Prologue to an Epilogue

CHAPTER 7

Author's Note:

Wow, what an absence, eh? CeeCee WOULD go off on holiday at the most crucial moment in our game of the Weakest Link, wouldn't she? Er, I mean. Sorry it's been two weeks since we updated, but here's a few chapters ending with a lovely cliffhanger to keep your pants moist and our copyright lawsuit pending. I'm sure you all feel quite medicated now. BTW, thanks for all the reviews and we just can't wait for your financial contributions to begin arriving by post.

It was Monday. Doppler knew that it was - for once - the moment he peeled his face from the floorboards. Really, he ought to have invested in more furniture in case he suddenly had a huge adventure and a houseful of refugees to deal with, he thought groggily. Sleeping on the floor in a room that was supposedly a study with a blanket, an old mattress (rescued from the attic to save Delilah from attempting to transport a new one) and a pillow he seemed to abuse fitfully in his sleep was bound to take its toll eventually. He glared at the mattress as he reached for his glasses, wondering vaguely how it always escaped from under him. When no answer came, he stumbled downstairs, tying a robe about him as he went and yawning.
"Good morning, Doctor."
Doppler jumped, wincing as he clattered his elbow against the banister of the stairs. At the bottom, looking mildly amused, was the captain. Fully dressed, and probably unimpressed by his sleeping habits.
"Morning! Morning!" sang Morph, filtering down from the above landing with an adoring grin on his protoplasmic features.
"Uhm..." Doppler paused, wondering what to say. "Did you sleep well, er, Captain?"
Amelia threw him a sly glance, smirking as she replied, "Intercourse, Doctor," and headed nonchalantly for the kitchen. Doppler's jaw dropped, his mouth dry as Morph unwittingly cried, "INTERCOURSE! INTERCOURSE!" as he followed the captain. She was mocking him! He folded his arms, trying not to blush or scowl (though he managed to do both anyway) as he too headed for the kitchen.

Amelia chuckled softly as Morph proudly declared, "Intercourse!" for the eighth time, quickly clapping her hand over her mouth as Doppler peered around the door, eyebrows perched high and cheeks bright red.
Morph burbled to himself, zipping across to the doctor - seemingly determined to prove he had learned a new word to anyone with ears.
"Intercourse!" the little blob cried expectantly, a mere inch from the end of Doppler's nose.
"Morph!" Doppler shrieked, making a mad grab for him. Anything to silence the faithful blob.
"Intercooourse!" taunted Morph as he escaped easily, splitting through Doppler's fingers and leading him in a clumsy chase around the kitchen and over the furniture.
"Doctor." Amelia sidestepped him once, and again only moments later. "Doctor, please! I really don't think that's necessary - Doctor. Doctor!"
"In-ter-course!"
The word echoed around, hitting off the tiles. Morph was no where to be seen - at least, not in his pink form. He continued to chant 'intercourse' from his hiding place, and Doppler sank into a chair at the table - defeated.
"Tea?" asked Amelia, clearing her throat. Doppler could hardly look her in the eye.
"Intercourse!"
"Yes, thank you. TO THE TEA!" The vein in the unfortunate doctor's forehead almost exploded.

Outside the kitchen door, Sarah Hawkins was having extreme difficulty staying quiet. She had been privy to most of the situation, and couldn't help laughing at poor Delbert's pain. Amelia was obviously toying with him. A bizarre flirtation in cat-and-mouse fashion, and Doppler clearly didn't get it.
Just as she was positive she was about to snort, Sarah heard Doppler cry, "There he goes!" and mere miliseconds later Morph whizzed by her ear. Delbert thundered after him, meeting Sarah at full speed and the floor at twice that. In the midst of the entanglement, accented by wailed apologies and the word 'intercourse' from the invariably unpunished pet hovering above, the communicator buzzed.
"I'll get it!" Sarah insisted, trying to bellycrawl away.
"Oh, wow! Group pile-up!" The words froze Doppler and Sarah as they realised B.E.N. would be joining them. He bounced over the banister, dropping five feet to land square on top of the hapless pair on the floor with numerous clanks, and several awful new words for Morph to repeat.
The captain, safe in the kitchen, glanced down at the mess.
"I'll get it, shall I?" she suggested, primly stepping over the mass of arms, legs, nuts and bolts.
"Doppler residence," Amelia said uncomfortably, holding the receiver to her ear as if it might break.
There was a short silence on the line before a familiarly raspy voice said, "This is Rhonda Frost seeking Dr. Doppler," in an attempted purr.
"Unfortunately," Amelia replied truthfully, if a little coldly, "he can't come to the communicator at the moment."
"Got your claws into him, eh?" Rhonda chuckled lecherously.
"Excuse me?" Amelia frowned.
"That would make an interesting story, don't you think? The Captain and the financier shacked up, most of the crew missing, dead or jailed and plenty of hidden treasure the authorities don't know about. Very interesting indeed, Captain." Rhonda's tone leaned precariously towards being threatening.
"What exactly are you babbling about? Honestly, this isn't a helpline for the factually impaired." Amelia snapped, imagining the tatters of her reputation being crushed to dust.
"What with Long John Silver's escape," Rhonda continued, unfazed. "Someone might even speculate that you helped to mastermind his explosive return to crime. You do have large amounts of naval battle experience, do you not?"
What was she talking about? Curse Doppler for not remembering to buy newspapers!
"I should think you'll find it quite difficult to find evidence supporting all this." Amelia glared at the blinking amber light that indicated the comm. was connected.
"You'd be surprised." The line fizzed, and went dead.
What had just happened? Amelia didn't want to think about what might happen now. Rhonda Frost was all talk.
As Doppler and Sarah managed to disentangle themselves from B.E.N. and hastily make their way towards Amelia, the communicator buzzed again. She sighed a hiss as she ripped the receiver from its rest pad after only a few seconds of noise. This time, Amelia abandoned politeness: she may not have understood what that insensible reporter was talking about, but she could recognize a threat when she saw one. "I don't much care for your telephone manner, you relentless sack of verbal diarrhoea."
Simultaneously, Sarah and Doppler dropped their jaws. "I don't think I care much for yours, either," Doppler hissed, trying to grab the communicator from Amelia, but she swatted him away, intent on making her point. "You, dear woman, are testament, living proof that manure can sprout legs and talk! If you dare to call back, I will personally-"
Suddenly, she stopped dead, eyes widening. Doppler even thought he saw the traces of a blush on her cheeks. She cleared her throat. "Professor McFadyen, lovely to hear from you, how do you do?" She examined her nails to avoid the doctor's now furious gaze. Suddenly, she sounded curious and even a little worried. "No, he's not here."
Doppler, giving up all hope of ever knowing what was going on, stood with his hands on his hips, angrily examining Amelia. She was now looking through her nails, a dark look falling over her features. Suddenly, her head snapped up and she stared straight at Sarah for a long, unnerving moment. Complete silence overtook the room.
"Yes, thank you for calling," she sighed, and slowly placed the receiver onto the pad. A shorter silence followed as Amelia tried to find a place to look. "It seems," she sighed, "that your son has gone missing."