Note: Warning! Discussions of death, some blood, and grief.
- 7:30 PM: 5 DAYS EARLIER -
As Velma placed her glasses back on, she knew something was terribly wrong.
And it was.
"FRED! FRED!"
The flashlights had flickered back on, casting beams of light against the darkness.
Daphne's screams echoed through the church as she lay sprawled over Fred.
He was lying on the ground.
Shaggy stood over them, his face a mix of pale and green.
Velma was frozen, trying to take in what was happening. But nothing sunk in.
She felt sick to her stomach, but the continuous cries of Daphne meant that she had to do something.
The figure was gone. They were all on their own.
Velma forced her legs to move towards them.
"D – Daphne . . . What happened?"
And she saw something that she would never be able to unsee.
Fred lay on the ground, a pool of blood spilling out from under him. There was a large wound on his forehead that was too terrible for Velma to describe. She let out a choked sob, finally realizing what happened.
Fred had been shot.
Daphne's face was buried in Fred's chest, her shoulders heaving with sobs. She was now covered in his blood.
Shaggy began to run for the exit.
Unable to fully comprehend what was happening, Velma knelt shakily beside Daphne, fear gripping her chest.
She wanted to throw up. Scream. Cry.
But nothing came.
Instead, she grabbed Fred's wrist and desperately felt for a pulse, trying to ignore the sounds of her own pounding heart.
It may have been in her head, but something was there. It was very weak, but it was there.
Velma grabbed Daphne's arm. "There's a pulse!"
Her eyes stung with tears as she fumbled to find her phone. She tried to stay calm, but it was difficult. "I'm calling 911, okay? Just – Just stay with him!"
Daphne didn't answer, the sounds of her screams and cries still ringing out.
Velma got to her feet and dashed out of the church. Shaggy wasn't there, but the distant sounds of retches told her what he was doing.
She dialed the number.
The crackling of the dispatcher's voice came through the receiver.
"911, what is the location of your emergency?"
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The hospital lobby was cold. The sharp scent of sterilization chemicals hung in the air. It had been empty until Velma, Shaggy, and Daphne burst through the doors.
Fred had been in rushed into emergency surgery at the nearest hospital just out of Coolsville.
Velma tried to call her father, and even hesitantly attempted to reach her mother, who she was still not speaking to since the divorce. But there were no answers.
Across the room, Daphne collapsed into a chair, burying her face in her hands. Her body trembled with heavy sobs. Shaggy was pacing back and forth, his expression drawn with exhaustion and worry.
The figure had escaped the trap. The net was cut wide open. The fall had been high, but not enough for serious injury. After firing the gun, he ran off. The police were now at the scene trying to find any shred of evidence as to who it was.
Velma sat across from Daphne. She was very uncomfortable with high emotions, and this was no exception. She didn't know what to do to comfort her. What to say. Nothing could make this better.
The hours dragged on. Daphne's sobs eventually subsided, but she remained curled in her chair, hugging her knees to her chest.
Blood still stained her hands and clothes – she hadn't bothered to clean up.
Daphne had refused to leave Fred's side, even when the paramedics arrived. It had taken all of Shaggy's strength to pry her away, her screams echoing through the trees as the paramedics lifted Fred onto the stretcher.
This was the most destroyed Velma had ever seen her.
But maybe they all were.
Shaggy had long stopped his pacing and was sitting a few seats from Daphne. Velma couldn't read his expression, but she had a feeling as to what was on his mind.
A few days ago, it had been Scooby. Today, it was Fred.
But Fred still had a pulse when the ambulance arrived. That had to mean something.
He would make it.
He had to.
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
Time continued to pass slowly into the early morning. When Velma checked her phone, it was 1 AM.
There had been no update on Fred for what felt like forever, and they were becoming restless.
Shaggy sat bouncing his knees as he struggled to keep it together. Daphne hadn't moved from her usual position, though her tears had stopped. Now, she was silent – her eyes red and raw.
A kind nurse offered them water and blankets, and Velma had never been more grateful –the freezing air conditioning was starting to get to her.
She buried her face in her blanket, letting the tears fall.
She had no idea where her father was. A dangerous person was out there. Fred was gravely hurt. They failed in solving the mystery. It all weighed down on her like a ton of bricks.
Shaggy couldn't stop blaming himself for what had happened. He gave the signal too early, and he didn't even have the courage to stop the situation from escalating. He felt useless. A coward.
His gaze shifted to Daphne and Velma, who were both wrapped tightly in their blankets. He felt a strong tightening in his chest – an unfamiliar, indescribable feeling.
He wanted to tell them it would be okay. That once Fred was out of surgery, everything would go back to normal. But he couldn't. There was nothing he could say that would make it better.
The soft tick - tick of the wall clock was loud against the dead silence. He almost wished to hear crying, screaming, anything to distract from the dread eating at him from the inside out.
Then, Daphne's light sniffling brought back to the present.
Without a thought, Shaggy rose from his chair and cautiously sat beside her, careful not to intrude on her space. But she didn't react, her eyes still fixed downward.
She was drained. Drained from experiencing the fear of what would happen to Fred, and the lingering anxieties of what had happened to Scooby. There were too many unanswered questions.
Shaggy hesitated before gently resting his hand over hers. He gave it a light squeeze.
To his surprise, she squeezed back.
