He was close. He was so close. After twenty years of centering his life around research and dead-ends, after countless sleepless nights, he was finally getting somewhere.
He may have lost his piece of the Planispheric Disk to Pericles, but it would be simple enough to get it back. He had time. There were still pieces that needed to be found. When he found out that Fred and his friends had another piece, he knew that he needed to go after it. They were just children. They couldn't possibly know what they had, or how desperate some people would be to get it. Honestly, it was better for them that he be the one to take the piece, as opposed to someone like Pericles.
History was repeating itself, it seemed. Once again he was taking a piece from a mystery solving group of teenagers. This time though the children were more naïve, less obsessed, more trusting, and hopefully that would be enough for him to not need to take things as far.
He told himself that the reason why he was reluctant to go as hard against these children was because it would be a waste of his own resources. These children weren't as threatening to his goal as Mystery Incorporated had been.
If he was being honest with himself though, he didn't want to resort to threats and blackmail for one very simple reason. Fred was one of those kids. His boy. His son. Probably the only person who could consume his thoughts as much as the treasure and disk pieces did.
He didn't want to think about Fred right now. The boy made everything so complicated, and he had no idea what he was doing. He tried to push the boy out of his head. He tried to ignore him even, because if he forgot about Fred then he could focus properly on the disk pieces. No matter how much he neglected Fred though, the teenager eagerly came back to him with that bright, hopeful look in his eyes, and he found himself giving in.
He let Fred make as many traps as he wanted, even in the house. He scolded him for meddling in matters that he had no business in, but he didn't really do anything to stop the boy. Whenever Fred and his friends got brought in by the police, or when his teachers or soccer coach called because he was distracted in class or missing practice, he would go get his son and at least try to talk about the problem.
He cared about Fred, more than he had ever expected to, and he couldn't do anything to make it stop. But he also cared about the treasure, and that yearning and hunger, the voice in his head that was telling him that nothing mattered more than the treasure, it wasn't going away either. He tried to ignore it, and for a few years he could manage it, but it always came back with a vengeance. Right now it was so strong that it had brought out The Freak again, after all these years.
He pushed his concern and protectiveness for Fred to the back of his mind and he let the Freak take over. Once he had the piece hidden away, everything would be fine. If he was lucky, maybe Fred and his friends would be scared away from mystery solving for a bit, or at least the history of Crystal Cove and the treasure.
The Freak was so focused on getting the piece that he made one critical mistake. He underestimated Fred. He frightened the kids, took the piece from Pericles, and he thought that would be enough. He hadn't thought that Fred would activate a potentially dangerous trap. He'd put himself, and his friends, in danger, just on the off chance that it might slow down the Freak.
The kids were all okay, but that could so easily have not been the case. If the current was stronger, they could have been swept out into the sea. If they weren't all decently strong swimmers they could have drowned. They could have easily been slammed against the rocks and been seriously hurt, or worse.
If his mind wasn't so absorbed by the Freak and his obsession with the treasure he would hold his son close, and then lecture and ground him for doing something so incredibly foolish. It was pure luck that nobody got hurt. What on earth had Fred been thinking? As far as he could tell, none of the kids were as interested in the treasure as Pericles or the Freak were, so why would Fred go to such lengths to stop him? Why was stopping the Freak so important to him?
If he was more in control of himself he would stop and talk to his son about what was going on. Fred had been acting weirdly all day. He was so serious, and upset, and clearly needed his dad. But he couldn't give that to him right now. The Freak was too strong. He couldn't fight it. He needed this piece, like he needed to breathe.
He started scaling the cliff, foolishly thinking and hoping that the teenagers would take several minutes to find their bearings and recover. He wasn't even given a few moments. Fred, his brave and incredibly foolish boy, followed after him. The Freak had quite a bit of a head start, but Fred was in his prime, and he had just as much recklessness as he did. The Freak may have everything to gain, but Fred was going forward like someone who had everything to lose, and that was far more dangerous.
The Freak got to the top of the cliff, but Fred wasn't far behind him. He could feel the kid gripping his ankle, preventing him from running off. The Freak panicked and became blinded by his desires and greed. He had worked so hard. He had given up so much. He couldn't give up now.
