Epilogue

"I'm sorry. I don't understand." Emilio Zanzabar IV stood in the Scooby Doo Investigations conference room surrounded by The Gang. He had been pleased with the results of the investigation in that the experience had soured his father on the idea of hiring ghost hunters and the family money was staying safely within the family. He had been so pleased that he had flown down from Chicago in person to pay their invoice. He also had some waterfront property in the next county over where he may or may not have been keeping a mistress depending on which tabloids one read.

Fred was really feeling the pain. He had come into the office and delayed taking his pain medication in order to be able to think clearly for this meeting. But now he realized that being a little foggy would have been less distracting than the pain he was feeling in his back. Living alone now, he had to go back to the doctor's office daily to get his bandages changed and his wounds cleaned. That was his next stop after this meeting.

He persevered and tried to explain the unexplainable as well as he could, "Mr. Zanzabar, we cannot at this time accept the incentive bonus which the contract allowed."

"But the bonus was to be paid if you successfully debunked the ghost hunters and that you did. While it is very sad how the situation ended, that does not change that you accomplished what I asked you to do. They are debunked."

No one voiced the obvious thought that one of the ghost hunters was also dead and another headed either to prison or a psychiatric hospital. According to Ted and Laura, Hugo had not spoken a comprehensible sentence since that night.

"Yes sir and we appreciate that, but the incentive payment was for our debunking that the investigation had a supernatural element." Fred hesitated to come up with the precise phrasing, "At the present time, we are not unanimous concerning whether this has been accomplished."

Mr. Zanzabar had been standing during what he assumed would be a short meeting. Now he sat, "Are you telling me that some of you believe that you might have seen something that was truly supernatural?"

The awkward silence which followed this question lasted for ten seconds before Velma broke it, "We are saying that the results of the scientific investigation were inconclusive. I must admit that I, personally, am prone to a predisposition against belief in the supernatural. During much of this investigation, I was curve-fitting the data points rather than connecting the dots. This created more subjectivity than I should have allowed in my process. That leads us to the human element."

All heads turned to Shaggy.

Shaggy almost never got to speak during these 'big reveal' scenes and was startled when it seemed to be his turn, "I was present during an interview with a young woman whose parents had requested to be analyzed by the Church for demon possession. I can't explain what I felt during the interview, but it was disconcerting."

Daphne finished up, "And then with the sudden and violent change which overcame Hugo Miller, there remain questions on this one that we are not able to answer."

Mr. Zanzabar turned directly to Velma, "I remember from the television show that you are the skeptic, Ms. Dinkley. Are you telling me that it is your personal opinion that the supernatural is in play here?"

Velma shook her head, "No. I am not. I am telling you that, while we successfully found the one responsible for the vandalism, and the cause behind her actions was logical, there are things that she knew that she shouldn't have known and things that she could do that she shouldn't have been able to do. And then, as Daphne mentioned, Hugo Miller had no personal or family history of mental disorders. While I do not now nor have I ever believed in the supernatural, I believe in the scientific process. And declaring this one certifiably debunked with the evidence in hand would be premature."

No one heard her subvocalized last sentence, "And I owe that much to Rhonda."

"I see." Mr. Zanzabar looked down at the check in his hand which had already been made out, "Then, in light of the injuries suffered by Mr. Jones in pursuit of this case, could we retitle the bonus from an incentive bonus to going above and beyond in pursuit of the case?"

Fred, never being one to turn down profit margin, looked hopefully around the room, "Anybody have a problem with that?"

Everyone shook their heads.

Fred smiled and leaned back in his chair which brought about an immediate grimace as his back touched the chair surface. He forced it down, "We thank you, Mr. Zanzabar and appreciate your business."

Mr. Zanzabar stood, "Thank you for a job well done. I have notified my attorneys to put your name at the top of the list for any detective work we are needing in this region. They should be contacting you very shortly.

Fred tried to stand and failed, flopping unceremoniously back into the chair with another grimace. Daphne stepped forward and extended her hand, "It's been a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Zanzibar."

Pleasantries concluded, Mr. Zanzibar left the office and drove off in a high end Italian sportscar.

Fred let out the groan of pain which he had been holding in during the conversation. After a few seconds, he took a deep breath and said, "Well, another satisfied customer and another good payday."

Shaggy dropped his face into his hands, "Do you think that we could give the money back and none of this would have ever happened?"

Daphne shook her head, "I wish it worked that way. I called Laura this morning. They're still in Nashville. Hugo got a public defender who requested a continuance at the plea hearing because Hugo still hasn't said anything other than Rhonda's name. They have him restrained at the hospital and are keeping him under sedation since he starts screaming again whenever he wakes up."

