The placement of the portal in each universe was the wild card Gosalyn always had to figure out first; seeing where she ended up set the tone for the rest of her time in that world.
Most of the portal doors resided on the outskirts of Duckburg. Like in her own universe, or in the Negaverse.
In this universe, set in the early 1900s, Duckburg existed only as a province name. A small location on a much larger map.
St. Canard was similar; a small town sheltered by the countryside.
And a small abandoned cottage in the woods with ivy creeping up the sides was the portal location.
Gosalyn had been able to use the cottage to her advantage, keeping her time specific clothing tucked away in the dusty wardrobes. She'd managed to scrounge up some garment bags to keep everything sealed away because the Mallards in this universe were wealthy.
English Upperclass wealthy.
Owned a fully staffed estate and the village nearby wealthy.
Having the daughter of the house show up in dusty moth-eaten clothes was simply not an option.
Glancing out through the window of the abandoned cottage, Gosalyn tied a lilac ribbon in her hair, securing her long locks in a low ponytail. She'd never gotten the hang of styling hair. If she ended up staying for dinner, she'd need to have Clovis, the maid who looked after Lady Gosalyn — her counterpart in this universe — style it. But for now, the low loose style would do.
Seeing no one strolling through the woods, Gosalyn stepped outside and began walking purposefully through the trees toward the Mallard estate. Crossing over the perfectly manicured lawns of Avian Abbey, she kept her eyes peeled for anyone, an excuse at the ready and wary of seeing her double.
None of the gardeners seemed to be out, or at least not on this part of the estate. None of the other servants or family members were outside, either, so Gosalyn was able to walk all the way up to the doors without being observed.
She didn't bother calling for a servant as she walked through the front door; she hadn't put on a coat, hat, or gloves, and if anyone caught her coming in from outside in that state of undress, they'd ask questions. And she couldn't very well claim to have forgotten them; Lady Gosalyn would never do such a thing.
Before heading upstairs, where Cummings — Negaduck in this universe — was most likely to be, Gosalyn poked her head into the massive library which sat adjacent to the front hall. Seeing it was empty, she snagged a book from the shelves, giving herself a decent cover story for how her day had been spent should anyone ask.
Fisting the material of her skirt — because it was the early 20th century; all girls wore dresses and heels while boys wore suits and pocket watches — she mounted the stairs, heading down the gallery to Lord Canard's bedroom. Cummings would likely be in there, tidying everything and preparing the Lord's dinner outfit. Making sure it was pressed, neat, and spotless.
Except Cummings wasn't. In Lord Canard's bedroom.
Which meant he was down in the servant's hall. Mending a tear in a piece of clothing. Polishing boots. Doing the laundry.
She didn't have any issues going down there, but she still hadn't figured out where Lady Gosalyn was. Gosalyn had to find Cummings first and foremost to learn the locations of each member of the family.
Because if Lady Gosalyn was traveling abroad or visiting friends for a few nights, then how could Gosalyn explain her presence? Say she'd wanted to come home early?
No.
Because Lady Gosalyn would eventually come home. Then the staff would ask questions. The family would be suspicious.
It was always better to roam the house when Lady Gosalyn was nearby. More dangerous, yes, because Gosalyn could run into herself, but then the staff wouldn't be suspicious seeing Gosalyn around the estate.
There were a lot of details to these types of visits.
Seeing the bell pull near Lord Canard's bed, Gosalyn walked over to it and tugged down. Cummings was the only servant who would answer a call from Lord Canard's room; he'd be up here in a few moments, rolling his eyes when he saw her and asking how long she was going to be staying this time.
Gosalyn sat in a high-backed arm chair near the fireplace, knowing Cummings would be able to explain her presence to the others if she was found.
Then, after confirming that it was safe to wander, Gosalyn could look for Negaduck again. Make sure there was no stone unturned. Examine all the details of this universe to make sure he really wasn't anywhere.
