Amelia stumbled just a tad as she walked down the hall with Thomas.

“Are you alright?” he asked as she paused for a moment and bent her leg back.

“Of course,” she strained, lifting her ankle to adjust her crooked high heel, “Probably still recovering from that wild night we had in Brazil last week.”

Returning her foot to the ground, they continued.

“It was a fine night indeed,” Thomas recalled, glancing down at her.

“I can hardly even remember what happened,” Amelia laughed.

“Neither can I, but I know it was a good time,” Thomas smirked.

“I barely ever allow myself to…cut loose…in that way,” she groaned.

“Exactly,” Thomas nodded as he brushed a strand of her soft, dark brown hair behind her ear, “The last time we partied hard like that was our honeymoon night.”

Amelia giggled softly, then abruptly stopped to rub her temples.

“And I have the headache to show for it,” she sighed,

“But, it was certainly worth it, darling, don’t you agree?” Thomas smiled, putting his arm around her shoulder.

“I suppose you’re right,” Amelia peeped, leaning her head against him, “After all, June 1st did mark the most important date of our lives.”

“Considering it was the night we took down the kingpin, busted an age-old drug ring, foiled the terrorist’s plans of mass destruction, and -by a thin chance- escaped with our lives,” Thomas nodded, raising his eyebrows, “you could definitely say that it was the most important.”

“I meant it was our anniversary, twit!” Amelia frowned, lifting away and slapping him in the shoulder.

“That too,” he exhaled, rolling his eyes.

The couple then arrived at the frosted glass doors of Commander Fidsk’s office.

“Well, hello there, you two!” the stocky man exclaimed, putting down his newspaper and tugging at his suspenders as they entered, “Three days late coming back from your mission -and a VERY SUCCESSFUL MISSION AT THAT- so I won’t stress about it. Not to mention it was your anniversary weekend, so…”

“See?” Amelia whispered harshly, elbowing her husband in the forearm, “Even he remembered!”

Thomas winced.

“That was very gallant of you two, serving instead of taking a holiday,” Commander Fidsk smiled, raising his graying brow, “I was extremely surprised that neither of you requested the day off.”

“I was waiting for HIM to take the initiative,” Amelia murmured, cutting her gaze up at Thomas.

“It simply wasn’t necessary,” Thomas grinned, fingering his silky black hair to the side, “When you work with your wife, every day is wedded bliss.”

“Translation? He forgot,” Amelia said through clenched teeth in annoyance.

“I did NOT,” Thomas protested.

“Well,” Commander Fidsk interrupted, clearing his throat, “regardless of what happened- and what didn’t- you two are back now, so you must be ready for your next assignment.”

“Yes sir,” they both nodded, British accents echoing in harmony.

“Alrighty then,” Commander blinked, handing each of them their mission brief folders, “The Museum of Unusual Arts in Detroit. It’s home to a diverse assortment of intricate pieces. The specific painting under watch is an eight by eleven early nineteen hundreds piece by lesser-known French-American artist Pierre Jacques Louis called ‘Petite Fille Aux Yeux Argentes’, or ‘Little Girl with Silver Eyes’. Despite its ‘petite’ size, it has quite a bit of weight on it.”

Thomas snorted.

Amelia stared at her folder woozily.

“Upon a recent investigation performed by historians and appraisers, it’s been discovered to hold more than just silver eyes. Turns out that miniature portrait was painted against a canvas crafted by layers upon layers of the rarest silver notes. I mean ones dating back to 1878. Those are the oldest silver notes out there.”

“I thought that they’d all been destroyed,” Thomas said with one eyebrow up.

Amelia inhaled deeply.

“So did everyone else until these findings turned up,” Commander Fidsk continued, “Apparently, Louis was a collector and he hid it well. REALLY well. But, now that the Journal of Arts and Artifacts has published its findings, the infamous crime lord Rodrigo Mercio has his eyes on the silver eyes too. He wants to steal it, dissect it, and sell the notes on the black market. Of course, a guy like this isn’t going to plan some ordinary heist. He’s gonna make it epic with explosions and everything. He intends for everyone to assume that the whole thing was a terrorist attack or something and that the painting was destroyed by the flames.”

“Always blaming the terrorists…” Thomas shook his head.

Amelia’s amber eyes wearily gazed into the ceiling as she began to waver.

“Amelia, are you okay?” Commander Fidsk asked, causing Thomas to direct his attention from the folder to his wife.

