They were all gathered around her. She was deathly pale, sweat pounding down her face. Her eyes had lost their sparkle. She was thrashing her head about, hands clenched onto Fred's. Her skin was contaminated a tinge of red. Tears stained her face and hair, her cheeks were nearly black from running makeup. It was nearly as bad as the blood. The lower half of her dress was completely saturated, and in order for them to see what was happening, they'd had to cut the skirt off the dress. She was too weak to help, and Fred and Shaggy were left to do it. Velma had pulled her stockings as far down as she could. Scooby had taken refuge under the tech table, his crying could be heard from the stairs. She was beginning to hyperventilate.

The dispatcher had said ten minutes. It seemed as if it had been nearly twice that. Blood had pooled between Daphne's legs, staining the wooden floor beneath her. Fred was red in the face, though it was difficult to tell whether he was scared, angry or crying. His white shirt was smothered in Daphne's blood, some had splattered onto his hands. He was beginning to shake. Shaggy was holding the scissors they had used to cut Daphne's dress, and what scraps of clothing were left. The front of his shirt bore Daphne's blood, it was heavy, and as it clung to the shirt, it became heavier. Blood was seeping onto his skin. Velma was doing her best not to break out crying. Tears was streaking down her face. She was grasping at her own skirt, shaking slightly. Her classic orange sweater was splattered with blood. She thought her hands would be permanently stained. Daphne's movements were starting to slow down, as was her bleeding.

Daphne was going to die.

She was closing her eyes.

"Open the door!" The front door began to shake. Scooby was the first to react, sliding out from under the table, he opened the door with his tail, barely getting out of the way before the EMTs got through the door. "Move!" Shaggy was thrust aside, pushed with so much force he fell over. Velma got up voluntarily, legs wobbling, she pushed her glasses up her nose.

"How long has she been bleeding?" The words had come and gone before anyone had a chance to register them.

"Nearly twenty minutes." Velma was the only one who was able to speak.

"Move aside!" There were more EMTs now. They had Daphne surrounded. She looked dead compared to the people around her. "She needs blood…" The medic frantically looked around to the people near him. "What blood type is she?"

"O-O positive." Fred was crying. Shaggy could see it in his face now.

The medic felt Daphne's pulse at her neck. "We're losing her!" He turned to the medic crouched next to him. "Go get two bags of O+! Bring a liter of saline and the emergency blanket!" The medic scrambled, bolting out the door. A third medic was at Daphne's head, securing a neck brace. The first medic had a tube in Daphne's mouth, and upon locating her airway, attached a hand pump and began manually delivering oxygen. A fourth and fifth medic were next to arrive, wielding a stretcher. Velma and Shaggy backed up further, giving them more room. The third medic returned seconds later, landing at Daphne's side and quickly grabbed her arm. He began searching for a vein, forcefully tapping her skin in the attempt to find one. A needle was quickly in her arm, blood bag attached. He inserted a second needle in her other arm, and attached a bag of clear fluids.

"Hold her steady!" They were putting her on the stretcher now. Each medic was holding onto some part of her as she was gently laid down on it. "Wheels!" There was the sound of metallic clanging, and they were rolling Daphne out the door. One of the medics turned to face the gang. "We're taking her to Union Hospital."

And then they were gone.

Fred was still kneeling where Daphne had been.

XxxxX

Shaggy had been the only one capable of driving. No one had said anything. Velma was shaking, Fred was near catatonic. He was the only one left. He was the only one in the front seat. No one was talking. Every once in a while, Scooby would let out a whimper, and Shaggy would attempt to smile in the rear-view mirror, however solemn it was. Shaggy had run three red lights and two stop signs by the time he had parked the Mystery Machine. He was thankful he hadn't been pulled over, but at the same time, lacked the ability to care if he got a ticket. He was sure he was double parked. He felt horrible leaving Scooby in the van, though he had nearly everything Scooby could need or want. It was the same hospital Shaggy had been taken to when he was stabbed. It had only been a few days, but it seemed like a lifetime. Walking into the ER seemed like a lifetime in itself. It seemed vaguely familiar to him, though it should be. Some people were staring at them, and it was only then he remembered that they were all covered in blood. It was the first thing the receptionist noticed.

"Oh god!" It was a reaction more than a concern. "Do you need a wheelchair? Nurse-" She was already standing when Shaggy cut her short.

"No, none of us are hurt."

She stopped short, putting her hand on the reception desk. She turned to face the man in front of her. "Then why are you here? Do you realize you're soaked in blood?" Her hand moved to a small intercom on the desk, Shaggy presumed she was going to call security.

He wasn't thinking straight. He had to tell her why they were there, but where were the words?

"We're here for Daphne Blake." It was Velma's. Her voice was creaky, and still sounded like she had been crying. She had her sleeves pulled down past her hands, extra fabric wrapped around her hands. Her eyes shone with tears, and her face was patchy. Shaggy found himself staring for a brief moment. Most of Daphne's blood was on Velma's skirt, and some had found its way onto her legs and knee-highs. He had never seen her like this.

The receptionist said nothing, only closed her mouth and returned to her seat. She reached under the desk, bringing back a clipboard with what appeared to be a list of patients. She flipped through several pages before placing her finger down on the paper. "Oh dear." She went back to the intercom. "Dr. Cartman to Emergency Reception. Dr. Cartman to reception. Thank you." She turned her attention back to the strangers in front of her. "Her doctor should arrive shortly."