He had reacted instinctively. The Freak kicked at the one holding him back. The one who he felt had always been holding him back for the last eighteen years. He didn't really think about what kicking at him meant, or what the consequences might be, he just needed to be free. He needed to get the piece away from any potential thieves.
Finally the thieving little burden had no choice but to let go of his foot. The Freak didn't stay to see what happened after that. He scampered away, so desperate to get his piece somewhere safe that he didn't notice the crumbling cliff behind him.
He didn't get very far when he heard a plea for help in the night. He froze. The Freak inside of him was growling and fighting, wanting him to keep going before it was too late. The father inside of him was screaming at him to turn around and save his son.
Fred didn't ask for help. He frequently couldn't find the words, or he didn't want to burden somebody else, or he didn't recognize that he needed help in the first place. For him to be pleading vocally like this, he had to be in true trouble. Especially if he was calling out to the Freak.
Nobody else was around. Fred's friends weren't in a position where they could save him. Only he was. The one who had haunted and attacked the teenagers. The one who was the reason why Fred was dangling from a cliff in the first place. He was the one that Fred was asking for help.
He wanted to help the boy. He wanted to continue fleeing and push his son out of his mind forever. He felt pulled in two different directions, and he found himself spending that crucial moment in inaction.
He could have only been standing there for a few seconds, but it was a few seconds too long. When he heard the crumbling of the church and cliff, which didn't quite hide the groans and yelps of terror from Fred, he couldn't stand still anymore. In an instant the Freak fell away as he turned around, desperate to reach his son.
He didn't care if the ground beneath him might give away at any second. He didn't care about the stones from the church. He just hurried, practically leaping off the cliff to reach his son. He was so close. He could see Fred clinging to a rotten beam. He reached out to grab him just as the beam broke and his son began to fall towards the rocky shores below.
He felt like everything slowed down. He ran those last few steps to get to the edge of the cliff, clinging to whatever study ground he could to support him as he leaned forward and reached for his son, praying that it would be enough.
It wasn't.
The boy had fallen, his eyes squeezed shut tight as he tried to brace himself. He wanted to leap off the cliff and try to catch his boy or break his fall, but the Freak reared its head again. It held him back and kept him from endangering himself and, more importantly, the piece. He couldn't move. He couldn't do anything but watch.
He didn't fall for very long, but it felt like an eternity of helplessness. Midway down Fred opened his eyes and they made eye contact. The boy looked terrified, sad, and betrayed, and it felt like there was a tugging at a crucial part of him.
Then Fred hit the ground with an ear splitting cracking sound, and the crucial part of him was snatched away so quickly that he wondered how he could even survive without it.
His son. His boy. His Fred. He was hurt, possibly even dead, and he hadn't done anything to stop it.
He heard the terrified and pleading screams from the other children below him. They sounded traumatized. Not that he could blame them. He couldn't function at all. It was only when he saw the dog cautiously step closer to Fred did he find the motivation to move again.
"No!" He felt a possessiveness, similar to the Freak's, come over him. He climbed down the cliffside again so quickly that it was probably closer to sliding. The teenagers were rightfully furious and scared to see him approaching them, but he didn't stop.
"Don't touch!" He growled as he leapt the final ten feet from the cliff. That Blake girl, Daphne, with tears streaming down her cheeks, had reached out to Fred and pleaded for him to wake up. Her hand jolted back when she heard his voice. She was only delayed because she was startled, but that short amount of time was enough.
Velma walked up to Daphne and pulled her back. "H-he's right. If Fred's back is hurt we don't want to move him. We need to wait for the paramedics."
"W-what if he's, like, dead?" Shaggy asked quietly, anxiously. He and Daphne both whipped around and glared at him.
"Don't say that!" They both shouted at once. Daphne hugged her arms around herself and cried. Velma was staring at him suspiciously. Shaggy looked like he was about to have a panic attack.
Honestly, he didn't care about any of these other children. All that mattered to him was Fred. He knelt at the boy's side, putting himself between him and the others. Logically he knew that Fred's friends wouldn't hurt him, but he couldn't calm his possessive anger.