Fred sat as straight as his wounds would allow, "Gang, we have to get past this. This case was a little darker than most, but we explained everything. There is nothing supernatural here. We have never ended a case thinking that the ghost was real and we're not going to start now."

"I am." Shaggy looked up.

"C'mon Shag. Really? It's just the fear talking."

"Yeah, the fear is talking and it's talking really loudly. But it's not just that. I've been afraid before, but I know… I absolutely know that I was in the room with something malevolent and evil. I could feel it. And Hugo was in that room, too."

Fred shook his head, "So, now you're saying that this demon went from Joanie to Hugo during that interview and that's what caused Hugo's psychotic break?!"

Shaggy nodded, "That's exactly what I'm saying."

"Isn't it much more likely that the stress of being heavily in debt was building up and then losing the Zanzabar money put him over the top?"

"Yes. It is more logical, but I know what I felt."

Daphne joined in, "Hugo had a sudden psychotic break which sent him into a homicidal rage in which he killed his wife - all of this with no prior psychiatric history whatsoever. That does happen but it's incredibly rare. Joanie's psychologist is leaning toward Dissociative Identity Disorder which is a real thing and very popular on television shows but also incredibly rare in real life. Joanie was able to discern from overheard conversations and observed body language precisely what words to carve into your skin. Again, possible, but extremely rare. Joanie figured out how to administer the exact right dosage to you and then surgically cut figures into your skin without killing you. Yet again, possible but almost inconceivable. Any one of those things occurring in a case is possible but statistically unlikely. The probably of all four of those things happening in the same case…"

"Approaching zero." Velma spoke up.

Fred turned to Velma in shock, "Velma, you too?"

"As I said to Mr. Zanzabar, this one is inconclusive. The chances of all of the things that Daphne listed occurring in the same case is so small that it has to give us pause. If it were the other way around and someone were trying to use this type of probability to confirm a supernatural event, we would consider it ridiculous. It is equally ridiculous for us to blindly accept the situation just because it suits our expected outcome. When something is this unlikely to occur naturally, then we must entertain the possibility that some external forces were at work. While I'm not willing to say that these forces were supernatural, I am at a loss to explain them."

Fred looked around the room, "The Anunnaki?"

Velma shook her head, "Also highly unlikely. They leave a distinctive electromagnetic footprint which I have been scanning for ever since we found out they exist. It wasn't there."

Fred tried to put as much strength into his voice as he could muster through the pain, "We have been doing this for fifteen years. And we have NEVER had a case or a mystery that we couldn't explain rationally and scientifically."

Surprisingly, it was Velma that gave the final response, "Well, we have now."

Scooby was sitting in the corner of the room without saying a word. The conversation was terrifying. The Gang had still not chosen to focus on the case of his missing time. It obviously wasn't a high enough priority to them. While this saddened him and, admittedly, made him angry, he kept that to himself because he had felt sure that when they got around to it, they would find a perfectly logical explanation.

But now, for the first time, they were admitting that not every mystery had a rational explanation. That meant that maybe his missing time also didn't.

Would they ever turn their attention to helping him?

xXx

After the meeting, The Gang shut the office down and headed to their respective homes, Fred's doctor's office, or, in Daphne's case, her parent's home. She showered and dressed in an appropriate dinner gown for a weekday Blake dinner. At 6:27, she headed down the stairs and prepared to make a proper Blake entrance into the dining room. When she got to the room, she stopped. Her father was there in his usual seat. Her mother was there in her usual seat. Two of her sisters, Dorothy and Delilah, were already seated. Three seats, for Daisy, Dawn, and herself, were still vacant. But there was no food. She checked her phone, it was now 6:29. She checked Delilah's face and saw that it held a confusion that must be mirrored in her own. She was 31 years old and had never – not once – seen the table not set and ready for dinner at 6:30.

She took her seat and watched the last two sisters also stop at the door and take in the completely shocking scene. Daphne then looked at her mother, who was sitting stoically in her chair at one end of the table and then at her father at the other end. He looked… emotional. This was not unusual if the emotion was anger, but it didn't seem to be. She couldn't place it.

