Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter 1
Late summer
The air was humid with August’s wrath. The sun beat down on the city like New York was the only place in the world. Erin held a card board box in her hands as she wove her way through the crowded sidewalk. Pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose, she looked nervously around the crowd, but none of them were looking back. She sighed softly with relief, today there would be no long exhausting questions or annoying new reporters, after well— all the events there had been so much attention. She wanted so badly to hate it. The suspense was killing her. When were the hoards of admirers going to turn on her? She crossed the street, her heels never hitting the lines of the crosswalk. Two lefts and a right two lefts and a—
SLAM.
Erin was familiar with the laws of physics. An object in motion stays in motion. Unless— it’s operated upon by an outside force. I am the outside force. She thought to herself as the impact of the situation fell upon her. Everything slowed to a crawl. She crashed into the searing pavement like a wave, her books and papers scattered around her. Her precious anonymity was gone. She felt the flutter of camera lenses and shouts. A hand broke through her vision, reaching down into her reeling, aching world.
“Oh shit I'm so sorry… I hit you! oh shit I hit someone with my car— ARE YOU HURT !? CAN YOU HEAR ME?!”
She blinked. So, some loud idiot hit her with his car? Erin Gilbert was a theoretical particle physicist. A famous one, at that. Any fool who took a middle school science class would know that for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. And Erin’s reaction to having just been hit by a car… was to stand up slowly, inhale through her nose, exhale through her mouth, wipe god knows what off her face with her sleeve. And smile. She smiled at the man, then without a word turned and sprinted out of the fray. Past the police cars and arriving ambulance. Shouts echoed behind her and the world was a blur, her head pounding like her brain was attempting to break out of her skull.
She had forgotten what street she was on, stumbling in heels towards a random back alley, she pulled her smashed phone out of her pocket. She couldn’t do anything because the glass was so broken it made her fingers bleed with every swipe. She dialed the ghostBusters firehouse from memory. Kevin answered as always.
“Ghost Busters this is the rescessionist!” He yelled— too loud for the phone. Faintly Erin could hear Abby’s frustrated cry from the other room,
“RECEPTIONIST, KEVIINNN.”
“Oh uh ghost busters this is the ‘RECEPTIONIST, KEVIINNN.’ do you have ghost? If yes we can bust it for you! Our costumers all say that we are extreme busters!”
Erin repressed a snort.
“THAT IS IT. KEVIN GO TO YOUR ROOM” Abby yelled, snatching the receiver from Kevin.
“Ahem, hi how may we help you?”
“Abby… it’s Erin.” She croaked out.
“Erin!? Are you okay?” Abby gasped.
“I sort of got in a car accident.”
“What!? But you weren’t even driving how—“
“Got hit.”
“You got hit by a car!?”
“Yeah. I guess I did.”
“You GUESS!? Erin where are you?!”
Erin looked around her eyes flitting quickly around the shadowy alleyway. Brick walls on either side and broken bottles everywhere. This is a place that Dr. Erin Gilbert wouldn’t be caught dead. However, Dr. Erin Gilbert seemed to be missing from Erin’s brain. What was going on? She pulled a bottle of hand sanitizer out of her pocket, squirting the entire contents onto her palms, her breathing rapid and sparse.
“Erin?” Abby’s voice echoed through the other line to her.
“An alley off fifth street.” Erin huffed, breathing rapid like a wild animal.
The cuts on Erin’s hand were on fire. Dumb dumb scientist she thought, who pours hand sanitizer on a scratched up hand.
“Okay, stay on the line I’ll send Patty—“
“No. Please no. I don’t need the lecture from her.”
“Okay Kevin then.” A groan escaped Erin’s lips.
“Holt—“
“Fuck no. Absolutely not. Abby— just come here yourself and don’t tell anyone.”
“Wow. Erin Gilbert wants me to come to a random back alley downtown and not tell anyone?” Erin scowled so deeply Abby could feel it through the phone.
Five minutes later the white ecto-1 slid into the entrance of the alley.
“Erin what the hell— you’re all over the news! You ran from a car crash?!”
“Just. Please take me home.”
Abby, with the consternation of a mother duck helping her lost duckling, opened the door. The ride was quiet. When they arrived at the firehouse a swath of paparazzi covered the curb, lenses poised for attack. Erin ducked. They pulled smoothly into the GhostBusters garage a second later. Abby seemed pulled between anger at Erin and concern for her. Erin took the back stairwell up to her room, grabbing a bundle of clean clothes before heading silently to the women’s bathroom. She peered inside, no feet under stalls. No shower water running. She was in the clear.
crossing the room and finding a shower stall, Erin drew the curtain, and stepped out of her plaid pencil skirt revealing black shorts. Her legs were covered with bruises and cuts, the glass from the car’s headlights had gashed open her thigh. She flung off her blazer. The blood had seeped through her white satin blouse. Then in the sticky silence…she heard it: soft humming. The jingling clink clink of something being washed in the sink. Slowly Erin tried to peel off the blouse, but the blood had scabbed it to her body. 3-2-1 she counted and yanked.
her torso was on fire. The scream boiled in her throat. Demanding oxygen. It surfaced as a small angry sob. The sink stopped. Boots padded towards the stall.
