some...interesting interior decorating choices when the business had just started, including but not limited to, a disgusting plastic-looking thing that was more of a bench than a sofa.  Some time ago, the monstrosity had mysteriously disappeared, and in its place, a much plusher, much older green-grey sofa had shown up, laboriously carted up the stairs by Jonathan and his friend Sonny.  A blanket was always draped over the back—also donated by Sonny, who’d claimed hurriedly it was just laying around for no reason at his apartment and thrust it into her hands, and it was so soft, impossibly soft—and there was always a pillow hiding somewhere off to the side, too, for when, not if, someone invariably fell asleep there.]

[It was dim, but light enough that she could see the outline of Cakes nestled on the sofa, looking up and mrrping at them.]

But it didn’t, it hadn’t, and that was how Ray found himself now. Staring at a machine that still stubbornly refused to work no matter what he did to it, feeling frightened and worn down and so very small in the face of all of this chaos.]

God damn it.

[Swatting some miscellaneous bits and pieces off of the countertop, Ray despondently laid his head down on the table’s surface, letting out a low groan of displeasure. How could he just….just sit here when his friends were in danger? Tiamat was a god more powerful than Gozer themselves had been, and it had been dumb fucking luck that they had even managed to defeat Gozer the first time—but there had to be something he was missing. Something other than smashing a stupid computer modem that had to help here. Surely there was some bit of research that he hadn’t done, or material he hadn’t looked over, or—

For a moment, the anxiety threatened to spike in him again. He quickly swallowed it down. He was feeling vulnerable and stripped bare enough right now without adding yet another panic attack on top of it. Ray had only barely managed to get his anxiety back under control, after all, and he wasn’t particularly keen on seeing what would happen if it was allowed to surge again.

He simply followed Janine up to the second-story lab, taking a cursory glance around to see if anything was massively different as he sat upon the sleeping arrangement that she had mentioned–well, that was certainly both different and convenient. Maybe he’d have to see about convincing his Egon to set up some kind of bed space in the lab when he got home. If he got home.

Another bubble of anxiety swelled up within him, and Ray simply busied himself with attending to breathing techniques as Janine stepped out to talk to Egon. For the span of several moments, Ray could hear their conversation faintly, trying to pick it out but not hearing a single coherent sentence–and then Janine stepped back into the lab with Egon in tow, causing Ray to visibly brighten before frowning in thought as he scribbled words down onto the notepad again.]

JANINE PROBABLY TOLD YOU, BUT I CAN’T….TALK RIGHT NOW. I TRIED. NO DICE. I’M SORRY IF THAT’S AN INCONVIENCE. IT HASN’T HAPPENED IN A LONG TIME. I DIDN’T REALLY WANT IT TO HAPPEN NOW, BUT….

SHE SAID YOU KNOW MORSE CODE. MAYBE I CAN DO IT TO YOU AND YOU CAN TRANSLATE FOR US?

[The contradictory feelings of familiarity and foreignness battle in Egon’s mind as he looks over the note and studies the handwriting. Strange how it looked so much like he expected, but was still slightly off somehow. Once he’s finished reading, he nods.]

No problem. I can certainly translate for you if it’ll make this nonverbal episode any easier.

[He pauses for a moment.]

[She runs one hand through her hair, and it’s probably half sticking up now, looking all sorts of mussed, and she takes her readers off, letting them dangle from the chain on her neck.  The world, its light, even the outlines of her friends - the one she’s known forever and the one who’s so similar to the one here, they all become blurry, and with that, somehow both so much more manageable to deal with, and also so much more stressful.]

All common sounds to emit from the lab when Janine walks by its door, any time of the day or night.

But now she stands frozen outside the door, one hand curled tightly around the cool copper handle.  

Her stomach had dropped when she had first heard the broken sobbing.

Swallowing, she called out, “Knock knock”,  before slowly opening the door, fighting the urge to just throw it wide open and let it bang into the wall.  

Her heart breaks as she catches sight of her friend.  Her boots thump softly on the floor as she crosses to Egon, and she sinks to the floor to kneel in front of him, and when she speaks, it’s quiet and soft around the edges in a way that it normally isn’t.]

Through his nose, Egon releases a breath he’d been unconsciously keeping captive. Slowly, he pulls his arm out from beneath the other to lay his hand atop hers. He gives her hand a gentle squeeze.]

I don’t doubt it.

H-hopefully it never comes to that.

[He cringes at the way his voice catches in his throat.

“But what if it does come to that?” Doubt whispers in his mind, “What if you do fail Callie one final time; she can’t even count on her daddy to avenge her? What if that task fell to Janine? What if she got hurt in the process? A chain reaction of easily preventable misfortunes and your incompetence is the catalyst. ”

Another quiet, strangled sob escapes from deep in his chest. He clears his throat and blurts out an apology.]

Sorry. I’m sorry —

[But she’d said he didn’t need to apologize, he remembers, so he quickly chokes out a contradiction — ]

I mean. I’m not. Well, I am, but I - I shouldn’t be —

[Stop babbling, you idiot. He clears his throat again, then lets out an exasperated huff of a sigh at himself.]

…Good G-d, I’m a mess.

[Janine snorts.]

Who isn’t?

[Egon’s hand is warm in hers - slightly sweaty and a bit shaky still.  She turns her gaze to study the way the lines of their hands are entwined, breathing deeply, the brief spark of laconic humor disappearing as quickly as it had appeared.

She carefully measures each word out on her tongue before she speaks them.  They sit heavy like honey in her mouth.]

Do…do you want to talk about it?  If you don’t, that’s completely fine.  It’s just that I know when I get upset about things, I like talkin’ through them with somebody.  

Or, I mean, we could talk about something else, too.

[She idly traces tiny circles on his hand with her thumb, and listens to the sound of his breathing.]

You know, I’m not so sure I’m sold on this whole floor thing.  It’s not all that comfortable if I’m being totally honest with you.   

[She squeezes his hand, hoping it’s clear he can say no if he needs more time.]

I…don’t know what I want, quite frankly. I just feel…

[He pauses, unsure of how to describe it. Every word he can think of falls short of describing how horribly shattered he feels. How does one sum up the feeling of having a deity take a seamripper to the threadbare fabric of his mind and reduce his emotional state to mere scraps? The feeling of realizing he’s now faced with the task of picking up the pieces of his mind and painstakingly stitching it all back together into something vaguely resembling what it once was?

He decides upon one of the many words that comes to mind, although he knows it doesn’t do this feeling justice.]

…empty.

[He exhales a shaky, exhausted breath.]

[Empty.  She didn’t often feel that way - lucky enough to have enough gumption, to lift an eyebrow and have it cause waves had, for so much of her life, protected herself against the feeling.  She ran hot and cold but never lukewarm.]

I’ll be honest, this day always felt kind of like a joke havin’ my birthday land on it, but what can I say?  I do love the candy.  Take care, Faye.

So I may have gotten a bit too into the spirit of the upcoming holiday and....hidden them in some locations within the firehouse. Nowhere near any sensitive equipment, just....where people won't notice them unless they look hard enough.

On your bed.