He wasn't ready to drive. He wasn't ready to breathe. What had just happened in the past 24 hours?
They had all gone from barely speaking to each other to crying together in a hospital.
Daphne had nearly died. God knows only how long it would take for her to recover. She miscarried. They would have to leave the case.
They'd never done that. Not in the ten years they'd been solving cases. Not when they were in the fifth grade and Fred got grounded for not coming home for dinner when he suspected Red Herring of stealing the class guinea pig. Not when he had nearly failed his senior project for missing a seminar to be live bait.
Granted, being paid to solve mysteries was an added bonus. None of them had been hired in their field after graduation and it was their only income at the moment. Leaving would mean not being paid in full for their services.
He shook his head, smacking his forehead. What was he saying? That money was more important than Daphne's life?
He had heard the doctor clearly. Her uterus had been nearly ripped in half. She should be dead.
If he believed in demons, why couldn't he believe in angels too?
XxxxX
With Shaggy running errands, Velma wasn't sure what to do. Fred wasn't speaking, and Daphne wasn't awake. The doctor had been in since Shaggy departed, attempting to explain more of what had happened medically. They had been able to suture her uterus. It had taken nearly 50 stitches and they nearly considered removing it. The doctor claimed they would have, had she not been so young.
They were predicting she would get pregnant again.
Velma smiled at this prospect. At the idea that perhaps one day this would all be forgotten and merely a memory.
Her surgeon had returned as well, after having cleaned up. He felt it was best if he explained aftercare himself.
"She'll be on bed rest for a while." He explained. "I'd suggest four weeks. Her body is in overdrive trying to repair itself."
Velma glanced over to Fred, who she could tell was attempting to pay attention but was still suffering from shock. His eyes were locked on her stomach- or what remained of it. Velma internally sighed, turning her attention back to the surgeon.
"I'll prescribe a pain killer to make her comfortable, but she'll be uneasy for some time." He began flipping through her chart, searching for any more notes. "We've started her on a course of antibiotics to help her along and prevent any long term complications but she will have to continue them after her release."
It was at this prospect that Fred began to perk up. He had been holding Daphne's hand in his own, trying to distract himself. "When can she come home?" Fred blurted it out before it registered with anyone, including himself.
The doctor pushed his glasses up his nose and then closed Daphne's chart. "That depends on how well she responds to treatment. There is still a great potential for infection at the moment. We're still unsure as of to how exactly these injuries occurred or what was used to do it, or how sterile it was. She'll be here at least a week to combat that, as well as supervised recovery. If all goes well, it should be just that week, but if her condition changes it could mean Ms. Blake may have a longer stay here."
Velma wasn't sure what Fred's expression was. It had changed after hearing the doctor's words, but to what? She couldn't tell if it was sorrow or excitement. Both? She turned to the doctor again, nearly unable to find words. "Doctor, when can we expect her to wake up?"
"Should be relatively soon. She's been out of surgery for over an hour. But be aware, she's going to be very disorientated. It's going to take several hours for the effects of the anesthesia to wear off."
XxxxX
As soon as he unlocked the front door he was overwhelmed with the sudden urge to shut down. Just to curl into a ball and sleep. Maybe when he woke up it would all be over. It would all be just a wild nightmare. He'd wake up in bed with Scooby at his feet and watch a movie with Velma.
Velma.
What the hell was going on with her? With him? With them?
There was a them?
What were they going to do about it?
Scooby had gone straight to sleep as soon as he entered the house. On Shaggy's bed, as per usual. There was no waking that dog.
The thought of Velma kept eating at him. He kept telling himself he had better things to worry about than whether his potential relationship would pan out. He felt vulnerable. Fred had been right, he didn't remember much at all of that night they took the van. What had he done? What had they done? It began to aggravate him. They had both been drunk- but that was no excuse.
Amongst his scattered thoughts, Shaggy attempted to focus on the task at hand. They all needed fresh clothes. He needed to shower. He was so tense his veins were bulging along his arms.
What did this all mean? Why Daphne? Was it really a shock whatever it was had gone after a pregnant woman a second time?
But it was a shock any of this was real. Painfully real.
It was all too painfully real that he had no memory of the night he had stolen his best friend's car and made off with a girl out of state.
A girl? It was Velma.
What did she mean to him?
What didn't she mean to him?
What had they done?
Had they kissed?
Had they touched?
Had they-
"Rhaggy!"