Fred's head was bleeding. One of his wrists was clearly broken, and one of his legs was pointing in the completely wrong direction. There were cuts and scrapes all over him, but what he was most worried about was his back. If Fred had a spinal injury, if he was paralyzed…
He felt pressure on the mask he was wearing, and then it was being lifted up. He felt a moment of panic at the realization that he was about to be discovered, but he couldn't really bring himself to care anymore. There was no point.
He heard the gasps and exclamations of shock and accusation behind him as the teenagers unmasked him and saw his true identity. He was just relieved to have a little bit more room to breathe. A part of him was relieved that he didn't have to keep this secret anymore.
He might have felt bad about Fred's friends knowing who he was before him, but there was no need. The look in Fred's eyes as he fell. His plea for help. His desperation to catch him. He may not be a detective, but he knew how to put these clues together. Fred knew who he was.
He hadn't been chasing the Freak. Fred had just wanted to get his dad, and he had repaid that dedication by kicking his son, attacking him, and hesitating to react as he fell. How could he call himself a father?
Time seemed to drag on as he knelt at his son's side, clinging to desperate hope as he watched the subtle rise and fall of Fred's chest. The boy was alive, but who knew how long that would last for? They didn't have time.
"Mr. Jones?" Velma's voice shook, though it was hard to tell if it was because of fear or anger. "We need to get him to a hospital." He agreed, but any phones one of them might have on them wouldn't be functioning right after that swim they'd taken. They couldn't call for help, and any way of leaving this beach, whether through the cliff or cave, would be far too treacherous.
Finally though, they had a bit of good luck. Whatever deity or entity might be out there seemed to be looking out for Fred, because they heard a call from above them.
"Velma!" A woman said from above them. "Fred! Kids! Where are you?"
"Angel!" Shaggy screamed. "We're, like, down here!"
There was a long moment before Angel Dynamite looked down from the top of the cliff.
"Fred's hurt." Velma said loudly up to their friend. "We need an ambulance…A helicopter, or a boat or something." The girl must be very flustered right now to instinctively say ambulance when she knew that there was no way that a car could make it down to this beach.
Angel turned to say something behind her. A minute later she turned to face them again. "Just hang tight. We'll get help." He found her gaze landing on him. Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "Freak, I swear, if you do anything else to hurt any of those kids-"
"Like, I don't think he's going to do anything." Shaggy said. He sounded nervous, but almost pitying. It made his stomach ache. He had threatened and frightened these children, but they still felt bad for him, because villain or not, enemy or not, his son had been hurt, and it was clear that he was upset about it.
He couldn't do anything but sit there on the ground and hold Fred's unhurt hand, just waiting for a sign that his boy could be okay.
It felt like ages, but eventually he heard a whirring sound. He looked up. There was an emergency helicopter. It wasn't a guarantee that Fred would be okay, but it was another sign of hope. He watched as the helicopter came as close to the cliff as it dared before a ladder was lowered and a paramedic came down.
He didn't want to step aside and let anybody near his son, but he forced himself to stand up and make room for the paramedic. He watched numbly as the woman looked over Fred. Another paramedic came down the ladder and checked on the rest of them, asking if any of the rest of them were hurt. The man comforted Daphne and talked Shaggy through his panic. When the paramedic turned to him he just shook his head. He had scrapes and bruises, and maybe a sprained ankle, but he wasn't concerned about himself.
It didn't take long at all for the woman to prepare Fred for transport. They lowered a stretcher of sorts down from the helicopter. He didn't like the thought of Fred in that thing, but he wasn't a doctor or had medical training of any sort. These people had these jobs for a reason, and he needed to trust that they would do it well.
The two paramedics helped get Fred settled. He wanted to watch them, but he felt a nudging at his leg. He looked down and saw the dog looking up at him, looking more serious than he had ever seen from the ridiculous beast.
"Why?" Scooby asked.
"Why what?" He clenched his fists. "Why did I ever let the pull of the treasure blind me?" Even now he could feel the Freak clawing inside of him, begging him to check on his piece of the disk. "Why did I let you kids get so deep?"
Scooby was quiet for a moment. "Why did you try to save Fred?"