"Can't you tell us where she is?" Shaggy was quickly becoming annoyed. He found his fingers were tapping on his arm, feet beginning to sway back and forth. "We're like, basically her family!"

The receptionist sensed that the man was becoming agitated. "Sir, I'm not trained in medicine-"

"That much is quite obvious." At least Velma was as pissed as Shaggy was. A bloody finger was pushing her glasses up her nose. "You're a messenger. Relay the message!" Shaggy could see that she was grinding her teeth. The motion was slight, but it was there.

The receptionist was glaring at Velma now, though her words were directed at Shaggy. "I was told that when her family arrived, that her doctor should be paged immediately. Now, if you'll excuse me. I may not be a doctor," she turned her head to Velma, "but I do have work to do." Velma stepped forwards, mouth open, ready to start another argument. Shaggy grabbed her by the wrist. She turned to find him shaking his head.

"She's not worth it." He was sure to say it loud enough for the receptionist to hear. He moved the gang away from the desk and into the lobby of the emergency room. Shaggy looked down at himself. His hands were stained with the blood of a living being. From Daphne. His shirt was torn, leaving patches of blood on his skin. He was sure it was on his face. It had to be. They all looked like mass murderers.

He was most worried about Fred. He was wearing so much blood it looked like he was wearing a red shirt, not a blood-soaked white one. The ends of his hair was tinged crimson. Even his tears were red as they scraped against his face. Shaggy was worried that Fred would end up admitted himself. Shaggy felt his knees shaking, his eyes burning.

"Family of Daphne Blake?"

It was as if someone had taken a hammer to a pane of glass. It was a doctor, wearing a white lab coat spattered with blood. Fred looked away, trying to stifle tears once more.

"That's us." Shaggy was so shaken up he had forgotten to add his characteristic 'like'. The doctor nodded, seemingly acknowledging the blood covered clothing they all shared.

"I'm Andrew Cartman, the resident assigned Ms. Blake's case." He sheepishly offered a hand, attempting to keep normalcy. No one had the sense to shake it.

"H-how is she?" Velma was able to squeak small sentences.

Dr. Cartman's face grew grim. "She's in surgery." Their faces fell. Surgery? Realizing this statement needed an exclamation, he began to speak. "There was massive damage to her uterus and reproductive tract. She's lost all her blood, and donor blood is not taking."

There was no reaction to his words.

"When we got into surgery, we found that Ms. Blake had a condition called placenta accreta where the placenta isn't attached to the uterus, it's a part of the organ, attached inside the lining. It was basically ripped out, leaving the uterus in two halves. Surgeons are currently trying to stabilize her, but… At best, it will be several hours before they are finished."

No one said anything. Dr. Cartman breathed silently and left them.

"… T-t-the baby…"

It was the first time Fred had been able to say anything since they had found Daphne laying on the floor. Their hearts sank. The doctor had talked about everything except Daphne's pregnancy. Shaggy feared the worst. Velma was already beyond that point, creating strategies to help her friend cope should the worst happen. They both knew that both Fred and Daphne would rely on them, perhaps only Fred if Daphne didn't survive.

It was only then that Shaggy found the ability to sit. The chair was hard, and pressed into his back. He felt so anxious that he might have passed out. How were they going to recover from this? What would they do if Daphne didn't make it? He couldn't press himself to think about it, but he couldn't find the ability to think about anything else. He found his hands in his hair, elbows on his knees.

When they had all met in elementary school, they would have never pictured the situation they were in now. Then again, when they were all just kids, Shaggy would have never imagined Daphne and Fred getting busy and Daphne ending up pregnant at the age of 21. In high school, he and Velma had suspected they liked each other, but when they all went to college, the rumors had died down. Hadn't Daphne even dated a few people in college? Wait, had Velma?

Why was he thinking of Velma during a time like this?

The brunette had gone to Cambridge, Massachusetts to attend Harvard. It was no surprise when she had been accepted. She ended up being Valedictorian at their graduation, president of National Honors Society their senior year. What was her GPA, 4.6? He hadn't known that was possible. Fred, being raised by a single parent, went to Coolsville University, where he majored in Political Science and minored in English. Daphne had gone to Fashion Institute of New York. God, they had all just graduated.

At that moment, Shaggy wasn't sure if Fred would survive this, let alone Daphne.

He felt his eyes burning. His cheeks felt cool. He was grabbing his hair, arms shaking. His entire world was falling apart. It was that nightmare where everything you loved was leaving, and you had your arms outstretched to grasp it, only missing it again. It was real.

"Family of Daphne Blake?"

Velma found the energy to stand, coming to address the person facing her. It was a young woman, wearing green scrubs and crocs. "I've been sent to take you to the family waiting room."

XxxxX

It had been a quiet and solemn elevator ride. Fred was only a shell of the person everyone knew. As they and the nurse had stepped out of the elevator, Velma had grabbed hold of Shaggy's shirt. He paused, looking at her. She was simply broken. He placed a hand around her shoulder, bracing her as they followed the nurse. The family waiting room was not a place anyone wanted to be. There was a television at the far end of the room, displaying a local news channel, several coffee machines, and a myriad of chairs. There was no one else with them.

They were stranded. No information. No contacts.

No Daphne.