"DAD!"
A pint-sized, red-haired torpedo struck Darkwing straight in the midriff with enough force to knock him backward onto his feathered rump the moment he dismounted from Artemus' horse Mesa.
"Hey, watch the ribs, kiddo!" Darkwing rasped as he returned her limpet-like hug and gave her a fatherly kiss on the forehead. "I missed you too!" Then he noticed the tears welling up in his little girl's eyes and realized how worried and afraid for him she'd been, both before and after the adrenaline rush of taking down Megavolt had worn off her. As afraid as he had been all this time for her sake . . . .
"I thought I'd never see you again!" she sniffled, burying her head in his shoulder as far as she could before breaking down and sobbing.
Morgana was almost as tearful and grip-of-death-ful as Launchpad and Honker helped Darkwing up with Gosalyn still held tight in his arms. As they all came together, Darkwing closed his eyes and thought that these were the best hugs he'd ever received, even if he could barely breathe . . . .
Watching them from a short distance away and wiping a bit of moisture out of the corner of one of his own eyes, Artemus turned to see his Secret Service partner watching the family reunion as well.
"You know, Jim," he said, "if you told me yesterday I'd be moved to tears by the sight of a bunch of ducks hugging, I'd've never believed you."
"No, you wouldn't have," Jim jibed him a little. "Let's just hope we can come up with a story that Colonel Richmond will believe and that leaves out most of the details. Maybe we can say Count Manzeppi hit us and Dr. Denver with a hallucinatory gas or something."
Artemus groaned and gave his grinning partner a sidelong glance. From the sound of it, he was going to have until at least next April Fool's Day to live this one down! It'd been an amazing adventure, all told, and he still had to fill Jim in on everything that had happened to him and Darkwing, and learn everything that had befallen Jim and the others after they'd been separated, though they'd given each other the condensed version on the horse ride back. But after Mesa and Blackjack had been put back in their stables, brushed down, and given oats, some extra treats and apologies for the double burdens they'd had to carry in the past day, and after a grimacing Orrin and Silas made a temporary patch of the Wanderer's water tank and disentangled the bicycle from its twisted rear railing (while Launchpad hid from them, to be on the safe side), it was time to see off their extraordinary visitors from another world – or was it dimension?
With a still-snarling but much-subdued Megavolt strapped onto the roof of the Macawber family vehicle like a piece of hostile yellow luggage, and Launchpad and Honker, Eek and Squeak all ensconced in the back seat, Darkwing and Morgana shook hands with James West and Artemus Gordon and said their goodbyes and thanks for what each of them had done for the others. Gosalyn, still holding onto her Dad with one hand gave Jim and Arte each a half-hug to thank them and apologize for all the trouble she'd been putting everyone through. Then Jim thanked her for coming up with a way to save him and Morgana from Megavolt, and Artemus had made a remark about Gosalyn being a chip off the old block that almost made her chirp.
"Yep," Darkwing said proudly, ruffling her red pigtails, "my little girl is going to make one heck of a superhero someday! Someday in the very, VERY far future, that is!"
Gosalyn's smile faded and she looked up at Darkwing with the most disappointed, widest eyed, pleading puppy expression she could manage.
"Does that mean I'm still grounded for two weeks?" she asked tremulously.
"Of course not, sweetheart," Darkwing said with affection before his face turned stern again. "It's going to be four weeks now! And no allowance, either!"
"Aaawwww Daaadddd . . . ." Gosalyn moaned, dropping the cute puppy act.
"But maybe I could ground myself a bit too, so we could spend some more time together, and I could give you a hand with some of that homework?" he offered.
Gosalyn nodded and gave Darkwing a big hug again before the two of them headed for the vehicle, where an impatient Archie was leaning on the horn again.
"Are you sure you're up to this?" Jim asked Morgana with some concern, knowing she was going to have to cast the spell that would get them all back to St. Canard.
"Yes – I've had enough rest," she said. "And I am anchored to our home world through my magic. Returning to my anchor point will be much easier than bringing us here was. Thank you for everything you did for us." The tall sorceress leaned over and gave each Secret Service agent a quick peck on the cheek before waving and walking over to enter the vehicle with the rest. With most of the group waving goodbye, Morgana lifted her arms in the air, concentrated and opened the green mystic portal for Archie to drive through that led to St. Canard on the other side. Jim and Arte watched while the spider-driven horseless carriage rode forward and vanished, leaving behind only a shimmer until even that last trace disappeared. They didn't hear Darkwing's final whispered, slightly peevish comment or Morgana's response.
"Jeez, Morg, they're nice guys and all, but you didn't have to kiss them!"
"Now, Dark darling, don't be jealous. Besides, even if they are a bit . . . well . . . homely, that's no reason not to be nice."
Morgana and Darkwing also didn't hear the snippet of conversation between the two Secret Service agents as their vehicle left the Wanderer and Wyoming Valley far behind.
