Circles: A Coast to Coast with Daphne Blake Origin Story

By WriterfromWarDrobe

Daphne pulled up to the red traffic light. Rain splattered against the windshield of her red van. She wiped the tears she would not let fall from the corners of her eyes. She chided herself for feeling sorry for herself. After all, what had she expected? It had been over half a year since she left the Scooby Doo Detective Agency.

Since her earliest memory, Daphne Blake had wanted to solve mysteries. She still remembered the video tape her mother had recorded of her, dressed in her mother's clothes, too big for her six-year-old figure. "What do you want to be when you grow up, Daphne?" her mother's voice asked from behind the camera. "I want to be a super model," Daphne had responded, striking a pose and eliciting a delighted squeal from her mother. "And a detective," she added, to which her mother had groaned. Her parents had never been supportive of her wanting to solve mysteries. And yet, she had made a career out of it.

Her parents had been proud of her when she graduated from college with a degree in journalism. They thought she would put mysteries behind her. Instead, her job as a reporter often coincided with assisting Shaggy, Scooby, and Scrappy, who called themselves the Scooby Doo Detective Agency. So, back on the road she went, driving the Mystery Machine and reporting on the cases.

Her stories did well – especially the ones where she insisted the monsters were real. Few people believed that the 12 ghosts Daphne helped capture for Vincent Van Ghoul were real, but her stories sold papers and made her editors happy. That was when she had made her decision: to pursue real monsters, capturing them on television.

She pitched the idea to Shaggy, Scooby, and Scrappy, but Shaggy and Scooby had outright refused. Even Scrappy had been a little skeptical. The days of the Scooby Doo Detective Agency were numbered, just as they had been for Mystery Inc. before the gang had parted ways after college. Daphne would have to start again.

And she had. A television company was interested in her reality show, and Daphne acquired the necessary camera equipment. What she didn't have was someone to do the filming. She had gone through a few cameramen from the television company, but she hadn't liked working with strangers – strangers who thought they had to protect her and step in and show off and forget to run the camera. She hardly had any footage, much less a full episode to present.

That was what brought her back to the green house where Shaggy lived. A light evening rain was beginning to fall when she pulled into the driveway behind the red jalopy he drove. She walked past the vehicle, silently reminiscing the many hours she and her friends had spent in the old Mystery Machine. She wasn't sure what had become of the green and flower-bedecked van.

She wasn't prepared for what had become of Shaggy.

Daphne was hustled out of the rain by an exuberant Scooby, happy to see her and licking her all over. Then, came Scrappy, followed by Shaggy and a blonde woman. At first, Daphne mistook the woman for Shaggy's sister. But after hugs had been exchanged, Shaggy introduced the blonde as not his sister, but his girlfriend, Googie.

Shaggy had taken up race car driving with Googie as cheerleader and sometimes pit crew along with Scooby and Scrappy. Solving mysteries were a thing of the past, and Shaggy had no more interest in joining Daphne and chasing monsters than he had previously. No, he had a new life – free of monsters, and he intended to keep it that way.

There was also Googie. Although the two women spoke little to each other, Daphne understood the silent message to back off. She wondered if Googie knew that she and Shaggy had lived together with Vincent Van Ghoul, that they had toured around the country with only a couple of dogs for chaperones. Without trying, Daphne and Shaggy had become close, and to any casual observer, they were more than friends.

Daphne left Shaggy, Scooby, Scrappy, and Googie behind, insisting she had places to be and that she was just passing through. The reality was that without her friends, she wasn't sure where to go or what to do. The TV producers were already getting irritated with her for failing to provide an episode – real monster or not.

She was caught up in her thoughts and almost missed when the light turned green. A car honked behind her as she started up, her hand on the stick shift. The windshield wipers blurred the gray evening and lights from restaurants and bars and malt shops. Her own eyes, heavy with unshed tears, were threatening to obscure anything she tried to focus on. She pulled off to the side of the road and blinked at the pink neon lights of a bar. Maybe she needed to choke out her sob story on a barstool like hopeless characters did in the movies.

