Darkwing Duck: All About Elizabeth


Act IV, part I

A/N: Most of this has been done for a while; I'm just lazy about finishing things. :P Anyway - after last act I got a lot of feedback about Irene. This (finally!) shows another side of her... which is important to me. With everyone we meet, keep in mind that we're often only getting half of the story - Beth's half. There's more to everyone than what an outsider sees.


Beth took another sip of wine and checked the clock. Somehow it was even later than it had been the last time she'd thought to look! It was already closing in on midnight. She was surprised and amused, and as she sank back into the couch and turned up the volume on the TV show she was watching, she giggled a little and had a little more wine.

This, she had come to realize, was what she should have been doing all along. Now she understood why her mother was always saying she needed a glass of wine to relax! After only half of a glass she'd started feeling much less anxious, sort of mellow and floaty, and even though she still couldn't think of a way to solve her problems, they all seemed farther away somehow. Even her feelings for Drake seemed lessened - it would never have worked out between them, and she knew that, so really he'd done her a favour!

Out of concern that the calm peace she'd quickly obtained from the first glass of wine would fade just as quickly, Beth had dedicated herself to finishing off the bottle. Wonderfully, as she'd progressed, she'd just started feeling better and better. She had her whole life ahead of her, and whether she had a boyfriend during it or not made no real difference; she would still be Beth, and that was great.

This TV show she'd started watching was also great, though she suspected it was not the one that had been on when she'd started watching. It was a little hard to keep track of, because as far as she could tell, it was about nothing. Just a group of people going through life and complaining and being funny; she thought it was hilarious. No one was really like this. That was why the joke worked so well.

Plus, every so often, they said things that could have been written about her. Well, almost... a little stretch of the imagination could work. Two pretty women sat on a couch drinking coffee and talking about failed relationships; Beth felt like she was there. "C'mon," one said to the other, "you need closure. He was never the right guy for you, and you're better off without him."

"But he was such a great dresser!" the other woman answered in a sigh, and Beth broke up with laughter.

"Closure," she said to herself quietly, when she'd stopped laughing. "You are absolutely right, I need closure!" She kept watching to see what happened; the first woman ended up bullying her friend into calling the Great Dresser and telling him everything that was wrong with him. As much as the audience thought it was highly funny, and Beth got the joke, her mind was on another track now.

She would feel better if she spoke to Drake. It was the best idea she'd had all month long. Why was she moping around the house, when she could so easily just sit down and have a nice long talk about her feelings?? There was no doubt in her mind that Drake would appreciate the idea, and just now she felt like she could really do that. She stood and headed for the kitchen, picked the phone receiver off the wall, and dialed the number from memory.

It rang. It rang for a long time, and just as Beth was remembering that it was in fact midnight and if anyone was at home they were likely to be asleep, the line picked up.

"MWAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!" came a burst of deep laughter, and an organ played the beginning of "Toccata in Fugue". Beth, startled, held the receiver away and stared at it in consternation before putting it back to her ear. A voice resumed: "You haff reached ze Castle! But no von eez home: ve are all out collecting ze bodies for ze latest experiment! You vill leaf message, und ve vill call back ven ve return!"

Belatedly Beth recognized the ridiculously-accented voice as Gosalyn's, and understood that it was the recorded answering machine message. She let out a breath in relief, and laughed a little.

In the background came another voice, cutting through the collection of wolf howls and screams that Gosalyn was layering the message with. "Gos, you didn't actually record that, did you? People are going to think this is some kind of nuthouse!"

There was a scuffling noise, and Gosalyn said irritably, "Aw, Dad, you're ruining it! Stop being such a wet blank-"

Then Beth winced as a loud beep sounded in her ear. It was a moment before she remembered to speak. "Oh! Um - is that... is this where I say my message? Wow, that was crazy. Well, anyway, this is just me - I mean, this is Beth, and I'm just calling to say - to say hi, I guess!" Now that she was doing this, she realized she hadn't thought at all about what she was going to say. Amazingly, she wasn't at all nervous, though the greeting message had thrown her off so much that she was speaking in the kind of stammer she usually couldn't turn off when she felt under pressure.