He came to. He was welcomed by Scooby, barking and yelling for him to calm down. Looking down, he found he had ripped the drawer clean from his dresser. His clothes were scattered around him, drawer in his hands.
"I'm like… Going to take a shower."
XxxxX
Neither of them wanted to tell Daphne what happened. It wouldn't be long before she would realize she miscarried. But what would be better for her?- They decided to tell her upfront would be easier on the long run.
Shaggy had been gone for two hours when she began to stir. At first it was peaceful, like she was waking in the morning. That soon changed. The nurse who checked her vitals had forewarned them that patients coming out of anesthesia were often agitated and they only thing they could do was stand by and attempt to comfort her.
Agitated was an understatement.
Completely unaware she had been taken to a hospital, or put under sedation, Daphne's reaction had been worse than normal. Screaming, she had managed to rip out her IV line and knock over the morphine stand. They had to restrain her, holding her wrists as she slowly realized it was them. Velma had been the first to act, trying to control the arm with the IV in it, pleading with Fred to help. It took him several moments to snap out of his daze, taking hold of Daphne's other arm. It took her nearly five minutes to realize it was her friends who surrounded her.
She suddenly became very still, eyes darting about- still nervous. This gave Velma the opportunity to hit the nurses' button. Fred was shocked at first to see Daphne so frightened, and it took him a few moments to pull his own thoughts together before could comfort her. The nurse, quite surprised to find her patient had forcibly removed her IV line, stood dumbstruck for a moment before making her way to the cabinet on the far side of the room. She pulled out several gauze pads and a plastic package. Velma darted out of the way, claiming position at Daphne's feet. The nurse made swift work of Daphne's arm, which had been dribbling blood onto her and to the bed sheets. She pulled a roll of medical tape, wrapping the spot where the IV had been with gauze and taped it together. As she made her way around the bed, once again forcing Velma to scurry out of the way and Fred as well, she made some remark how she'd never seen a patient do this. She inserted an IV in Daphne's other arm and left, promising to be back shortly with a bag of saline solution and another of morphine.
It was when the nurse had left the room that Velma began to tell her friend what had happened. Daphne quickly noticed they were covered in blood. She thankfully didn't remember most of the night. Velma explained, with the occasional word from Fred, that she had been attacked and taken to the hospital. She thankfully didn't ask about the baby. Neither Fred or Velma knew how to clue their friend into the fact that she had miscarried. She had asked about Shaggy, to which they told her he had been the only one still sane enough to drive and get clean clothes.
Daphne changed to the topic to the case. She began asking questions, trying to put some of the pieces together. "How did dead time end? Did we solve it? Did we-"
Velma pushed her glasses up her nose again. "Daphne- we're… We're dropping the case."
Daphne cocked her head like a puppy, glancing at Fred and then back to Velma. "… What? Why?"
Fred sat up straight, taking Daphne's hand. "We have to. First Shaggy, now you. You… you nearly died. Enough's enough."
"What about the time we put into it?"
"Daph," Fred cleared his throat. "This case just isn't worth it anymore. It's not worth our lives."
"But no one died!"
"Shaggy was dead for a moment. He flat lined. And you… We spent an entire night believing you had died."
"But I'm okay."
"You will be." Velma joined the conversation. "You're going to be here for a while. And after you're home it'll still be longer before you can go out on a case again."
It wasn't like Daphne to get so fired up over something. She was usually level-headed. It was just so hard for her to accept that they were giving up.
XxxxX
It was the first time he had taken a shower in their house since the incident with Velma. He self-consciously looked around, making sure no one was around to see him naked, though he knew no one was home except for Scooby. He had washed his air twice and it was still tinged red. The rest of the blood had come off him. He hadn't bothered to try to salvage his clothes, they went right into the garbage. He would have normally at least attempted to towel dry his hair but he just wasn't in the mood. Dripping wet, he hastily threw clothes on, afterwards grabbing a few pieces of everyone else's and shoving them into a backpack.
Scooby was still sleeping when he got ready to leave. Hopefully in a mental place far from Shaggy's. One could hope. He made his way down the stairs, realizing just how sore he was. His stitches were faring for the worst. They had become increasingly itchy and even more difficult not to scratch. Grabbing a grocery bag, he made his way into the kitchen to grab some food for the gang. Disturbingly enough, he wasn't hungry.
Even more disturbing was the knock coming from the back door. He spun on his heels, still jumpy.
It was Katrina and Serg standing at the door.
"We need your help."