I know this is kind of a dark story, but I got the idea for it and decided to write it. I hope you enjoy it, and please review. Oh, and this is my first Scooby-Doo fanfic and it's 12:30 in the morning right now, so be nice! Thanks :)
The epic chase was always Fred's favorite part of a case. The rush of adrenaline through the bloodstream, the pure excitement as the stakes were raised, and the knowledge that the whole mystery was one step closer to unraveling: each of these things made the chase extremely appealing. Unfortunately, this epic event usually only happened after one of Fred's carefully designed traps went awry.
That was exactly what happened on that warm June evening. The members of the gang had just graduated high school, and their mystery-solving abilities had gained more credibility among those in Coolsville and surrounding areas. A local farmer and his wife had called Mystery Inc. for some help. A demonic and terrifying scarecrow was running around and scaring people away from their land. Three families had already been forced to sell their farms, horrified that the evil creature might come back and wreak more havoc.
After a few misguided attempts, several clever deductions, and many, many snack breaks, the gang finally determined that the culprit was Stephen Brookes. He wanted the owners to sell their farms so he could buy them at extremely cheap prices. With all that rich, fertile farmland, he could make a fortune on the crops produced.
Scooby and Shaggy managed to lure Brookes to an old abandoned farmhouse. Here, he fell right into Fred's brilliant—albeit a bit complicated—trap. Yet, as always, something went wrong. Now Scooby was hanging by his tail from a chandelier with a mouth full of soap, and Brookes had run up to one of the two upper levels.
"He's up there somewhere," Fred murmured. "Alright, gang, it's time to split up and catch this guy. Shaggy and Velma, you guys can take the third floor. Daphne and I will cover the second. Scooby, try to get yourself down and make sure to get Brookes if he somehow gets back down."
Fred took Daphne's hand and led her up the stairs, finding his thoughts straying a bit from the present case. They'd known each other since they were ten years old, and after all that time, he discovered it was impossible not to fall for her. She was perfect in her own way, even with her flaws. However, despite his disgustingly romantic feelings, he hadn't found the time or found the words to tell her about it.
Focus, Fred, he scolded himself as they reached the second story. He dropped Daphne's hand and noticed how cold his own felt without hers.
The stairs led to a hallway. There was one door to their immediate left as well as three farther down the passage. By the railing to their right sat an old bench, its wooden legs rotting and its cushion faded and worn. It must have been left there for at least twenty years.
"Let's try this room first," Daphne suggested, gesturing to their left. The spark of panic in her eyes showed Fred that she—like him—had just realized that they were completely weaponless.
Fred nodded, putting on a brave face. He walked in front of the petite redhead and gently pushed the door open, fully prepared for Brookes to jump out at them. Fortunately, the room was empty and quiet when they walked in. The old floorboards creaked under their feet as they entered to look around.
It must have been a bedroom at one point. The empty frame for a bed stood against one wall, still standing despite its long neglect. There was an antique writing desk in the corner beside the closet, and an old lamp was slanted precariously on a nightstand. The floor was scattered with papers and food wrappers from people who had visited the place after its abandonment.
Fred nodded at the closet, approaching slowly and quietly (though that was made rather difficult by the deafening creak that sounded whenever he took a step). Daphne tried to inch forward as well, but he held a hand up to stop her. There was no need for her to put herself in any unnecessary danger. He reached for the closet door, twisted the knob, and…
Nothing. There was no one in there, not even a scrap of cloth left behind by the previous owner.
Fred turned around, feeling rather relieved but still terribly anxious. He had a small smile on his face. His little grin was short-lived, for when he turned around, he saw not only Daphne but also Brookes and his rather intimidating gun.
Fear and unnerving alarm exploded in the pit of his stomach as he saw the man raise his weapon to Daphne's temple. He found it hard to breathe properly when he glanced at the look of utter terror in her eyes. She was biting her lip and her breathing was ragged.
Brookes pushed Daphne away from him so that she was standing next to Fred. He kept his gun aimed in their direction, flicking between one kid and the other every so often. "I just want to talk for a bit, okay?" His voice was surprisingly smooth, but the sound of it—so calm yet so manic—made him seem even more dangerous. "I have a proposition for you. If you let me leave and you get your little friends to stop chasing me, I'll make sure that both of you live. I think that's a fair trade: my freedom for your life."
Fred glanced down at Daphne, who was all but quivering with fear. He took her hand in his own, squeezing it gently, and she seemed to relax a bit.