When the door opened a few minutes later, Gosalyn sat up straight with a smile on her face. But that was quickly wiped off when she saw the butler of the house — Taurus Bulba — enter the room instead.
Bulba was a servant here, she reminded herself. Not a master criminal. He'd even made her laugh on her last visit. This Bulba meant Gosalyn no harm at all.
She rose to her feet and raised her head high as Bulba glanced over her with some surprise in his gaze.
"Oh, my lady. I was expecting his lordship…."
"And I was expecting Cummings." She gripped the book behind her back, eyeing Bulba.
Rule #1: Never forget that you are in charge in this universe.
Rule #2: Don't apologize for anything.
Cummings had always been a stickler for the rules.
At the mention of the valet's name, Bulba seemed to deflate, a sadness creeping into his gaze. "Is that why you've returned, my lady?"
Deciding to play along — she'd clearly been discovered returning from somewhere ahead of schedule and was standing in a room that wasn't hers — Gosalyn nodded. "It is. I would appreciate you not letting anyone know that I have come back."
Bulba bowed his head. "Of course. If you will follow me, my lady, I will take you to Cummings."
And that wasn't foreboding at all.
Why couldn't Cummings come to her?
But she just nodded and followed Bulba out of the room and down the hall. None of the other servants were scurrying around the house, cleaning, laying fires, or preparing for incoming visitors. The silence of the estate descended on Gosalyn's shoulders as she walked to the bachelor's corridor. The eery stillness smothered her until even her heels clicking softly on the carpets seemed like an intrusion.
She'd been too distracted when she'd first come inside, too eager to find Cummings to notice that no one was around.
That the house seemed oddly empty.
The foreboding that had started clenching at her stomach when Bulba offered to take Gosalyn to Cummings sank like a stone, heavy in her gut.
Coming to a halt at one of the doorways, Bulba looked back at Gosalyn expectantly. She must have glanced up at him with a question in her gaze because he answered, "His lordship had him moved here yesterday, my lady."
Gosalyn grit her teeth to stop all the questions that wanted to pour out and nodded. With an understanding smile, Bulba reached forward and opened the door.
It was dark inside.
The curtains had been drawn, blocking out the sunlight.
Some candles were lit and sitting on the chest of drawers, their flames flickering weakly as the breeze from the hall wafted in.
From inside, she heard the fait pop and hiss of a fire in the hearth.
Swallowing down the unease that had risen into her throat and was trying to choke her, Gosalyn gripped the book in her hands and slowly walked in, eyes darting around the room for answers.
Cummings was lying on the bed, blankets tucked around him precisely, his arms resting at his sides. He was wearing some sort of night shirt and his face looked ashen. But she wasn't sure if that was due to the low lighting or because he was ill.
He didn't stir as she stepped into the room and Gosalyn looked back to Bulba for answers.
The butler loomed in the doorway, clearly uneasy about entering the room. "Wounded in battle, my lady. The doctors have done all they can. He arrived here yesterday."
"Not to the hospital?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she glanced back at Cummings.
He looked small in that large bed.
"Lord Canard asked that Cummings be brought here. He thought it would be more comfortable for his final days."
"Thank you, Bulba," Gosalyn said with a terse nod. "I'll stay with him."
"Of course, my lady. Shall I inform his lordship of your return?"
"Not yet. I'm sure I'll see him soon enough." Gosalyn nodded her dismissal to Bulba who bowed his head and pulled the door shut behind him.
And it was as if all the air in the room was sucked out with it, Gosalyn desperately trying to catch her breath as she studied Cummings in the warm light of the fire.
She hadn't realized World War One had started in this universe. But it had been some time since her last visit; she should've anticipated this.
But not him.
Not Cummings.
He'd been her very first friend in her multiverse travels.
Through his wry sense of humor and low tolerance for pretty much everything, he had unwittingly taught her all she needed to know when traveling to other dimensions.