“No-- yeah. I’m. I’m fine,” she quickly breathed, shaking her head out of the trance, ”So, where do we come in?”

“...Oh yes,” Commander Fidsk resumed with a twitch of his mustache, “According to sources, he’s planning the theft tonight--”

“And you want us to stop him?” Thomas guessed.

“Yes and no,” Commander Fidsk answered, “You see, the problem is, somehow, he’s already been able to rig the entire room where the painting is displayed with an elite system of explosives. On various occasions over the past week, he’s sent his goons into the museum during normal business hours to assemble the puzzle piece by piece. By the time security found it yesterday, it had already been fully constructed.”

“Okay,” Thomas smirked, “Get in, defuse the bomb--”

“Not just that,” Commander Fidsk interrupted, “You’ll bring this replica along, swap it out with the original, then, disable the bomb and get the heck out of there before Mercio shows up. Leave no trace of yourself and he’ll think he’s got the real thing.”

Amelia stared at the duplicate that Commander Fidsk had drawn from his drawer. The reflections of the silver eyes on the painting became dizzying, making the blues from the sky appear to merge with yellows from little girl’s blonde locks.

“So, we just let him get away?” Thomas asked in dismay.

“Yes,” Commander Fidsk nodded, “But remember: he’ll have a false sense of confidence that the bomb will erase his tracks, so I figure he’ll absentmindedly leave lots of evidence behind, making it easier for us to locate him later on.”

“I understand where you’re coming from, Commander,” Thomas said, “but with all due respect, it just doesn’t feel right.”

“We’ll have to for now,” Commander Fidsk insisted, “Starting a fight in the museum isn’t the best thing to do. The worst damage we’ll face if this plan blows over smoothly is just a couple of bashed-in windows, few shattered display cases, and maybe a busted lock or two. By the time you two get done kicking butt and shooting up a storm, you’ll have the whole third floor destroyed. Heck. You may even burn down the entire place!”

Thomas shrugged in agreement.

Suddenly, Amelia wobbled off balance but quickly planted her hands upon Commander Fidsk’s desk to keep herself from falling.

“Darling, are you sure you’re alright?” Thomas asked, quickly taking his wife by the shoulders.

“Yes, yes… I just… I need some air,” she pushed away from him and ran out of the room.

Thomas shot a look at Commander Fidsk. “I don’t think she’s at all well,” he frowned, “She’s been acting sort of strange lately.”

“Should I assign the task to somebody else?” Commander Fidsk asked.

“NO! NO! I CAN DO IT!” Amelia shouted, bursting back into the room, “I feel much better now.”

“You were only gone for two seconds!” her husband noted.

“And what a difference it’s made,” Amelia said assuredly, “Now, we shall be off. The plane to Detroit won’t wait, will it?” Thomas and Commander Fidsk locked gazes once more.

≈

The Museum of Unusual Arts stood magnificently against the pitch-black sky. Two thin, cat-suited figures scaled the aged beige walls. With the quick work of a laser, they were in through the glass window. Sealing it back precisely, they descended onto the cold marble floor.

“I’ll freeze the surveillance systems, just in case our man decides to hack into the cameras,” Thomas whispered as he began pressing buttons on his watch.

Amelia nodded as she retracted her grappling hook.

“All systems paused,” he winked, then threw four tiny shurikens at either side of the doorway and the window, “These sensors will alert us when we’ve got company.”

“Splendid,” Amelia smiled with a flick of her ponytail, “Let’s get to work.”

The couple glided along the lofty halls where eerie paintings loomed and strange statues cast haunting shadows. Carefully prancing up several sets of twisty stairs, they finally arrived at the password-protected room.

“It’s blocked off,” Amelia gasped.

“Naturally,” Thomas hummed, drawing out a laser blaster.

“We can’t do that!” Amelia huffed, pushing his arms back down.

“Better idea?” he asked sarcastically.

Amelia glanced up above the entrance to see a gate-covered vent duct. With a boost from her fairly tall partner, she was in.

“I’ll stand watch out here. Make it snappy, now!” Thomas warned, touching his earpiece.

Dropping into the room from the overhead vent, Amelia nodded and headed over to the illuminated glass case perched upon the podium at the room’s center. The soft golden light was just enough for her to see the tools she’d unzipped from her pouch. Most meticulously, she began picking and prodding at the display. Her brown eyes tried hard to focus, but her gaze wouldn’t hold. Suddenly, she fumbled and dropped her entire tool bag on the floor.