"So, what'll it be?" Brookes pushed on. "Do you and your girlfriend want to wake up to see tomorrow, or do you want to make sure that a petty criminal like me goes to jail? Hmm? The choice is yours."
"I don't want to die," Daphne whispered to Fred in a hoarse, shaking voice. She could have made the decision herself, but she was leaving it up to Fred. If he wanted to keep going after this guy, she wouldn't argue, but she was giving him her input before he came to a conclusion.
"Neither do I," he admitted. He then turned to Brookes. "You're not worth risking our lives. Go on, leave."
A wicked grin spread across the man's face. "Well, I knew you'd be reasonable." He almost turned to leave but seemed to remember something that kept him back. "In case you lot do decide to come after me while I'm heading out, I think I'll just keep a little hostage. You should do nicely," he said, flicking the gun carelessly at Daphne.
He took a step toward her, but Fred was faster. He pushed the redhead out of the way and blocked Brookes' path.
That's when it happened. The whole world seemed to slow down. Fred glanced over and saw Daphne, fear and horror etched into her pretty features. He thought about all the good times they'd had together and about how that expression—the one that she was wearing so blatantly at that moment—was the one that he hated with a passion. He never wanted her to be that afraid again. He thought about the fact that he was only eighteen, but he knew that it was extremely likely that this girl was his soulmate. He wanted to be with her and care for her and protect her from the horrors of the world.
But things happen to disrupt such plans. And one of those things was happening right now.
The gunshot rang out through the air, cutting through the peace and antiqueness that the house possessed. Fred, unable to really grasp what was happening, felt an awful pain somewhere in his chest. It was truly worse than anything he'd ever experienced before. The wave of hurt ripped through him, leaving a trail of searing agony and pooling blood.
He fell to the floor, almost in slow motion, as Brookes ran through the door. Distantly, he heard a dog growling and a struggle going on. The pain near his heart became less intense. No, wait, that wasn't really true. Rather, the pain had stopped screaming for his full attention. It had now morphed into an excruciating ache.
Daphne rushed over, tears streaming down her face. Her blue eyes were turning red from all this crying. Fred couldn't really hear everything that she was saying to him. The words seemed so far away, muffled and fading. He focused, trying to catch the sound of her voice.
"Everything's going to be alright," she told him. Her voice was cracking and she put her hands over his wound. She had seen people do this on TV shows whenever someone was shot, and it made her feel like she was doing something to help. "I've called the ambulance. They'll be here soon. Oh, dammit, Freddie, why did you have to be such a hero? Why did you have to jump out and protect me?"
"Because I love you," he managed to say. Speaking required more effort than he remembered. So did breathing. It was all becoming so much more difficult. "Always have…always will." Why was his chest hurting so badly again? He couldn't quite remember. Everything was going a bit fuzzy.
Daphne's sobs intensified. Why was she crying over him? Things would be alright. She'd said so herself. "I love you too, Freddie. I really do. I wish you'd told me sooner."
Her words should have been happy, so why was she so sad? There was no reason to be bawling like this. His train of thought was brought to an abrupt halt as Daphne leaned down and pressed her lips to his. They were so soft, so sweet, he could have stayed like that forever. It was a simple kiss, chaste with no tongue. That was good, though, as he didn't have much energy for a make-out session.
When she pulled back, her face was still streaked with tears, but there was a sad smile on her face. Fred was grinning as well, and he thought he'd never been happier. He started to sit up, thinking that it was silly to be lying down like this. He was stopped as the agonizing pain manifested itself once more. He had almost forgotten why he was hurting this way. Everything was so blurry.
Daphne seemed to notice the distant look that had taken over Fred's blue eyes. "Fred, stay with me. Just concentrate on my voice. Stay with me, Freddie," she told him urgently, her crying starting again with renewed vigor.
Her voice faded a bit and he stopped listening. Of course he would stay with her. There wasn't a thing in the world that could make him leave. He leaned his head back, noticing that spots of black were starting to encroach on his vision. There was a faint ringing in his ears and the pain in his chest slowly melted away until it was almost completely dulled. He was feeling very tired, more tired that he'd ever felt in his life. He allowed his eyes to gently drift shut. Daphne was still pleading with him, but she was growing more and more distant by the second. He was just going to fall asleep for a bit, to rest up because he honestly doesn't think he can stay awake for another minute. His mind felt foggy and distant, but there was a sort of peace that he allowed to come over him. He sighed, floating farther and farther away.
Everything would be alright. Daphne had said so herself, and she would never lie to him about something like this.
Right?
Don't forget to review and tell me what you thought! Constructive criticism is always welcome.