She always had to find her family first; find out who her father was within the society.
Learn who she was.
Absorb the rules.
Dress the part.
Act like she belonged.
And then search for Negaduck.
Cummings had even gone so far as to begrudgingly teach her how to eat like a lady, how to hold herself as if she had years of etiquette to back it up, how to talk and behave towards others with grace, poise, and manners.
He'd shown her how her counterpart acted so she could be a perfect replica.
Gasping in another gulp of air, Gosalyn walked over to the desk and set the book down. She'd been gripping it so desperately, she was slightly surprised to not see the outlines of her fingers imprinted on the leather.
Pulling out the chair, she dragged it to the bedside, her eyes on Cummings's face. Now that she was at his side, she was able to hear the wheeze of each inhale. See how worn and drawn his face was.
Tears stinging her eyes, she all but collapsed into the chair, desperate for there to be some way for her to help. Wishing she was trained in the medical field. That she could transport him to her universe. Take him to a hospital and save him with the miracles of modern medicine.
But suddenly being somewhere with advanced technology would likely shock him and the trip intended to save him would end up being even more detrimental. And, if he somehow survived the trip, then trying to explain his recovery to a household that was so set in this time and its rules would have been nearly impossible.
Hearing a deep wheeze from Cummings, Gosalyn glanced up and saw a grimace creasing his face, his eyelids starting to flutter open. A rough cough tumbled out of his beak and Gosalyn shot to her feet, grabbing the glass of water that was stationed on the beside table. She wove her fingers through the feathers behind his head, helping him lean forward to suck down a few small sips.
As he settled back into the pillows, his eyes opened, revealing familiar blue irises that gazed up at her blearily. Confusion furrowed his brow and he moved, trying to get his arms underneath him to sit up. Gosalyn set the glass back in its place and reached forward to help, but he grunted a low curse, so she withdrew and resumed her seat. Even as she saw him struggle to sit up, she couldn't help it; she smiled at him.
Once Cummings saw that, he rolled his eyes heavenward and fell back on his pillows, any attempt at propriety gone. "Oh. It's you."
"Thought I was Lady Gosalyn?" she asked, not bothering with the speech patterns that he'd taught her. He knew who she really was. No use in pretending.
Cummings settled more firmly into the pillows. "If not for the atrocity that is your hair and the obvious affection on your face, I would have thought you two the same, yes."
"I will take that as a compliment."
"Then I did not say it correctly."
Gosalyn's smile spread into a grin. But as she watched him try to get comfortable, it slid away as a concerned frown replaced it. "Can I help you?"
"I am far beyond that point."
Cummings had always spoken the truth with Gosalyn. Maybe it was because she'd always been honest with him. But it was probably due to the fact that he was forced to lie and show gentility daily when he really wanted to display hostility. He was able to use her as a way to get his aggression out.
Because she didn't mind when he was rude or insufferable.
Because she could be just as sarcastic and honest with him.
Gosalyn liked to imagine that Cummings respected her, but she didn't know.
And now was not the time to ask.
Not when he was….
Suddenly needing something to do, Gosalyn rose and walked over to the washboard, pouring water out of the pitcher and into the porcelain basin.
Cummings heaved a sigh that ended in a cough. "There is nothing to be done. Do not exhaust yourself for nothing."
Grabbing one of the clean linen cloths nearby, Gosalyn walked back over to the bed. She set the basin of water on the bedside table and dropped the cloth into the water. "It's not nothing."
"You are not the first to assume you can be my savior." Another cough burst out of his beak and Gosalyn held up the glass of water for him again. He took it, gulping down the rest of it, before handing it back to her.
"Is there somewhere else you want to go?" Gosalyn asked, sitting beside him again, eyes watching his pinched face. "Somewhere you'd be more comfortable?"
He loosed a dark laugh. "If such a place existed, I would not reach it in time." He glanced around the room, contempt in his gaze. "This will have to do."
