Striking Out
*** please note that this story is not about ducks. In my odd little universe, there exists a place that is parallel to the Disney-verse, where all names remain the same, but people are… well… people. Not ducks. The people eat ducks, and it's not cannibalism. Got that? No ducks. No geese, no talking animals of any kind, aside from the occasional talking squirrel. ***
"I'm disappointed in you, Gosalyn."
The man sounded miserable, but whether it was Drake Mallard being miserable over the fact that his daughter was a murderer, or the Darkwing being miserable over the bad press that Quiverwing's actions would shine back on him, she couldn't tell. Not being able to tell what he cared about the most – that hurt more than his words.
Her eyes traced over the furnishings of the living room. Nothing had changed in the eleven or so years since she'd been adopted by Drake – the picture she had painted in third grade for a contest at the art museum, gruesome though it was with its image of Jurassic carnage, still hung on the wall over the TV. The same ugly furniture, the same, abused coffee table. And almost like a shrine to a childhood she had 'grown out of,' her video game system was neatly stored in the cubby under the TV.
Gosalyn inhaled softly, then began, for the tenth time since she'd gotten home, "Dad –"
Drake cut her off for the tenth time. This time, it wasn't with another lecture. "Don't, Gosalyn. Don't make it worse by lying again… Just go to your room."
Swallowing, her eyes moved to the other man in the room – the hulking form of Launchpad that stood in the kitchen doorway, still wearing the oven mittens he'd had on when she'd come in. LP was trying to look inconspicuous. When she looked at him, he looked at the floor.
"Fine. I'll go to my room," she said, lowering her head so that her hair fell to cover the rebellious scowl.
She had gotten halfway upstairs, when her father's voice called after her, probably for the first time in eleven years, "And Gosalyn? Stay in your room."
Pausing on the steps, she leaned over the banister and looked down at him. "I'm not nine years old anymore, Dad," she said quietly, then continued up the stairs. She didn't bother to slam her door. She hadn't slammed her door in several years, she rather thought. It was a sign of the maturity she had been trying so hard for.
Downstairs, the front door slammed. She heard the sound of Drake's car starting and pulling away. Flopping down on her bed, she stared up at her ceiling. It had been a mistake, she realized, to insist on trying to prove to him that Taurus Bulba was still alive. If he hadn't believed it nine years ago, why the heck would he believe it now? And with an ambiguous body suddenly turning up in the explosion – she had no evidence on her side, other than that she'd seen and spoken to Bulba last night, before he tried to kill her.
Closing her eyes, she let her thoughts drift away from the current predicament, back twelve years, to her grandfather's laboratory. He'd been building the Ramrod, something he hoped would revolutionize transportation, and end the need for combustion fuels. She'd gotten home from school, rushed down to Professor Waddlemeier's lab, unable to wait to tell him what she'd done that day. Instead of sliding down the banister into the basement to find a warm mug of cocoa, she'd found a cold body. His. It had looked like an accident, electrical shock. She'd called the police, the fire department, the hospital, and been attempting to get the F.B.I. on the phone, when the first squad car had shown up. She hadn't cried. She'd just gone completely numb as they took the phone out of her hands and inspected the body. And 'woken up' several days later, in the orphanage.
It didn't dawn on her for some time that the Ramrod hadn't been in the basement. But it wasn't until Hammerhead Hannigan showed up at the orphanage to visit her, and then tried to kidnap her, that the truth really fell into place. Her grandfather had been murdered, all because he had made something useful. That was the moment she'd realized she was truly alone. Then things changed. The Darkwing rescued her, and took her to his hideout where she'd be safe till he'd defeated Bulba – which he did, nearly getting himself killed in the process. For the week after she thought she'd witnessed the Darkwing's death in the explosion, she'd done what she was doing now. Lay on her bed in the orphanage, staring at the ceiling, and contemplating how she was going to be alone for the rest of her life.
Back then, it had been Drake Mallard's appearance that had drawn her out of her miserably trance. Now, it was the sound of a grapple line hooking to her windowsill. She turned her eyes, watching the young man slip through the window a few moments later.
"Gosalyn…?"
"Go home, Honker, before Dad decides you're an accessory to murder."
"Things didn't go well I take it?"
"Why is it no one can tell the difference between when I'm lying, and when I'm not?"
Honker shrugged, pushing his glasses up his disfigured nose a little, then spoke, trying to keep his nasal, humming voice in a light tone. "When you're happy, your eyes sparkle. When you're teasing, they glitter. When you're lying, they glimmer. What was it you kept telling me when you tried to teach me how to lie? Look them in the eyes, and don't try and sound innocent…"
"Honker… Stop being so devoted. It's not that I don't appreciate it, it's just…"
"Tell me what really happened, Gosalyn."
"You won't believe me, either. You said so before-"
"I said that I could find no kind of evidence that suggested FOWL. had managed to create another Bulba clone after Steel inadvertently destroyed the first one. That wasn't to say it couldn't be done."
"But the body? There was no one on that roof but myself and Bulba… The news would have reported it if the body had been some kind of android…"
"FOWL has killed people before. So has Bulba. It could have easily been planted to incriminate you."
"Honker-"
"H."
"What?"
"I've been thinking… Pretending to be the Arrow Kid was fine when I was… a kid… But I've outgrown it. And if I'm going to be your sidekick again, I'll need a name. Its not a flashy name, or anything, but – I'm just a geek. So… H."
"I don't need a sidekick. Darkwing probably went out to buy lumber to board me into my room for the next ninety years," she muttered, sitting up.
There was another silence, then Honker continued, "I took the liberty of hacking into your bank account, as well as mine, and transferring the money to an European account. Logically, once we disappear, Darkwing will have your account frozen. I also retrieved your spare gear from the Tower, and packed some provisions. I lent Jeffrey Hastings my car – really it was a cover so I could borrow Todd Miller's car."
Gosalyn ceased brooding, and sat up, staring at the man. "What'd you go and do a crazy thing like that for?"
"You were planning on running away."
Gosalyn's surprised look shifted to shady glower. "… Why would I do that?"
"Because you can't prove your innocence if you get thrown in jail, or 'grounded for life'. And you're no good at planning, when it comes down to it. So I'm going with you."
"Honker. No. It's bad enough I've become a felon… you actually have a normal life now." Standing, she moved to her closet, and started tossing a few pieces of piratical clothing onto the bed. She turned around to find him folding them, and placing them in her duffle bag. "Go home, Honker. I'm not kidding."
"I'm not going home. Look at it this way. Eleven years worth of telling me not to let people push me around has finally paid off. Besides. If you're going to prove anything-"
"I'll need a hacker, and probably a lot more. Fine. Fine…" she sighed, and took the duffel from him, adding a few things from her drawers before zipping it shut. She glanced around her room, then moved to the window, dropping the bag to the ground. "Go on, Honker… I'll be down in a minute."
Looking at her a moment, the young man nodded, then disappeared out the window.
Gosalyn's violet eyes scanned the room once more. This was goodbye, at least for a while. Moving to her desk, she riffled through the mess of papers till she found a blank one. Picking up a pen, she wrote, 'I was telling the truth.' Dropping the note on the bed, she grabbed her hockey gear, and slipped out the window to join H on the ground.
"All set?" Honker asked, picking up her duffel.
Looking at him, she found it within her to sincere smile. "The truth is out there. Let's go find it… H."