Summer Storms
Chapter 1: Out of the Blue
Sequel to Winter Shadows. Also going to be quite a lot less structured than Winter Shadows. But that's what happens when you've got twice the characters to deal with...
It was one of those days. The type of day where summer was half over and rather than glorying in the cloudless skies and beautiful sunlight, most sane people would be sick of sunshine and hiding inside from the heat wave.
Most people. Sane people. But Miranda Wright was not 'most people', and if she was not 'sane people' either, well, she blamed her name for that one. Her police officer parents weren't as funny as they thought they were.
In any case, she was headed outside because Magenta was napping. Which actually meant that Magenta, having been given her snack and her naptime story, was just waiting for Miranda to leave before she jumped up and finger painted all through the next half hour. Happened every afternoon.
So I'm enabler. So what?
Starting on her daily walk of enabling-ness, Miranda noted a suspicious lack of activity at the house nextdoor. Steve's house. Maybe not so much that anymore—it had been nearly a year since Steve went off to college, after all. But she still thought of it as Steve's house. Old habits died hard, and besides, she missed him.
Whatever she wanted to call the house though, something was off... this was not Blue's naptime, and this kind of quiet could mean only one of two things. Either alien abduction, or hilarity was getting ready to ensue. And Miranda was pretty sure the type of aliens who occasionally popped up in the neighborhood didn't do any abducting.
So, hilarity.
Well... I do have half an hour to waste...
The last time she'd spontaneously dropped in on this house, she'd ended up in a zebra costume reading a preschool adaptation of Shakespeare. She really ought to know better than this. But... resigning herself to the fact that curiosity would be the death of her someday, Miranda headed up the path and rang the doorbell.
The door swung open and a green-clad figure sprang out, brandishing an empty paper towel roll and glaring somewhere at the vicinity of her knees. "Yarrr! Ye'll never find me treasure without—hey, wait a minute..." Joe took a step back, dropped his arms to his sides, and gave her a plaintive look. "You're not Captain Bluebeard."
Oh for... Miranda couldn't help it, she burst into giggles. "No, no, I'm not." She noted that Baby Bird was perched on Joe's shoulder looking slightly confused at the situation, but opted not to comment on that. "Are you Captain Joebeard?"
"That's Captain Squareshirt to you... er... to ye, landlubber," he retorted, crossing his arms and attempting to look much more serious than the situation warranted. "So, uh... what's up?"
Before she could answer, Baby Bird seemed to come to a conclusion, and cheerfully waved a wing at her. "Tweet! Polly would like a cracker, please!"
...Must not facepalm. Must not facepalm. She did it anyway, then shook her head and gave Joe a playful scowl. "You are corrupting our youth."
"I try," he agreed, pulling a plastic bag of graham crackers from his pocket and handing one to the little bird on his shoulder. "And I've really got to set this ambush back up before Blue gets here. D'you want to come in? Pretty sure we could track down another sword—" he waved the cardboard tube around for effect— "and an eyepatch or something for you..."
Oh no you don't. "Thanks, but I'd better be getting home, Magenta's probably almost done with her nap."
"Excuses, excuses. Your loss!" Joe saluted her with his 'sword' and shrugged. "See you later, then."
"Happy swashbuckling," Miranda returned, drawing a chuckle.
"Joe, what does 'corrupting our youth' mean?" she heard Baby Bird ask as she started to walk away.
He was quiet for a moment before fielding the question. "It means Magenta's gonna be over to play pirates with us when she finishes her nap."
"I heard that!" Miranda yelled over her shoulder. And with that, she headed home to prove him right.
"You know? That was like, Bigfoot number twenty-eight in our ghost-busting career. I think we should get a free soda or something at thirty."
"Reah, reah! Roda!"
Velma glanced over the front seats and favored Shaggy and Scooby with a smirk. "You guys are really going to settle for just a soda?"
"Well, every soda needs free refills. And like, a sandwich platter or six to go with it."
Nodding her satisfaction—she'd been worried for a moment there—the designated smart one of Mystery Incorporated returned her gaze to the road. Not that there was much to see on the road other than the traffic jam they were currently stuck in, but someone had to watch it. Fred wasn't. He was in a battle with MapQuest... a losing battle.
"Hey, this route shaves a whole thirteen minutes off our travel time!"
"Um, Fred? That route takes us through Lake Ontario." Daphne snatched his phone away and secured it in her purse. "I'm pretty sure we'll be okay without any underwater shortcuts."
Whether or not Fred found the idea of not drowning convincing, the idea of not messing up the Mystery Machine's new wax job seemed to suffice. "Yeah, I guess you're right."
