Author Note: Hello, hey, hi, happy new year and I'm sorry I took so long to update this! I've had a lot of things going on in my life these past several weeks; my family caught Covid, I had to quarantine (but never got sick), and I've been going through a mess of other things, too, but I'm trying to focus on my writing as a means to escape. I hope you're ready for updates, because I'm churning out these next two chapters fairly quickly! I hope to finish this story by the end of February, absolute latest, if not sooner. Here's hoping people still care about this story, and review if you feel inclined! - iamacliche
Chapter 10
Fred is being watched.
He shifts uneasily from where he stands facing his hotel bed, willing himself to pay attention to Velma's voice as it weaves in and out of his thoughts, but he can't ignore the blistering glare from the woman in the painting that hangs on the wall; his back is burning beneath her fixed gaze, and Fred swears he would find a splotchy red sunburn on his chest if he were to lift up his shirt.
"Did you guys learn anything during your interview, Shag and Velma?" Daphne asks, her voice light and casual. Fred is hyper-aware of her presence from where she sits on the bed as she twirls a strand of auburn hair around her nail and examines her split-ends absent-mindedly. Ever since the "fakeout-makeout" (as Fred has dubbed it in his mind), Daphne has been smooth, with not a single a ripple or a snag in her demeanor. If Fred didn't know better, he would think nothing noteworthy had happened between them during their rounds through the suburbs of Goose Lake. It makes him feels like a glass of water filled to the brim; one slight nudge, and everything sloshing around inside of him is going to spill over in an avalanche of emotion.
Fred knows his friends detect something in the charged atmosphere, or at the very least, Shaggy and Scooby certainly do. After Fred parked the Mystery Machine at the hotel, everyone had trickled out of the van, intent on discussing their interviews and comparing notes between the two groups. As Daphne and Velma loped towards the bedroom the guys had shared last night, which was the agreed rendezvous spot, Shaggy gripped Fred's elbow and yanked him to the side, with Scooby right on his heels.
"Like, Fredster, what's goin' on?!" Shaggy asked, trepidation laced in his tone. "Scoob and I can like, tell somethin' happened while you guys were with Daph!"
"Rust rell us what's wrong, Red," Scooby said gently.
Fred's tough exterior thawed and melted a bit, but he still turned his face away roughly, glowering at the space between his shoes on the ground. The guys meant well, but he felt foolish waxing poetic about the unrequited love he harbored for Daphne, especially in light of what had just transpired.
"Don't worry about it, guys," Fred murmured. "I think I'm still just exhausted from the lack of sleep I got last night. I'll have to make sure I actually sleep more tonight if I want to be fresh for the concert this weekend."
Fred pivoted around his friends very pointedly as Shaggy and Scooby arched their eyebrows incredulously, but seeing that they weren't going to pry anything out of Fred with this storm cloud hovering over him, they shrugged and followed him into their hotel room. Daphne and Velma were already piled on Fred's bed, and Daphne had just finished telling Velma about their encounter with Elma. She also detailed how the Goose Lake Monster had attacked the town and attempted to hunt Fred and Daphne, but Fred noticed that she tactfully omitted the part where they had kissed from the story; instead, she offered an abridged version, explaining that they had gone undetected by donning the wigs and jackets Elma had sold them earlier that day. He tried to ignore the pathetic twanging sound his heart emitted in response.
"That was very resourceful of you," Velma beamed, enthralled by Daphne's quick-thinking. Shaggy and Scooby draped themselves on the side of the bed, which forced Fred to choose where he would insert himself amongst his friends. Daphne and Velma were both sitting upright with their legs tucked beneath them gracefully, while Shaggy and Scooby flopped lazily on their stomachs near Fred's pillow. Instead of being scrutinized by Shaggy and Scooby if he decided to sit opposite of Daphne, Fred chose to stand, leaning uneasily against the dresser with his arms crossed as his friends talked; the only trade-off was that now he felt as though he was dissolving beneath the woman in the painting's gaze. It felt as though Fred couldn't get comfortable no matter what he did today.