When they were all seated, her mother spoke, "I have asked the staff to delay serving the meal until after we can have a brief family chat. There is something that I am needing to tell you all." She stopped speaking for a moment and seemed to be gathering herself. Then, in the most shocking action yet, her father stood and walked to the end of the table, placing his hands on his wife's shoulders. This was akin to a public display of affection which was totally unheard of within the Blake Clan. The only time anything like this had ever happened in her lifetime was when she had been in the hospital and… It all came together. Her sisters had not been provided the experience of putting together clues to solve a puzzle. She looked back and forth among her sisters and saw no recognition of what they were about to be told. Her mother caught her eye and shook her head very slightly. Daphne stopped looking around and waited. Hoping against hope that she was wrong.

Her mother continued, "A short time ago, I went to the doctor and got some alarming reports. Since that time, tests have been conducted and I have seen a specialist…"

"What type of specialist?" It was Daisy. Daisy carried the title 'doctor' and sat on the board of Blake Medical. But she knew nothing about medicine. Her title came from an honorary doctorate conveyed by Darrow University as a stipulation of a sizable contribution from Blake Corporation. Her seat on the board was also a gift from her father. But she was around it enough to know the different types of doctors.

Her mother smiled, "An oncologist."

The room froze as all of her sisters caught up with Daphne.

Confirmation of the worst was provided by a single tear making its way down their father's cheek. But her mother was going to explain it all, "The results of the tests came back this morning and have been verified. I have cancer."

Daisy again asked the question, "What stage?"

A second tear raced the first on Barty Blake's other cheek as his wife answered, "Stage four."

"Oh my god!" Dawn whispered. Such an outburst at the dinner table would traditionally bring a rebuke from the matriarch but no such rebuke was offered.

Her mother took another pause to get her emotions under control, "Your father – being your father –" a slight smile accompanied these words, "has sent the results of these reports to the best doctors around the world and turned their lives upside down looking for a second opinion. All of the medical professionals are in agreement. This cancer is not operable and cannot be cured." She waited again, preferring to respond to a question rather than continue a monologue.

Daisy provided it, "How long?"

Their mother smiled again, "Doctors can be obstinately obtuse about such things but it appears that it will be weeks rather than months. The cancer is now metastasizing rapidly and my health will decline at an increasing pace and it should be very hard to hide it from you within a few days and impossible to hide it from anyone within two weeks. The pain is already severe and should move to intolerable at which point I will be receiving pain medication which will render me a shadow of my present self. Thanks to our position and wealth, I should be able to live out the remainder of my life here at the Mansion without having to suffer under the prying eyes of the media."

Daisy again, "Have the doctors discussed with you treatments and medicines that can prolong your life?"

This question brought an actual sob from their father's lips. The girls had never heard such a thing before. Nan Blake reached up and placed her hand on her husband's hand which rested on her shoulder, "Yes. Your father was quite outspoken with the doctors about that." Another smile, "And they described in detail what my quality of life would be like in the additional handful of weeks that could be provided by such treatment. I would not…" Her voice choked up and she showed the first signs of the intense emotion that she was feeling, "I would not know any of you. I would be a shell lying in a pit of my own pain. As such, I have elected to forego such treatment. If there were a chance that it might increase my time with you, my family, I would do it. I would suffer whatever pain that I must for another day with each of you. But there is no such chance. I will be here, with you all, until my time comes."

Daphne stood and did something completely unbecoming a Blake. She made her way around the table, and put her arm around her mother's shoulders, and held her.

Nan Blake continued, "I have always raised you all to be reserved pillars of society and, as such, have taught you to avoid revealing or expressing soft emotions. I have been wrong. Very wrong. And I apologize. I hope that you are able to overcome the wrong that I have done you and learn to love the way that you should. The way that your father and I have learned in the last few weeks."

Barty Blake stood and took his turn, "I will be taking a leave of absence from the company for the next few weeks. Delilah, I am hoping that you will be able to step into my shoes and run things while I am out. And Daphne, I was hoping that you would be able to assist her so that neither of you gets so bogged down in the company that you can't spend quality time with your mother."

Daphne stood up, "Me? But… I've never… I…"

Her father reached out and wrapped his hand gently behind the nape of her neck and looked into her eyes. Daphne felt like she was in an episode of the Twilight Zone. This gentle man with the beseeching facial expression could not possibly be Barty Blake, the granite monolith of corporate America who ran his family with the same iron hand with which he ran his company. Unlike his wife and daughters, his eyes were blue instead of green. They locked on hers, "Daphne, in this family it's always been you and Delilah against the rest of us. You two have stood your ground and established yourselves outside of the family. I am hoping that you and she will be Delilah and Daphne against the world and keep Blake Industries moving forward."

Something wasn't sounding right, "But, you'll be coming back, right? This isn't a retirement."