For the first time since they arrived, Daphne lifted her head, fresh tears brimming in her eyes.
Shaggy swallowed hard. "Hey . . ." His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. "C'mere."
He draped an arm around her as she leaned into his side, letting out a shaky breath.
Across from him, Velma stirred.
He met her gaze. She looked conflicted, her eyes swimming with unshed tears.
"Velms . . ."
Shaggy barely got the words out before she moved, crossing the small space between them and sitting down on his other side.
Without speaking, she rested her head against his shoulder. Shaggy placed his free arm around her.
They sat there in silence for a long while, just hoping, praying, that things would be alright.
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Velma woke with a start. Her eyes darted to the clock which read 5 AM. She then realized that they had fallen asleep.
Shaggy still had his arm around her. She carefully moved it back to a resting position and saw that he and Daphne were still asleep. Their soft breathing gave Velma a slight relief that they were finally resting.
And then she remembered all the horrible events of the previous night. The blood. Screams. Fred.
She quickly stood and went over to the front desk. Its opaque sliding windows were closed, and Velma did not have the patience to be polite. She softly rapped on it.
She was greeted by a young, blonde nurse who looked at her with something of sympathy and annoyance. "Yes?"
"Fred Jones," Velma said. "Is there any update on his condition?"
The nurse slowly shook her head. "I'm just the receptionist, but I know they're still in the back with him."
"Seriously!" Velma hissed, careful to not raise her voice. "Can't you ask?"
The nurse shook her head. "I can't, I'm sorry."
Velma was about to open her mouth to protest, but the door behind her slowly creaked open. It was the door leading to the emergency unit.
The doctor was standing there.
Shaggy and Daphne jolted awake.
But from Velma's perception of how the doctor carried himself, something was not right.
He cleared his throat, his expression unreadable. "Friends of Mr. Fred Jones?"
"Like, yeah," Shaggy said, swiftly standing up. "Is there an update?"
The doctor nodded. "My name is Dr. Martin. And yes."
Daphne practically threw herself towards him. "Is – Is he okay?"
Dr. Martin sighed. "Would you all please follow me?"
They followed him through the empty white hallway, their bodies shaking and on high alert. They had a feeling as to what the news would be.
Velma grabbed Daphne's hand, trying to provide some source of comfort. Daphne was crying again, her tears falling rapidly down her cheeks.
Once inside a small bare room with several chairs and a desk, Dr. Martin sat down and motioned for them to do the same.
Shaggy sat first, with Daphne and Velma settling down on either side of him.
There was a pause of silence as Dr. Martin brought out his laptop from under the desk. He took a deep breath.
"I – I am very sorry to tell you this . . . but Fred's injuries were too severe, and –
"NO!"
And Daphne fell out of her chair and to the floor, her arms wrapped around herself. She began to sob as the reality of it all sank in.
Velma knelt beside her, wrapping her arms around Daphne's trembling form.
Dr. Martin spoke again, his voice wavering. "We tried to resuscitate him, but –
"NO! NO, NO, NO!"
Daphne was now hitting the floor with her fists. Velma tried to hold her still, but it wasn't possible.
Shaggy was now on his knees, finally letting the tears fall. He grabbed hold of Daphne and brought her to him. She was still sobbing hysterically, knowing full well what the doctor was about to say.
Velma turned to face Dr. Martin. "Just tell us. Please."
Dr. Martin's training for discussing patient deaths pushed him – Fred was so young. He took a deep breath. "I'm so, so sorry. He – He passed away."
Velma saw the room spin about her. Her ears began to ring. She swayed on the spot.
Shaggy let out a strained sob as he held Daphne tighter.
Dr. Martin, knowing they needed time alone, left the room, tears flowing from his own eyes.
Fred was gone.
And nothing would ever be the same again.
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
The funeral was planned and scheduled quickly. Back in Coolsville, the word spread about Fred within a few days, and it was the hot topic of the week. Everyone wanted to know who the murderer was.
Shaggy picked up Scooby later that morning. In the days leading up to the funeral, he pretended that everything was okay. He couldn't tell Scooby what had happened, and he would keep it that way for as long as he could. He knew Scooby loved Fred, but he wasn't ready to explain everything that had happened, especially with Scooby's recent injuries. But Scooby was healing, and, to Shaggy, that was a positive in the sea of negatives.
Daphne returned to her parents' estate, hiding away in her room for days. Nobody could reach her except for Velma, who'd promised to sleep over with her after the funeral; she put in a leave for the first week of the semester. In the meantime, Velma would stay at a cheap hotel for the remainder of the days leading up to the funeral as to give Daphne some space.
Velma made many more attempts to contact her father. Texts. Calls. Even emails. But there was nothing. The police had been scouring the preserve for evidence, but nothing was found. The killer was still out there. She didn't talk about it with the others, but she was scared. Had the figure taken her father? Was he in imminent danger? Or was he –
But Velma couldn't think about that. She had to let herself process what had happened to Fred and all the other traumas and confusions from the past week.
But in the mess of grief, anger, sadness, fear, and all the emotions, Velma had one burning question in her mind.
Who killed Fred?
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Note: I just want to say a big thank you to everyone who has read, commented, followed, and favorited this story! It means so much, and I am happy to say we have finally reached the end of Part 2! I look forward to continuing this story, and I would love to hear what you all think each step of the way! :)