I do not own any of the characters in this story; they all belong to Disney. I am only borrowing them for entertainment purposes, not for profit. And I really apologize for the long wait for the chapter; it's been a long strange road between writings. But I'm back and I promise to finish! By the way, thank you to my loyal reviewers! It means a lot when I know you are still interested. I hope I'm still living up to your expectations, not to mention my own!
The half moon shone with an almost mocking light as Darkwing moved silently through the deserted streets of St. Canard, using every bit of his "invisibility" to stay out of sight. He knew that if Negaduck, or any other villain were to spot him, his entire plan could be blown out of the water before he even had a chance to put it into action. But, thinking clearly for the first time in days, he found that his mind knew all sorts of things he hadn't realized he had noticed. For example, sometime over the last few days, Darkwing had become aware of the fact that Negaduck had moved his headquarters into the police station and was taking up the chief's office space for his own use. The hero had no idea when or how he had figured this out, but he had the feeling that his brain had been awake the last few days, waiting impatiently for his emotions to catch up. He felt restored, as though waking from a long nap. But somewhere underneath, he also felt anger. Incredible, powerful anger, all directed at the monster who had hurt his daughter. For the moment, however, he had called a truce between his raging emotions and his brain. The emotions seemed to agree that for now, his brain needed to have the freedom to work logically and efficiently, and so they relinquished control. However, somewhere, Darkwing felt that his emotions still had their claws locked around him and should they decide that what they wanted was something other than what his mind had planned, they would try to wrest control back. Hidden in the shadows, Darkwing twitched. Letting the dark anger, despair, and fear that had overwhelmed him for days return to full strength in him, dictating his actions and controlling his every move, made him uncomfortable. As he moved swiftly and nearly invisible through the city streets, bound for the police station, he had plenty of time to reflect on what that possible outcome could be.
"It's like I'm two people and each of them wants to be in control," he mused to himself, flitting from shadow to shadow, "I'm Darkwing and Drake at the same time. Darkwing's the cool-headed hero and Drake is the angry father." He paused for a moment as his last image of Gosalyn winked through his mind and he felt his emotions rise. He took a deep breath, forced his fists to relax and his beak to cease snarling, and tried to restore order in his mind. "Drake is so angry and afraid he's nearly out of control, and Darkwing is so calm and calculating he's almost without emotion. If Drake were still in control, I'd either be a raging maniac or the helpless father I've been the last few days, and now that Darkwing is in control again, I am more rational and able to make judgments, even to choose to risk everything." A question struck him like a light in the darkness.
"Then who am I really?"
He considered for a moment and found his mind answering, "I am both, balanced in one, but still two very different people, living both lives. By day I am father and by night I am hero, but in the quiet of the shadow," he thought, pausing as a few tough looking ducks wandered past, too caught up in their villainous mirth to notice him, "I am all of it. And Gosalyn is…she's the thing that holds me together," he realized with a start. A wave of possibilities came over him. "I was once only Drake, and then I became only Darkwing. And then she came."
Although Darkwing found his internal monologue as satisfying as the self-narration with which he usually filled his night hauntings of the city, he paused to sprint from one side of a quiet street to the shadows on the other side. Moving as swiftly as the clouds across the moon in the wind, he climbed a fire ladder to reach the quiet rooftops. He knew he had to slink carefully across the slates of the buildings, as his profile would be easily seen and recognized in the dusky moonlight. Near-crawling, and yet moving with impressive speed, he moved almost automatically from one rooftop to the next, his thoughts flying as fast as his webbed feet.
"Gosalyn woke feelings in me I hadn't had in years, hadn't let myself have in years," he thought, "made me feel things instead of think them. When I put on the mask, I went back to my old ways, or so I thought. But if she showed up on the scene, I would mix father and hero. I became this creature of both, instead of one or the other. I got caught between what I felt and what I thought, what was emotional and what was rational, and the outcome was completely based upon who was stronger. When Drake was stronger, father came out with fear and worry. When Darkwing was stronger, the hero came out understanding the need and value of Gosalyn's help. Drake and Darkwing came into conflict and somehow I got caught between them. And they still conflict, even after all this time, maybe more than ever." A little voice in the back of Darkwing's mind added, "And they always will, because she'll always be your little hero at your side." Internally, Darkwing smiled, then shook with the realization that if he failed, Gosalyn wouldn't be at his side always. The dark emotions began to trump his rational side but he fought them down again.