Velma leaned back and stared at the impenetrable wall of taillights ahead of them. She was a little conflicted about the whole thing. It was time for the gang's traditional July vacation; an attempt to cure a bit of the midsummer malaise. The results of these trips had been varied. But they did it because... well, because it was what they did. If that excuse was always good enough for unmasking Old Man Withers, it ought to be good enough for taking a break.
In this case, Daphne's parents had a timeshare in Maine that they weren't using, and the gang hadn't been anywhere near New England in ages. And that was why Velma was conflicted. In between Coolsville and Maine, there was somewhere...
Someone...
She had been mentally debating the matter since their last case was solved and now, an hour outside of Coolsville with the next leg of their trip already plotted, was probably the time to bring it up. If she wanted to. Did she want to? Fair question. Not difficult, but fair. Of course she wanted to.
Though in eight months they had not spoken once...
You'll never find out if you don't ask. "So guys? I have a question."
"Like, I'm pretty sure you answer all the questions around here, Velma," Shaggy observed from the back.
She laughed. "Not that kind of question, silly. It's just, I've got a friend who lives right along the route we're taking... do you think maybe he and his puppy could come along with us?"
Fred and Daphne both shot her startled looks, and she could practically feel Shaggy's identical stare from behind her. Scooby, though, poked his muzzle of the seat and licked her face. "Roe and Rue?"
"Exactly."
"Reah! Reah!" The van rocked slightly, and she could envision Scooby leaping about excitedly in the back without even having to look. "Rinvite rhem!"
Fred recovered first, and shrugged. "I don't see why not. There'll be plenty of room at the resort. And I mean, especially with an endorsement like that—" He pointed over his shoulder. "Scooby, stop rocking the boat!"
The big dog halted. "Roat? Rhere?"
"Like, it's just an expression, Scoob," Shaggy intervened, maybe noticing Fred's bewildered look. "Sit down, okay? I've got some eggplant burgers stashed."
"Roh roy!" A slurp of anticipation, and the shaking stopped for good.
Velma pulled out her own phone and started tracking down the number, but was very much distracted by the look Daphne kept giving her. A highly amused look. "Why are you staring at me like that, Daph?"
Her friend arched an eyebrow. "A friend that's a he, huh?"
By way of response, Velma pointed to Fred, who was fiddling with the GPS and paying no attention—thankfully. Then just to drive the point home, she gestured in Shaggy's direction as well... which promptly backfired as she realized maybe, just maybe, she was protesting a little too much. Daphne's knowing smirk confirmed it.
"You hush."
"I barely said a word." Daphne grinned and shifted to face her, as much as was possible while strapped down by a seat belt. "So what's he like?"
What's he like... several dozen adjectives supplied themselves and Velma tossed them all aside quickly. What a question. "He's..." What did you say about someone who jumped into pictures and talked to tables? "Unusual."
"That's not much to go by."
Velma offered an enigmatic smile, then returned her attention to the phone. "You'll understand."
It had been a long, difficult trek, full of digging, riddles, ambushes, and surprise visits from the neighbors... but Captain Bluebeard had finally gotten her paws on the day's mythical treasure. Aided, of course, by First Mate Magenta, who'd come rushing over covered in finger paint.
Joe had his doubts about Miranda's definition of 'nap', but who was he to judge?
He was sitting at the kitchen table, watching the puppies and Baby Bird attacking the treasure in question—a huge, treasure-chest-shaped ice cream cake. Mr. Salt and Mrs. Pepper had really outdone themselves. Slippery, Shovel, and Pail had already eaten their fill and were running—or sliding—circles around the kitchen, yelling 'shiver me timbers' at each other like they actually knew what it meant.
...What did that mean, anyway?
Watching them with some consternation, Joe prepared for what would surely come next. He could definitely foresee that sometime within the week, he'd have to explain to Slippery that not every ship had a plank.
He might have gone ahead and mentioned it, but the phone ringing in the next room distracted him. "I'll be right back. Save me some cake, okay?"
Baby Bird lifted his beak from a lump of ice cream. " Better hurry. Tweet!"
"Row!" Magenta agreed, though Blue hopped out of her chair. Fair enough. Better than even chance the phone was for her, anyway. To be honest, Joe had no idea who it might be. His parents called once a month, on the fifth of the month, like clockwork. Didn't apply here. Maybe Steve, though he preferred letters. Otherwise... yeah. Probably for Blue.
He flopped down in the Thinking Chair and took the receiver. "Hello?"
"Hi Joe! It's Velma."