She tried to pull herself together and focus her mind. "So, how are you? I mean - that's a dumb question to ask an answering machine, huh? Sorry. Well, I just thought I'd let you know that I'm fine. Drake, I really am fine; I wanted to tell you that. For a long time I was hurting really badly, because I never told you that I loved you, and I never got to tell you, because you already knew. But I guess really, the idea of you and me together, that's pretty weird, isn't it? I mean, we have hardly anything in common." She made her way over to the kitchen table and sat down, making herself comfortable. "Like, to start with, you're just not a good listener at all, and I don't think I could be with someone who's like that. Not because I want to talk all the time or anything, actually, but it is really kind of mean when I am talking and you're obviously not listening. I mean, I listen to you. It's just common courtesy."

She stopped herself; this wasn't why she had called. "Okay, but this isn't why I called. I wanted to tell you that I'm fine now, that's the real reason... I don't need you to love me for me to feel good about myself! I am great, Drake Mallard, and tonight I am going to accept that, and if you don't you can just... you can just..."

There was another beep, this one longer than the first. Beth jumped, then said "Hello?" just as the phone clicked into a mute state. After another pair of clicks, she got a dial tone. It dawned on her that she'd used up the entire message tape.

Oh, well; she'd said what she'd wanted to say - or she was pretty sure she had, at least - and if that show was still on, she was very interested in finding out what happened with the well-dressed ex-boyfriend. Maybe he came crawling back.


Beth had a boyfriend.

That was the defining point of her life at this moment. The day before, she had not had a boyfriend, and now she had one. She had told her parents, and her coworkers, and her old teachers; she'd even found the room all her old schoolmates from Pinny's were having their classes in, and told them. Nicola had looked like she was going to have a heart attack from the surprise.

Beth now decided it was time to tell Candy. She had saved it for last, because she knew this would be the most satisfying conversation of all. Finding Candy sitting by the pool, Beth smiled smugly and said, "I have a boyfriend now. You're not the only one anymore."

Candy looked up, surprised. "Really? Who?"

In a moment of shock, which very nearly led to a moment of outright panic, Beth couldn't remember who her new boyfriend was. She knew she had one, but beyond that, the details were fuzzy. She dug around in her head and came up with his name. "Launchpad. You don't know him, but his name is Launchpad, and he loves me."

"Oh," said Candy. She didn't even pretend to care. "If he loves you so much, where is he?"

"Well, I... I told him I needed some space," said Beth defensively. This wasn't going the way she had expected. In retrospect, she wasn't sure why she had told him that - or when, exactly.

"I think you're making this up, Bessie," said Candy, shaking her head with a sad expression on her face, as if her sister's dishonesty hurt her personally.

"I am NOT!" Beth felt furious suddenly. "I'll go get him! He's just two houses down from here!"

But when she got to Launchpad's house, he wasn't there. She looked in every room, and he was gone, without even a note to tell her when he'd be back. With a sinking feeling, she realized that he was not coming back, and that she wouldn't see him again.


She awoke from the dream - for it was, after all, a dream, though it took her several long moments to comprehend that - feeling uncomfortable and unhappy. The feeling of being deserted by Launchpad mingled with a general sense of unease at the idea of dating him. That dream almost felt worse than the ones she'd had about Drake.

The clock next to her bed was blurry, and even with her glasses on she had to pick it up and peer closely at its face for some time before she could figure out what time it was. Not quite 6 am; the morning was only just beginning to dawn, and the room had a thick grey look to it, as though the early light was trying to disguise itself as it seeped in through the windows.

Her head felt heavy and ugly. Beth squinted, trying to clear it, and felt discomfort spread through her whole body. Best to go back to sleep, and quickly, before she woke up any further than she already had.

She would never, she promised herself sincerely, EVER drink wine again. Or any alcohol. Or... possibly anything at all, ever again. She couldn't even remember much past midnight, like what time she had gone to bed, or how she'd gotten herself upstairs, or... or...

Her stomach did a horrible twist inside of her as she sat up straight and dashed downstairs, making for the phone at top speed.

It rang three times while Beth prayed that she'd dreamed the whole phone message. That wasn't totally impossible; she'd been watching that television show, maybe she'd gotten ideas and then fallen asleep and dreamed about leaving an empowering message on Drake's answering machine. Except that the empowering message was horribly, horribly humiliating, and she hoped beyond hope that it had been a dream.

There was a faint click, and then a voice boomed "MWAAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!" as an organ started to play "Toccata in Fugue".

Beth groaned, hung up, and hit redial on the phone pad. There was no way she could have coincidentally invented that in a dream. She had to hang up and dial a third time before someone finally answered, and a very groggy voice slurred, "H'lo?"