“Amelia, any progress?” Thomas asked over the communicator.

“Almost done,” she breathed, collecting as many picks as she could from the green industrial carpet.

“They’ll be here any minute, I’m sure,” Thomas worried, “We mustn’t tarry.”

“I’m trying, Thomas,” she exhaled, finally freeing the painting from the glass.

She sat the case on the floor and removed the plastic-sealed replica from her sack. Staring at them both in the golden light, she could hardly tell the difference. She quickly took the fake out of the plastic and placed it on the stand, then sealed the original into its bag and tucked it away. At the slight turn of her neck, Amelia’s head began to pound. Trying to ignore the pain, she hastily attempted to pick up the glass casing but it slipped out of her hand. She successfully caught it with a gasp, before it fell to smithereens, and placed it over the duplicate painting. Exhaling deeply in relief, she rushed to seal it back to the pedestal.

“Phase one complete,” she breathed.

“Excellent,” Thomas whispered, “Next, locate the bomb, defuse it, and we can make our clean getaway.”

Amelia nodded. At the tap of her watch, a red laser graph flooded the room then settled on a section of the ceiling.

“Bingo,” she smirked.

All of a sudden, Thomas heard a light whizzing sound in his ear.

“The sensors have gone off,” he sang, “Amelia, the guests are here…”

Flooded with panic, Amelia’s heart rate increased. She drowsily glanced around the room to make sure she’d done all that she was supposed to, then hoisted herself back up into the vent ducts. After crawling a few inches, she came face to face with a flashing green light and a digital LED display.

“They’re making their way over here!” Thomas whispered, “You must get out of there at once!”

“Not before I deactivate the bomb,” Amelia murmured.

Upon hearing footsteps, Thomas grappled a beam in the ceiling and hastily ascended to a perch in the rafters.

“Amelia, they’re at the door,” he whispered, observing the four masked men from above, “Amelia?”

She wanted to answer, but she felt too weak. Her eyes were locked on the countdown clock set for T-Minus one hour and thirty minutes. Her thoughts were scattered. Her head began to pound even harder.

“Amelia?!” Thomas whispered with concern.

“I’m--- I’m in the vents,” she managed to mumble, “The bomb is right before me.”

“Okay. Just stay put, ” Thomas suggested, “They’re going in, but if you keep quiet, they’ll probably take the painting and leave.”

Amelia nodded.

Mercio, the leader of the fiends, stared at the secured door. With a snap of his fingers, one of his men pressed a microchip onto the keypad. The screen immediately lit green, opening the doors with a ping. As the crew stepped into the room, lights came on to reveal the pedestals of strangely shaped vases and grotesque porcelain masks.

From a grated hatch in the ducts, Amelia could see the four enter. As they approached the podium, she noticed one of her pick tools was still on the floor by it.

“Oh no,” she mouthed.

Mercio noticed it at the same time.

“What’s this?” he asked, picking it up and bringing it to his angry hazel eyes. Then, he glanced at the podium, pressing his tan hands and face against it like a kid to a fish tank. “It’s a fake!” he growled in anger, shattering the glass with his elbow, “They’ve already replaced it!”

At the sudden sound of this, Amelia flinched with a gasp; which in turn caused the men to freeze in paranoia.

“Did you hear that?” one asked, “I think they’re still in here.”

The rest of the crew nodded and began searching the room.

Mercio stood still, but then glanced up at the ceiling.

“Never mind them,” he slurred, drawing a tiny remote controller from his pocket, “Grab the most expensive things you see and we’ll expedite the detonation.”

His crew nodded in acknowledgement and instantly carried out his orders.

Meanwhile, Thomas was getting worried about Amelia. He heard the men breaking glass and discussing the new plan. “Sorry commander, but I believe this is warranted,” he said to himself as he flipped down from his perch. Pressing his back against the wall, his deep green eyes peered into the room and spotted the backs of two men hunching over as they filled their duffle bags. Drawing a small silenced pistol, he aimed and shot.

“Eyy, be careful over there,” Mercio shouted at the sound of the thud and clanking glass, “If you break the stuff we won’t be able to sell--” As he turned, he saw that two of his men were down. He and his remaining accomplice both quickly looked to the entrance where Thomas stood leaning against the door frame.