It was her mother that answered, "Of course, he'll be going back. There's only one thing that your father loves more than that stodgy old company of his, and that's this family."

There was a hesitant look in her father's face, "That's true. I just wish that I had truly figured that out many years ago instead of weeks ago. I have not been the husband or father that you deserved. And for that, I am sorry."

And with that, an apology from the lips of their father, the mouths of all five daughters dropped open. This had to be some kind of a joke, but a joke would also be completely out of character for their parents. This was really happening.

Daphne swallowed before answering, "Yes, Fa… Yes, Dad. I'll work with Delilah until you come back. The agency is doing really well right now and they can do without me for a few… months." She looked at her mother.

Nan Blake reached over and rang a small bell, "Now, if everyone would, once again, take their seats, dinner will be served. And please remember that we are Blakes and there will be no tawdry displays of affection in front of the staff. That is for family only."

Daphne took her seat, "Do they know?"

Her mother shook her head, "No. Family first. Always. But it is now appropriate that they should. Daphne, I believe that you have recently established something of a rapport with Jeeves, would you mind bringing him up to date so that he might disseminate the information to the rest of the staff."

At that moment, two servers entered the room. Daphne blinked away her tears, corrected her posture in her seat, and spoke clearly in good Blake fashion, "Certainly, Mother. I'll attend to it after dinner."

Conversation for the rest of dinner was focused on Daphne's trip and some discussion of things at Blake Industries. The two biggest differences were that Dawn was unusually quiet and Daphne actually paid attention to the talk about Blake Industries.

When dinner came to a close, Delilah gestured for Daphne to follow her up to her room. They moved to the sitting area across from the bed, both sat, and then looked at each other without speaking for a moment.

Delilah broke the silence, "My hands are still shaking."

"Me, too. I don't know how we all kept it together through dinner."

"We're Blakes."

"That we are. Screwed up, dysfunctional, but unwavering Blakes. We are who we were raised to be." Daphne remembered those words coming from Aaron. It had not been a compliment.

Delilah nodded, "We are who we were raised to be. Thank you for saying 'yes' to Dad. I would hate to be stuck at the office 12 hours a day while Mom is at home dying."

"We won't let that happen…"

"Of course not!" Both sisters turned to see Dawn standing at the door. She was holding a water glass half-filled with something that almost certainly wasn't water. She took a gulp, "Big sister Delilah and super sister Daphne save the day again. The two of you who fought Father and Mother at every turn get to run the business while the rest of us who stayed here and dutifully did everything asked of us are pushed aside."

Delilah stood, "So Mom and Dad asked you to get drunk, do drugs, and slut around every night?"

Daphne stood with her elder sister but didn't speak.

"Fuck you, Delilah. We both know that you wouldn't be here right now if the Marine Corps hadn't tossed you to the curb. You weren't good enough, so you came crawling home. And you, dear sweet Daphne, wouldn't be here if you stood a snowball's chance in hell of making a marriage work. Oh, look at me everybody! I'm married! I'm special! But then, you're just like the rest of us. You can't make a real relationship work. You wouldn't know what one is."

Delilah took a step, but Daphne held out her hand and then turned back to Dawn, "I can't argue with you, Dawn. I tried to make a marriage work and I'm failing. You tried to be a slut and you're succeeding. I prefer my way."

Dawn stepped into the room with the slight stagger showing the transition from being buzzed to being drunk, "Fine. Call me names. But I'm still a Blake and I'm still in the wills. I wonder if maybe we're going to go ahead and get something now or if we have to wait until after Father dies, too."

Daphne was trained in martial arts but used none of it. She threw a roundhouse right and stepped solidly into it, connecting with Dawn's jaw and sending her head jerking back, followed by her crumpling to the floor. And probably breaking at least one bone in Daphne's hand. But it was worth it. It might seem less so tomorrow when her hand was swollen to the point she couldn't use it. But, in the moment, seeing her sister sitting on the floor and holding her jaw with a stunned expression on her face felt good.

Daphne turned to Delilah and went full Blake, "Delilah, dear, would you mind attending to this mess? I am afraid I have some errands to which to attend."

Delilah was equally trained at being a Blake, "Absolutely, sister, I'll put the little one somewhere that she can sleep it off and be her usually endearing self by morning. Of course, we might want to look into concussion protocol for her."

Daphne ended the exchange, "Thank you, so very much." And exited the room.

