As always, thanks for the review, they make me very happy! Unfortunately I have not yet found the door to a broom closet. I'm sure there is one around somewhere - stands to reason on a great big ship like that.

Chapter 2 – How things that happen in the middle of the night are best worked out in the morning when you're actually awake

"Arrgh!" Arthur stumbled backwards, tripping over a pile of clothes he had avoided on his previous perambulations, and sat down rather more heavily than he had the first time. The reality hit him that he had not really been awake until now, and it it was for this reason that his surroundings, as much as the figure in the bed, had surprised him. He was not at home.

Of course he was not at home. He hadn't been at home for some considerable time now, and given that home was now a disconnected collection of atoms getting away from each other as quickly as they could, it was unlikely that he'd ever be at home again.

"Yellow." He muttered to no-one in particular.

"Say what?" Asked the figure in the bed. Arthur looked up. Now that his brain had had time to get itself up to date with most of the things he needed to know, like 'where am I?', 'why am I here?' and 'how much of this is real?'(answers: definitely the Heart of Gold, though not sure which cabin; no idea; and um...) , he felt that he could give his full attention over to the confusion and rising panic that were the result of seeing this figure in a bed he had recently vacated. It didn't help very much. Arthur's mind was racing. How did this happen? Was it still a dream, or was there something he'd forgotten? He was coming round to the conclusion that it was definitely the latter when the figure spoke again,

"I said, what?" Arthur wanted to answer; he really, really wanted to answer, but somehow, he couldn't. He was finding it rather disconcerting that the figure was at a strange angle, because although part of it had decided to get up and talk to Arthur, one of the heads had refused to be woken and was still trying to lie on the pillow. As Zaphod made more of an effort to get up and look at him properly, he was forced to put one of his right arms under his second head and support it until he was upright enough for it to fall forward onto his chest. His naked chest, Arthur observed, his panic levels going up yet another notch.

'Get a grip of yourself, Arthur.' he told himself firmly, 'There is an explanation for this. There is reason why Zaphod has been in bed with you. There is also, no doubt, a perfectly satisfactory reason why you can't remember a thing...' His mind tried a bit harder, 'It's probably Zaphod's fault, not yours, and it's probably perfectly innocent and normal.' He stopped again. It was the 'probably' bit that got him worried. But at least he was controlling the panic now.

"Zaphod..." He tried. It was a good start. It got to the nub of the problem. Except that Zaphod probably wouldn't realise that. He was about to make a stab at continuing the sentence, when the sleeping head gave a terrific snore and Zaphod slapped himself hard on the cheek. The head yelled and shot into an upright position,

"I'm up, I'm up..." It said, blinking heavily. It looked at Arthur and rolled its eye. Zaphod shook himself and looked steadily at Arthur now with all the eyes at his command.

"Yeah?" Said his better-prepared head. Arthur sucked on his lip and tried again,

" Um...could you remind me how I got here?" Three eyes blinked at him,

"Your parents got unlucky? Or you did something strange to my semi-cousin so that he brought you along for the ride? Or...I don't know...something to do with forty-two?

"Forty-two?" Said Arthur, confused. "No, I mean, here, in this room, with you...in that bed...at this time in the morning...whatever time that is." Zaphod looked at his watch,

"Three o'clock." He said, "Which is why I'd like to know why you're up clattering about and disturbing my beauty sleep." Arthur frowned,

"I'm not sure I understand. You shouldn't be here at all. I didn't know there was anyone to disturb."

"What do you mean 'You shouldn't be here at all'? Hey Earthman, be a little hoopy about this couldja? This is my bedroom."

"Then what am I doing in it?" Arthur said, as calmly as he could, which wasn't very.

"Don't ask me. I mean, it's nice to have the company and all that, but you know, you're not my first choice." Arthur felt rather insulted – not that he wanted to be Zaphod's first choice, nor second nor third if it came to it, but he thought that could have been left unsaid.

"Did you get me in here?" He asked. ('Why don't I remember?' he asked himself frantically.) "Was I drinking? I was in here for purely practical reasons...wasn't I?" Zaphod seemed to lose interest. He lay back on the pillows; his right-hand head immediately recommenced its loud snoring.

"I told you, I don't know, monkey-man. I was expecting Trillian and you turned up instead. But it's a little insulting, doncha think, to say that you don't remember coming to my room at all – I mean, that should be an event, baby!" Arthur shook himself: there was something very odd going on here. But, first things first...

"So I wasn't in here doing anything...else. I was just sleeping, wasn't I?" He finished hopefully, a miniature yoke of oxen suddenly racing across his brow, ploughing slightly wonky furrows in their haste to get the job done. Zaphod lifted himself from the pillows again, his face lighting up with a wicked smile that made Arthur want to run and hide; but preferably somewhere where he could still peek, because it was also the sort of smile that makes your insides suddenly announce their intention to enter the nearest salsa dancing competition.