“Hello, fellows,” He smirked, casually aiming his gun at the two.

The last man tried to draw his gun, but Thomas quickly shot him.

“Hold it,” Mercio commanded, lifting his hand that held tight to the detonator, “If you pull that trigger, I’ll press this button and we’ll all be blown to smithereens.”

Thomas held the gun steady but his mind was racing.

Up in the vent ducts, Amelia’s mind was also racing. Her breathing became heavier as sweat dripped from her pale brow. Clutching needle-nose pliers in one hand and wire-cutting shears in the other, her brain was instantly flooded with memories of bomb disposal training. Despite her head spinning, she tried hard to concentrate on the wires. As she slowly reached her shaky tools into the wiring, a sharp pain cut through her stomach driving her to cry out and snip the wrong wire.

“EXPEDITED BOMB SEQUENCE ACTIVATED,” a robotic voice rang out from the vents, “ONE HOUR AND THIRTY MINUTES SUCCESSFULLY CONVERTED INTO T MINUS THIRTEEN MINUTES.”

“What have you done?” Thomas shouted, ”I didn’t even fire at you!”

Mercio’s eyes got big and looked at the controller in his hand with much confusion. “I didn’t press anything! I swear!” he yelled.

“Quit your games and make it stop!” Thomas yelled, tightening his grip on the gun.

“There’s nothing I can do,” Mercio barked, “Once the sequence is activated, nothing more can be done.” Throwing the remote to the ground, he grabbed one of the partially filled duffle bags and pushed past bewildered Thomas.

Thomas didn’t even try to stop him. Sliding to his knees, he grasped the remote and stared at the buttons. One was red and one was green. Thomas closed his eyes and pressed the red button.

“SUPER EXPEDITED BOMB SEQUENCE INITIATED,” the robotic voice called again, “THIRTEEN MINUTES SUCCESSFULLY CONVERTED INTO T MINUS ONE MINUTE AND THIRTY SECONDS.”

“EGADS!” Thomas screamed, throwing down the device, “Amelia! Where are you? We have to get out of here!” He looked around the room and then up at the vents. Flipping out his grappling gun, he hooked the grate and yanked it down.

“T MINUS TWENTY-TWO SECONDS,” the voice chimed.

“Amelia!” Thomas leapt and pulled himself up into the vent. He saw her feet and pulled her by her ankles back out of the duct. He hoisted her limp body over his shoulder and darted out of the room.

“T MINUS NINE SECONDS,” the loud voice continued.

Thomas glanced down the hall to see a large picture window overlooking the Detroit River. Drawing his laser blaster, he repeatedly fired at the glass while running towards it. Just as he came within feet of the window, it finally shattered. Holding tight to Amelia, he leapt out-- just ahead of the flames that lit the sky as they plummeted into the water.

≈

Commander Fidsk held the Petite Fille Aux Yeux Argentes in his hands and stared into the young blonde girl’s silver eyes. “Well, you did the least expected of you,” he said to Thomas and Amelia who solemnly stood before him, “There were three point five billion dollars worth of damages-- only a couple of billion more than we expected.”

Thomas exhaled as he gripped Amelia’s hand tightly.

“After some deep, deep thought…” Commander Fidsk continued, scratching the back of his graying head of hair, “I’ve decided that you two should take a couple of months off.”

“MONTHS?” Thomas blurted in surprise.

“Yes, months,” Commander nodded.

“It was all my fault,” Amelia sighed in shame, “Punish me, not Thomas. If it wasn’t for him saving my life, I wouldn’t be on the team any longer anyways.”

“It’s not quite a punishment, Amelia,” Commander said, “Think of it as a break. A LONG break. I can tell you aren’t well, and you both clearly need some time to rest. You haven’t taken a day off in ages.”

“This is our life, Commander,” Amelia protested, “We don’t need a day off.”

“Yes, you most certainly do,” Commander insisted, “It’s only seven months. A mini sabbatical.”

“SEVEN MONTHS???” Thomas gasped in dismay, “I could see days, or maybe even weeks, but MONTHS???”

“Listen. I like you two. You’re practically the best agents on the force,” Commander stated, “That being said, I’d rather you be out of action for a few months than out of the game for life.”

“I see where you’re coming from, but, that’s absurd!” Thomas frowned, “What on earth are we supposed to do for seven months?”