"Focus," he steadied himself. "It's time." Darkwing stood on a rooftop across the street from the abandoned police station, Negaduck's headquarters. He needed every ounce of focus, control, and skill he possessed. All his hopes were riding on this one.
--==OOO==--
Gosalyn panted for breath as she drove the Hoverquack from the Tower. Sneaking away from Launchpad hadn't been as easy as she had expected, and not because he was the most vigilant duck in the world. Climbing, or perhaps "falling" was a better word, out of bed hadn't been too hard, but trying to stay silent while she pulled her exhausted body towards the only vehicle she could use had been near impossible. The only way she had gotten out at all was by taking advantage of Launchpad's momentary lapse in judgement. While he stared at the bed, processing the fact that Gosalyn was no longer in it, she had thrown caution to the wind, dumped herself into the Hoverquack, and pushed the accelerator as hard as she could. Now, racing down the bridge and towards St. Canard, her head spun.
"I'm not so sure this was a good idea," Gosalyn moaned internally. She felt dizzy, weak, and tired beyond anything she'd ever felt before. This wasn't the sort of post-athletic exhaustion she was used to. After a good hockey game, or a football game, or any other sport, Gosalyn felt tired, sometimes even exhausted, but in a productive, healthy, comforting way. Not this time. Her body was shutting down, preparing to die, and she was trying to overcome that weakness, not to mention the additional fatigue from days without food and precious little water. "This isn't like being up the creek without a paddle. I'm up the creek without even a boat!" she thought wretchedly. However, sheer determination won out. She would not be made a victim anymore and she wanted to help her dad more than anything. She wanted to be there to see him beat Negaduck, and even to help if she could. "Not that I can do much," she admitted to herself, "but maybe just seeing me will give him the confidence he needs to win." Gosalyn was unaware of how awful she looked, or she might have realized that the sight of her was more likely to distract and worry the hero than to cheer him. Although she was mobile, she looked more like a zombie from a bad late-night movie than anything else: deep circles under her eyes, brittle and brown feathers, thin, weak limbs, and a shuffling, shaking motion instead of her usual athletic grace. She looked like an undead duckling instead of an almost-dead duckling. If it had been a Halloween costume, Gosalyn would have been delighted with herself. In reality, though, if she had seen herself, she would have been chilled to the core by her own face and body.
Zooming through the streets, Gosalyn thanked the years of video-gaming that had given her almost automatic reflexes and a keen ability to use her thumbs. Since the Hoverquack was mainly controlled by the control panel and recently installed joystick, it was not that different from many arcade game-pads. Gosalyn, exhausted and barely able to keep her eyes on the road, would have blushed if she'd seen how poorly she was driving, but those years of practice made her able to drive enough. Leaning back in the seat, she was more reacting than steering: realizing the HQ was swerving off towards a building and veering it away, noticing an oncoming car and avoiding it, etc. Essentially, she was driving in a squiggly line down the mostly empty streets of St. Canard. By keeping her speed low and periodically taking time to stop and close her eyes for a few moments, Gosalyn was able to keep herself going.
She was headed for the building that had started it all, the abandoned apartment building. Not knowing that Negaduck had relocated, and unable to see from the ground whether or not he had put up any big triumphant banners over any other building, it was the only place she had to start. The streets around her all looked in about the same state of repair, and she felt a stab of guilt as she passed the Hamburger Hippo she knew so well. It was completely trashed and covered with graffiti. The slum where she was headed had taken over the city as all the rats in the city realized their cat was away. It looked like a war zone in quarters of the city that had once been beautiful and peaceful, and Gosalyn realized even more how important her father was to the whole city. His absence had made the difference between safety and destruction, control and chaos. But she would make it all right. Darkwing would make it all right. She was sure of it.
--==OOO==--
"Just…a…little…more…" Darkwing grunted. He hung upside-down from the air duct that opened into the chief of police's former office. He had to be quick. Webbed feet and legs wrapped tightly around the rope and the gas gun itself, Darkwing reached for the beaker of the light-amber liquid that sat on the desk. Somewhere inside, he smiled at himself. "I'm just like James Pond!" he marveled, thinking of the debonair spy hero that was adored by ducks of all ages.
Cruel laughter echoed down the hall, moving closer as it ricocheted through the empty station, bouncing off the hard, cold hallways and reaching the hero's keen ears.