"I'll take you," Gosalyn offered, sitting forward and leaning her elbows on the edge of the bed. "Tell me where—"
"I have nowhere to call my own," he muttered bitterly. "No living relatives, no friends to visit, no land or sacred place to see one last time. All I have is this house. The only people I talk to are the servants downstairs and the masters I serve. The only foreign land I have visited has been a battle ground and grand hotels where I was given the smallest of quarters behind the grandeur for the comfort of those with a greater position. So, forgive me, miss, if I am upset that I have seen no one and done nothing and have run out of time to gather experience."
Tears stinging her eyes again, Gosalyn turned to the beside table and dunked the cloth under the water before pulling it above the surface, taking some comfort in squeezing the droplets out. She didn't even know why she'd brought the basin over here. Just needed something to do with her hands. Something to distract herself.
Folding the cloth precisely into a small rectangle, she glanced at Cummings to see his eyes shut tight, his hands balled into fists at his sides, the wheeze of his breath haggard and sharp against the silence.
Leaning forward, she gently placed the cloth on his brow, not knowing if he really needed it.
"Technically, you've met me," she said.
He opened his eyes, his gaze fixing on her face. She smiled weakly at him. "I'm from very far away and you've met me."
He rolled his eyes. "You are a version of Lady Gosalyn. I had already met you in some fashion."
"You wound me, sir," Gosalyn said, removing the cloth from his forehead and dunking it back in the water. "I thought I was original. And now you tell me that I am just like the Lady Gosalyn."
"You… you are different. But you look like her," Cummings corrected, something besides self-pity shining in his gaze.
"I do?" Gosalyn asked, pitching her voice high in false surprise.
"Do not be obstinate."
"That's what I'm best at."
This.
This was what she had missed so desperately since Negaduck had gone.
Banter. Witticisms. Clever retorts and biting comments.
She could banter with anyone, really, but Negaduck was so easy to talk to. Even in this alternate version, Gosalyn felt comfortable around him. Was at ease enough to ask questions and demand answers. Willing to push the envelope and know when she'd gone too far.
Because even though this was Drakey Cummings, he was still Negaduck. He was bad tempered, foul mouthed, obsessive, self-conscious, stubborn, and she'd loved him immediately.
True to form, Cummings had been highly skeptical of her when they'd first met; Negaduck never trusted easily, not even in parallel universes. But Cummings had been comfortable around her from the start. There was a familiarity between them that they both had sensed.
"There was an explosion," Cummings said, eyes focused on the fire.
Gosalyn fished the cloth out of the water, ringing it dry. "You don't have to—"
"I-I want…." He cleared his throat as Gosalyn folded the cloth into a rectangle again. "I was tossed about more than anything. I think I hit my head, but I…. I remember waking up in the mud and the rain, some sort of gas floating in the air. I lost consciousness again and, when I came to, it was to a field doctor telling me there was nothing they could do and did I want to go home?" Cummings hadn't moved, his eyes still focused on the dying embers. Gosalyn held the square of damp cloth in her hand, also unable to move.
"I told him I had no home to return to and he suggested the hospital near Avian Abbey. I did not argue. When his lordship heard of my arrival, how I would be unable to return to service, he arranged for me to come here. Stay in this room.
"I have managed to rest, but every time I wake, I wonder if it will be my last. I focus on an object before I drift off and think, 'This could be the last thing I look at.' And it is a damn shame, miss, to realize that while you are in the only place you have called home, you will be spending your last moments on earth in a room you never even visited."
Gosalyn dropped the cloth back in the basin, the warm damp moisture having only succeeded in getting her hands wet. Probably leaking down onto her skirt, too, but that didn't matter. She sat on the edge of the mattress, aching to reach out, to grab his hand, but she quieted the urge.
"Do you want to be in your own room?" she asked quietly.
Cummings released a rough cough before inhaling deeply. "Let his lordship think he did me a kindness."