She got out of the vehicle, rain and wind pummeling her and probably ruining her hair and jumpsuit. Just as she was about to dash across the street to the pink lights, she spied a flashing orange sign that said Malt Shop. Daphne remembered the countless hours she and the gang had spent there: Shaggy and Scooby eating everything in sight, Fred reading the newspaper and saying "Listen to this…" which usually resulted in the gang piling into the Mystery Machine and driving to their next case.

Daphne veered toward the orange sign and ran into the shop, the familiar smell of chocolate drinks and light, fried fare assailing her upon entry. For a moment, she was a teenager again, believing it would always be her and the gang, solving mysteries forever.

She made her way to the counter, trying to fix her wet and wind-tossed hair as she went, resisting the urge to take a booth that would be too big for one person. She ordered the strawberry ice cream float she had always loved. How funny it was that the taste of the ice cream could take her back in time, to being 16 and high school graduation seemingly an eternity away and school dances and mysteries to occupy her time.

"Daphne? Is that you?"

Daphne started at the voice, almost choking on her float. She would recognize that voice anywhere; that voice had never changed or varied in tone. She slowly turned towards one of the red booths, where the mysteries always started, and stared up at a familiar face, a thatch of yellow hair over blue eyes.

"Fred!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm back in town and thought I'd get a malt." He gestured towards the booth. "Would you care to join me?"

Daphne relocated, sitting across the table from Fred, pushing aside the remembrance of how much closer they had sat when the whole gang had squished around the table. Memories of them brushing shoulders in the Mystery Machine, dancing on the beach, splitting up together to look for clues sped through her brain in a kaleidoscope of visions. She spoke quickly to keep her thoughts at bay. She asked about Fred's writing career and book tours – the reason he had left the gang.

Fred tugged on the collar of his blue shirt, a habit that had carried over from when he wore an ascot, now absent from his attire. Daphne glanced up curiously as he said he'd given it up…for now, anyway.

"The publisher was pressing me for another mystery, but…I…I can't come up with that kind of stuff on a deadline." Fred sighed. "To be honest with you, Daph, I lost my inspiration."

Daphne sat up a bit straighter. "No more mysteries," she whispered. Fred nodded and changed the subject. "How have you been? Still a reporter?" he asked.

"In a way…" She paused. She needed a cameraman. She needed a friend on the road to help her solve mysteries. She wanted to blurt out all her plans and ask Fred to join her, but she refrained. Her mind was circling a drain where the memories on the outer rim were of her and Shaggy, but the tighter circles were older memories of her first love, of gushing to Velma that she had feelings for Fred and sharing a kiss on stage after singing a song with Fred and the awkward ride back in the Mystery Machine as Shaggy and Velma seemed to eagerly await a confession of love between the two but nothing more was said.

"I almost didn't recognize you with that haircut," Fred was saying and Daphne almost missed it. She had forgotten that Fred hadn't seen her with her hair curled around the edges of her face, a new style for when she worked for Vincent Van Ghoul. "Or without your green scarf," Fred added.

"And where's your ascot?" Daphne countered. Fred laughed and said it wasn't in style anymore, that too many fans of his books had come to associate him with the ascot, like a red signal flag, that he could no longer wear it in public.

"I'm done with that life, Daph. No more people standing in line for book signings and speaking to the media and fighting with a publisher about deadlines."

Daphne was quiet. Fred was telling her without her needing to ask that he was not interested in a TV scheme with producers and deadlines and interviews. He had finished his malt and she quickly slurped down the rest of her float. He asked her about the rest of the old gang.

"Velma is still working with NASA, and Shaggy…he's…a racecar driver…with a girlfriend…" Daphne's voice trailed off, not sure what to say that wouldn't reveal her confused emotions. Fred seemed amused.

"Shaggy, a racecar driver! Well, if how fast he was on his feet is any indication of how he drives, he must be something else!" He glanced out the window at the darkening thunderstorm. "He's not back with that girl from high school, the one who got mad when Shaggy went on the road with us. What was her name?"