“Don’t you guys have a mansion or something?” Commander Fidsk laughed, “Have some parties. Swim in your gargantuan swimming pool. It’s not like you’re getting fired so just accept what you can while you can and be happy with it.”

“I have an idea,” Amelia thought aloud, “Since I was the cause of the problem, I can go home and Thomas can stay and work.”

“Are you sure about that?” Commander asked.

“Positive,” Amelia nodded, pursing her ruddy lips.

“What if you need help or something?” Commander Fidsk shrugged.

“We have a butler and a maid,” she reminded him, “I should be perfectly fine.”

Commander Fidsk took a deep breath and looked to Thomas.

“If you two are fine with it, so am I,” Thomas smiled.

≈

Thomas’ and Amelia’s mansion was one of the grandest homes in London. A prized estate with over 8,000 square feet of luxury (not to mention the large backyard enclosed by a towering cherry wood fence). The couple bought the mansion in their newlywed phase. They’d sometimes host large parties or just spend lazy days in their pajamas. But, as they increased in skill as elite secret agents, they visited it less and less. As to not seem too suspicious, they kept the butler and the maid on staff to maintain the property and make sure that people knew somebody still lived there.

For the next few weeks, Amelia stayed there at the mansion under the loving care of Beatrice the maid, and Ferdinand the butler. She felt fine for the first couple of days but soon started to get worse. She woke up with nausea and later began vomiting incessantly. After a while, she completely lost her appetite and refused to eat anything. Nevertheless, she continued to throw up until there was nothing left in her stomach. Pretty soon she was completely bedridden, deeming herself too weak to stand. She spent a full week in bed and didn’t even arise to go to the bathroom. After all, she didn’t need to. She’d stopped eating and drinking long ago.

Beatrice and Ferdinand could see that her health was deteriorating. They were trying their best to do all they could, but Amelia’s heath would not improve. Within these few weeks, she’d aged terribly. Her already thin frame had become unnervingly skeletal, and her fair skin had become a ghastly pale. She was severely malnourished and dehydrated yet still refused any intake. Most days she’d stay asleep for hours. One day, when she finally awakened, she asked to see Thomas once more before she died. This disturbed Beatrice and Ferdinand. They felt the sincerity in her voice. Seeing her current condition, they quickly summoned Thomas home to his wife.

Thomas was fighting a ring of criminals in an abandoned warehouse when he got the call.

“What is it, Ferdinand?” he asked as he tapped his earpiece, “I’m kind of in the middle of something,”

“Sorry, sir, but I’m afraid it’s very urgent,” the butler said over the phone.

“Better be,” Thomas winced, struggling to free himself from a chokehold.

“Mr. Thomas, sir, your wife is severely ill,” Ferdinand informed him, “I suggest you come home at once. She longs to see you.”

“This mission ends in three days,” Thomas grunted as he kicked his attacker in the groin. “I’ll just finish this up and--”

“She may not last,” Ferdinand interrupted.

“How bad is it?” Thomas asked as he took hold of the man’s arm and hurled him into a stack of crates.

“She’s pining away, sir,” Ferdinand sighed with concern, “She asked to see you before she dies.”

“She said that?” Thomas asked as he punched two men in the face and chopped another over the shoulder.

“Yes, sir,” Ferdinand nodded solemnly.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be there as quickly as I can,” Thomas strained as he dropped to the ground and fired his gun several times.

“Unbelievable,” Commander Fidsk smiled and shook his head as Thomas stood before him, “You came back three days late from Brazil, and now you return three days early from Bengali. Boy, are you making up for lost time!”

“I made quick work of them because I was determined to go home and see my wife,” Thomas said sadly.

“Oh?” Commander laughed, “Getting a little lonely now? You miss your smokin’ hot sidekick, I see. How’s she enjoying her vacation?”

“I hear she isn’t doing well at all,” Thomas breathed, “Ferdinand said that she asked to see me before… before she dies.”

“Oh no,” Commander gasped as his grayish-blue eyes got big, “I had no idea It was that bad.”

“Neither did I,” Thomas murmured.

“I’m sorry to hear this, Thomas,” Commander frowned, “Go and see her right away. Take as much time as you need. My prayers are with you, and please do send her my love.”

Thomas nodded and turned away.

Commander sighed in sorrow at the thought of losing Amelia. He figured also that Thomas just wouldn’t be the same without her. He put his head down on his desk and wished for the best.

Thomas rushed home and was highly disturbed at the sight of Amelia. She was thin, frail, and very pale.

