AN: Hey, Shaggelmalove speaking, this chapter takes place the same night as the previous chapter : D

Curse of the One-eyed Phantom

Chapter Seven: Squares, Triangles and Daphne

Fred lay in bed, leaning back on a pile of pillows drawing squares and triangles in a school notebook,

his legs drawn up to form an impromptu, if unsteady, work desk. The squares and triangles looked amazingly like cages or traps which hadn't been on his mind when Daphne had left the bedroom earlier in the evening. He had planned on making his own list of what they knew about this Phantom that had plagued the gang of late.

Her question of being boyfriend/girlfriend had left him high and dry—literally. High because he had wanted to ask her that same question so many times in the past but there had always been another trap to build, another mystery to solve. And too, there had been Shaggy and Velma appearing at just the wrong moment. He and Daphne had struck up a friendship the first day they had met. The youngest of four daughters, she was spoiled but not snobbish, beautiful but down to earth, smart, but never let on just how smart but above all, loyal to her friends.

Dry because he was sure the Sahara desert had more water than his mouth when he had stumbled over the words, "Sure, I'd like that." Dry too, when his mind had become a desolate wasteland of what to do next.

The question of what to do next was answered by Daphne herself when she gave his bicep an affectionate squeeze and whispered in his ear, "Good, I was afraid you'd say 'no'." Having her so near

had made his blood boil; when they had pulled back slowly, their lips had met haltingly, questioning the rightness of the moment. When neither objected and spurred on by the new feelings that both surprised and startled them, the kiss had lengthened. It had changed from quizzical to a level of intensity neither had experienced before or expected. She had taken her hand from his bicep, placing it around his neck, curling her fingers in his blond hair; thus encouraged, he had placed his arms around her waist.

He had kissed girls before, sure, but not with the heightened feelings being returned or in a bedroom

with such a big bed that carried its own temptation. He had only meant to hold her hand when he had moved his hand downward but he had inadvertently brushed her breast and she had captured his hand, breaking their kiss. "Please," her voice low and her breathing coming faster than necessary, "not now, not here. You aren't that irresistible—yet." Her soft laughter had conceded an unspoken promise of another time, another place.

But that wasn't the reason, the real reason, for Fred to abandon the endless squares and triangles and began to write her name. "Daphne Jones", "Mrs. Daphne Jones", and "Mr. and Mrs. Fred (not Frederick!) Jones now adorned the bottom half of the page. The reason lay in what she had said after their last kiss; she had started toward the door when she turned , kissing her fingertips and blew him the kiss before saying, "16."

Fred wrote her name again, adding "16?" What did she mean by 16? It wasn't her age; Fred had no clue at the moment but it was obvious she expected him to know or was it a mystery just for him to solve?

She had said nothing else, just turned around and walked into the door. If Daphne had one fault, it was that she was slightly accident prone. She opened the door and slipped away.

She had left something behind when she left. Fred touched his lips where she had kissed him so fervently. He wasn't sure what it was, this feeling of a void that filled the room without her presence. He was sure of one thing: whatever was building between he and Daphne would have to wait until the mystery of the Phantom was solved. They had been working defensively, now it was time to go on the offensive.

And so, with thoughts of Daphne dancing in his head, Fred did what any red blooded young man would do. He went in search of his father.

-Xxxxxx

"We have to do something and do it quick!" George Blake was in no mood to sit behind his large Victorian desk and do nothing. He hadn't become one of the richest, if not the richest, man in Coolsville by sitting on his behind.

Skip Jones, Mayor of Coolsville, sat in the comfortable overstuffed chair watching his long-time friend

wear a path in the thick carpet. "I've been doing some thinking along that line. We haven't supported the kids in the past but I think, under the circumstances, we change that. I've been thinking of opening the city's databanks to them; that's not done for civilians but in this case, I think it's warranted."

"Do you think there is a clue to this Phantom in the databanks?" George continued to pace.

"I do. I think it must be in one of their cases. The problem the police have is they don't know what to look for; it would take forever to run every case. The kids would know what to look for, cutting the time down considerably. Also, this house and the Dinkley home is still untouched, the police don't have the manpower to keep a twenty-four hour surveillance on both locations. I'm going to recommend to Harold and Marilyn that they start a neighborhood watch as soon as possible."

"Dad, I'm sorry for barging in but Shaggy and I have been talking..." Fred began when he and Shaggy entered the inner sanctum.

"Fred talked, I only listened," Shaggy rectified.

"We've been talking," Fred corrected, "we think it's time we went on the offensive. Could the gang have access to the police databanks and maybe have Velma's parents do a neighborhood watch?"

"George, I told you the gang was smart. Come on in, guys, I think those are excellent ideas. I can call the police chief first thing in the morning."

-Xxxxxx

Midnight, and the house was quiet. Shaggy and Scooby slipped out of their room, making their way toward the kitchen, "time for a little midnight snack, wonder if they have any hot chocolate?" Shaggy muttered to himself as they passed Velma's door.

"Raggy?" Scooby stopped, looking at the door which was slightly ajar.

"You want to be a watch dog and guard Velma, Scoob?"

"Reah, reah."

"Okay, go ahead. That will just leave more hot chocolate for me."

The big dog pushed the door open and jumped up on the bed, settling down with his head on a pillow next to Velma.

"Shaggy? What are you doing in my bedroom?" A sleepy Velma threw her hand over Scooby's neck.

"I'm glad you're here."

In only moments, both girl and dog were fast asleep.