"Imagine that," Artemus chuckled. "All this tumult because of a kid trying to take on criminals while only age ten! Crazy, huh?"
"I know," Jim agreed. "I waited until I was at least eleven!"
[WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW]
In spite of everything, the Wanderer's back railing and steps were substantially straightened out by the time the train pulled into Pittsburgh. Dr. Denver was all too happy to keep the more inexplicable facts about his rescue from Count Manzeppi a secret as well. It would be better for all involved if the truly strange aspects of what had happened never came out. Arte was still chagrinned that Count Manzeppi had managed to slip out of their grasp one more time though.
"And to think," Artemus complained, holding up the diseased molar that was all he had to show for the encounter, "I was the one who'd thought we incapacitated him enough!"
"Well it's a good thing for him that you knocked his tooth out!" Dr. Denver said, pointing to the object in question. "If that hadn't been extracted, why, the infection could have gone deep and killed him!"
Artemus and Jim both looked at the molar and then gaped for a moment at Dr. Denver.
"Do you mean to say," Artemus gulped as a horrified tone entered his voice, "that by removing this we actually saved Manzeppi's life?"
"Certainly," the dentist affirmed.
Artemus slumped down onto his favorite sofa in the varnish car and put a hand to his own cheek in dismay.
"I knew this case couldn't have a completely happy ending," he groaned.
After their farewell with the grateful Dr. Denver, Jim and Arte spent some time going over the more incredible events that they would have to 'modify' before making their report to Washington. Aside from the bit about teaming up with a family of talking, humanoid ducks and sentient bats and spiders, they agreed they'd better not mention magic spells, the horseless carriage, or any of the other incomprehensible otherworld terms and technologies Darkwing and the rest of that crew had talked about.
"Do you know, Jim, they have some sort of device in their world that can be used to make a person act stupid?"
"Aw, c'mon, Arte," Jim replied while getting up to answer a light knock that came on the varnish car's back door. "You don't need a scientific gadget to make people act stupid! There have been plenty of things around for years that can do that!"
"Such as?"
Artemus clammed up and got the answer to his own question as Jim ushered a gorgeous blond woman in fancy but tight and flamboyant evening dress into the varnish car. And right behind the delightful creature holding onto his partner's hand was an even more delightful one:
"Lily!"
"Oh, Artemus!" The woman of the older Secret Service agent's dreams gave him an affectionate embrace. "When Jim and Colonel Richmond telegraphed me to tell me that you'd both be in Pittsburgh while my new play was here, I couldn't wait to see you!"
"Jim and Colonel Richmond . . . ?" Artemus gasped, wrapping his arms around her. It might be the beginning of April rather than February 14th, but he got the feeling that little duck girls and cherubs weren't the only ones trying to shoot little arrows at people. With not much more than a quick salute, Jim took his own fancy date off for the evening and left his partner with Lily Fortune to enjoy a bit of privacy on board the train. It might not lead to marriage, but it would still mean at least a few hours or days for Artemus to spend with the woman he loved. He'd take every minute he could get.
Side stepping into the Wanderer's little pantry alcove to fetch a special bottle of Lily's favorite wine that he kept stashed for just such an occasion, Artemus glanced over and was horrified to see that his cookbook was still there and still open to the objectionable page he'd left it on only a couple of days before. He hoped none of their . . . different . . . visitors had seen it! It didn't seem to him likely that they had - there hadn't been any indication of it, anyway. He tore the recipe sheet out of the book and scrunched it into a little ball as he carried the bottle of wine in where his lady awaited, tossed the ball into a handy dish and lit a match to burn that page up before uncorking the wine and pouring a glass for Lily and one for himself. Lily was puzzled by his destruction of what appeared to be a perfectly ordinary recipe.
"A penny for your thoughts, Artemus dear," she said as they clinked glasses and she raised the wine to those lovely lips to take a sip.
Yes, there were plenty of things that could make a man act stupid, all right . . . .
"I was just thinking," he grinned, "that genius is over-rated!"
Then he took the glass out of her hands, put both goblets down on the table and embraced her in a long and passionate kiss . . . .
[WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW]
"Awwww," Morgana cooed as she and Darkwing closed the door to Gosalyn's slightly messier than usual bedroom after reading her a bedtime story and making sure she fell asleep. They hadn't had long to wait – they were all still exhausted from their adventures the day before, Gosalyn especially, so she'd dropped off with less fuss and fight than usual. "She looks just like a little angel!"
An angel surrounded by hockey sticks, sports balls, comic books, discarded gum wrappers, cracks in the plaster and every dirty dish she couldn't be bothered to return to the kitchen, Darkwing thought, but he had to agree.