Fred watches his friends, detached, as though he is viewing the scene unfurl before him like a play on stage while he has a seat in the audience. What is he supposed to do about his situation with Daphne now? He knows Shaggy and Scooby would command him to "just talk to her," but it was getting increasingly difficult the more time goes on, and now that there is a second kiss with an even more conflicting response on her end, it isn't so straightforward. Obviously Daphne was the one who initiated the kiss this time around, but this was for the sake of keeping them safe during a monster attack; wouldn't he look like an insane, desperate fool if he read any deeper into it? Shouldn't he just be grateful she was quick on her feet and the monster was fooled into thinking they were two love-sick teenagers? Why would Fred want to risk making things a thousand times more awkward by bombarding her with questions? No – the best thing to do was just to ride this mystery out and move on. As soon as the Goose Lake Monster was unmasked, Fred would have no problem piling into the Mystery Machine and leaving this mystery – and yet another kiss – behind in his rearview mirror once again.
Fred sighs. ScoobydoobyDoo on DeviantArt was right; this really was a common denominator with all of his and Daphne's interactions. If an internet stranger can see this, then Fred had to start realizing this, too. That meant Fred had to start focusing on this mystery, but his brain felt fuzzy, as though a fog had begun to slowly billow into his head. Everything was starting to grind at his raw, blistering nerves: this second kiss, the lack of sleep, this mystery, and his friends' insistent questions and furtive, concerned glances. And right now, this creepy painting was only making the situation worse. He just couldn't shake the feeling that the woman was following Fred every time he so much as breathed or blinked an eye…
Shaggy and Scooby snapped Fred back to reality as they began rummaging through the burlap bags for the wigs and jackets. "Like, say, this Elma lady has some great taste!" Shaggy trills, pulling on Fred's jacket as Scooby shimmied into Daphne's red blazer. "I, like, love her style!"
"Do you think she has any connection to the Goose Lake Monster?" Velma asks, rolling her eyes playfully at Shaggy and Scooby, who begin taking selfies on Shaggy's cell phone. "It sure seems odd that a costume and make-up artist from California is cooped up here in Michigan with all of those cosmetics and clothing."
"That's what I wondered, too," Daphne speculates. "The only thing Freddy and I can't figure out is why she would want to sabotage her own business; she came out and admitted she's struggling to stay afloat now without the clients from the Goose Lake Concert."
"Well, you two got more leads than we did," Velma sighs. "All of the citizens seemed really frightened by the monster; we can't figure out why any of them would have a motive to end the concert, either. It seems like the people living in Goose Lake now are a lot more laidback than the ones on the documentary."
"We noticed that, too!" Daphne nods vehemently. "The civilians we spoke to all seemed really bummed out about the show being called off. There isn't one single person who threatened to move or call the cops; in fact, they all seemed excited to be able to hear the concert from their backyard."
"Like, I don't blame them!" Shaggy sing-songs. "I would love to hear a free show from my backyard; then I could have, like, total access to my fridge at the same time!"
"You're awful quiet, Fred; what did you think of the people you and Daphne spoke with?" Velma inquires, treading carefully as she glances at Fred's sour expression.
Fred's thoughts are spinning and he feels as though he may start hyperventilating, suffocating for air as he attempts to clear his thoughts. His mind is humming and flickering with the images of Daphne's lips on his and the Goose Lake monster rampaging through town and Elma's rainbow colored living room, but all of it feels like static and white noise because all he can think of is –
"I'm sorry, I just can't focus as long as I'm staring at that painting!" Fred booms, causing everyone to flinch. It's the painting; it's definitely the painting that's making his skin crawl as though ants are marching along his arms. It couldn't possibly be anything else that's bothering him right now.
"Are you sure there isn't something else going on with you, Freddy?" Velma inquires, her eyes squinting as she studies him. "It just feels like something is off –"
"Goddamit Velma, he said it's the painting that's bothering him!" Daphne snaps waspishly. "Can we just focus on the mystery here? Freddy is fine!"
