scooby-doo

Daphne didn’t like sleeping in cars because of the vulnerability, of the feeling that her life was entirely in someone else’s hands. She didn’t like how something could happen to her and she wouldn’t know about it until she woke up— if she woke up. She didn’t like missing what people were saying, the statements shared in whispers that were definitely about her, weren’t they?

Fred didn’t like sleeping in cars because of the missed inspiration for traps. Flora and fauna, concrete jungles and nature cities, watching them interact fueled his brain and the gears constantly turning in it. He didn’t like missing a single thing, though he wasn’t sure anymore if that was because of his love of traps or his long-standing position as the designated driver.

Velma didn’t like sleeping in cars because of the notes and books she couldn’t read. She didn’t like not being able to pour over the gang’s notes on the latest mystery, hated feeling unprepared for a culprit they’d never seen before. She didn’t like sitting with the unease of the unknown and the knowledge that her friends’ very lives might be in her hands.

Shaggy didn’t like sleeping in cars because of the restaurants they always passed. He didn’t like missing a meal, and then meals between meals, and then the snacks between those meals. He didn’t like that his friends often got so caught up in solving the mystery that they forgot to eat—especially bad on Daphne’s part, taking her different food allergies and intolerances into account—and he had to be the one to make them stop and rest.

Scooby didn’t like sleeping in cars because of the intense emotions that were buried deep down in his people. He didn’t like being unable to relieve them of some of that pressure, of the inner turmoil troubling each of them, by shoving his head into their lap. He didn’t like waking up to find someone wiping away tears, curled into themself in the front and unwilling to speak.

But they liked sleeping in the Mystery Machine.

Because Daphne knew that she was safe in her friends’ hands and no harm would come to her. Because Fred knew that someone would write down the most important things they saw for trap inspiration later. Because Velma knew that someone else was reading the notes she took to prepare them for the mystery. Because Shaggy knew they had enough food in the Mystery Machine to feed his friends. Because Scooby knew that here in their big colorful van, they felt at home.

They liked sleeping in the back, where Scooby and Shaggy usually sat during trips, and where a mattress had long ago been tossed in. They liked sleeping curled into one another, Daphne holding Velma, and Fred holding all of them, with Scooby draped overtop. They liked sleeping on rainy nights, and the sound of rain against the Mystery Machine’s roof gently lulling them to sleep.

And they liked waking up in the morning safe and sound and with the ones they cared for most. They liked waking up in their home.

Daphne’s footsteps rang out against the concrete sidewalk. It was chilly, and she pulled her jacket closer. What she wasn’t expecting was for someone to wrap an arm around her torso and clamp a hand over her mouth. She tried to scream, tried to stomp on the assaulter’s foot. She… she had to get away! If she didn’t, she would be kidnapped again, and this time, the gang wouldn’t know who took her!

She had to… She had to… She— She—

She woke up screaming and sobbing. She tried to stifle her cries, shaking like a leaf in the wind. Her tears welled in her eyes, large and choking. She could still feel them. She could still feel the hands stealing her away from her friends and into the darkness. And then entered Velma.

“Daphne! What’s wrong? I heard screaming!”

“Vuh-Vuh-Velma!”

Velma rushed to the bed. Daphne pulled her into a hug and sobbed into her shoulder. The shorter girl was taken aback. She knew Daphne must have been burying something, she was always quiet about the mysteries she got kidnapped during, but she had never seen the other girl cry like this.

“Daph, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

“I-I… So-Someone was trying to k-kidnap me!”

“Jinkies! Right here, in your bedroom? Is someone in our house?!”

“N-No! No one’s here. I… I had a nightmare.”

“Oh, Daph…” Velma sighed and pulled back. “Do you want to talk about it? Maybe over some tea?”

“Y-Yeah, I… I think I do.”

Velma nodded and eased her into a standing position. She was still trembling, and she held onto Velma with a vice-like grip. Velma would normally protest such an intense hold, but Daphne was clearly not okay. Just a quick trip down the steps, and Velma seated Daphne on the couch. She draped a blanket over her shoulders and moved to the kitchen to make their tea. Soon she returned and set one steaming cup in front of Daphne. She sat next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“Daph, what happened in your nightmare?” Velma gently probed.

“I was walking, and… and I don’t know where I was but I was walking… somewhere. And then someone… someone…” Daphne brought a hand up to her mouth, stifling an all new surge of sobs.

“You don’t have to say any more, I know what happens next.” Velma leaned into Daphne, squeezing her shoulder. “But…” She thought for a moment. “Daph, how often do you… have these nightmares?”