“Gilbert?” The voice asked.
“Holtz.” Erin breathed.
“How’s it going? Are you okay?” Holtzman inquired cautiously , her voice echoing slightly in the tiled room. A muffled noise escaped Erin’s throat.
“Okay, thumbs up if you’re alive, thumbs down if you’re a ghost, and sideways if you’re not sure.” Holtzman asked, her signature deadpan voice making it hard to tell if she was serious. She usually was.
Erin smiled weakly, but for the first time in a long time, she felt the smile. She stuck her hand out under the curtain a thumbs up.
“Oh my god your hand…” holtzman whisper yelled. Erin tried to pull it back but Holtz grabbed on just in time. Turned the bloody, glass infused arm over in her hands.
“Gilbert… I—“ Holtz let go, lowering Erin’s hand all the way to the floor before disappearing. Erin just let her hand rest on the tile where holtzman had left it. Holtz returned a minute later with the med kit from her lab.
“Oh holtzman you don’t need to—“
“Well yeah, I kinda do need to. I have some new ointments that need testing and the FDA is dodging my calls.” Erin smiled weakly, but it turned to a grimace when Holtz doused her hand with something that stung like it was attacking the inside of her arm.
”we have to get this glass out of your arm… unless you want an infection… but the CDC is dodging my calls too so I wouldn’t recommend it.” Holtz breathed with consternation.
“Fine. Do your worst.” Erin asked coldly, surrendering her arm for what was sure to be a scientifically’off the books’ operation, and bracing for impact. But it never came. Only the feather light touch of the tiniest tweezers Erin had ever seen. The curtain was still between them, but Erin peeked out with just one eye to see what holtzman was doing to her arm.
“Where did you get those tweezers?” Erin asked. Holtzman didn’t look up, just continued removing glass from Erin’s arm.
”from my lab.”
“Your lab—“
”yes but before that they were made in Guam.”
”but—“
”and before Guam they were designed in a small town in Finland by—“
”Holtzm—“
”et viola! all the glass is out of your arm! Now how bad is the rest of you?” Holtz asked. Erin paused. When she spoke her voice was odd and high pitched.
”Bad. I got hit by a car.”
There was a sound like the clattering of metal instruments. Holtzman had dropped everything she was holding. There was an uncharacteristic Holtzman silence. Then the curtain was gently moved aside by a shy pale hand.
“Holtz—“ Erin started, grabbing the hand and freezing its journey mid air.
“It’s ugly.” Erin warned.
“Okay.”
“It’s gross.”
“Okay.”
“You’ll wish you could unsee me.”
“Never.”
Erin almost smiled, and slowly the curtain was swept aside. Erin was on the floor of the shower, her legs curled to her chest, wearing black nylon shorts that she had had on under her skirt, and a white lace T-shirt bra. And she was bleeding, which is all holtzman cared about.
“Let me help you?” Holtzman half asked half commanded.
“Okay, but if you start bottling my blood for your experiments then this is over.”
“Deal.” Holtzman sat down next to her. She poured various stingy serums into the wounds. Flinching and tense, Erin clutched a shampoo bottle as if it were a cliff edge. Next came the ointments, which were much gentler and smelled like the forest. After a while Holtzman broke the silence.
“So which bastard do I need to beat up?” She whispered as she inspected the wound on Erin’s leg, making Erin blush as holtzman’s hand rested on her knee.
“I- have no idea, I left the scene of the accident.”
“Oh. Well good for you.” Holtz said with a genuine smile. “You shouldn’t be caught up in a mess just because some people never learned to steer.”
“Thanks.”
Holtzman paused, examining the wound, Erin had an impulse to slap her hand away but decided to squeeze all the conditioner out of a random bottle.
“I’m going to have to stitch this Gilbert.” Holtz said after a while, pointing to the deep gash on Erin’s thigh. Erin nodded longer than necessary like she was trying to convince herself it was fine. She shifted, putting her leg out in front of her and Holtzman scooped it into her lap, slowly without eye contact. like she wasn’t sure if it was okay.
“I am a doctor…” holtzman whispered
“Yeah of mechanical engineering— not of human legs.”
“I did once mechanically engineer a human leg.” Holtzman spread a numbing cream on the wound and before she knew it the wound was closed. She ran her fingers along the tight stitching.
“Now, the most important question of your entire career… hello Kitty, Justin Bieber, or iron man?” Holtzman asked holding up several bandaid choices.
“Holtzman im not 5”
“Right, you’re 27.”
“Gesundheit.” Erin replied. “Also iron man obviously.”
“Respectable choice. If you had picked Bieber I would have had to tell you I’m fresh out.”
“Who would use—“
“They’re my private joy.”
“seriously holtz?”
“Hey, it’s the closest I’ll ever come to having his face in my tits.”
“HOLTZMAN.”
“Well, I had a boob accident in the lab and bandage Bieber was thirsty and available.”
Erin glared as Holtzman slapped an iron man bandage over 8 stitches.
“Okay all healed. You’re welcome.” Holtzman said standing up, dusting off her hands and offering Erin a help up. To her surprise she took the hand.

-end chapter 1