Velma's eyes are roving back and forth between Fred and Daphne, as though she is watching an intense volleyball game. Fred gulps; Daphne has very aggressively underscored that there may indeed be a problem just based on her tone alone. Velma isn't stupid; she knows her friends well, and she is, after all, a detective. He waits for everything to settle in Velma's brain; he can practically hear the buttons clicking and panel lights switching in her head when Shaggy suddenly murmurs, "I think that painting, is like, haunted or somethin', too; I swear I didn't sleep a wink last night because I could feel it watching me and Scoob all night."
Fred groans, and he's ready to throw his hands up in the air with exasperation. He's about to remind Shaggy that him and Scooby were both out cold like Sleeping Beauty before Velma asserts, "Gang, I think the boys are right; something is off about that painting."
An eerie silence drapes over the five friends as everyone freezes; Fred realizes he isn't even breathing once he notices his chest begin to burn. Slowly, they all drag their eyes towards the painting, and Daphne whispers, "What's wrong with the painting, Velma?"
"It might be a hunch, but I think I see something in her eye," Velma speaks slowly and calmly, hoping to avoid injecting panic into her friends, particularly Shaggy and Scooby. "Could someone help me take it down?"
Fred strides across the hotel room, his skin icing over with goosebumps and his spine tingling with premonition as he and Velma grip the mahogany frame and exchange surreptitious glances. "On the count of three," Velma instructs. "One…two…three."
The painting weighs less than Fred had initially guessed, and it peels off the walls easily. Shockingly, there is no imprint etched onto the wall that has been left over time, which is what one would expect from an old painting, but perhaps it's because someone has touched it recently; sure enough, much to Velma's credit, Fred instantly notes something tiny and black suction cupped to the wall. It's so small he's certain that it could fit in the middle of Scooby's paw, and it's circular, with an appearance similar to a compact disc. An average person may not have known what the object was at a glance, but Fred and his friends have been doing this for so long that there's no mistaking the camera the second Mystery Incorporated spot it.
Fred sucks a breath in through his teeth as a collective gasp blooms in the hotel room. "Jinkies, I had a feeling there was a camera here," Velma murmurs, her voice surprisingly calm.
"LIKE, ZOINKS!" Shaggy yelps, as Scooby burrows himself beneath the bed. "How long has that been there, man? And like, who is it that's been spyin' on us?"
"I have a feeling that whoever placed this here is the very same person who is behind the Goose Lake Monster persona," Velma muses.
"That makes sense, but why would they plant this in the guys' hotel room?" Daphne asks the question all of her friends are wondering. "What would they have to gain by doing that?"
"Like, isn't a good ole fashion scare tactic enough of a reason?!" Shaggy bellows. "So was that thing watchin' us while we slept last night? How long has it been there?"
When Shaggy speculates on how long the camera has been there, Daphne and Fred both instinctively snap their heads up and stare at each other, a warm, rosy blush deepening on their cheeks. Fred knows Daphne is thinking what he is thinking, too; if the camera has been there since the guys checked into the hotel, then it recorded them practicing and planning their setlist, and every moment in between, too…
Fred can see the panic consuming and engulfing his friends as it builds like a fire, so he steps forward assertively and exclaims firmly, "Okay, so someone has been spying on us; it's not like we haven't dealt with this before, so – "
"Like, Fred, buddy, has anyone ever actually planted a camera in our hotel room?! How many times has that actually happened before?!" Shaggy screeches, his voice squeaky and frantic, as though he has huffed tons of helium. "Like, no, never, nada, zilch! Whoever did this is, like, truly crazy!"
"Ri am ready to go home!" Scooby barks from beneath the bed.
"Jinkies you guys, come on now!" Velma huffs, rolling her eyes at Shaggy and Scooby's protests. "I know this is a bit unsettling, but it's just another piece we'll add to the puzzle that is this mystery. Surely it all has to make sense eventually, right? I'm dying to study this camera and see if we can figure out how to use this; I don't see a screen on here anywhere, so my guess is someone is controlling it via Wifi or with their phone, and maybe that's how they're viewing the footage, as well."