Smiling even with the sting of tears pricking her eyes, Gosalyn did reach out and grab ahold of Cummings's hand then. Wove her fingers through his with an ease that surprised her.
Cummings looked down at their joined hands before tightening his grip. "Will… would you stay?" he asked, his voice soft and unsure.
Feeling a tear slide down her cheek, Gosalyn shifted to lie down beside him, one hand still firmly entangled with his. "Until the end," she promised, choking on the words.
She felt Cummings sigh before he said, "This is highly untoward, miss. If someone were to come into this room…."
"I'll make no apologies because I'm more important than they are."
She felt a chuckle rumble through his chest, a rough cough punctuating the end. "I have nothing more to teach you."
Gosalyn wanted to deny it, to say there was so much more she needed to learn, but he was right.
Her first friend in her travels. The one who had taught her so much, who had mentored her and shown her how to survive in this universe was leaving.
Another version of Negaduck was leaving her.
She couldn't save him.
Couldn't make him stay.
She'd failed again.
What was it about her that made her loved ones leave? Her parents. Her grandfather. Negaduck. Now Cummings.
The logical side of her brain was telling her it wasn't her fault. That she couldn't have controlled any of it. Her parents had died. Her grandfather had been murdered. Negaduck had chosen to sacrifice himself. Cummings had been injured in war.
None of it was her fault.
She knew that.
But she didn't believe it.
Not really.
She should have been able to stop this. To fight harder, to say the right thing, to do something to prevent it. She shouldn't be lying on a bed, waiting for Cummings to…. She should be out in the world, looking for some way to make him better.
But she was afraid to move. Afraid to leave. Because what if he left her before she got back?
And he had asked her to stay.
She'd always do what Negaduck — any version of him — asked of her.
Even if her chest was tight at the thought.
Even if she was struggling to draw breath with the size of the lump in her throat.
Even if her mind was railing against doing nothing—
"Where you come from," Cummings said, breaking the silence and Gosalyn's thoughts, "is there a version of me?"
Gosalyn smiled amidst her tears, her own Negaduck materializing in her head with his brightly colored costume and a sneer on his face. "There is."
"And you are friends with him?"
"He never believed it, but yes, we were. Are."
"Tell me about him."
Gosalyn considered his request. "It's a very… complicated story."
"Of course. I am so very busy and have a great deal that needs done. Thank you for your consideration, miss," Cummings remarked, his tone laced with sarcasm.
Huffing out a laugh, Gosalyn settled against Cummings's side. "Where shall I begin?"
"At the beginning, naturally. Have you never told a story before?"
"Not this one." Gosalyn sighed, gathering her thoughts. "Well… I live in my own city of St. Canard. It's very different from yours; a busy town, more like London than the small village you know. My father and I are crime fighters. Like the police but a freelanced version. We fight villains, people much more dangerous than your average criminal and Negaduck is one of those criminals. He was the most dangerous. The one we fought more than the others, who gave us the biggest challenges."
"I take it I am Negaduck? In this world?" Cummings asked.
"Yes. You call yourself Negaduck."
He huffed. "Seems a bit dramatic."
Gosalyn chuckled. "That shouldn't surprise you."
Cummings grumbled something before settling into the pillows and Gosalyn continued her story, detailing how she and Negaduck had started their partnership.
From all the way in the beginning with the Duckburg operation, how it had been a horrible failure because the Fearsome Four had decided to stage a coup. How Gosalyn had betrayed Negaduck's trust, giving the details of the op to her father. But how Negaduck had saved her life when Quackerjack had tried to drown her in Audubon Bay anyway. And, after all had been said and done, Negaduck had decided to give Gosalyn a second chance; let her try and be partners with him again.
Which led to their unlikely — and wildly successful — partnership. She detailed how she'd helped Negaduck take full control of the Negaverse and the villains there.