She wasn't completely sure who it was, but it didn't sound like Drake, so she just crossed her fingers and said, "Launchpad?"

"Huh?"

That sounded more like him. She felt like she could breathe a little bit easier. "I'm sorry, I know it's early, but this is urgent and I really need your help, I need you to do me a HUGE favour but first you have to answer a question for me, okay?" She waited for an answer. The moments dragged on, and although her head was throbbing angrily at her, Beth was pretty sure the problem wasn't on her end. "Launchpad?" she tried again.

"...H'lo?"

"Um - are you awake?"

"Yeah, I think so." There was no sense of recognition in his voice.

"Okay. I need you to do two things for me, this is really really important or I swear I wouldn't have called so early."

Sounding confused and more than a little worried, he said, "Beth?"

She felt more frustrated than anything. "Yes. It's me. I-"

"Is everything okay? Are you okay?" Well, he sounded more alert now than he had a moment before. Beth tried to thank heaven for small mercies, but her head was pounding and she was still bubbling over with anxiety.

"I'm fine. I mean I'm not fine but it's not - I'm not hurt. Yet. Um, would - do you know if, um, did you guys check the phone messages since last night?"

She could nearly see him looking puzzled. "Uh, ya mean since we got in? Probably not... DW never checks the messages, he just goes to bed."

Her stomach unknotted, and she had to put an arm on the table to steady herself, she was so relieved. "Oh, thank heaven. Look, I need you to do me a gigantic favour."


By the time he returned to the phone, Launchpad sounded a little bit more aware of things. "Okay, I got it," he said.

"You erased it?" she asked, confused by his terminology.

"Well, no. I don't know how to do that without playin' it, so I just took the message tape out."

"Wasn't there- wasn't there a button that said 'erase'? That's what mine has..."

"Oh," Launchpad said, with a note of enlightenment in his voice. "I never looked for that."

Beth shook her head; what mattered was that, one way or another, the message could not be played. "Well, it doesn't matter. And you're sure that it hadn't been checked yet?"

"Yeah, the light was still blinkin'."

Deeply relieved, Beth sank back against the kitchen wall and let herself breathe again. Her legs no longer seemed to want to support her. All the adrenalin was draining out of her, leaving her feeling exhausted and achy. Still, she felt a powerful sort of happiness. "Oh, thank you. Thank you so much."

"This must've been some message," Launchpad said, chuckling.

She turned pink. "I, um, I guess." She didn't really want to go down this road this morning; she didn't fully remember everything she'd said, but she was pretty sure that a confession of love was on there, along with a general sort of 'you-don't-know-what-you're-missing' message figuring pretty strongly. It wasn't something she wanted anyone to know about. Plus, the fog in her head just wouldn't clear out, and it was leaving her feeling both drained and irritated. "I'd... I'd really rather not talk about this right now," she added hopefully.

"Aw, don't I get a reward for helpin' you out?" he asked teasingly.

Beth didn't see the humour in the situation. "Maybe," she said tightly, "but I just want to forget all about this, okay?"

"Okay," he said, relenting. "Whaddaya want me to do with the tape?"

"I don't know. Burn it," she said, rubbing at her forehead with the palm of her hand. Her head was full of mist and there was a persistant throb developing on one side of her head that she was sure would be with her all day.

"Wow," Launchpad said, apparently surprised at the strength of her statement. He laughed again, perfectly at ease, and said, "Now I wanna hear it."

"What? No. That's not funny." She knew he was joking - of course he was joking, this was Launchpad - but it hit too close to home. And - a little voice at the back of her mind insisted on asking her, what if he DID listen to it? He had the tape, she didn't, and he hadn't erased it. He could do whatever he wanted with it. He could play it whenever he wanted and there was nothing she could do about it. Her head continued to throb at her angrily. "Don't, okay? Please."

"I dunno, now I'm all curious," he said.

Then Beth realized she was being laughed at, just the way everyone laughed at her all the time, and her head was full of buzzing and stuffed with cotton that had been soaked in something boiling hot and toxic. She got to her feet without realizing it, and before she could start crying she yelled, "I said don't! Why, why would you do it when I said not to?! Why do you think this is FUNNY?!"

