So if you're reading this, tell me what you think. Feedback means I can fix my mistakes XD. Personally, I loved writing this chapter even though the whole 'Ebul Doll' thing kinda creeped me out (seriously, watch the evil doll vids on youtube).

Anyway, it's like half three in the morning and I'm up at the back of seven, so I should probably get to bed :)). Enjoy!

Chapter 2: Lunch and Revelations

Smiling as she felt his arms wrap securely around her, she settled more comfortably into his embrace with a sigh of contentment before reluctantly pulling away. Standing back at a more respectable distance from the very bemused Rick Payne, she blushed a little under his scrutiny despite her best intentions.

"It's good to see you again Rick," she said, her voice sounding wistful even to her own ears, making her cringe inwardly.

"I told you I was coming back," he countered, sounding as sarcastic and playful as ever, his tone slightly admonishing as he wagged a finger at her in emphasis. Turning to the side, he started to walk back towards the table he had previously been sitting at, waving an arm to show that she should follow. "Didn't you believe me?"

He was teasing her, she could see it in the way his eyes sparkled and his lips turned up a little at one side. As she sat down opposite him, she couldn't stop the warmth that rose up in her from being with him again. It was just like old times. Not that she would ever tell him what she was feeling, it would only serve to increase his already over large ego.

"Yes, but are you safe and sound?" She was surprised at how easy it was to fall back into the easy banter they used to share.

"So, you do remember?" He was grinning now, a smile that lit up his whole face. "How are you Melinda? You look great by the way, got the whole Egyptian princess thing going on."

He was obviously referring to her dress which was one from a collection she had picked up at a house auction just the week before. It was sleeveless, the main body of it white and made from a thin silky material that floated down to her knees in a way that Andrea had used to term 'swishy' for the way it swooshed when she moved, creating the illusion of elegance. The part that gave it the Egyptian feel was the elaborate gold trimming around the neckline, styled in the way of a Usekh collar, furthering the sense of extravagance.

Blushing a little at his forwardness, at his customary Professor Payne-Esq behavior, she delighted in the mundane feeling of it all; it felt like it was something that happened everyday once more.

"I'm good, I...what about you? How was the sabbatical?" She deflected, nearly falling into the trap of telling him about everything, about Jim. But she had stopped herself at the last moment, afraid to continue and trouble the atmosphere.

"Surprisingly tedious. I mean we went, we researched and we came back. A perfectly normal experience. But that's the thing you see; it was normal. No ghosts, no disasters, no evil spirits, at least not that I could see, we were probably knee deep in the dead. But we wouldn't know it, and that's what killed me! You, you Melinda Gordon, and all your ghost friends have got me so used to knowing that I almost felt like you'd took away-," he paused mid rant as he caught the amused look on her face. "I'm talking too much aren't I? Yes Melinda I'm fine. The trip was wonderful, all that I could ever hope for."

"I'm glad you had fun," she responded cheerfully, studiously ignoring his rant as the waitress came over to take their orders.

"So how is everybody? Eli still hearing ghosts? Ned and Delia as weird as ever? Jim still Jim? Have I even been missed by anyone?" He continued, just as curious as ever.

She had to force herself to laugh this time, her throat constricting at the mere mention of his name. How was she going to answer this one without completely ruining the lunch?

"Actually, Jim died a few months ago. An accident at work. Well, not an accident really, I mean, he was shot and," she couldn't help it, the tears were falling fast and hard, tracing black stained tracks down her cheeks and utterly ruining her make-up. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ruin this."

Rick had that deer-caught-in-the-headlights look, his eyes almost popping out of his head as he looked almost desperately around him for anyone that could come to help. Sighing in resignation as he realized that no-one was coming, he moved closer to Melinda, tentatively placing his hand around her shoulders in what he hoped was a comforting manner.

"You, you didn't ruin anything, Melinda. I'm sorry I brought it up, I." Sighing once more, he scrubbed his face with his free hand, still perplexed as what he good do to help. "I'm clearly not very good at this."