Darkwing did a half-flip and grabbed the rope. Pulling himself quickly into the vent, he had just pulled his cape out of sight and placed the grate back over it when Negaduck came sauntering into the room. Watching his nemesis laughing with glee, Darkwing remembered some faint explosions he'd heard on his way to the station and he wondered vaguely what Negaduck had blown up this time. Not that it mattered much at this point. Half the city had succumbed to Negaduck's explosive tendencies.
Negaduck stood laughing in the room for a while, then caressed his pile of money, gold, jewlry, etc that stood behind the desk. Darkwing noticed that he fondled it like a, well, never mind. Darkwing didn't really want to be thinking about that anyway. Negaduck touched every piece in the pile more than once, sometimes looking down with guilty pleasure, other times with deep satisfaction, but most often laughing maniacally. Looking at a gold and diamond-encrusted pocket-watch, he paused in his jubilation and frowned.
"Better make up another batch of that stuff for the dweeb," he said to himself. To Darkwing's horror, Negaduck took the beaker of precious antidote and ran some water into it. Darkwing hadn't noticed before that the antidote had been diluted, but now it was all too clear, almost literally. The light-amber liquid was now more of a yellow, squashy color. Negaduck didn't seem concerned, however. Picking up the pocket-watch again, he tucked it in his coat. Muttering something about still having a little time for fun, he left, banging every door in the building behind him and laughing as though nothing had happened.
Darkwing, shaking with rage, dropped down from the vent, this time not bothering with the finesse worthy of James Pond. He took the beaker in his hands, feeling the droplets of water from the sink sliding down the outside. The wetness stuck him as being the same as the sweat from Gosalyn's fever, the fever this potion was supposed to be helping! Suppressing the howl of fury that rose in his throat, Darkwing put his plan into action, eyes narrowed dangerously all the while. From a back pocket of his jacket he withdrew a Quackerware container. With a silent thanks to Herb Muddlefoot, he opened it, poured the remains of the precious antidote in, and sealed it. Then, he pulled a carton of apple juice from another pocket. After pouring it into the beaker, a swish of water made the juice look like nothing had changed. He replaced the beaker, secured the real antidote in his jacket, and returned to the air duct, trying desperately to breathe normally and concentrate on his work.
"Now to get this over to SHUSH," he thought, moving with all the urgency he could get his body to manage, "and hope they can reproduce enough to matter." But somewhere deep down, Darkwing's emotional rage had gained an important foothold in his battle for control.
--==OOO==--
Launchpad heard a noise behind him. Turning hopefully, he wanted to see a little duckling in pigtails come out from the shadows, safe and sound back in the Tower. Instead he saw a towering Morgana with Honker at her heels, both with pinched and worried faces. Launchpad began to sweat and chuckle nervously. It had only been a few minutes since Gosalyn had taken the Hoverquack out, and he had spent the time wondering what to do, somewhat numbed by the sheer shock of her escape. He didn't want to go looking for her; what if she came back? And he couldn't get ahold of Darkwing, so he had no way of having someone else give him a sensible plan of what to do next. So Morgana's first impression of Launchpad was a nervous, attempting to chuckle pilot, sitting on the floor, staring at the bed completely dumbounded, and also outwardly a little afraid. "She's such a little tyke," he was thinking worriedly, "and way too sick to be out there alone."
Morgana's sweeping stride, the walk that was pride and power and grace in one, stopped in a hurry when she saw the rumpled sheets and empty bed. She took a shrewd look at Launchpad, deduced what she needed to know from his face and nervous laugh, and seriously considered blowing something up. The impulse to destroy something big and satisfying, just to alleviate her feelings was not a common experience for Morgana and it surprised her. Honker rubbed his glasses, then ran forward, saying cautiously, "Gos? Are you here?" in a breaking voice. His breathing was fast and his hands were shaking.
"She's gone," Launchpad said dumbly, getting to his feet.
"I can see that!" Morgana snapped. "How could you let her out of bed? How could she even think of getting up! She's far too sick to be up and around!" Morgana's eyes blazed, but deep down, the elegant sorceress was deeply worried. Gosalyn had been on death's door, and exerting herself might tip the balance to her crossing its threshold. Morgana fought the desire to continue yelling at Launchpad and tried to reestablish some semblance of calm. She knew that Launchpad would be little help in thinking this through, and someone had to be in command, if not for Gosalyn, than for poor frightened Honker's sake.
"How long has she been gone?" she asked, trying not to put the accusation she felt into her voice.
"Only about ten minutes, I guess," Launchpad said, looking at his feet. Morgana was scary when she thundered at people like that. He didn't know how Darkwing could stand it, especially since she thundered at him at least once a month.