“Oh, Thomas,” she sighed, touching his face with a shaky, withered hand, “Kiss me once more so that I may die in peace.”

“Don’t say that, Amelia!” Thomas whined, staring into her dulling eyes.

“We’ll all die one day, Thomas,” she droned, “I believe it is my time.”

“No, it’s not!” Thomas protested, “When you die, we’ll die together. We will have seen the world.”

“We have seen the world, Thomas,” she giggled faintly, fingering his silky black hair.

“Amelia, listen. You’ll be alright. I promise,” Thomas said firmly as he took her hand into his own, “I’m going to hire the best doctors in town to fix you up.”

Looking to Ferdinand with a snap, the butler turned away to fetch the phone book.

Ferdinand called doctor after doctor. Each physician visited the house one by one and took a good look over Amelia. All of them shook their heads and said they couldn’t figure out what was wrong with her.

As the clock neared 6 pm, the last doctor sat by Amelia’s bedside.

“Dr. Grant, just heal my wife and name the price so that I can write the check,” Thomas begged him.

“Unfortunately, that isn’t how it works,” Dr. Grant sighed, “I don’t know what is wrong with her, so I couldn’t possibly heal her yet. We must take tests to prognosticate an illness and foresee a reasonable plan of treatment.”

“Okay! Yes! Then do it!” Thomas cheered.

“Which tests would you like us to perform?” Dr. Grant asked.

“All of them!” Thomas exclaimed, “Take all of the tests. Leave no stone unturned.”

“All of them?” the Doctor gasped, scratching his balding head, “That requires samples to be sent to multiple labs and, due to the various apparatus utilized, and the manpower this will take, this would be quite a lengthy and costly feat.”

“With all due respect, Doctor, it’s 1995,” Thomas scolded, “We’re at the cusp of a new millennium. You’re the most expensive physician in town, with the highest accolades, and you mean to tell me that you aren’t that technologically advanced?”

“...We… we are more advanced than most, but your requests are improbable,” the Doctor sulked, stroking his broad chin, “Cutting-edge technology isn’t cheap, you know.”

“How much?” Thomas asked as he drew out his checkbook, “I have all the money in the world, just name the price.”

“Even still, we’ll need scientists monitoring the results,” the Doctor shook his head, “and there simply aren’t enough hours in the day for the few doctors in my tiny little team.”

“Then hire more,” Thomas suggested, writing out another check, “Get me the results by tomorrow morning so that we can start treatment right away.”

“Tomorrow morning!!??” the Doctor laughed, placing a hand on his plump tummy, “This extensive amount of testing will require at least a month to process!”

“Expedite it,” Thomas said as he scribbled out yet another check.

“I guess we could try to weasel it down to two weeks,” the Doctor sung.

“She may not have two weeks,” Thomas began writing another check, “Three days.”

“That’s preposterous!” the Doctor chortled, “Scientifically impossible!”

“One week?” Thomas pleaded, voice cracking in despair.

“...Okay,” the Doctor reluctantly agreed. “But that’s pushing it.”

Thomas smiled and shook the Doctor’s hand.

After gathering all the samples he needed, the short little Doctor hurried off.

For the next few days, Thomas did not leave Amelia’s side. He stayed with her day and night, talking to her and praying for her. He called the Doctor thrice every day to check in and see how the tests were going. Very annoyed at this, Doctor Grant continued to tell him to wait the full week.

On the fifth day of waiting, Amelia awakened just as the sun arose.

“Thomas, I’m hungry,” she breathed.

Thomas woke up and could hardly believe his ears.

“What did you say, darling?” he asked, arising from the bedside chair and wiping his eyes.

“I’m hungry, Thomas,” she repeated.

“You’re hungry!” Thomas smiled.

Thomas called in the butler and the maid. He asked them to take her order and make it quickly. Amelia suggested so many varied foods from cakes to pies to bacon and eggs to spaghetti and meatballs, to peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Beatrice and Ferdinand felt this all was so ridiculous and they figured that she wouldn’t even be able to scarf it all down. And, even if she did, she would most likely just vomit it all up again. Nevertheless, they followed Thomas’s orders and got to work straight away, preparing the mishmash meal for Amelia.

When they presented it to her, she devoured it all with glee as they watched in awe. Thomas was delighted.

“Dr. Grant! Oh, thank you, Dr. Grant!” Thomas cried on his daily call.

