A/N: I had a really great, heart-wrenching story written out. Then my computer decided to delete the entire thing. So here's take two, and if it sucks, it is because I got frustrated.
Darkwing Duck, also known as Drake Mallard, stared blankly up at his ceiling. The caped crusader no longer resided in his tower atop of Audobon Bridge, but instead in a three-bedroom house smack in the middle of suburbia. A month ago, Darkwing would have never imagined leaving his fortress of solitude to live in such a mundane abode. The Darkwing Duck a month ago would have broken out in hives at the mere thought of domesticity, but then again, a month ago, Darkwing Duck wasn't a father.
As Darkwing Duck, he worked alone. It was a dangerous job that did not allow for any sentiment. His mild-mannered alter ego, Drake Mallard did not exist. Darkwing spent his nights chasing down petty thieves and crooks, sleeping once the morning sun started to peak over the bay. All Darkwing cared about was the next heist and the next headline. He lived and breathed the vigilante life. It was a lonely, but necessary existence. Everything changed when Taurus Bulba set his sights on the little orphan, Gosalyn.
Darkwing Duck had never planned on being a father, and yet somehow, the spirited little girl captured his heart. When Taurus Bulba ordered his condor to drop Gosalyn to her death, Darkwing Duck suddenly realized how empty his entire life was. Darkwing Duck was no one's "favorite person." No one would miss Darkwing Duck if he one day showed up on the street dead. Outside of fighting crime, Darkwing Duck had nothing to fight for. He had nothing urging him to be a better person, but for that little girl, so full of life and spirit, he wanted to try.
That day changed the duck's entire life. One day he was your everyday crime-fighter, beating bad guys bloody and delivering them straight to the St. Canard precinct. The only ones who ever needed Darkwing was perhaps the cops, and they sure ever asked for his help. Suddenly, Darkwing had a nine-year old on his hands. She needed clothes, food, education, and most importantly, love. Drake had no idea how to bestow the affection onto Gosalyn that she deserved.
Drake Mallard had no idea what the normal parenting protocol was. Was it normal to want to hug your daughter before bed? Was it normal to want to ruffle her hair when she did something naughty, but inexplicably cute (such as when she somehow shrunk his cape to the size of a tea towel)? Drake would find himself reaching out for his daughter without realizing it, not sure if he made a mistake or not.
As Darkwing Duck, he never had to worry about affection. There was no room for feelings when taking down a dastardly deviant dumb enough to find their way into Darkwing's clutches. Yet as Drake Mallard, he had a life depending on him to be a good parent. Gosalyn was depending on Drake for comfort, and what did a crime-fighter know about that? Gosalyn would always look upon him with adoring green eyes, and he just waited on baited breath for those eyes to turn on him in hatred. Every day, Drake Mallard was terrified that Gosalyn would pack up and go with Launchpad, leaving Darkwing alone.
Darkwing Duck might have never wanted to be a father, but as Drake Mallard, he could not imagine a life any better. Drake enjoyed all the little pink socks that littered his laundry. He loved attempting a new recipe for his daughter to try out (and then he loved calling for take-out once it inevitably burned). He loved kissing Gosalyn's boo-boos, and chastising her for getting into another fight. Drake knew, deep in his heart, that if Gosalyn ever asked him to put Darkwing Duck to rest, he would hang up cape for good.
Drake's favorite part of the day was the moment when he walked through the front door, and Gosalyn would call out his name (along with Launchpad's annoying nickname for the daring duck). The duck never imagined he would prefer the name "Drake" to "Darkwing," but hearing that name escape from Gosalyn's beak filled Drake with an unexplainable warmth. A warmth that he would try his hardest not to lose. Drake might not deserve Gosalyn, and he might not be the best parent in the world, but he would try to be until he breathed his last breath.
On the other side of the house, another member of the family was without sleep. Ever since her grandfather was ruthlessly murdered by Taurus Bulba's goons, Gosalyn's dreams were plagued with nightmares. She could hear her grandfather's screams reaching out for her, trying to grab a hold of the little girl. His screams joined those of her parents, until the sick cacophony of terror split Gosalyn open, leaving her for the taking.
Admittedly, Gosalyn could hardly remember her parents. She was quite young when they died, but the thought of her parents leave her with vague, warm memories, and a deep yearning. A yearning that could never quite be filled by her grandfather. She loved her grandfather dearly, and he raised her in a house full of happiness and love, but he had already been a parent, and had run through the entire tape. Gosalyn was nothing more than a re-run.
Gosalyn felt so guilty when those thoughts flittered across her mind. During the night, her grandfather haunts her dreams. His eyes, so like hers, staring straight at the little girl, and screaming, "Why wasn't I enough? Don't you love me?" Of course I love you, Gosalyn tries to reply, but the words are stolen from her breath, until she is choking, gasping and wheezing, trying to find a single wisp of air.
Gosalyn did truly love her grandfather. He was the only one to truly love and appreciate her, even her precociousness. It seemed as if he would be the only one, as time and time again, she was passed over for a more subdued child. Every time a prospective parent passed over the little duckling, she could hear her grandfather's voice ringing in her ear, "Why didn't you love me? Why didn't you love me?" Gosalyn wanted to scream until her voice grew hoarse, but she knew that wouldn't bring back her grandfather. Gosalyn repeatedly told herself that her grandfather would want her to be happy, to show off that famous "spirit" of hers. There were times she could almost ignore the treacherous voice, but then night would fall, and shadows would creep in through the window and into her soul.