"I wouldn't say that..." He said in a naughtily soft voice, so that Arthur had to look at him hard to check he'd really said it.

"Look, I really don't have the energy to cope with working this out right now. I've decided not to think about it. And now, if you don't mind, I'm going to go and find somewhere else to sleep." He got up and went to the door. It didn't open.

"Open up." Said Arthur. The door stayed resolutely shut. Arthur pushed on it hard. It sighed. "Why won't you open?" He moaned. The door cleared its throat, as if preparing to read a speech,

"Although it would usually be the deepest pleasure of my life to open for you; on this occasion I have been instructed not to let anybody out of this room until I am requested to by someone on the outside." It paused. "Share and enjoy." It added as an afterthought.

Zaphod was out of the bed and standing next to Arthur, in front of the door, in a second. His still-sleeping head lolled unpleasantly on his shoulder and he flicked at it irritably. "What do you mean, you won't open? Hey, I'm in charge here, if I order you to let the monkey out of the room, you'll do it." Arthur would almost have sworn that the door shook its head. "Open up." Zaphod tried again. "Alright, who put you up to this?" The door remained silent. Zaphod kicked it. It still failed to make a sound. Zaphod walked back to the bed with the step of someone who would really like to hobble across, clutching their foot, but who knows just how un-cool that would look, so is putting a brave face on it. He sat on the edge of the bed and looked at Arthur.

"Well, looks like I'm stuck with you." Arthur nodded mutely.

"Who did it though?" He asked, half to himself, "There's only Ford, Trillian and Marvin on board. Or Eddie I suppose, but I don't think it would be in his programming. Marvin wouldn't make the effort, so that leaves Trillian or Ford. Now Trillian, though I hate to admit it, would probably rather be in here with you, am I right?" He said, now speaking directly to Zaphod who smiled that deadly smile again and turned his head away coquettishly,

"Best bang since the big one, baby." Arthur stared,

"But that only leaves Ford. Why would Ford do this?"

"Who knows." Zaphod sighed, starting to lose interest again. "Probably for a joke."

"But why don't I remember?"

"Because your head is full? Wouldn't surprise me. You ask too many questions. Now either talk about something more interesting or go back to sleep and let me get mine." Arthur's plough-furrows increased in depth until you could have planted asparagus and not had to worry about banking them up at all.

"Doesn't it bother you?" He asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed into which Zaphod had now crawled.

"Not if you let me sleep, or...well, hey!" Arthur turned his head accusingly.

"No. Whatever you're thinking. No."

"Not even if I'm nice to you?"

"You wouldn't know how." Arthur stared forward, wondering why he had said that. Whatever it was that Zaphod might be suggesting, and he had a pretty good idea – he'd heard some funny things from Ford, the veracity of which he had no wish to check – he wasn't interested. He had no intention of ever becoming part of Zaphod's list of conquests. For one thing, he was strictly women-only when it came to the bedroom; for another, he found the alien man not only disturbing to look at, but also highly offensive. He wound Arthur up: he had effectively stolen Trillian from him, he had the most insulting range of vocabulary to call on for use in describing Arthur, which seemed to prevent him ever learning Arthur's name, and he could be relied upon to make Arthur feel insignificant and unwanted at every turn. In fact, it was Arthur's firm belief that if Zaphod had had time to really consider anyone but himself, he would have hated Arthur. But it was odd how nice he actually could be...when he wanted something. Anyway, when it came to sexual liaisons with people with whom you didn't want to have sexual liaisons, Arthur would much rather it was Ford, even if he had locked him in with Za... Now, where had that thought come from?

Arthur was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't notice the first hand that snaked round his waist and laid itself warmly on his lower stomach. It was a mark of how tired he was that the second hand also managed to inveigle itself onto his person without really registering with him. However, even in one of Arthur's dullest moments, he would have noticed the third hand, which fluttered lightly over his shoulder. At that moment, he would have leapt to his feet, he would have shouted and started to hammer on the door...he would, he assured himself. Except that at that moment the third hand made a dive for his right nipple and started to roll it expertly between its fingers.

It was at that point that it finally registered with Arthur that he was completely naked. He would have screamed, he would have delivered a sharp, swift elbow to Zaphod's stomach, he would have reached for the sheets to cover himself up...he would, no, honestly, he would, but... well, a Betelgeusian whose other head has just woken up, and who can therefore whisper seductively in both your ears at once, can rather throw one off one's stride. Arthur contented himself with looking surly and unwelcoming and tried to quash the little flickers of curiosity that surfaced as he heard, in stereo, the deliberately enticing words:

"Best bang since the big one, baby."

Will Arthur pull himself together before suffering a fate almost, but not quite entirely unlike death? Why is he locked in with Zaphod, and who actually did it? Why is Zaphod so fickle? and what does the future hold for the recalcitrant door? Please review to find out – I think that I possibly might maybe even know where I'm heading now!