The Shortcut

Chapter Three: A Talk With Velma

The following evening...

Fred wondered just how much of what had happened last night he'd tell Velma as he dropped the required number of coins into the juke box. And how much she would believe? He wasn't sure how much he believed himself. He pushed the buttons for two of his and two of Velma's favorite songs.

The gang didn't have their names engraved on the booth but they might as well have. They had used the same booth since they had started coming to the malt shoppe. A plastic cover had been added for Scooby's benefit, but other than that, it had remained unchanged. Fred couldn't say that about the gang, not after last night.

"You're looking good, Velms." He slid into his usual place opposite Velma.

"Thanks, but you never could lie that well. I wonder where Shaggy and Daphne are? They're usually not this late." They had ordered drinks earlier, now Velma sipped at hers nervously. She usually wasn't here with Fred. Alone.

"I umm asked if they wouldn't mind coming a little later...I wanted to talk to you...alone."

"Oh, what about, Fred? About what happened last night?" Velma raised her eyebrows.

"I never could get any thing past you...yeah, about last night. How did you know?"

"Little clues speak with loud voice," Velma said in a bad Indian accent then dropped the accent to continue, "dark bags under bloodshot eyes, hair not combed when you usually don't have a hair out of place, but mostly you're bouncing off the walls like you've been drinking, I hope that isn't the case. All those clues tells me you didn't sleep much last night, if at all. You and Daphne didn't..."

"And Shaggy walked you to your door last night," he countered, not harshly but with a tone that she was bumping up against a line not to be crossed.

"Point taken. Sorry." A crimson blush and lowered eyes told him what probably happened and maybe he was bumping up against another line.

"It's okay Velms, I'm sorry too. Put it down as being too tired. No, nothing happened between Daphne and I like you're thinking. I only wish it was that simple."

"I'm no psychologist but if you want to talk, I'll listen." Velma offered.

He had intended to give her a shortened version but when he started he found he wanted to tell her the whole story. Velma was a good listener, letting him tell the story in his own way and in his own time; interrupting only to ask him to repeat something for clarification.

"I touched her hair and it was damp." he finished, falling back in his seat as if the telling made him exhausted. Velma leaned back, crossing her arms, deep in thought. She remained in this position for some time.

"Well, when you have a vision, you have a whopper don't you?" she finally said, unfolding her arms, "Lets start by eliminating the obvious. You haven't been drinking and it wasn't your imagination."

"So where does that leave us?" an impatient Fred asked, "that it was really Daphne I saw at that river?"

"No, it wasn't Daphne you saw. You said you touched this woman. You would know if it was really Daphne or not, you wouldn't even have to raise the question." Velma looked at Fred, this old friend who had aged in one night. What she was about to propose would rock his world; she only hoped he could handle the one option left.

"You and Shaggy had the section on Greek mythology last year. Daphne just finished that section in school. You should remember that Daphne was a water nymph, the daughter of Lodon, the first love of Apollon. I guess we could start calling you Apollo, you do look like a Greek god...after a hard day."

"Okay, you can quit laughing now, This isn't funny!" But Fred was laughing along with Velma.

"Okay Fred." Velma finally got her giggles under control...sort of. "I think we can eliminate that Daphne, she didn't have red hair that I remember." Now, the laughter, the giggles were gone. Now was the moment of truth. Velma wondered if he could pass the test before him? She wasn't sure he could. She reached over, taking his hand and looked into those blue bloodshot eyes.

"Fred, how much do you love Daphne?"

"I think every one knows how I feel about her," Fred wondered where this was going.

"That's the point Fred. Every one knows...except Daphne herself!" She removed her hand, "I think I see what happened last night. It's the only thing that makes sense. Fred, there are certain people who, under stress or a strong enough motivation, can create an OOB experience. They can go out of body."

"Will you talk sense, this is driving me crazy." Fred interrupted.

"I think Daphne used the mythological Daphne as a starting point and created her own version. She either wanted to tell you something, make you realize something or maybe both. First think about the questions she asked."

"Was I there to take her gold and was I there to take her." Fred intoned.

"Now, think of Daphne. Her folks may not be rich, but they are well off and by extension so is she. She needs to know that you love her and not just after her parents wealth. That is very important to Daphne.

"Think about how she was dressed. She made herself as desirable, as sexy as possible and still stay within her personal moral bounds. Any man would desire her and have a difficult time saying 'no' to her, but you did! She's my dearest friend and I want her to be happy, I don't want to see her hurt.

"I asked before, I ask again, how much do you love Daphne? I think that is behind this whole vision. Daphne is tired of waiting, she wants, no, needs you to tell her how you feel. She was telling you she's ready but she needs to know if you love her enough to make a commitment. That guy thing called the big"C" word."

"What about her hair being damp?" Fred asked.

"Fred, you should know by now, some questions defy even women's logic.

"They'll probably be here in a few minutes, I'm surprised they're not here already. I'll get Shaggy to dance with me; that will give you two some time to talk. It will cost you! If my feet survive you owe me one foot massage!"

"Here they are," Fred nodded at the door as Velma finished speaking. Velma slid out of the booth.

"Come on Shaggy, I've been sitting all this time, dance with me."

"What..." a bewildered Shaggy quipped, "I just got here. I haven't even ordered yet!"

"Don't worry, they know what to order, one of every thing, right?" Velma tugged on his arm.

"That'll do for starters." But he took her hand, letting her lead him to the small dance floor.

Fred had risen, letting Daphne slip into the booth, then reclaiming his seat beside her.

"Hi Freddy, what was that all about? Did you get to speak to Velma?"

"Yes, maybe they wanted some time by themselves," Daphne looked at him dubiously, "If you're not hungry, we've got time to catch the next showing at the Coolsville theater."

"Just us? Like a real date? What about those two?" Daphne pointed at the dancing couple, Velma trying vainly to stay out of the way of Shaggy's feet. "They look adorable together."

"I've got a plan. Maybe they just need a nudge in the right direction. Let's give them that nudge. We can use your car, I'll leave the van keys with Shaggy. He can take Velma home."

"I'd like that," Daphne took his hand, intertwining her fingers with his, "but one thing, Freddy. No shortcuts tonight. Tonight let's take the long way home."

His lips barely brushed hers, "promise, no shortcuts." He got up and walked over to Shaggy, holding out the keys. "Take care of the van tonight, I won't need it."

Velma stopped dancing long enough to give her friend a hug, "You owe me!" she whispered.

"I noticed, I owe you big time. Thanks Velms."

Fred walked away toward Daphne who waited by the door; taking her hand they walked out of the malt shoppe into the evening.

"Shaggy," Velma said as she slid back into his arms, "can you see me as a water nymph?"

"What are you talking about?" Shaggy wondered where that had come from. 'Women!' he thought.

"Never mind, it was a silly idea."

'I'm more the dryad type anyway' Velma thought. She snuggled closer into his arms.

The End

A/N: A dryad is a wood nymph. Begs the question if Shaggy is in store for his own vision doesn't it?