Some combination of exquisite self-control and shock-induced immobility prevented Joe from dropping the phone. That would've taken some explaining to both Velma and Side Table. "V... y... hey! What's up?" Oh yeah. That's composure. I am all about composure. "It's been awhile." Understatement of the year, possibly.
"Sorry, I... uh..." She sounded sheepish. "Just kept getting distracted..."
"Yeah. Me too." They hadn't really promised to keep in touch. They'd only promised to try. And no matter how much they'd been forced to trust each other while in mortal peril, Joe had certainly not shaken his lack of faith of all things—all people—on the outside. He hadn't expected to hear from her at all.
So it had been what, eight months? So what? Time was just time.
Blue jumped up on the arm of the Thinking Chair. "Bow bow bow?"
"It's Velma."
"Bow..." She cocked her head for a moment. Eight months was a long time for a puppy. But then her ears perked up with recognition. "Bow! Bowbow, bowbow!" She stuck one ear out to the receiver to listen in.
"Blue says hi," Joe reported, glad for the distraction.
Velma giggled. "So I hear. Hi, Blue! How're you doing?"
"Bow! Bow bowbow bow?"
"Doing well, thanks... um, give me a second..." A pause; there were muffled voices in the background, and he could make out her saying something about let him think he has a high score if he wants to. Then, "Sorry about that... anyway, the gang's going to be passing through in a couple of days, we're heading up to spend the week in Maine. Just for fun. Do you two want to come along?"
Oh wow. Joe's eyes widened and he exchanged glances with Blue. Didn't see that coming. It seemed a little abrupt, but he was the last person in any world to make a comment on that. "What do you think?" he asked softly.
"Bow bow bow? Bow bow bowbow?" A whole week? Is that okay? The sheer scale of the proposed vacation seemed to have shocked her, but her tail was wagging furiously. No doubt she thought it sounded wonderful. He thought it sounded fantastic... with minor reservations, and not the hotel kind.
Very minor. So minor he wasn't about to commit just yet.
"Good question." He was really directing it at both of them. "Uh... I mean, it sounds great, but we'd have to check and see if we can get away." That excuse sounded ludicrous to his own ears, but Blue barked in agreement, so maybe it was sufficient after all.
Velma seemed to think so. "Yeah, of course. If not maybe we can at least meet up for a little bit while we're in the area?"
"Definitely," he agreed. Perhaps a little too quickly.
"Bowbowbow! Bow bow bow bow Bowbow?"
Joe chuckled. "Blue wants to talk to Scooby." He silently thanked the puppy for that, because he was reeling and entirely out of things to say. Not because he didn't want to talk. But he couldn't quite grasp what he wanted to say, and even if he could catch the sentiment he wasn't sure he had the words.
That reaction was a bit unexpected. And that bothered him, and that was just another excellent reason to remove himself from this conversation for the moment.
Shuffling on the other side of the phone. "Scooby, Blue wants to talk to you."
"Rue? Rall right!"
Handing the receiver off to Blue, Joe retreated and hunted down a calendar. First things first, it was best to make sure they really were going to be available for the week in question. It looked clear. And that... well...
That might be a little distressing, actually.
Evening found him sprawled out in the tire swing in the side yard, where he went fairly often to think. Well, the Thinking Chair was for thinking, but sometimes that just wasn't practical. Side Table was trying to sleep, after all. Besides, he preferred to be outside when he was thinking about more serious things. The fresh air helped clear his mind. Or redirect it.
Right now it smelled like rain, a cool breeze whistling through the neighborhood. So he watched the ants crawling over the ground, probably preparing for the coming storm. And when that failed to keep his attention he watched the rippling patterns in the grass as the wind danced through it. And when that became insufficient, he turned his gaze to the sky and tried to pick out constellations, then simply watched the clouds slowly rolling in.
Eventually he ran out of distractions and thought about the invitation.
Maine. Why not?
Well, Maine was pretty decisively on the outside. There might be a Maine in the magical world too, he wasn't too sure how far it extended, but that wasn't the Maine in question, in any case. Joe had no love for the outside (to put it mildly), and certainly spending a week out there as a vacation, rather than some form of torture, was almost unthinkable.
But this was a little different than that disaster otherwise known as public schooling. This would be with friends. Two friends, at least. He liked Velma and Scooby a lot, so surely by extension the rest of their gang couldn't be all bad. Right? Right. Even if they were perfect strangers. Because he dealt with human strangers oh so very well... okay, so this really was asking for trouble no matter how not-bad they were.
Velma couldn't be the only human with redeeming qualities, he knew that much. It just always took him some time to convince himself of that fact. It had even been the same when he'd moved in here and had to start dealing with the other humans in the neighborhood.