“Whatever for?” the Doctor asked, “So far, all of the tests have come back negative. I still have no idea of what could be causing--”

“No! Listen, Doctor,” Thomas interrupted, “Whatever you’ve done, it’s finally working!”

“What do you mean?” the Doctor asked.

“Amelia’s eating very well and she isn’t throwing up a bit,” Thomas informed him.

“Really?” the Doctor gasped in disbelief.

“Yes! She’s requesting everything on the menu and more, but she’s scarfing it all down without hesitation. Isn’t it strange?” Thomas laughed, “But it’s a good strange! Thank you for all you’ve done, Doctor.”

“But, Mr. Thomas,” the Doctor shook his head, “Please do understand that I have performed no treatments as of yet. We are only still testing for a possible cause of the problem.”

“Well, continue the testing, and when you’ve finished, please do let me know what you all have found,” Thomas smiled.

“Will do, sir,” the Doctor nodded and hung up the phone.

Thomas was so happy and preoccupied with Amelia’s progress that he didn’t speak to the Doctor again until he came back to the mansion when the week was up.

“Mr. and Mrs. Bullfinch,” the Doctor began, “When I was wrapping up the testing, all of the samples were coming back negative. That’s when you called me and reported her new and surprising symptoms.”

Hand in hand, the couple stared hopefully into Dr. Grant’s brown eyes as Beatrice and Ferdinand stood close by.

“That’s when I took it upon myself to test her for one more thing that didn’t occur to me before,” the Doctor continued, “Turns out, you two are expecting.”

The couple blinked and kept their gaze fixed upon the Doctor who had suddenly fallen silent.

“Yes?” Thomas shrugged, “We’re expecting the diagnosis…”

“You’re expecting IS the diagnosis,” the Doctor smiled, “Congratulations. Your wife is pregnant.”

Thomas’ and Amelia’s eyes got big.

“I’m sorry, what?” Amelia gasped, lifting up from the bed and holding her chest.

“You are with child,” the Doctor nodded, “You have been for three months.”

“But… but how?” Amelia asked, lifting the covers away from her flat tummy.

“You’re carrying really small for the moment, but soon it will grow, especially with your newfound appetite,” the Doctor chuckled.

Thomas and Amelia stared into blank space as they pondered the news.

“Well, I believe my work here is done,” the Doctor arose and gathered his briefcase, “Thank you for the generous pay. Good day.”

With that, Ferdinand showed him to the door.

The room was full of quiet until Ferdinand reentered it.

“Pregnant?” Amelia scoffed, “That's quite impossible. What about my procedure?"

"I suppose it was faulty," Thomas said after a think, "You heard the doctor. He has to be correct."

"...pregnant..." Amelia said again, "Whatever shall we do?”

“We can’t settle down to raise a child!” Thomas exclaimed, “That will ruin our entire career!”

“Not necessarily, sir,” Ferdinand started, “One of you could stay home whilst the other works and vice versa.”

“No, no,” Thomas shook his head, “That would be too suspicious. No one shall know that we have a child.”

“Why not?” Beatrice asked.

“Because, if they know, they could use it against us,” Thomas warned, “They may bring harm to it. They may take it for ransom. Anything can happen when you’re a spy.”

“Darling, you’re right,” Amelia sighed, taking hold of her husband’s arm, “We can’t tell anyone of this. Not even Commander Fidsk.”

Beatrice and Ferdinand nodded in agreement.

“But, what will explain your absence from the force?” Ferdinand asked, stroking his waxed mustache.

“We won’t have to be absent!” Thomas smiled as an idea entered his brain, “We have this giant mansion that we hardly ever live in, and we have you two. Why don’t you two care for the child for us?”

“What a grand idea!” Amelia grinned.

“Illogical!” Beatrice gasped, clutching her blue hair bonnet in disbelief, “We surely don’t get paid enough for that!”

“You two hardly have anything to do around here as it is,” Thomas huffed, “Adding a little child to the mix will not make anything harder for you, will it?”

“We do have lots to do,” Beatrice frowned, puffing out her chest and brushing off her laced apron, “I beg your pardon, but, sir, it seems you know nothing about our jobs and even less about children.”

“I agree with Beatrice, sir,” Ferdinand spoke up, tugging at his black tuxedo, “With all due respect, we have many tasks from maintaining this indubitably large estate, dusting, cleaning, mowing the 5,000 square foot yard, washing the windows, running errands, scheduling appointments, making excuses for why you two aren’t here, and not to mention remotely assisting you on missions.”

