"Daphne, sweetie…"
Daphne opened her eyes to see Fred standing up on the wagon, stretching and looking down at her, his smiling blue eyes shining. She smiled back at him and stood up, wrapping her arms round him and resting her head against his chest as she woke up from what felt like the longest sleep ever. Her hair stood up in spikes on her head, flyaway coating her skull, but for once in her life she barely even cared. Her focus was on the north and the IDVPs and the eagerly-wanted way home and the man she held in her arms.
"We'd better get going," Fred said softly, giving Daphne a squeeze and breaking his hold on her, hiding his reluctance. Daphne saw his eyes flicker back towards her and giggled to herself, quietly cursing and loving his stubbornness at the same time.
The wagon was ready to go quickly, and the horses were woken up, the reins on and the food and water stored within a quarter of an hour; Daphne timed them on Fred's dusty watch, hoping they weren't losing too much time, and breathed a sigh of relief once they were going again, resting against him and looking round at the scenery. It looked like the deserts and salt pans she saw on TV, areas like the Mikgadikgadi, but parts of it had plants as well, some lush greenery and even the odd oasis. Hopefully, if they ran out of water they would be able to fill up again somewhere.
Behind them, another wagon was following, just far back enough for Fred and Daphne to be oblivious to its presence but to be able to keep an eye on them at the same time. The bulky shape of Pound was obvious at the front, and behind it skulked Ruxus, dark and surly but excited and beginning to form his plans in his head.
Behind him stood the reluctant shape of Mitchell.
Mitchell hadn't wanted to come along at first, since he still felt awkward about the whole situation; technically, he was blood-related to this man he was pursuing. After some time, Ruxus had persuaded him to come along, but it took a while.
"This organisation needs you, Mitchell! You're one of our best, and this is a big mission," he had said back in HQ. Mitchell had accepted after Ruxus told him that he wouldn't have to kill either person, but the scorn in Ruxus's dark eyes had almost made him back out again. He knew Ruxus was ruthless, unmerciful, bloodthirsty and a kleptomaniac in the making. It didn't stop him feeling an odd sort of attachment to him.
"Can you still see them, Honourable?" Ruxus asked eagerly, peering out between his commander and his acquaintance to look over the horizon. Pound nodded.
"They're in my sight, Ruxus."
His own eagerness and anticipation for this was overriding his annoyance at the young boy behind him, who normally would have been screamed at several times for his constant asking and talking and muttering but whom Pound couldn't yell at right now for fear of letting their ex-captives know they were there and following them. The man settled instead for grinding his teeth and glaring back at the boy with his dark eyes silencing his eager talk.
"Shut up, child, and wait for my order to talk again," he hissed, and Ruxus gave a feeble snarl back and sat down next to Mitchell, who was determinedly looking anywhere but the wagon they were following.
"Too feeble to apprehend these world-travellers, are we, fool?" he snarled, and Mitchell simply looked away, not even bothering to reply.
Pound ignored the hissed insults in the back, his eyes fixed on the silhouette in the distance and his fists clenched around the reins.
"I will get you… You'll be sorry you were ever born!"
"Any movement at all?" Velma asked a nurse, who nodded.
"Almost equally active today. Daphne woke up with some more "Help me or they'll kill me" this morning and Fred just about managed the same. He's tired, very tired. I don't know if he can keep it up."
Velma nodded, looking round and seeing the ward door behind the nurse.
"Are Shag and Scoob in there?"
"Yes. The doctor's not happy about letting a dog into the hospital, but since these are exceptional circumstances and you are Mystery Inc. we're letting you."
"Thank you," Velma murmured, walking past and opening the door softly. Shaggy stood up and shook his head.
"They said if Freddy doesn't wake up soon, he'll- he'll be- too weak to live."
Velma nodded slightly, turning and focusing on Scooby as he whined and pawed gently at Fred's limp arm, lying on the mattress in front of them. Velma sat down and looked straight into Scooby's dark chocolate eyes, her own serious and solemn behind her thick glasses.
"Scooby, you do know about death, don't you?"
Scooby nodded, whining still, hesitant and not liking where this was going.
"Well… there is a chance… a small chance at the moment, but it might get bigger… that Freddy and Daphne will die. If that does happen… we'll be split up as a group. We won't be Mystery Inc. any longer, we'll be a part of it. We'll still be together, but they'll be gone and you won't be able to talk to them, or contact them, or anything."
Scooby whined louder, turning away and resting his head on Fred's arm, letting tears spill onto his friend's strong young forearm and trying not to let the images of what the world would be like minus Fred and Daphne invade his mind. Velma stroked his back gently, putting her arm round Shaggy, who was looking round at Daphne's limp form and mentally screaming at both her and Fred to wake up, regain consciousness, come back to them and return the world to normal.
"Miss Dinkley? Mr Rogers?"
One of the nurses walked in and motioned for them to turn round.
"The parents of the patients would like to visit, and we can't have too many people in here at a time, so would you be willing to leave?"