That thought drew his gaze to Miranda's house for a moment, and he smirked. "Corrupting our youth, huh?" With a little effort, he could've pretended to be offended by that. A year ago he really would have been.
And that raised another entirely valid point. He had a responsibility here, a responsibility his brother had left him... despite having no real indication Joe deserved that sort of trust. Regardless of how certain neighbors might joke about it, he took his duties very seriously. Could he just abandon that for a whole week? Really?
Probably not a good idea.
No, of course not. Impossible. He simply couldn't leave for that long. Believing that made it so much easier than if he had to really sort out how he felt about—
"Joe, is something the matter?"
The familiar French accent, coming from behind him where he'd been quite certain nobody was standing, startled him enough that he fell out of the swing. "Ow! Oof... uh, hi Mr. Salt. No, I'm fine." He grimaced and dragged himself into a more or less upright position. "Mostly."
"Sorry," the salt shaker apologized. "What's on your mind?"
"Nothing. Just..." Mr. Salt was giving him a warm, but stern, look. A you're-not-fooling-anyone look. "Blue already told you, didn't she?"
"But of course!" he nodded cheerfully. "You are going, yes?"
"No."
"What? Don't be silly!" Mr. Salt hopped up on the swing Joe had involuntarily vacated, peering at him with some concern. "You want to go, yes? If you didn't want to go, you would have said no right off, not come out here to think about it."
Do we have to bring logic into this? Joe sighed and gave the shaker a defeated look. "I can't just pack up and leave for a week."
"Why not? We can take care of things here. You go have fun."
Oh. Well, he supposed Mr. Salt and Mrs. Pepper had been in charge here well before he, or even his brother, had been involved in things. But still... "Blue's invited too," he offered weakly. If they'd gotten by without him or Steve at one time, that was one thing. He wasn't sure about how anyone here would get by without Blue anymore.
It didn't work, naturally. "Of course, of course. She thinks it's a wonderful idea. You know, she says you two never spent much time together on the outside."
True enough. More true than Mr. Salt probably knew. Still...
"Are you trying to chase me off?" He regretted the reflex immediately, though he was pretty sure the question was valid. Why was it really such a big deal if he stayed? Just because he really wanted to accept the invitation... or at least, a part of him did... a part that was warring desperately with the part that said nothing on the outside ever went well. In this world, the rule was that you could do anything you wanted to do. Out there, well, that was a whole other thing entirely.
But that couldn't hold out. The least he could do was give it a chance. If only giving it a chance weren't so... terrifying.
Mr. Salt was chuckling. "Chase you off? Hardly. Joe," a vaguely stern look crossed his face again, "you're our friend, you're not a prisoner, yes? If you want to go then don't be afraid to go."
"That is not why I'm afraid to go," Joe retorted, then winced as he realized he'd actually said that out loud. "I, uh, I mean..."
"Ahhh..." Mr. Salt reached forward and patted his shoulder. "I see."
"You do?"
"Well, you don't think Steve has never told us anything about the outside, do you?" Joe's expression must have darkened because the shaker added, "I think you are braver than that, Joe. Blue will be with you, yes? And your friend who invited you? You will not be alone this time. It can be fun." He raised an eyebrow. "Besides, you would not let one of the kids just skip something like this. You'd talk them into it. I can hardly do any different for you, no?"
"But..." But what, exactly? Somehow those arguments were a lot more difficult to refute when someone else was making them. "I just..."
"Joe." Mr. Salt's voice was gentle. "We will still be here. Nothing will have changed when you get back... we'll be waiting," he winked, "to hear all about it."
It was still difficult to argue, especially when he wasn't sure if he wanted to or not. Maybe he should just go. Nothing would go wrong. He could try to believe that. And even if it did go badly, at least he would have Blue. As long as Blue was there it had to be okay, didn't it?
You know? I sound like Steve.
To his own great surprise, the thought didn't bother him.
All right then. Let's do this. "I guess I'd better get packing, then. Thanks, Mr. Salt." He grinned and pulled himself to his feet, heading for the house.
One last call from behind him. "Oh, Joe?"
"Yeah?"
"Is she pretty?"
Joe stared at the shaker for what felt like weeks on end, entirely unwilling to believe what he'd just heard. After a moment it occurred to him that it had been a question. Questions generally had answers. This question probably had an answer. He probably ought to figure out what it was. "Sh.. uh... um..." No, it wasn't that difficult, once he got over the shock. And there was nothing to be done for it, really. "Very."
Mr. Salt gave him a thumbs-up, and Joe retreated as fast as he could. Every once in awhile... he got the feeling everyone here knew him better than he knew himself.