"Rachel?" Daphne had forgotten about her. "No, it's someone else." Another blonde. Did Shaggy have a thing for blonde females? Fred was laughing about how long this one would last. Daphne got up, a part of her wanting to run out into the storm, where tears would blend with nature; another part of her wanting to settle in beside Fred in the booth and let him put his arm around her. But who was she kidding? Neither Shaggy not Fred had ever admitted feelings for her, and she wasn't sure if what she had felt with Shaggy was a true substitute for what she had felt for Fred. She should put all emotions aside. She wasn't a teenager with hormones in overdrive anymore.

"Are you leaving?" Fred asked. "Let me walk you to your car." He stood, pulling on a white jacket over his blue t-shirt. Maybe they had changed since the days of Mystery Inc., but maybe they had stayed the same in other ways, too. They stepped out into the rain, lightning streaking the sky and thunder rumbling. There would be no more conversation between them in this weather as Daphne shouted directions to her vehicle. Fred held open the van door as she asked where he was parked.

He had walked.

She offered him a ride. Once he was in the passenger seat, it seemed like they could breathe again. The water pounded the exterior of the vehicle like a zombie's wail or a ghost's chains rattling, but inside they were safe and could speak comfortably once more. Fred told Daphne the name of the hotel where he was staying, and she drove through the downtown streets.

"Stick shift?" Fred commented. "I never got the hang of driving like that." He looked into the back seat. "What's with all the camera equipment?"

"Oh, that." Daphne paused, once again wondering if she dared ask Fred to join her on the road. She thought about Googie and whether Shaggy's new girlfriend cared that Daphne had shared Shaggy's life for a while. Would Fred care? Would he believe that the two had never been a couple, regardless of appearances, regardless of her conflicted affection? Would he be too much of a gentleman to join her from coast to coast without Velma, Shaggy, and Scooby to maintain their reputations?

Before she knew it, the words were coming from her mouth like water pouring from a fountain. She told him about her television show, the approaching deadline, the lack of a cameraman, the irritated producer. Fred was silent, nodding; he understood.

"That sounds swell, Daph," he said after a moment. "I know what it's like on a deadline. I'm sure you'll make it, though."

"How?" Daphne wailed. She was circling the block, avoiding taking Fred back to his hotel. She wondered if he noticed that they were passing the same few buildings. She did not want him to leave, be swallowed by the rain and vanish from her life like a specter.

Fred popped open one of the cases, revealing the movie camera inside. He let out a low whistle. "Oh, man. This is great stuff. Better than what we had in film class."

Daphne glanced over at Fred, recalling his theatrical interests. His passion for elaborate traps was testimony of his flair for the dramatic. He was a good candidate for delivering professional shots on film. He eyed her and she wondered if he was thinking the same thing. She focused her attention on the rain and going around the block again. His voice was a soft duet with the patter of the rain. "Are you still looking for a cameraman?"

Daphne braked at the same traffic light where her evening had begun. Fred looked around as if noticing for the first time that they had been going in circles, but he didn't say anything as though he also knew Daphne was standing on the edge and debating taking the plunge. Her thoughts about her time with the Scooby Doo Detective Agency were on the periphery; her memories of Mystery Inc. with Fred were ready to drown her. She needed a cameraman or else lose out on the opportunity of a lifetime to solve mysteries and showcase them on TV. But what she needed more was a friend who had her back but also trusted her to be her own hero; someone she could trust and support in return. She needed someone with a love for solving mysteries as much as she.

"Would you be interested?" she asked. The light turned green, and she almost missed it except for the impatient car honking its horn behind her. Fred's face broke into a grin, and that was all the confirmation she needed.

Author's Note on the Timeline:

This story takes place after the events of The 13 Ghosts of Scooby Doo (and other 70s and 80s series) and just prior to Scooby Doo and the Reluctant Werewolf. I also assume that most series and movies depicting the gang in their original outfits take place while the gang is in high school (e.g., Stage Fright), while the movies of the early 2000s and What's New Scooby Doo take place after high school (and after this one-shot). This short story excludes the events of Mystery Incorporated.