“Among other tasks too numerous to count,” Beatrice added with a tilt of her head.

“Forgive my blunder,” Thomas exhaled, “I will give you both a raise for your hard work and dedication.”

The butler and the maid smiled.

“And, with this, you agree to take care of the child?” Amelia asked.

Beatrice and Ferdinand looked at each other skeptically and then nodded with a shrug.

“Splendid,” Thomas clapped, “I’ll hire the best midwife in town and we’ll have the baby right here in secret. Pay her off to keep mum, let Amelia rest for a few weeks, and then the child will be all yours.”

The next morning, Catherine the midwife arrived and stayed at the estate daily until one gloomy morning, February 29, 1996, when Amelia finally gave birth to a healthy and beautiful baby boy. They all gathered around to gaze upon the lad.

“We’ve never had a child before,” she gasped, stroking his soft, fair cheek as he slept, “What shall children do all the day long?”

“When I was a child, I loved toys,” Thomas recalled, “Ferdinand, get to work ordering lots of toys for the lad.”

“...what kinds of toys, sir?” the butler asked doubtfully.

“All kinds. Anything a young lad would like,” Thomas grinned, “Toy tools, toy cars, toy boats, toy trains, toy planes, toy robots, action figures, pop guns…”

“Sir, he’s but an infant!” Catherine laughed, tossing her frizzy brown hair back.

“What do infants like?” Thomas thought, “Buy him the most expensive pacifiers and nursing bottles. Get him a comfy little bassinet, and a rocking horse, and the softest clothing a baby could wear.”

“He’s not big enough for a rocking horse,” the midwife slurred, placing her hand on her hip.

“I don’t care,” Thomas smirked, “It’s great to have it for when he will need it.”

“He’s so beautiful,” Amelia sighed, paying attention to the babe and nothing else, “He has your eyes, Thomas.”

“And he’ll probably have my stomach, too,” Thomas laughed, “Kids like snacks, right? Beatrice, whenever you go to the market again, please do pick up a bunch of snacks.”

“I beg your pardon,” Beatrice grimaced, tucking a strand of red hair back into her bonnet.

“Sir, he’s too young for snacks,” Catherine rolled her dark brown eyes, “He doesn’t even have teeth yet.”

“He has your jawline, Thomas,” Amelia swooned, still staring at the sleeping child, “What shall we name him? Thomas Jr.?”

“No no no that’s a horrible idea,” Thomas cringed, “Something else.”

After staring at the baby all day, they finally came up with a name. They thought it to be the most precious name imaginable for the most precious child they ever beheld.

Catherine stayed at the mansion for two weeks after the baby was born. These two weeks, she worked to help Amelia’s body return to normal with a nutritious diet and gentle exercises. She also provided new-mom advice to Beatrice who would become the primary caregiver of the lad. Amelia refused to breastfeed. She even took pills to help her dry up as quickly as possible. She wanted no evidence of anything for anyone to be able to figure out what had occurred.

“Wow, look who it is!” Commander Fidsk beamed as Thomas and Amelia walked into his office, “Welcome back! Long time no see!”

“We’ve returned refreshed and ready to go,” Thomas smirked.

“That’s wonderful!” Commander grinned, “Funny to think that I haven’t seen you two since last year. You guys look great. How are you feeling, Amelia?”

“I feel better than ever,” she exhaled proudly.

“Last I heard of you, I was preparing for the worst,” Commander sighed, “I’m so thankful you recovered!”

“I went through a rough patch but I’m all good now,” Amelia nodded.

“What was the illness?” Commander asked.

“Well…” Amelia hesitated, glancing over at Thomas, “…at first, no one knew what it was. We asked every doctor in town and not one of them could figure out what was wrong with me. Then, the last doctor ran every test in the book and finally discovered that I… I had an abnormal growth in my abdominal cavity. Thank God they were able to remove it safely. Then, I had to stay and rest for a while to make sure I didn’t revert back.”

“What a miracle you are,” Commander gaped, “It’s not contagious, is it?”

“Of course not!” Amelia laughed.

“I know,” Commander smiled, “But, are you sure you’re ready to get back into action?”

“Positive,” the couple chimed in unison.

“Then, boy, do I have a mission for you…” Commander grinned slyly as he handed them their briefing folders.