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Dec. 22nd, 2021 05:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
calmestinchaosPhoebe landed in New York City, 1989 four months ago. In that time, she helped with a lot. She helped destroy Viggo, she babysat Oscar. She helped the Ghostbusters get reinstated and liked to hope she became an important part of the team.
But they were no closer to figuring out how to get her home. Traveling through time was rough. Dangerous. They weren't sure how to go about getting her back to her time so, until they had a sure idea, this is where Phoebe lived. With her grandfather and three uncles, helping Janine around the facility, helping people with their ghost issues.
And occasionally, building things. She'd been working on this project back home but hadn't finished it before being shoved through time, and the equipment and sources she had here were a lot older than she was used to. But she was making due.
With money she'd earned from babysitting and working at Rays shop, Phoebe finally managed to buy everything she needed to make what she was calling the Flytrap. Until she had a better name for it.
There were blueprints spread out on her workbench at HQ, several thoroughly dismantled remote controlled toys and Phoebe sat on her stool, head bent forward as she attached wires and battery packs to the flying drone, listening carefully for the return of Egon, who'd decided his grandkid really needed to eat something so he went out for food.
Look, he'd understand it best what it's like to get sucked into a project. Hopefully, she'll have it closer to done by the time he came back.
But they were no closer to figuring out how to get her home. Traveling through time was rough. Dangerous. They weren't sure how to go about getting her back to her time so, until they had a sure idea, this is where Phoebe lived. With her grandfather and three uncles, helping Janine around the facility, helping people with their ghost issues.
And occasionally, building things. She'd been working on this project back home but hadn't finished it before being shoved through time, and the equipment and sources she had here were a lot older than she was used to. But she was making due.
With money she'd earned from babysitting and working at Rays shop, Phoebe finally managed to buy everything she needed to make what she was calling the Flytrap. Until she had a better name for it.
There were blueprints spread out on her workbench at HQ, several thoroughly dismantled remote controlled toys and Phoebe sat on her stool, head bent forward as she attached wires and battery packs to the flying drone, listening carefully for the return of Egon, who'd decided his grandkid really needed to eat something so he went out for food.
Look, he'd understand it best what it's like to get sucked into a project. Hopefully, she'll have it closer to done by the time he came back.
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Date: 2021-12-22 10:59 pm (UTC)The thing was...Egon was never supposed to have a family. Fatherhood wasn't in him--it still wasn't. Yet Callie came along, and there was suddenly this child sharing half of his DNA. There was a little girl with fifty percent of his chromosomes, who laughed and sang and danced...she played and she dreamed and she had friends. She had plenty of friends.
She did things Egon had never dreamed of before, and she wasn't quite seven years old yet.
Now there was Phoebe, one quarter of his genetic material intermeshed with hers...and she came from Callie, that little girl who could do remarkable, impossible things.
Yet Phoebe was like him. She was proof that somewhere, buried in that seven year old wonder was a piece of him.
It was the closest thing to a miracle that Egon Spengler believed in.
Egon was not a father. He was not a grandfather, either, not built for it. Still, he took care of Callie not by knowing what to do, but trying to hypothesize about what Ray, Peter, or Winston would do. Feed her, clothe her, set boundaries for her.
The guys shot him looks over it, for whatever reason. Keeping bananas in the lab because she needed extra potassium, checking the content of the fabrics in her clothing to address the same kind of sensory issues he sometimes suffered from, making sure she knew she wasn't allowed to use the soldering iron until her homework was done.
He didn't realize the reason the rest of the team just smiled when he anguished over his ability to care for his granddaughter was because he took care of her in ways most other people wouldn't think to. Not someone who was so very much like Egon.
Like, for instance, going out for Italian food because she needed to eat (with nearly everything on the side, just in case a particular food texture wasn't working that day, obviously), only to find when he returned to the station house with a bag for the guys and one for Phoebe and himself...
"Homework's done?" he called out as he headed towards her. "Or in the trash, as it were--I'm still tempted to break your physics teacher's arm for the A minus you were given--your answer to the last question was perfectly valid as it pertains to the Casimir Effect."
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Date: 2021-12-23 01:05 am (UTC)And she appreciates the care when it comes to her food preferences. Try as she might, there are just some foods she’s not fond of at all.
“Homework is finished,” Phoebe replies, straightening and stretching some, popping her fingers with a huff and twisting her back to get her muscles to relax some. “I also wrote a hopefully convincing paper on why my answer to his question about the Casimir Effect was in fact a better answer than he wanted, but I’m debating sending it.”
She probably won’t. Sometimes it’s just good to get things out of her system. Then she can focus.
“I worked out the balance issue on the Flytrap. Now to work out the range. It’d be safer to use if I could extend how far it gets from the controls before it loses connection.”