The question hurt, because the Freak had been roaring this very thing since he had frozen in his tracks at the sound of Fred's plea.
"Because he's my son." He said brokenly. What other reason did he need?
Scooby's gaze was unreadable, or maybe he just didn't know the dog well enough to read it.
"Mr. Mayor?" The woman approached him. She looked nervous, but determined. "Sir, we're ready to transport your son. You can come with us, but we have to leave now." The teenagers were immediately protesting.
"Hang on." Velma said furiously. "He can't go with Fred. This is his fault!"
"Me and Fred are engaged." Daphne said. "You have to let me go with him." The arguing sounded like it was going to keep on going, but Scooby stepped between them and growled.
"He's Fred's dad." Scooby said plainly, in a tone that left no room for argument. "Let him go."
Velma and Daphne still looked hesitant and furious, but when he followed the woman to the ladder they didn't try to stop him. He shakily began to climb up the ladder, with the woman following behind him. The other paramedic said that he would stay and keep an eye on the kids until more help came.
He'd never been in a helicopter before, but he couldn't enjoy the experience. He sat in the front, buckled in while the paramedic kept Fred stable and secure. The ride was short, but every second felt like an eternity. Finally they were touching down on the hospital's landing pad. There were hospital staff waiting there for them, ready to help.
Fred was finally going to get the care that he needed. He stayed by his son's side as long as he could. As they were preparing to bring him inside Fred groaned in agony and began to stiffen. The medical staff all sounded immediately more urgent, but he felt nothing but relief at the smallest indication that his son might be awake. Seeing Fred in pain hurt so much, but at least he was alive. At least he could get better.
"You're going to be okay, Fred." He said, because he refused to accept anything else.
His boy whimpered. "...Daddy?" His eyes didn't open. He sounded half asleep and scared, as though he had just woken up from a nightmare and was desperate for a parent's comfort. He normally didn't have the patience to soothe his son in this way, but right now there was nothing else that he would rather do.
"I'm right here, Fred." He said. "I'm not going to leave you." Even as he said it he was led aside by the paramedic so that the medical staff could have the room to work. He knew that they were doing what was best for his son, but he couldn't help the Freak-like possessiveness that came over him.
"No!" He tried to pull away. "Fred!"
"Mr. Jones, I need you to calm down." The paramedic said as she pushed him back. He could get past her if he really tried, but he felt drained and exhausted. All of the fight seemed to seep out of him as a numbness took over. He felt empty as she led him inside, speaking meaningless reassurances. He didn't react to anything she said.
She brought him to the front desk of the hospital. She spoke briefly with the worker there, and soon he was handed off to a nurse and a security guard. They probably addressed him, but he couldn't understand anything anymore. Fred was out of his sight. He didn't know how he was, or if he would be okay. Even if Fred was okay, what if they didn't tell him?
He was a criminal. He had manipulated, blackmailed, threatened, stolen, kidnapped, and done so many other things that were far worse than many of Crystal Cove's other masked villain's had. He wasn't a fool. He knew that he was going to go to prison. As soon as the police got here, he would be taken away from his son.
He wouldn't know how Fred was. He wouldn't be able to help him recover. He would be stuck in a prison cell, and Fred would be alone, unaware of the complete truth. He knew his son. He knew that he would never stop wondering why and wanting answers. He knew that a small part of Fred would somehow find a way to blame himself, because that was just how the boy was.
Fred didn't give love easily, but he gave a lot of it. He was passionate, and intense, and he always only ever saw the best in those that he cared about. Knowing that he had been betrayed by his own father, Fred would begin to wonder what he could have done differently to prevent this. His son would think that if he hadn't disappointed him so much, then none of this would have happened.
He was brought into a small hospital room. The nurse began to treat his minor injuries while the security guard stood at the door, ready to intervene if he tried anything. They didn't have any idea what he had done, but they knew that he'd done something, and in this town that never really meant anything good.
Sitting there numbly, waiting for the inevitable, silent tears began to fall from his eyes. The night had started with the Freak taking complete control, and it was ending with Frederick Jones alone, unable to pick up the shattered pieces that his own actions had left behind.