Daphne had three errands which she needed to get done. She decided to perform them in the order from least hard to hardest. She made her way down to the small room off the kitchen which served as Aaron's (alias Jeeves') office. The butler was sitting at his desk with his coat off and his sleeves rolled up, looking at some spreadsheets on his computer screen. Daphne stood at the open door and knocked on the doorframe.

Aaron bolted to his feet when he saw a Blake standing in his doorway and grabbed at his coat, "Pardon me, Miss Daphne. Give me a moment to get properly attired."

Daphne stepped in, "Never mind that, Aaron. Please sit down. I need to speak with you about something."

"If any member of the staff has been impertinent, let me know who…"

"Aaron, please." The voice was soft but held an air of command. She was a Blake. The butler instantly quieted and waited. Daphne sat in his visitor's chair and held her posture stiffly erect, "I am here representing the family and I wish to speak with you as the manager of the staff."

"Yes, ma'am." The words were not sarcastic.

Daphne swallowed but refused to allow her throat to make a noise, "My mother has just informed us that she has a stage 4 cancer and, due to it, will be dying within a few weeks."

Aaron was a professional and matched Daphne's demeanor, "I see. And what are your directions for the staff?"

"I believe that my mother has you listed with her doctor as a medical confidante?"

"That is true."

"Then I would request that you contact her doctor in order to make arrangements for what we will need to do to keep her in the mansion and comfortable throughout the remainder of her life."

"It will be done, Miss Daphne."

"Also, would you please gather the staff and bring them up to date on the situation. If they have any further questions, please direct those questions to me."

"It will be done, Miss Daphne."

"Thank you." Daphne rose and turned to leave the small office.

Aaron spoke, "Daphne."

She turned back around. The look on his face was stoic.

"Your mother is a strong woman. I have always respected her."

Daphne tilted her head, "As have I, Aaron. Thank you."

That was the easiest one.

She made her way to her mother's study where Nan usually retired after dinner for some time alone. The door was open and Daphne was shocked to see her father sitting in the room with her mother. She had never seen him in this room before. Her first thought was to ask him to leave. She had not rehearsed this for both of them. But she decided against it. In many ways, it was as much for her father as for her mother.

"May I speak with you both?"

Her mother looked up, "Of course, darling."

Daphne closed the door and sat on the edge of her mother's writing desk, "Mom, Dad, I'm pregnant. You're going to be grandparents."

Nan immediately picked up on her daughter's vibe, "And you're pleased?"

"That part's complicated but it doesn't change the facts. What I would like is for your permission, if the baby is a girl, to name her Elizabeth Nancy Jones, and then call her Nan."

This required a moment for her mother to process, "Does Fred agree with this?"

"Fred is choosing to not be involved with such details."

Barty Blake shot to his feet and Daphne prepared for a fiery bombastic tirade. But then he settled back down to his seat, reached out, and held her hand.

Nan's voice was almost a sob, "I would be honored, my love. And I am so pleased that there will be a grandchild."

Her father's voice was also husky, "I will love this child. I am so proud of you."

Those words stung. She had done nothing for which he should be proud. But this moment was not about her.

Nan asked, "But what if it's a boy?"

Daphne shrugged, "I don't know. Maybe… name him Ferdinand and call him 'Nan' for short?"

Barty tilted his head, "Ferdinand? Like the bull?"

"Well, I haven't really had a lot of time to think about that one."

At which point, Nan Blake burst out laughing. She was followed by Barty and then by Daphne. They were laughing together. Another event in the evening that had never before happened. They laughed until they had trouble getting their breath and when it finally settled down, Barty Blake stood and kissed his daughter on the top of the head. Daphne forced back the thought that, if their father had been like this when they were young, the sisters probably wouldn't be as messed up as they were. But that was in the past and unconstructive.

She stood, "I'm afraid that I have one more call to make. Good night."

She left and made her way to her room. With everything else going on in her relationship with Fred, this was going to be a terrible time to tell him that she would not be working with the agency for at least several weeks. She knew Fred well enough to know what he would read into it. Her first thought was to call Velma and talk with her first. But that was just a delaying tactic. She knew that there was nothing to be done but make the call.

She laid down on the bed and hit 'call' next to Fred's name. He answered it immediately, "Hi Daph."

"Hello Fred, I need to tell you something."

xXx

Note from the writer:

On Friday we start the ninth episode in the series which is the final episode in the Fred/Daphne 3-episode story arc. Those of you that have struggled through their complicated relationship with me will get your answers. There will also be resolution of another major outstanding subplot. Following Episode 9, Episode 10 will be the series finale and then my time here in Scooby Doo fan fiction will be done. So, we're getting close. Hang on tight.