How the two of them had been separated by Stellar's plan to take the Negaverse for himself, throwing Negaduck in jail and loosing the Negaverse villains onto St. Canard. How Gosalyn had tried to fight them all by herself. How Darkwing had figured out the details of their partnership and had busted Negaduck out of jail to help Gosalyn. How, after rescuing her from the Negaverse villains, Negaduck had sacrificed himself to keep Gosalyn safe from Stellar, sent them both away to a distant universe Gosalyn didn't know the name of.
How Gosalyn had started searching for Negaduck in all and any universe, desperate to find him and bring him home because it wasn't fair that he had finally gotten something that he'd been fighting for, only to have it ripped away so suddenly.
At some point during her narrative, Cummings fell asleep, but Gosalyn kept talking. Told the whole story. She'd never done that before. After betraying Negaduck initially, giving away secrets that had not been hers to reveal, she'd been gun-shy about telling anyone too much about her partnership with the Masked Menace.
But this was Negaduck. In another universe, sure, but surely it was okay to tell him all the details.
Not to mention, he wouldn't tell them to anyone else because he was….
Anyway.
The low light of the room made it harder and harder to keep her eyes open. And with the warm near presence of Cummings calming her, it was really only a matter of time before she, too, dozed off.
-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-
A hand on her shoulder brought her back to the room. The candles had burnt out, the fire was little more than embers, and it was now completely dark on the other side of the curtains.
Gosalyn blinked awake, bringing up a hand to wipe the rest of the sleep from her face, wishing she could turn over and fall asleep once more.
Peering up at who'd woken her, Gosalyn caught sight of her father. Lord Canard, to be exact. Her father would never wear such elaborately tailored suits. He was peering down at her with a dull sadness in his eyes and Gosalyn remembered why she was lying on a bed in a desolately chilled room.
Gosalyn set her jaw as she said, "I promised him I wouldn't leave."
"A promise you fulfilled, my dear." Lord Canard glanced over where Cummings lie. "He is gone."
Gone?
Gosalyn glanced over to Cummings, saw the grey in his features and the absolute stillness of his limbs. Their hands had detangled at some point in the night and his lie on the sheets beside him, palm facing up and fingers uncurled.
No.
No, he couldn't be.
She'd promised — she'd promised — that she wouldn't leave him. That he wouldn't be alone.
He hadn't heard the end of her story. Had he heard the part where Negaduck had redeemed himself? And all on his own. He'd found strength and determination. Enough to change his life.
Had he known that she was proud of him? So amazingly, wondrously proud for all he'd done and all he had yet to do?
"Cummings?" she asked, sitting up and touching his shoulder. Even through his sleeve, she could feel the cold stiffness beneath and she reared back as the horror of it slid down her spine. If it wasn't for Lord Canard's hands catching her, Gosalyn would have slid off the bed and crashed to the floor. But he helped her stand as she studied Cummings.
"I didn't… I don't even know when he…." Gosalyn brought up a hand and covered her beak, willing the words to stay in. She shouldn't be saying anything. Not in the quiet stillness of the room. It was wrong somehow, to keep going on. To keep moving forward when he could not.
Lord Canard wrapped an arm around her shoulders and guided her from the room.
"No, I have to stay with him," Gosalyn said, reaching out to the bed. "I promised—"
"You have no debt to pay," Lord Canard said softly, his grip turning to iron as he led her out into the hall. "You held up your end of the bargain."
"But I didn't," Gosalyn said, hearing her voice crack as a sob loosed from her chest, struggling against Lord Canard as he ushered her into an adjoining room.
"I didn't tell him the end of the story. He doesn't know how I feel. He can't leave… he can't…. He can't be gone."
Closing the door behind them, Lord Canard sat Gosalyn on the unmade bed, crouching down before her. "He is, my dear. And I am so very sorry. There is nothing you could have done to stop it. This was out of anyone's hands."
Gosalyn looked down at Lord Canard, those kind blue eyes looking up at her with such sadness and understanding.
Her father.