"Is everything OK over here?" The concerned voice of the young waitress behind them shook him from his attempt at consolation. Turning almost worriedly to face the girl he frowned on seeing her alarmed expression, at a loss on how to explain his current situation.

"We're fine, I'm fine. I'm just a little emotional right now." Giving a slightly self-depreciating laugh, Melinda smiled at the girl as she pulled away from Rick's awkward embrace. "Really," she enthused, "is that our drinks?"

The girl looked undecided for a moment, nervously tucking a strand of her light brown hair behind her ears as her eyes darted from Melinda to Rick and back again. Her expression slowly softened as she took the bait, her left hand raising to lift the glasses from the silver tray balanced expertly on the fingers of her right. Tucking the tray under her arm, she once more became professional, her features becoming as impartial as she could make them as she turned her mind back to the job at hand. "Are you ready to order or would you like me some more time?"

In the lifetime that it seemed to take the girl to respond after Melinda had, for lack of a better phrase, pushed him away, Rick had moved back to his seat. Shooting a questioning look at Melinda as he was unsure over whether she had chosen something, he was relieved when she appeared to pull herself together, dabbing at her eyes with a napkin as she straightened up.

"No Ashley you're fine, if it's all right with the professor I'm ready to order." She had directed the last part of her answer to Rick, a bit of light coming back into her eyes. At his nod of approval, Ashley relaxed a little, a smile coming readily to her face as she took their lunch requests.

"Do you spend that much time here that you know all the staff?"

An uncomfortable silence had settled over the table after Ashley had left with their orders. Neither of them were quite capable of looking the other in the eye after what had happened; much to the displeasure of both. Rick especially felt the burden as he believed the lunch had taken a turn for worst due to his bumbling attempt at 'normal' conversation. It was this self-reproach that led to him to actively trying to lighten the atmosphere.

Thankfully, his question brought a smile to her lips as she turned her attention to him to answer the question. "No, she's one of Ned's friends. They work here together, but Delia thinks he likes her."

He smiled back at her gossiping, glad that she was once more acting like herself. "I bet she loves that idea. Don't think I don't remember how much she tried to interfere whenever he showed any interest in a girl."

"She's not that bad," she stated. Though at Rick's look of disbelief she ducked her head to hide the grin that had spread across her face, unable to continue with the defense of her friend. "OK maybe she is, but she means well."

"Undoubtedly," he replied, smirking.

Unfortunately, he was once more stuck for something to say. It was an entirely new experience for the professor who was so often told he talked too much, and one he wasn't particularly fond of, but he couldn't seem to get over the fact that Jim was no longer here. What he really wanted was to find out if she had spoken to him after he died but was afraid she wouldn't take to kindly too the question. Actually, he was afraid she would slap him, but at that moment, he was almost thinking that it would be worth it just to start a conversation. Thankfully, he was saved from saying anything he would come to regret by Ashley's arrival with their lunch.

For the first time since they had sat down at the table the silence that surrounded them was impartial if not comfortable as they turned their attention to their lunch. Although not particularly hungry, Melinda forced herself to eat. She hadn't ate anything since dinner the night before and knew that she wouldn't be able to last until dinner time tonight without something to eat, and she didn't think Delia or Eli would appreciate a call mid-afternoon as she requested a snack run. Lifting her glass to her mouth she took the opportunity to steal a glance at Rick, desperate for a clue into what he thought. She was feeling guilty for breaking down the way she did, she had hoped she would be able to maintain some composure when relating what had happened, but he had seemed to handle it well; or as well as she could have expected from the sometimes insensitive professor.

Laying her knife and fork back down on the table she struggled for something to say. She briefly thought of telling him about the ghost she had encountered not an hour before; curious of what lore he could tell about ghosts inhabiting dolls, but dismissed the idea almost immediately, afraid that he would think she had only agreed to see him on the premise of getting advice about a spirit. She had no need to worry however as he soon broached the subject himself.

