This was comfort; covered head to toe, curled up beneath fresh sheets and snuggled against a soft pillow in his own room, and all before three a.m. No blinding city lights, no noxious bike fumes, no low flying planes, no drafty Tower rooms, just a quiet house, the sweet smell of fabric softener -Mountain Fresh to be exact- and the minute rapping of tree branches on the side of the house.
He tugged his arms free of his self made cocoon to hug his pillow around his head. Dimly he wondered why he had ever preferred the Tower bedroom, if you could call it a room, to this snug little corner of the universe known as the suburbs.
The suburbs was one thing he wished he had rediscovered sooner. Sure after high school he abandoned his childhood home in a neighborhood similar to this one for life in the city and college, running from his parents more than the place itself. Of course, it took him nearly ten years and a daughter to realize that.
He cracked his eyes, frowning mildly at the cobalt shadows on the wall. He wasn't his dad, and his daughter had no mother to mess up her life.
A small pang of guilt edged its way between his heart and left lung. That wasn't fair of him. Not all women were like his mother, and he was sure whoever he married would be the opposite of his mom.
A small, knowing smile graced his face. Morgana was definitely above and beyond the exact opposite of his mother. In fact, he was fairly certain his mother's perfectly swept, tartan waves would have turned stark white and stood on end if she had just glimpsed the beautiful sorceress in passing.
He had to chuckle at that, turning farther into the recesses of his bedding.
Abruptly, he stopped, feeling a little ill at ease. His mother's gentle, flowing voice flooded into his consciousness as he imagined her reaction to Morgana.
Of course, she would be absolutely beside herself with self righteous indignation, her light green eyes pools of disgust. Then she would set about filling his head with every Bible verse, sermon, and religious note she could find on how dating, God forbid marrying, a witch would land him in hell. He figured the only acceptable woman for him in the eyes of his strict mother was a nun, but that she would condemn him for that too, disregarding the fact she didn't even agree with Catholic beliefs.
He clamped his eyes as tightly as he could and groaned wearily. This was why he disliked his mother. All the crap she forced him to assimilate as a kid always ended up sabotaging the good things in his life. Morgana being the big one.
He was head over heels for the enchantress, and had no problem envisioning spending the rest of his nights with her, but that's as far as it went. He couldn't see her living in the suburbs next to decent, albeit annoying, people like the Muddlefoots. He couldn't see her out in the sun to attend one of Gosalyn's softball games. He sure as heck couldn't see her driving his station wagon anywhere (well, okay he didn't want to be seen driving it either, but he had just bought a house so he couldn't be too picky) He could see her trying to adjust to suburban life, but only because he wanted her to. In fact, the only thing about his life he could see her in was motherhood, and that was because she was a gentle, patient, and warm person topped off with beauty and intelligence; a kid could be so lucky to have her for a mother. Gosalyn could be so lucky, as would he.
Drake smiled, then flatly scowled. A very big "but . . ." was drilling its way through his head.
Morgana would want to teach Gosalyn everything she knew, and she would take great pride in doing so even if Gos couldn't do most of it, and the little girl would be eager to learn, which is where the majority of the sabotage lay. He had a problem with it.
No one knew he had an issue about Gosalyn's obvious interest in Morgana's world, not like this. Although, Morgana was careful about what she told his daughter, especially after a certain idea that had been planted in her head at one point, it still rubbed him wrong. Gosalyn was not a witch. Fact of life. Because of that, he didn't want her head full of information she could never utilize and sent to hell because of it.
Drake Mallard slammed his thought process into a cement wall.
Had he really just thought that?
He couldn't believe himself and felt like retching because of it. His daughter and Morgana, were free to be and do as they chose. He would never ever love them any less because of their decisions in life.
Man, he disliked his mother.
A mother.
Another tiny crease appeared on his brow.
Did Gosalyn even want a mother? He wasn't entirely sure, but was fairly certain the answer was yes, even if she were to say no.
Drake moaned pitifully into his pillow. Once again, his over analytical brain was keeping him awake, but there was nothing he could do about that except wait for gravity to have its way with his eyelids and force him asleep. Which he figured the sandman wouldn't be long in coming, making himself depressed always aided in making him sleepy as he got too tired of thinking to want to stay awake. It would have worked too, only a small noise reached his ears causing him to sit up in bed fully alert.
"Gosalyn?" He asked into the darkness, wondering if she was out in the hall, which at two thirty in the morning she hadn't better be. Sensing the possibility of another one of her late night zombie hunts, Drake climbed out of bed and threw his door open.
Nothing.
The hall was as dark and empty as it had been when he went to bed, leaving him a little stumped. He knew he had heard something and it couldn't have been Launchpad, who had left earlier that afternoon for a graduation party in Duckburg, so that left Gosalyn.
Drake scolded himself. He probably dreamt he heard the noise. Yes, that was it. Dreaming. Dreaming about dreaming that is, for he definitely heard it again seconds before closing his door, bringing his curiosity up a notch. With his head cocked and blue eyes narrowed into keen slits, eyeing every inch of the hall, he focused on straining his ears to pick up the sound and trace its source.
There. The sound was coming from down the hall on the left, closer to the stairs, closer to Gosalyn's room. It stopped and Drake just stood in the doorway puzzled. He wasn't afraid by any means, yet he couldn't identify the sound. He couldn't remember ever hearing anything like it, leading him to think that maybe Gos had smuggled a very unlikely pet into her room. He raised an eyebrow as if to say "we'll see about that", walked decidedly to his daughter's room and peeked in.
Everything was normal. Debris from a recent hurricane still littered the floor. Sports gear, old soda cans, a few scattered comic books protruding at odd angles, all slightly visible under and around other larger items. Minding his step, Drake stealthily made his way to his daughter's bedside reasserting he only meant to check on her, and anything she may be harboring.
Drake lifted the end of her blankets where he thought her head to be and let loose a scream of unfiltered, mindless shock. Where his nine year old daughter should have been was a tiny, roughly six month old baby girl with red fuzz for hair. With an "eep" and a thud, Drake Mallard hit the floor.
Okay, I'm a little mean as this is just a teaser for a larger story that started out as a one shot but once again evolved into something more. Hit me up and tell me what you think. Oh, and the title may be subject to change.