Everything changed when she was rescued by Darkwing Duck. He didn't just like her in spite of her "spirit," but like her for it. For once, the voices were silenced, drowned out by Darkwing's crooning lullaby. The moment she invited herself into his secret hide-out, she had unknowingly let him do the same to her heart. Gosalyn let herself fantasize about Darkwing Duck letting her stay in his bridge hide-out, growing up with him, and perhaps one day training to fight beside him. All of those dreams were crushed when she watched the tower explode, Darkwing Duck still on top, facing off with Taurus Bulba.
The voices began to creep back in. The voices of her parents and her grandparents, casting doubt into the young duckling. Then Drake Mallard hobbled his way into the orphanage, and Gosalyn never looked back. During the day, in the presence of her new adopted father, everything was perfect. Her new father was a super hero, and he could keep all the darkness away. It was only at night, when she was alone in her quiet bedroom, could they sneak back into her consciousness.
For the first time in a month, Darkwing Duck was taking a "night off," and was sleeping as Drake Mallard down the hall. She wanted more than anything to go to him, but even now, the fear of being cast aside simmered beneath her feathers. Perhaps if she just peeked in on him, reassuring herself that he was still there, protecting her, the nightmares would settle, and she would be able to sleep. Slipping from her bed, Gosalyn began to sneak down the hall.
Down the hall, Drake Mallard continued to stare at the blank ceiling, sleep alluding the duck. Suddenly, he heard his door creak open. What foolish fiend dare be traipsing through his house? The numbskull ne'er-do-well had no idea they had decided to invade the house of one Darkwing Duck. Even on his night off, his mind was still as sharp as a tack, reading to pounce on whatever criminal dare crawl through his corridors.
Grabbing the nearest object (which just so happened to be a pillow), Darkwing Duck armed himself against whatever villain that was trying to make their way into his bedroom. Hurling the pillow with all of his might, Darkwing took down the criminal, the person in question only letting out a soft, "Oof."
"Haha!" Drake cried out, standing heroically on top of his matress, "You thought you could break into some unsuspecting man's house, but I bet you never thought you would come across – Gosalyn?" Darkwing Duck halted in his postulating. His daughter stood before him, holding his pillow, and wearing an unimpressed look across her face.
"A pillow? That's how you plan on taking on crime?" Gosalyn drawled out.
"Well, at the time, it was the closest object at hand," Drake stuttered out, trying to save face, before his mind snapped back to focus on the matter at hand. "Never mind that! Why are you out of bed, missy?"
Gosalyn's defiant stance immediately melted as the duckling stared down at her webbed-feet, shuffling sheepishly. "I thought I heard a robber."
"Try again, little miss."
Gosalyn yanked at her ever-present pigtails, eyes darting to the door, secretly wondering if she could escape from this conversation. With her adoptive father still posing heroically on his bed, she saw no end in sight. "I had a nightmare."
Darkwing Duck's face immediately softened, turning him into Drake Mallard, the duck Gosalyn idolized even more than his vigilante self. He laid back in his bed, and lifted one end of the comforter. "Well, hop on in."
Without hesitating, Gosalyn immediately slipped into the bed next to Drake, snuggling up against his side. This was new territory for the two of them, but it felt right. Drake slipped his arm around his daughter, tickling her side lightly to get her to let out a small giggle. Drake knew he couldn't take it too far, after all, Gosalyn knew all of his ticklish spots, too.
"Do you want to tell me what your nightmare was about, Gos?"
Gos shook her head so fast, that Drake was worried that she would shake her brains loose. Before Drake could check on her, Gosalyn buried herself further into Drake, until her face was pressed into his chest. Gosalyn inhaled heavily through her nose, breathing in the scent that screamed "home." There was nothing more right in the world than this moment right here.
"I miss my grandfather. My parents, too."
Drake stiffened at the confession, afraid of what Gosalyn might say next. Drake knew he wasn't biologically her father, but the moment he signed the final adoption paper, Drake could not help but think of Gosalyn as anything other than his daughter. Drake couldn't love her anymore if he had sired her himself. Sometimes, Drake would forget that Gosalyn had a whole life and people she loved before Drake.
"I miss them a lot," Gosalyn continued, unaware of Drake's distress, "but I think they would be happy for me. Happy that I have found you." Gosalyn paused to stare up at Drake, tears swimming in her bright green eyes. "Don't you?"
"Oh, Gosalyn," Drake wrapped his daughter into a hug, his hand cupping the back of her head. "I know they would be. Let me let you in on a little secret, Gosy-Girl. I have never been happier in my entire life. You complete me, little girl."
"I love you," Gosalyn paused, rolling an unused word around her mouth. "Dad."
Drake's eyes began to well up, and it was impossible to stop. This was the first time Gosalyn had called him "Dad." He was a dad! Not just any dad – Gosalyn's dad. Suddenly all the fears that had been building up for the past month washed away, just from one simple word. It was as if the little girl had cast a spell on Drake, and he was hopeless to stop it.
"I love you too, Litte Girl Blue." The father and daughter drifted to sleep, minds at ease, and dreams full of love.