Author's Note: This story is indeed a Darkwing Duck fanfic, though he doesn't make an appearance. Angela and Milly are fancharacters created by myself and fellow fanfic author Icequeenkitty. Milly (Mildred Mallard), is Icequeenkitty's and is Morgana and Drake's daughter. Angela is mine, and is from the Negaverse and is Negana and Negaducks daughter. However, she was raised by the Friendly Four as her mother wishes her dead. Through various tragic events she's sent to Darkwing's universe and is entrusted to his care since she technically is his "daughter." Needless to say, Angela is having issues adapting to a new family and a backwards universe.
"Say it."
"No." And I'm thrown through a wall. She's powerful, and it hurts, but I'm no push over, take after my daddy I guess. I barely got my shield up. Grandpa Moloculo would have turned me into processed toad manure for not being ready, Mommy too. She's leering over me now, eyes aflame and ancient looking as I try to pick myself up.
"Say it," She growls.
Darn it! NOW I'm crying! Tears come to me so easily. Sensitive and in tune, is what mom says. I could do without being so "in tune" and "sensitive" especially while I'm facing Angela.
"No." I'm proud to note that my voice is pretty strong and defiant, no shakes. People call me a cutie, a sweetheart, adorable, lovely, I think I even got a delicate once, but one thing most people miss about me, unless they're family, is that I'm stubborn.
I brace myself as Angela raises her hands again, her face livid almost beyond recognition. Three counter attacks jump to mind but I decided a long time ago, when this happened the first time, I wouldn't fight back. Oh does it hurt when I start to go into convulsions, but Angela isn't letting up. She never does.
" SAY IT! " She screams, almost desperate, pleading if you strip the volume away.
But, I can't. I can't say it. Because; I don't see her that way. I'll never see her that way; not even now as she has me in the binds of a very complex curse and I can barely recall my own name. Not even then when we first met…
She does this whenever I get "too close." Was it just yesterday that we had the sleepover? And, we were the sisters we were meant to be. Angela was the young woman she was meant to be. We were the family that we were meant to be, before… before crazy psycho paths took fate and destiny into their own hands! We'd been eating brownies and ice cream, doing each others hair (despite her protests), gossiping about the latest celebrities in Transylvania, talking about her upcoming graduation from grad-school. I was so proud; she'd covered a lot of ground in seven years with us. Even grandpa was impressed. I caught him bragging about his brilliant grandchildren…
And then, just before the night was over, I watched her stiffen and blink, like she'd just woken from a very disturbing dream. When she looked at me, her eyes were cold and glassy, like the first day she came to stay with us. And I knew, I just knew a reality check was coming. That's what Angela calls this, a reality check to remind us both of what she really is or perhaps of what she i thinks /i she really is.
Her face is dangerously close to mine and I can see mommy in her features, and an old nightmare comes to mind… but there is so much of daddy in her presence and demeanor that it almost gets lost. Lots of things get lost on her, like her kindness and her gentleness. They're hidden so well, it's like they don't exist.
"Say it," she demands in a fierce whisper.
In the stillness and the after haze of pain, amazingly, I could think and I think, I could finally i see /i . I could see her fear. Fear for her life, for mine, and for those she's slowly dared to call family again. But most of all, I see the fear she has of herself and what she is capable of doing.
All the magical academies were in awe of her. So much power for one so young! And to think she'll only grow stronger! Everyone was clamoring to teach her, to have the honor to say they taught and refined the most powerful ghoul (ahem! Half ghoul!) of the twenty first century! What they should have known was that the more power present, the more control needed, and the more patience needed. At the time, Angela was short on both. She was confused, in mourning, angry, and looking for revenge. A lot happened during those years when she did lose control and not only did it hurt those around her, but it almost consumed her. Sometimes when I look at her I see more shadow than light and it scares me, but then I remind myself she's my sister and if she needs more light, I'll offer mine.
Angela wants me to understand that she's capable of loosing control at anytime of her power, that I could easily be the next body lying at her feet as a by-product of her temper or a magical surge. Any of us could be. I also know why she's been working so hard at harnessing her power. I know she seeks blood. But I won't say it. I won't say she's my enemy. And I won't let her make herself my enemy.
The silence stretches thin to almost snapping. Her blue eyes, so much like daddy's, are blazing and I reach up and taker her hand.
"I understand." My voice comes out soft but firm and she falters. "I understand what you're afraid of and it's okay. I know what you've done and I know what you plan to do, but that doesn't make you my enemy. You're my sister, Angie. You're my best friend and I trust you. And I love you."
She looks like I just slapped her. The shock is gone and her face hardens and she growls, "Then you are a fool!"
But I can tell; something I've said leaves her questioning, uncertain. I'm released from her spell and I'm pulled into a hard hug. Hard, because nothing about Angela is soft.
"You are a fool," she says again voice thick as though preparing to cry, "But, a brave fool, Mildred Mallard."
It's the closest thing to an apology I'm going to get, and that's okay with me.
I can't help it, I grin, "Bravery only comes in the form of a fool; everyone else is too smart to take the job!"
She lets out a low laugh, like velvet and pulls away ruffling my hair as though I'm seven again. "I'll make a note to tell Dra-, dad."
She still struggles with that, calling Daddy, dad. Her eyes are dry, just as I suspected. I've never seen her cry, I don't expect I ever will. Her face has an air of determination but I see the shadows of sorrow and hate dancing around her, waiting to lay their claim. The determination melts to sadness and she retreats to the solitude of her thoughts as she often does. It's like I'm not even there, like she's forgotten me and my stomach clenches because I know who she's thinking of. She still wakes up screaming in the night for them. She screams that she's sorry, that's she so very sorry. She screams how much she misses them. She screams vengeance and sometimes she just screams. Only Daddy can go to her when she's like that. I think she screams because she can't bring herself to cry.
I find myself wondering as I stare at her, if I'm a little jealous. I wonder if Angela could ever bring herself to love us as much as she does them. What little childishness that I have left says it's just a matter of time. The ever dominating grown up part says it's only a matter of time before she leaves to seek her vengeance or her death. I take her hand even though she's a universe away and I hold tight.