"Whoa - hang on a sec-"

"No, no, don't turn it around on me! Don't try to make me think I'm overreacting or crazy or something! I said no and you laughed, and, and what kind of friend does that? And you thought it was funny and everyone's always laughing at me, and -" Her voice broke, but she forged angrily on, "I don't understand why you're being so mean and you won't just LISTEN! I thought I could TRUST you!"

She realized she was shouting into the phone only when she heard his voice, much quieter in comparison. "Beth, calm down, okay?"

"Don't SAY that! Just - just leave me alone!" And she slammed the phone onto the receiver, nearly hard enough to break it - which had been her unacknowledged intention - and then stared at it for a number of seconds with a feeling of growing horror. And then she started to cry.


Unlike his baby sister, Edgar did not need much prodding to get up and ready for school each morning. While their mother took about ten minutes talking and prodding Kit awake, Edgar got himself up, showered, and dressed between 6:00 and 6:14 am, most days. At this point, while Kit was being herded into the bathroom to wash the sleep out of her eyes, he went downstairs, retrieved the morning newspaper, and then made his way to the kitchen and had a bowl of cereal to jumpstart his system before his mother got the main breakfast started. This morning the routine went slightly differently when he found his sister Beth huddling in the corner sobbing.

Edgar froze, at a complete loss. He looked around the room, though he didn't know what he was looking for, then took a step backwards and went to find his mother.

Less than two minutes later, Irene touched Beth gently on her shoulder. "Darlin'. Are ye hurt? What is it?"

Beth lifted her head slightly, then pulled away, wiping furiously at her eyes and shaking her head "no".

"Somethin' happened?" Irene tried again. She reached for her daughter, but Beth continued to pull back.

"Nuh-nothing," Beth said in a thick stammer. Irene frowned.

"Now don't do that, me-darlin'," she said softly, holding Beth's hand firmly in her own. "Ye can't push me away every time. I'm here now an' I'm not goin' away."

Beth looked at her with liquid eyes, as if trying to gauge the situation, and fresh tears started down her cheeks. With a muffled sob she stopped pulling away, and Irene gathered her into her arms and held her, rocking her in a way she hadn't done since Beth had been in preschool.

After several minutes, when Beth's shudders had died down a little bit, Irene drew back. She pushed hair out of Beth's tear-stained face and smiled at her tenderly. "Pet, I just need t'get breakfast started fer yer Dad an' the kids. Head on upstairs t'yer room an' wait for me. I'll be five minutes at the most; wet a washcloth and cool yer face down, an' just relax." She kissed her daughter on the forehead, and pulled her to her feet. "Go now. I'll be right there." Sniffling, Beth left without a word. Irene hoped she was following the directions she'd been given.

She put water on to boil, got the coffee started, and fried six eggs for her husband and two youngest children. The toast would take too long, so she set out a stack of fresh bread next to the toaster, with butter and jam at the ready, and added quick-cook oats to the water before stirring in some brown sugar and removing it from heat. Then she took out bowls and set the table, and finally fled up the stairs.

After a quick knock on the door to Beth's room, she let herself in and found her daughter sitting on her bed with her knees pulled up, her forehead pressed against them. "Uncurl, pet," she said. "Ye should relax."

Beth sighed, and shook her head against her knees. "'M fine," she said in a muffled voice.

Irene produced a handkerchief and gave it to her daughter, who lifted her head enough to use it loudly before folding it repeatedly into a tiny, perfect square. Sitting on the bed next to Beth, Irene said, "D'ye want to talk about it?"

"Nnn." Beth shook her head again, looking miserable underneath her bangs. She stared fixedly at the handkerchief that she couldn't seem to stop fiddling with.

"That's fine," said Irene with a nod. "Ye don't have to tell me anythin' personal. Just remember though, pet, I'm here t'listen any time yer ready. An' until then, I'm here fer anythin' else y'need."

They sat in silence for long minutes, and Irene spent most of it resisting the incredibly strong urge to give Beth a speech on developing a positive attitude, and confronting her worries enough to talk about them and conquer them. Years of experience had taught her - too late, it seemed many times - that Beth could not be pushed into anything. For all her introversion and her willingness to please, Irene's middle daughter had a will like iron when it came to dealing with her family. Irene was deeply proud of this, even when it caused them to butt heads - as they so frequently did. If only she'd understood her daughter sooner...

She banished all those thoughts for the time being. Right now her daughter needed her. Right now was about Beth.

"I blew it, Mom," Beth said finally, in a hoarse mumble. She had set her cheek against her left knee, in a folded position that Irene could only dream of managing to get into. "I did something awful."