"Then we have to go find her. Launchpad, start up the Thunderquack," Morgana said simply.
"No!" Honker cried, running back. His eyes were wide and his beak was quivering, but he was trying to compose himself and think through things. "If we go out, they'll see us and Negaduck won't give us the antidote anymore! She'll…Gos will…" He fought back tears. Morgana knelt and put a warm hand on the duckling's shoulder. She spoke softly, but there was no denying the painful truth of her words.
"Honker, dear, if we don't find her and bring her back, it won't matter. Even if they see us, we have to risk it. It's either that or let her collapse far from help, alone maybe. We may lose the antidote if we go, but we will certainly lose Gosalyn if we stay."
The duckling considered her words, then rubbed his beak on his arm, closed his eyes fiercely, and thought. He had been so bewildered the last few days, with his best friend facing death itself. When the one person who protected Honker and saw him as a valuable person was out of commission, he had lost the side of himself that was a little stronger. Honker prided himself on his brains, but also in his ability to think quickly and accurately, and therefore to present plausible solutions when they were needed, even if his accursed stuttering got in the way. Gosalyn's last few days of agony had driven this ability from him as surely as it had from her father. Honker had found himself idly wondering how much he and Drake must have in common, how much they must both feel for Gos, since they had both stopped being themselves the minute they saw her suffering. But now, like Drake, Honker's emotions were settling down, his logic was winning, and he found himself once again able to examine the problem without terror blocking him. He took a deep breath and looked Morgana straight in the eye, privately hoping he could produce the same kind of rebellious and confident spirit he so admired in Gosalyn. His voice shook but his spoke clearly.
"Then let's go find her."
--==OOO==--
Gosalyn's head pounded. The apartment building she had tried first had been empty, and it had cost her precious energy to climb the steps to find that out, since the Hoverquack was not a stair machine. So, limp with exhaustion, Gosalyn had wandered the city aimlessly, looking for anything that might lead her to her dad. Suddenly she spotted the police station and something went off in the back of her mind. It was a subtle click, but Gosalyn's mind was still keen enough to recognize it: instinct.
"I'll bet he's in there," she thought. It seemed too perfect for Negaduck to ignore. Since he didn't seem to want the towering skyscrapers this time, the police station was a beautifully ironic pick. Also, and Gosalyn gave a sigh of relief upon seeing this, it was handicapped accessible, so it would be easy for her to take a quick look-around to see if her instincts were right. Steering carefully up the provided ramp at the front door, Gosalyn tried to go slowly so as not to make too much noise with the vehicle. The Hoverquack nudged its way through the partly-broken front doors and the duckling found herself in what might once have been a reception area and some desks. Now it was mostly broken furniture, left-over explosives, and some loot. It was very quiet, but Gosalyn's acute sense of hearing, plus her instincts in high gear, told her something was up. She pulled her tired body out of the vehicle and turned it off. Her socks picked up splinters from the floor as she crossed the space which pricked and poked, but Gosalyn wasn't really aware of it. Her feet were the farthest thing from her concentrating mind.
As she wearily started up the stairs, she thought she heard something behind her. There was a crash and a sudden rude exclamation. Negaduck had returned and had seen the Hoverquack! Gosalyn looked desperately for any place she could hide, but she could not move fast enough. The angry duck came flying up the stairs and almost plowed her over.
"What the--" Negaduck broke off. He stared down at the ruined child beneath him. Instead of the spunky red-head he had snatched from the street, before him stood a shadow, a wraith, barely a living being let alone the same duckling. But it was her. Negaduck would know this Gosalyn anywhere. Her sagging feathers, wide and unfocused eyes, dark shadows and gaunt places where muscle and flesh had been, and the uncontrollable shaking body all pointed to the poison's devastating work. Negaduck tried to feel triumphant that he had created a master destructive element, but something about her quashed all those impulses. Gosalyn stood on the step above him, holding onto the railing with both hands, shaking. Her eyes showed no fear, but there was sweat dripping off her bill and soaking her shirt, and her raspy breathing was one of the most desperate sounds he'd ever heard. Something in him wondered if maybe this kind of destruction wasn't quite the same as blowing something up. Maybe this kind of evil was somehow more evil, this creation of abject suffering and ultimately resulting in death. Negaduck didn't understand his reaction. What he didn't understand made him angry.