In this universe, this was her father.
She stilled and listened, her eyes locked onto his.
"And I am sure that whatever you wanted Cummings to hear, the end to whatever story you were telling him, that he knew already. He is…." Lord Canard inhaled sharply, a small smile pulling the corners of his beak up. "He was awfully perceptive. And he had a fondness for you. I am telling you this with absolute certainty: he knew."
The words washed over Gosalyn, waking her other senses, dulling the grief for a moment as she recalled where she was. Who she was supposed to be.
Rule #2: Don't apologize for anything.
Gosalyn inhaled, swiping a hand across her cheeks to wipe away the tears. "I… I know you weren't expecting me home so early."
"I was wondering if we would see you again." Lord Canard smiled kindly at her. "I am glad you were able to say your goodbyes."
Gosalyn eyed him, not liking how indulgent that grin was. "I know I was away…."
"In another world. Cummings told me."
"He… he told you?"
"Only because I pressed." Lord Canard smiled warmly. "Did you really think I would be unable to tell the difference between yourself and my daughter? Though, from what I understand, you are my daughter from another world."
Gosalyn gave him a watery smile, some relief coursing through her at not needing to pretend anymore. "I am your daughter, sir. Another world is as close as I can get to describing it."
Lord Canard reached up and pressed his palm to her cheek. "I would recognize that fire anywhere," he said. "My Gosalyn is passionate regardless of where she comes from."
"Your Gosalyn will not know that she spent last night with Cummings."
"I will handle that," Lord Canard said with ease. "Bulba is as loyal as they come; he will not give up this secret if I ask it of him. As for Lady Gosalyn… she was compassionate towards Cummings. His death will impact her enough to make it seem as though you two are one and the same."
His death.
Oh, God.
It was real.
She had lost another Negaduck.
The first time, she hadn't acted quickly enough.
This time he'd slipped through her fingers while she'd slept.
What would happen the next time? Or the one after that? How many Negaducks was she going to lose before she found her own?
If she ever found her own. What if this was all she had for the rest of her life; a few stolen days in alternate universes with different versions of Negaduck?
What if… what if hers was gone forever?
"I need you to breathe," Lord Cummings commanded, his tone sharp and firm.
Unaccustomed to hearing the power her father's voice could wield, Gosalyn inhaled deeply, her lungs shuddering at the intake of oxygen, a gray along the edges of her vision starting to clear.
"Good. Slowly." Lord Canard stood, his hands on her shoulders, bracing her. "Now. I insist that you return to your own world."
"No," Gosalyn gasped out, looking at him. Locking onto those eyes. "I have to keep looking. I have to find—"
"That can wait," Lord Canard instructed, his brow furrowed in a hard line. "You will return to your world and you will go to your father. Is that clear?"
"I'm fine," Gosalyn insisted, standing as she reminded herself to breathe. To keep breathing. "I can keep…."
"I will not repeat myself. If I cannot bear to see you in this state, I can only imagine what your own father would be thinking. Come," he wrapped an arm around her shoulders again. "We must be on our way before the servants see us."
This would be the last time she visited this universe. There was little reason to visit now; Cummings was gone and Lord Canard knew who she was. The fun of trying to blend in, of living the life of her counterpart, had vanished.
Gosalyn wished she could say goodbye to some of the servants before she left. Could have seen the efficiency of the Housekeeper's — Mrs. Ammonia Pine — careful planning once more. Watched the cook — Splatter Phoenix — command the kitchen and effortlessly bake a full day's worth of rich foods for the family upstairs. Walked the grounds with Reginald Bushroot, the head gardener, and seen firsthand his devotion to the plants around him. Ridden in the brand new car with the chauffeur, Jack (Quackerjack). Eaten dinner one more time in the opulent dining room with Bulba standing by watching the footmen — Bud Flood, Moliarty, and Elmo Sputterspark — all try to one-up each other with their standards of service.
But there was no time.