"Jeepers, this mystery just gets weirder and weirder," Daphne sighs. "Why would someone want to spy on us? It just doesn't add up."
"I need to try and figure out how this camera works," Velma says again, her eyes flickering around the room. "I'm not sure if it's still recording or not, and at the very least, I would feel better knowing what exactly it's capable of and how to disable it. Fred and Daphne, you guys borrowed the laptop last night to work on your set for this weekend, right? Where did you guys leave it? I need to try and locate this camera on the internet so I can read up on it."
"I didn't touch it last; Freddy kept it," Daphne mumbles, but the way her voice sounds is almost accusatory, as though Fred has done something criminal.
"Well, I put it under my bed last night before I went to bed," Fred replies defensively; why does he feel the need to explain himself? And why does his skin feel as though it's coated with a nervous sweat? Yeah, he used the laptop to poke around online all night, but it's not like the gang can find out; Velma just needs to use Google so she can learn about the camera. What could possibly go wrong? And why does Fred feel his heart pounding against his chest like a hammer and whispering in his ear like a coconspirator?
Velma lobs Fred and Daphne an inquisitive look, as though she wants to ask them something, but she apparently decides against it. She drops onto the ground and yanks the laptop out from underneath Fred's bed, which was where he tucked it away after Shaggy found him last night; just the memory of Shaggy catching Fred makes the embarrassment flare within him again, and he takes deep, even breaths to reassure himself that he has no reason to worry, but just as soon as he's calmed his rattled nerves, Velma exclaims, "Hey, the laptop is glowing and it's still turned on; did you two forget to switch it off last night after you were done using it?"
Velma's words immediately trigger a memory in Fred's foggy, hazy mind, and a memory suddenly detonates inside his brain. The lack of sleep inhibits him from recalling every single thing from last night, but he does remember this: Shaggy startling Fred as he stared at a BDSM-esque fan art of him and Daphne. This: the jolt of electricity that swam through Fred's veins and made him slam the laptop screen shut as Shaggy's eyes narrowed at Fred questioningly. And, damningly, Fred remembers this: his hands trembling, as though he had committed a crime or a murder, as he slid the laptop beneath the bed in a fumbling, mumbling stupor, all the while not once even bothering to ensure he had shut off the laptop, let alone clear any internet browsers or close any tabs.
A sharp, metallic taste coats the roof of Fred's mouth as the panic washes over him like a tidal wave, tugging and pulling him into a pit of terror as he rasps for breath, suffocating like a man drowning, and maybe he is a drowning man, reaching his arms out slowly, sluggishly, as though he's trapped beneath the surface of the ocean as he struggles to loosen the words knotted in his throat, but he's too late; Velma swings the laptop open and her sharp inhale of breath violently slices through the silence.
"What's wrong, Velma?!" Daphne asks, concern creased in her forehead as she, Shaggy, and Scooby approach Velma, clamoring around her to see what has caused the color to drain from Velma's cheeks.
One surreptitious glance at Velma tells Fred exactly what it is wrong with Velma; he can already imagine exactly what she is staring at based on the horror etched in her soft features. He can envision the fan art now, with the orange ascot tied around Daphne's wrists, the hungry, vulnerable look on Fred's face as he moves towards Daphne, and the text that accompanies the art, which still fists a ball of leaden nerves in his stomach: "Because we all know what Fred actually means when he says he loves traps ;)"
Fred's heart is pounding so aggressively that he is sure it's going to carve through his chest and plummet onto the ground; he rocks back and forth on his heels and tugs the collar of his shirt anxiously, his face on fire and his skin simmering beneath Velma's wide, shocked eyes. He feels as though the room is suddenly a thousand degrees, and he half expects to see the ground sweltering and sizzling with tendrils of smoke; surely he will be boiled alive before his friends can interrogate him, and at this point, death would be the preferable option.