"What are you doing here?" he bellowed, scooping her up in one hand and noticing how much weight she had lost in only a few days. Gosalyn was too week to react, but the "oomph" that was squeezed from her lungs spoke for her. He marched up the stairs to his new office and set her in the chief's soft chair. Gosalyn leaned her head back against the cushions of the chair wearily and tried to stop shaking.
"I…" Gosalyn tried to focus. The irrational panic at seeing Negaduck, being alone with him again, was making her feel worse than ever. "I came to s-stop you," she barely whispered. She tried to make her eyes fearless, as brave as her father would be, but her heart was hammering in her chest with a suppressed fear. Gosalyn tried to control the knee-jerk reaction seeing her tormentor had on her, but something about the pathetic nature of her situation made her feel more vulnerable and helpless than ever. The duckling bravely fought the frightened child inside, trying to keep it from taking hold. She, like her father, tried to stay the hero instead of giving in to her fears.
Negaduck stared at her, barely noticing the internal battle the duckling was fighting. He took in her entire sickness, every detail that he could see. He didn't get it. Why would she be out in a Darkwing-mobile, looking like that, all by herself? What was the hero thinking, letting her run around like this? Or was he using her? Negaduck pondered that. It was possible Darkwing had sent her to beg for forgiveness, make him turn over the antidote, and then, when she had it, signal the hero to beat him. Yes! That must be it! There was no other way he could explain her presence. Negaduck could not fathom the selflessness of Gosalyn's acts, so he instead turned them into a ploy by his enemy to defeat him.
"You're here to beg for mercy, is that it?" Negaduck taunted her, his voice dripping venom. "You want this," he picked up the beaker, "don't you?" Gosalyn looked up at him with real defiance in her eyes. He was wrong, and it gave her courage. Something in her snapped once and for all.
"No, I don't."
"Well, what do you want then?" Negaduck demanded.
"I want Darkwing to beat you!" she shouted with more spirit than the villain thought she could muster. "I can give him hope again because I'm still alive, because I made it here. I can make him brave enough to beat you without worrying about me! I'm going to stop you. Even if you hurt me," her voice squeaked a little at that admission, "it won't matter anymore. Darkwing will beat you and then he'll save me, too. I know it! Because he's a hero and you're nothing but a horrible, disgusting whack-job who hurts kids and ruins lives and destroys everything!" Gosalyn stopped and gasped a bit for breath.
Negaduck stood in stunned silence. Then his stun turned to fury.
"Well, isn't that nice! You're going to cheer him to victory, are you? Well, let's see you do it now!" he shouted, beyond reason or control. With a wild swing, he threw the beaker of yellow liquid against the wall and watched it shatter, splattering the fluid on the wall and throwing shards of wet glass everywhere.
Gosalyn went numb. She hadn't seen this coming. Even though she had come to Negaduck to help her father, she hadn't really considered what would happen to her if Negaduck made good on his promise. And now he had. Gosalyn felt her beak begin to quiver. She was going to die now. There was nothing anyone could do to save her anymore. A tear trickled down her feathered cheek, splashed on her arm. She drew a shuddering breath, then another. A few more tears fell. She slumped back against the chair, defeated. "At least he can fight Negaduck without worrying about me anymore," she thought to herself. But Gosalyn's hope was gone and she was filled with despair. The fear of death came over her then, and she slipped into oblivion.
--==OOO==--
Negaduck stared at the wall where he'd thrown the beaker. Something inside him felt, well, bad. He couldn't deny that he felt guilty, actually guilty for doing that! It was an odd feeling, guilt. He was sorry and all he really wanted was to take back the throw, to have the beaker be whole again. Negaduck clenched his hand. He wished he'd never thrown it, never had to feel guilt like this. He hated the whole thing, hated it that it made him feel sorry. He even started to feel sorry about watering it down. As he thought about it, he hadn't really bothered to care about what it must have been doing to her, having less and less antidote given her. Now he knew and now he was sorry. And he hated it.
He turned to look at Gosalyn and saw the tears that streamed down her face. Her beak was pulled back in an expression of not wanting to show what she was feeling, but her eyes were wider than any eyes he'd ever seen before. No matter what he'd done before, he had never ever destroyed life like this. She didn't even seem to see him anymore, just turned into herself and grieved and feared. He could see it in her face. And then her breathing sped up and her eyes rolled up into her head. Without thinking, Negaduck jumped forward and caught her as she slipped out of the chair in a dead faint. He lifted her in his arms, not noticing his own tenderness. His face showed that he was shaken inside.
"What did I do?" he said, surprise and anger in his voice. Internally, he found himself asking, "and what do I do now?"