As a group, they nodded, each turning and giving some kind of farewell message to Fred and Daphne before walking quietly out and taking in the sights of the Joneses and the Blakes, both looking equally shocked and afraid and almost as though they were grieving already, from the greyness of their skin and the swollen cheeks and eyes that showed tears had been running freely for some time.
"What is this coming to?" Velma sighed to herself as she grabbed a muesli bar from a snack machine and sat down outside the ward, thinking of happier times in a bid to save her from picturing the possible future, living as half of the famous group slashed so casually overnight.
"When do we strike, honourable?"
Ruxus was sat up on the back of the wagon, peering into the distance with the piercing gaze of an eagle stalking its prey, his dark eyes not once leaving the sight of the small wagon trailed by a cloud of dust and holding two people and his hopes of being all-mighty and powerful. Pound grunted from in front of him.
"Patience, fool. We must pick exactly the right time to take them on, and that means when they have found the IDVP. First we will kill them to trap their mana here, and then we will travel through to their world and bring back all the people there to die here and make this the dominant universe."
Ruxus frowned at this, wondering if they should kill all those people- after all, these were his future slaves, in his mind- but he let it slip, smiling at the thought of his ideas for forcing them to breed. A law saying that all those who did not have children would be put to death- that ought to do it.
"Very well, honourable," he muttered, turning and seeing Mitchell staring into space, his thoughts on the people on the wagon in front of him and in this different universe. Pound planned for them all to die? Each one, even though they had done nothing wrong…
He was jolted away from his thoughts as the wagon went over a particularly violent rut in the dusty floor and Pound and Ruxus were almost thrown out; Mitchell landed with an "oof!" on the floor and picked himself up quickly as Ruxus laughed quietly behind him, swearing under his breath and regretting allowing Ruxus to bring him on this mission.
Mrs Jones was in a daze.
All she could hear was the bleeping of the pulse monitor… all she could smell was the hospital smell of steriliser and medicine and cheap air-freshener… all she could taste was the metallic tang of the water from the fountain in the corner… all she could feel was the hardness of the hospital chair under her legs and the softness of the shirt she was stroking gently, warm from the skin under it… and all she could see was her son's closed eyes and his steady but weak breathing.
Her senses were focused firmly on her little boy as her fingers slowly moved up and down his arm, rumpling the hospital shirt but not caring. Next to her, Mr Jones was standing up, tears threatening the chocolate-brown eyes he had failed to pass on to his son as they took the sight in with dread.
"He's holding on," he whispered to his wife, and she nodded and stood up shakily.
"We'd better leave, Mitchell'll be here soon and we don't want to miss him. He said he'd visit tomorrow, he'll be too tired from the drive here."
Mr Jones nodded and they walked out just as Mrs Blake burst into tears next to the bed opposite.
"Daphne…" she gasped through her tears, clutching her daughter's hand as though she would never let go, her thick red hair falling over her face and becoming a net for her salty teardrops as they fell thick and fast. Mr Blake put his hand on his wife's shoulder and gently reached down to wipe a tear from Daphne's limp arm, stroking his daughter's soft skin, willing her to wake up inside and wishing she would hear him.
"She'll be OK," he murmured, sighing gently as Mrs Blake's body was racked with sobs for her little girl. She was a mother whose daughter looked as though she was somewhere on the thin line between life and death; there could be no experience more traumatic for her, unless it was some sort of sick torture by some twisted, evil mind such as the one possessed, unknown to the Blakes, worlds away by Ruxus. Had they known the danger their child was in in that world, Mrs Blake would probably have been too scared even to cry.
A doctor gently directed the Blakes away as visiting time ended.
Long after they had left, Fred Jones and Daphne Blake slept on, on separate beds, machines beeping by their sides and nurses bustling in and out, sometimes stopping to alter settings on the monitors or check doses of drugs but more often than not simply going straight through to the next ward.
Tranquil in one world. In mortal danger in another. Perhaps dramatic statements, but all too true for Fred and Daphne.
Lying back, Fred reached up with one aching finger and traced the constellation Orion, remembering his dad teaching him the stars and their names when he was little and finding some solace in the memory.
"Betelgeuse," he murmured, finding the star and smiling as he recalled his father teaching him to say it and his young tongue stumbling over the syllables, somehow coming up with "bottled guess". Daphne shifted slightly next to him and smiled.
"You forgot Rigel," she told him, pointing at it and letting her hand fall over his stomach, feeling it rise and fall with each breath. He sucked his breath in sharply as soon as she had touched it, wincing, and Daphne pulled her hand back, her eyes questioning and concerned. He shook his head.
"Just- it's nothing. It was like that pain in my dream. It doesn't matter."
Daphne nodded and kissed him gently, nodding off on his shoulder and taking him with her to slumber land with her warm weight.
They had only seconds to sleep before a gunshot cracked into the air and Daphne screamed.
A/N: Ooh, lovely… I can have fun with this one! Please review, I'm sorry this has been so long but I've been distracted. Sorry again! It won't happen again! *slaps cheek* Hope you enjoyed it, thanks for reading! Jazzola :)