But the worst part is when Daphne makes a choking sound in her throat and stumbles backwards, reeling, retreating a few steps as though the image has struck her in the face. Unlike Velma's wan face, Daphne's face erupts in a cluster of red splotches on her pale skin, and Fred isn't sure if it's because she's embarrassed or enraged, or both. Before Fred can disintegrate into fear and anxiety, he tears his eyes away from Daphne and looks at Shaggy and Scooby, who are surprisingly underwhelmed compared to the girls. Scooby's eyebrows are dipped into a "V" as he blinks at the screen, a look of confusion scrawled on his face. Meanwhile, Fred notices Shaggy flinch, but it's very miniscule, and when his eyes flicker from Fred to Daphne before focusing back on Fred again, Shaggy manages to recover admirably, his face stoic and neutral aside from the beads of sweat dotting his forehead.
"Ri don't ret it," Scooby murmurs. "Ri is everyone so rangry? Rhat does rhis even mean? And is rhat rhy you like traps, Red?"
Scooby's childlike innocence, while usually charming, feels suffocating now, and it immediately results in a withering glare from Daphne. If Fred was melting beneath the tension before, he's liquid now; he half-expects to dissolve into a murky puddle of embarrassment right here, in the middle of this hotel room amongst his friends. He can't even look at Daphne; he's too mortified to even try and interpret any expression flickering across her face.
The five friends remain trapped in the elastic seconds that stretch between them agonizingly, until finally Velma raises her head slowly, a question swimming in her brown irises.
"Jinkies, what's going on here?" Velma finally musters, her eyes wavering between Fred and then Daphne. "Why – I don't even know how to ask this, but why is this – "
Before Fred can even stammer out an explanation, Shaggy raises his hand coolly and interrupts Velma.
"Like, actually Velm, it's all me," Shaggy says quickly, with only a miniscule trace of embarrassment bleeding into his voice.
Velma stares at Shaggy incredulously as Fred hunches his shoulders and turns away from his friends slightly, eyeing the carpet as though it's the most fascinating thing in the world right now. His thoughts are racing in his head, and he reminds himself to take deep, even breaths, even though it feels as though a boulder has been rolled onto his chest. But when Shaggy takes the fall for Fred, he snaps his head up in surprise. The only acknowledgement Shaggy offers Fred in response is a slight nod and a wink.
Velma stares skeptically at Shaggy just a few beats too long.
"You're the one who was looking at this last night?" Velma parrots, her voice harsh. "I'm sorry, that makes absolutely no sense. I mean, what in the world is going on, Shaggy? How can you explain this to Fred and Daphne?"
Fred considers stepping in and admitting it was him all along when he notices a crimson blush creep up Shaggy's neck and spill onto his cheeks, but when Fred chances one glimpse at Daphne, that bravado immediately wisps into the air like smoke; Daphne is so embarrassed that she won't even look at anyone, instead immersed in what is apparently a riveting stain on the rug near her purple heel. He wishes more than anything that he had the power to read her mind, because right now Fred can't gauge what she thinks and how she feels aside from what she conveys with her rigid body and scarlet cheeks.
The room is silent as everyone waits eagerly for Shaggy's response. Fred holds his breath, the guilt tearing at his stomach like a claw even as the mortification still gnaws at his skin and buzzes inside his ribcage.
"Like, it's not what it looks like, I swear!" Shaggy protests, throwing his hands up defensively, like a soldier surrendering during a battle. "But like, as soon as we've been here, I've just heard 'Fred and Daphne this,' and 'Fred and Daphne that,' from like, everyone in town. Part of me was, like, curious, all right? So I like, googled their name, and like, this popped up online! That's all it is, man."
Fred stares in awe at Shaggy as he speaks, and he immediately realizes that in that moment, Shaggy had pieced together why Fred was on the computer last night, and apparently Shaggy had now swiftly decided to take the blame for his friend. Apparently, the gang don't give Shaggy enough credit, but he is a detective; why wouldn't he figure it all out in that moment? The only thing that shocks Fred now is why Shaggy is deciding to take the fall for his friend; what had Fred done to deserve this kind of selfless friendship?