Instead, she tried to focus on the grandeur of the house, to absorb the little details as she walked through it for the last time. Like how it was built of wood and stone. How the appliances and fixtures were all iron and brass. How the rugs were woven by hand. Everything was expertly crafted from the best materials. Assembly lines and machine-made items were not realities of this universe. The fact that there was so much finery in this house bespoke of the great fortune that the family possessed.
Traipsing through the precisely gardened lawns and by the carefully manicured flowerbeds as the sun started to rise, Lord Canard kept his arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders, but allowed her to take the lead. He was soft-hearted, just as Cummings had said. But Gosalyn did not think that a negative trait, even if the valet had.
Having navigated through the woods with the cottage just out of sight, Gosalyn slowly stopped and turned to face Lord Canard. "I can find my way from here, my lord."
He released her, eyes still carefully watching her every move. "I do not mind accompanying you further."
Gosalyn nodded. "I know. But I can manage. Thank you. For everything. I don't… I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been there."
Lord Canard studied her in the growing light, his eyes holding a tender kindness she was all too familiar with. "It was my pleasure. I am sorry about Cummings. I know you two meant a great deal to each other."
"I'll miss him." Gosalyn gave him a weak smile. "And I am sorry that you've also lost Cummings. I know he was a great valet."
"And a good man. Though he rarely saw that." Lord Canard paused. "Will I see you again?"
Gosalyn shrugged. "I won't say 'never' but it's unlikely."
Lord Canard nodded. "Then it was my honor to have met you and talked with no secrets between us. I wish you a smooth journey home. You remember what I said?"
Gosalyn managed a genuine smile. "I'll find Dad first. I promise."
He graced her with a smile of his own before walking back towards the house. Lord Canard looked back once and Gosalyn waved at him before he disappeared into the trees.
With a sharp intake of breath, Gosalyn turned and walked to the cottage. She climbed the small stairs to the second level and grabbed her belongings, having little energy to change.
Cummings slipping through her grasp only reminded her of how little time she had. Of how dangerous these other universes could be. War could have broken out in any of them. There could be a deadly disease going around.
She needed to find him.
Never mind sleep.
Never mind that she felt hollow in the wake of losing Cummings.
Never mind that there were some days she just wanted to stay in her own universe for more than 24 hours.
Negaduck needed her.
Now as much as ever.
And she would not abandon him.
Holding her suit and quiver, Gosalyn walked down the hall and opened the ornate door at the end of it, blinking at the sudden onslaught of colors. The door that seemingly led to nowhere in the cottage was her portal to the other universes.
Stepping through, Gosalyn pushed her fatigue aside. She'd follow Lord Canard's advice; she'd see her father.
But then she'd be right back here, in the multiverse, searching for Negaduck.
A/N: In case anyone is interested in (or confused about) who's who in this Avian Abbey universe:
Father/Reigning Patriarch: Drake Mallard, Earl of St. Canard
Lady of the house: Morgana Mallard, Duchess of St. Canard
Daughter of the house: Gosalyn Mallard
Family friend/business associate: Launchpad McQuack
Butler: Taurus Bulba
Housekeeper: Ammonia Pine
Valet to Lord Canard: Drakey Cummings (Negaduck)
Valet to Mr. McQuack: Stealbeak
Lady's Maid to Lady Canard: Bianca Beakley (Bugmaster)
Chauffer: Jack (Quackerjack)
Footmen: Bud Flood (Liquidator), Moliarty, Elmo Sputterspark (Megavolt)
Head Gardener: Reginald (Bushroot)
Gardening Staff: Tuskerninni, Jambalaya Jake
Cook: Splatter Phoenix
Kitchen Staff: F.O.W.L. Eggmen
Head Housemaid: Clovis Wallace
Housemaids: Camille Chameleon, Isis Vanderchill
And I highly suggest listening to the Downton Abbey soundtrack while reading. :)
~RS