"So, how's the ghost scene? Any more disasters since I've been away?" He was smiling again, an obnoxious grin that had her smirking in response, glad that he seemed along the same lines as herself.

"No disasters, sorry to disappoint, but there is a new spirit. I don't know much about it yet though, it only revealed itself for a few moments to terrorize one of my customers and her daughter."

"Terrorize? What did it do, chase them around the shop with a knife? Do the hokey pokey or the chicken dance? Because quite frankly that would terrify me." He joked.

"No actually," she admonished, grinning despite herself. "It looked like it was trying to strangle her. It's clearly the girl that's haunted though, because I've had that mannequin for years now and it's never moved like that before."

"Whoa whoa, whoa! Melinda you're holding out on me. Are we talking a full on possession like Robert The Devil Doll 'cause that's something I would pay to see. Do you know the family or-

"Robert The Devil Doll?" She couldn't help but interrupt, knowing from experience that he would jump from one subject to the next. If she didn't ask now she probably wouldn't find out what she wanted to know until his speech had finished, and by then there would no doubt be many more questions.

"Robert Eugene Otto was a painter and author from Florida. When he was younger, about 1904 or so, one of the family servants, or possibly his nanny – who was of course said to be skilled in voodoo and black magic – gave him a doll which the young Gene immediately named after himself – a little unimaginative of him, don't you think?"

His hand movements were becoming more erratic the more excited he got, his speech quickening as he delightedly wove his own comments through the telling of his story. What was more, he hardly paused for breath never mind to let her answer one of his many questions. It was a state Melinda remembered well from the past when she would often seek his help and she knew it was better to just let him go on when he was like this rather than try to interrupt like before.

"But anyway, it wasn't long before people started reporting strange things about the doll. It was said that neighbors often claimed to see the doll moving from window to window when the family was out, and the family themselves, well they had the best stories. They said they frequently heard Gene and the doll talking, that they would hear it (Robert) giggle in a disturbing way in the middle of the night as it ran around the house. Personally I think it sounds a little like Chucky but that's just me, horror movies never seem to be original to me anyway. And what about young Genie himself? Well, he would scream in the middle of the night bringing his loving parents to his side only to find his room a mess as the furniture had been moved about and toppled over. As you may expect he'd say that Robert did it, presumably between his laps around the house."

He finally paused for breath, taking a long drink from the glass in front of him and Melinda quickly took the opportunity given to get in a question. "So what happened to the doll and the family?"

"The family kept the doll – god knows why – and when Gene died in 1974 they put it in the attic to be re-sold with the house where it came under the possession of the lovely Smith family and their ten year old daughter – original I know – who claimed that Robert would come into her room at night to attack her."

"Did you believe it?" She asked, after another long silence as he paused to gauge her reaction.

"Well no of course not. I thought that young Gene had some kind of medical disorder, possibly multiple personalities, that the parents didn't want to own up to. Either that or he was ridiculously smart for his age and was using his parents superstition and ignorance to get away with anything he wanted. The neighbors were probably just gossips. But then I met you, and now I'm not so sure." He was staring at her, unwavering, in that intense way that he used to when he thought he was on to something important. A look that brought back too memories of before.

"I think I'm going to choose to take that as a compliment," she stated, deadpan.

"Well of course, what else would it be?" He asked, grinning confidently.

She ignored his question, choosing instead to focus on the fact that the restaurant had slowly emptied during their catch-up. Frowning she checked her watch, only to be startled when she realized how late she was. Jumping up from her seat she hastily gathered up her coat and bag before placing a few notes on the table in front of the bewildered looking Professor Payne.

"I'm late. Really late. Delia was only supposed to be covering the shop for an hour and it's clearly been more than that," she gushed, the words falling over themselves as she tried to make sure she hadn't forgot anything. "I'll phone you later and we can talk more about Robert and ghost dolls."

She almost ran away from the restaurant, her heels clicking rapidly against the concrete. She was gone so fast that she didn't hear Rick calling out to tell her that she no longer had his number followed by a rather dispirited goodbye after getting no response.