Velma has one hand on her hip as she chews her lips thoughtfully. She narrows her eyes dubiously at Shaggy, who squirms only slightly beneath her scrutinizing gaze.
"So it was you then?" Velma draws out each syllable carefully, her eyes still drifting between Fred and Daphne, as though she expects one of them to step in and correct Shaggy at any second. Fred's shirt clings to his damp skin, the sweat coating his back and his chest; he knows he should step forward and tell the truth and spare his friend, but he can't even push out a single word; it feels as though is tongue is tied into knots.
"I'm sorry, I just find it difficult to believe you were on here to satiate your own curiosity, Shaggy," Velma says pointedly, and Fred swears she is staring at him as she speaks.
"Well, like, you better believe it!" Shaggy replies almost too quickly. Scooby eyes him curiously, and he opens his mouth as though he is about to say something. Fred feels the panic jabbing his skin; he knows Scooby remembers waking up to Fred sitting on the laptop, and he fully expects the dog to speak up and ruin everything before Shaggy pats Scooby's head reassuringly and lovingly, as though his hands are transmitting a message into Scooby's brain, urging his friend to remain silent. Somehow, it's enough for Scooby to close his mouth shut.
Velma blinks, and it's apparent she wants to say something else before Shaggy plows ahead hurriedly, "Fred, Daphne, like, I'm sorry if this was uncomfortable for you both. I, like, didn't want you guys to know I found this because, like, I knew it would make you both feel embarrassed. I hope we can, like, just forget this even happened. I promise to be more careful next time I'm on the computer. Can you, like, forgive me?"
Shaggy stares pointedly at Fred, and it takes Fred a few beats longer than it should to respond.
"Uh, right, of course Shaggy," Fred stammers. He knows he is blushing because he can feel his face burning, and it feels even more enflamed when Velma stops to study him.
Everyone pauses, holding their breath in anticipation of Daphne's response, but she is suddenly silent as every eye swivels towards her expectantly. She remains frozen, still entranced by the stain on the carpet.
"Uh, anything you want to add, Daphne?" Velma asks pointedly. "Now would be a great time to speak your mind."
Fred doesn't miss the way Daphne's body flinches and stiffens at Velma's words, but she doesn't say anything. After what feels like hours but is probably only minutes, Velma sighs, exasperated, before she clears her throat and adds, "You know what, Shaggy, it's really no big deal. Thanks for being honest and telling us your thoughts and how you really feel."
This final sentence is clearly a direct dig at Fred somehow, as Velma spits it out as though her words are bitter, casting glares at both of her friends as they squirm, pinned beneath her accusations. But why does Fred think he notices Velma hold her gaze for a few extra beats towards Daphne, and why does Daphne look uncomfortable, as though she would rather sink into the ground? Surely, the lack of sleep is getting to Fred now, but before he can dwell on anything further, Velma simply says, "Come on, let's head back to Goose Lake so we can talk to Jordie and Erica and Sid. Fred, I'm going to look into more on this camera while you drive; let's get moving! We have a mystery to solve."
Normally it's Fred who leads his friends, but this time it's Velma who marches out of the room with an air of unmatched confidence as her friends trail behind her. Fred hesitates to follow his friends, remaining in the middle of the room, his eyes glazed over and the shock fizzing inside his chest as the last few minutes grip his throat in a chokehold. Finally, something catches in his throat – a laugh? A sob? A sigh of relief? Fred isn't sure what he feels or how he's even supposed to feel, but all he knows is that things are spiraling out of control, and he has no idea how to make things right with Daphne again. He's starting to wonder if that's even possible anymore when Velma's voice pierces his thoughts as she barks his name shrilly, "FRED!" Startled, he jumps, and he begins to trudge slowly towards the door, walking slowly, like a criminal or a suspect, or a man being sentenced to his own death.