"She's not the only one who looks like an angel," Darkwing said, planting a big smooch on the most enchanting of all the Macawber family before Launchpad came thumping up the steps of the Mallard house, interrupting the intimate moment.
"It's good of you to come over here while we're both grounded," Darkwing said as he and Morgana held hands, trying not to act too passionate in front of the sidekick. "Sorry we have to miss the rest of that museum exhibit though . . . ."
"But DW, that's what I came up to tell you!" Launchpad held up the evening edition of the St. Canard Chronicle in his hands. "You don't have to miss it! It says here in the paper the museum show's been closed by the city safety inspectors and won't reopen for at least a month! Something about them having to redo the whole thing because of too many blocked fire exits! You and Morgana can still go and you can even take Gosalyn!"
"Er, maybe not Gosalyn . . . ." Darkwing said. He'd had enough of that scenario to last him a lifetime! "But Morgana and I can go . . . and I'd like to take you dates in a few other places," he told her. "Would you mind the St. Canard swamp?" he asked sheepishly. "I sort of promised Eek and Squeak we'd take them someplace where they could get all the mosquitoes they can eat! As a, um, reward for saving me and Mr. Gordon, of course."
"The swamp!" Morgana gushed happily, ruffling Darkwing's feathers in a way he very much liked. "Oh, Dark, you're such a romantic!"
With Launchpad taking the hint to go hang out in the kitchen and make some popcorn, Drake and Morgana enjoyed a few more intimate moments on one of the pieces of living room furniture that wouldn't rotate and spin you into a tunnel leading to the bridge's secret hideout if you accidentally pressed it the wrong way. It was a lovely evening, and yet, as it drew to a close, Drake saw that something was troubling Morgana.
"Not another foreboding vision?" he hoped, asking her about it.
"No, nothing like that, thank goodness!" Morgana shook her head. "It's just that I – I can't help but feel we've forgotten something . . . ."
[WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW]
Count Manzeppi's mood should have been improving, but it wasn't. Though he hadn't been able to save his tooth, with or without red onions and oolong tea, the absence of the infected molar felt better than he'd expected. The throbbing pain that had been plaguing him for weeks was almost gone and the facial swelling that had disfigured him more than the loss of a tooth as it turned out was almost gone altogether. True, he'd been foiled once again by James West and Artemus Gordon . . . . and those damnable ducks too! But once again the great Manzeppi had gotten away and would live to destroy the foe another day. True, also, his favorite home hideaway had been seized, looted and all but destroyed, government agents now crawling all over it and hauling away what remained of its stolen treasures.
But no! Manzeppi could not plot his enemies' destruction at leisure or commence rebuilding his criminal empire. Not yet. Not while he was currently being pressed into servitude as if he, Count Carlos Maria Vincenzo Robespierre Manzeppi were a mere scullery slavey! He quivered at the indignity of it all as his tyrannical taskmaster banged on the wall of this underground tunnel shelter to make a new demand.
"I SAID," Great-great-great-step-grandpapa Loring the Boring Macawber shouted, "WHERE'S MY TEA AND TOAST!"
Count Manzeppi would dearly love to tell the old geezer exactly what he could do with his tea and toast, but Manzeppi had already learned what happened if he annoyed the duckish warlock too much.
"It's coming right up, you old coot," the Count muttered under his breath.
"WHAT'S THAT, YOU YOUNG WHIPPERSNAPPER?" the Macawber elder asked menacingly.
"I SAID IT'S COMING UP!" Manzeppi yelled back, then yelled some more as Great-great-great-step-grandpapa Loring swatted him on the rump with a bolt of magical energy. "SIR!" the Count added.
"IN MY DAY, YOUNG LADY, WE WERE BROUGHT UP TO RESPECT OUR ELDERS! THEY DIDN'T HAVE TO TURN US INTO FROGS A TIME OR TWO TO TEACH US SOME MANNERS!"
That Count Manzeppi was neither young nor female, the old warlock didn't seem to notice or care. What he did care about was being fetched every single object or comfort he wanted while reclining in one of the few pieces of good furniture Manzeppi had left, and keeping his sore, webbed foot propped up on a cushion. What Manzeppi cared about was that he did not want to find himself sitting in a pool of water and catching flies with his tongue – again.
And as for some of the stories the impatient oldster made Manzeppi sit and listen to over and over every day pretending to pay attention . . . . There was a reason this particular Macawber was nicknamed Loring the Boring.
Yes, if for no other reason than his current situation, Count Manzeppi would still seek his revenge on James West and Artemus Gordon and Darkwing Duck . . . .
Someday . . . .
"AND MAKE SURE YOU BRING ME PLENTY OF MARMALADE WHILE YOU'RE AT IT!"
"YES!"
Zap!
"OUCH! I MEAN, YES SIR!"
"AND THEN I WANT THIS PILLOW FLUFFED!"
It was going to be a long, long year . . . .
THE END?