"It can't be that bad, pet. Very few t'ings are that awful."

Beth gave a great, wet sniffle - though her eyes seemed to finally be dry - and said, "This is." She lifted her head slightly. "I got mad at someone - someone who's only been wonderful to me ever since we met - and I said some really terrible things. They just wanted to help me, and I..." Her voice got higher and tighter, and trailed off, as she started to cry again.

"Oh, sweetheart," said Irene, pulling her daughter into her arms again. Beth came willingly this time.

Against her mother's shirt, Beth squeaked tearfully, "I'm a horrible person!"

"No," said Irene, and she made shushing noises and rubbed Beth's back for another full round of tears, while inwardly she reflected on Beth's temper. She was an even mix of both her parents: like her father, she was very patient, very slow to anger. She could suffer through nearly as many trials as Job himself. But when she did finally get angry, it was explosive; Beth had inherited her mother's temper, and Irene knew full well how hard it was to control and how easy it was to say things you didn't mean, things you deeply regretted later.

"We all make mistakes," said Irene gently. She ran her fingers softly through Beth's hair. "Those who love us understand, an' they'll always fergive us if we ask fer it."

"Not for me," Beth moaned. "It doesn't work that way for me. Nobody ever comes back."

"I do. An' I always will, no matter what we say ta one another." Beth, sniffling in apparent surprise, lifted her head and looked into her mother's eyes. Irene smiled, and after a moment Beth did too; regardless, her eyes filled with tears again, and she lowered her head slowly back to her mother's shoulder. "Oh, pet," Irene said with a sigh, rubbing Beth's back. "I wish ye did'na have to go through all this."

"Yeah," said Beth, her voice gravelly. She laughed, in that disconcerting habit she had of couching her own negativity in a pretense of humour, and sniffled again.

They sat for some time in silence, and although Irene relished the time spent being close to her daughter, she had to fight down an increasingly hot curiosity regarding this "someone" Beth had referred to. She knew so little about Beth these days that it was impossible for her to know if this tied into why Beth had suddenly asked to come home; the "someone" could be anyone, from a coworker to a boyfriend. The fact that Beth had carefully avoided mentioning gender made Irene certain that the person in question was a man; beyond that, she had nothing but her own imagination, which was quite rich in its own right.

Well, it wasn't the time to wonder about such things. If she could cheer Beth up, perhaps her daughter would offer up more information, but Irene was on ground that was just too shaky right now to risk asking anything. Instead she lifted Beth's face up to her own and wiped at her daughter's eyes with a corner of the bedspread. "Darlin'," she said, "y'need to get out o' the house an' take yer mind offa these t'ings."

Beth sank backwards, shaking her head. "I really don't feel like it, Mom."

"Mopin's not gettin' ye anywhere, Bethie. C'mon, Mum knows best; it's been ferever since we really got t'talk, why not go on out an' have a day? Just the two of us? Candy's workin' th' mornin' shift today an' yer appointment's not 'til this afternoon, so we can go have some fun." She was really asking, not only for Beth's sake, but for her own. It wasn't in Irene's character to reveal the kind of vulnerability that would be evident by admitting that she missed her daughter and wanted her company; but the idea of protecting one of her chicks gave her an excuse to insist, and she wouldn't take "no" for an answer.

Eyes downcast, still looking reluctant, Beth shrugged. "I don't know. It depends, what would we do? I don't want to see a movie or anything."

"Well..." Movies weren't what Irene had had in mind, either; she wanted face time. "I know. Every so often Candy an' I step out t'gether an' get our hair an' nails done, then go shoppin'. We could..." She trailed off; the look of distaste on Beth's face was plain. "I s'pose that's a 'no' t'that idea." Beth shrugged again, and Irene's spirits began to sink. This wasn't going to work; as determined as she may have been, Beth was the one member of their family whose will could outweigh her own. If she was determined to be miserable and alone, Irene barely had a fighting chance against it.

So, she backed down, nursing a stinging blow to her heart. "Well. P'raps ye can think on it, an' let me know later what ye'd like. I'll be around all day, y'know." She started from the room, but stopped when Beth called after her.

"Mom?" When Irene turned around, Beth asked hopefully, "I... I might like to go to the Botanical Gardens..."

"Whatever ye want, darlin'!" Irene said. She gave a sigh of relief, and left her daughter to get dressed.