“I… I don’t know. I had one last week, on Monday, I think, and then one two weeks before that…”

Velma rolled her eyes up to the ceiling so she could think. Last Monday they caught the Grim Reaper look-alike, and two weeks before that they caught the “ghost” of a famous soccer player. Both mysteries had been absent of Daphne for a little too long. Both mysteries had included her kidnapping.

“Daph… from what you told me, you seem to have these nightmares after every mystery where… you know…”

“Yeah, that… that would m-make sense, huh?” Daphne laughed—short and pained. “I get kidnapped, I have a nightmare about it, I bury it so far in my soul that I forget about it, and repeat. It’s… It’s a sickening loop. I must’ve done something to deserve it. Is… Is it because I’m a bad person? I… I must be, right, Velma?”

“Daphne Anne Blake, you are not a bad person!” Velma, frankly, was shocked that Daphne would even suggest such a thing. “You’re just traumatized. Anybody would be if they were kidnapped as often as you are… unfortunately. But you always come out fine—“

“Fine? Fine? Velma, I’m anything but fine!” Daphne stood up, abandoning the blanket on the couch. She turned to her friend, and her tears threatened to spill over again. “Every time. Every time it’s always me! Every time Fred plants me as live bait, I end up being kidnapped! It’s never when Shaggy and Scooby are the bait! Only me! And, God, Velma, fuck! It happens so often, but it never stops being terrifying! Because what if this is the time the monster’s had too much? What if this is the time the monster’s not going to stick me somewhere or tie me up? What if this is the time the disgusting person hiding in the horrifying monster suit decides that they don’t want any witnesses and they kill me?!” She took a sharp breath. She could tell her face was red from the heat in her ears. There were tears rolling down her face, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. “And don’t get me started on you guys! You think I don’t see your faces, when you finally decide you want to come find me? You think I don’t see how you look content to just be investigating, and then get happy when you notice I’m there too? Like, ‘Oh, hey, I found a clue! Oh look, there’s Daphne! Score, two for one!’ And every time it takes you longer to find me! I count, you know. I count the minutes, or hours, or literal days—“ Velma winced at the memory of that mystery. “—it takes you to find me! Did you know that the fastest you ever found me was still over six hours after I got kidnapped?! And when you do find me, and you’re all happy for about ten minutes and then get over it like it never happened, it kills me inside! It’s like you guys don’t even care! What, am I not good enough for you? Are you waiting for the mystery where you can coincidentally get ‘too wrapped up’ in investigating to come look for me, and I end up never being found? Is that it, Velma? Is that fucking it?” By the time she finished talking, she was seething.

Velma sat in shocked silence for a moment. She tried to process everything Daphne had said as quickly as possible. Did… did she really think they didn’t care about her? How long had Daphne felt this way? How long had this been stewing in her heart?

“Daphne…” Velma was at a loss for words.

“Oh, I see how it is. You can’t even defend yourself. Fine!”

Daphne stormed past the couch. Velma snapped back to her senses and lunged for her friend’s wrist. She grabbed it, and she pulled Daphne back over. The latter said nothing, instead staring down at Velma as if her glare could turn the girl to stone.

“I… fuck, Daph, of course we care about you! You’re our best friend! It’s terrifying for us, too, every time you get kidnapped! And we always blame ourselves! If Shaggy and Scooby had run a little faster, if Fred’s trap sprang a little sooner, if I had just a little more time to look for clues, then maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t have been kidnapped! And it takes us so long to find you because we don’t know where they end up taking you! Half the time is spent pinpointing where you are, and the other half is spent searching for clues that could lead us to where you are! And… God, the crying. Do you know how many times Fred’s almost crashed the Mystery Machine because he couldn’t see the road through his tears? Way too many times I had to lunge across him and grab a hold of the wheel!” Velma stood up, keeping her stare fixed on Daphne’s. “But we never spend long talking about it when we find you because we don’t want to upset you. We had no idea you felt like this, Daph. All you had to do was tell us…” Velma sighed. “We’ll always come looking for you. We wouldn’t be the Mystery Gang without our loveable fashionista.”

“Velma… I…” For the third—fourth?—time that night, Daphne shed new tears. “I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have ye-yelled at you!”

“No, Daph… shit, you were the one who needed to talk about it. I’m glad you were able to get it all off your chest.” She pulled her friend into another hug. “I’m always open to talk, you know. I won’t tell the boys.”

“Thank you, Velma.” Daphne sniffed. “Oh no, our tea’s getting cold…”

“Eh, I wasn’t in much of a tea mood anyway. How about we make breakfast?”

“At four in the morning?”

“Sure, why not? Maybe we’ll get a jumpstart on a mystery then.” Velma pulled away, smiling. “And this time, we’ll leave the kidnapping part out.”