Max left almost immediately, his gaze unfocused. Instincts kicking in, taking him away from the scene. Somewhere safe. The "flight" in full force.

Darkwing had crumpled to a heap on the street, the bear — Gryzlikoff if Negaduck was remembering correctly — eventually giving up on trying to keep him upright and standing vigil, keeping everyone at bay.

Eventually, Launchpad soared in, looking as distressed as Negaduck had ever seen him. He coaxed Darkwing first to standing then shepherded him into the Thunderquack, flying them away. Presumably back to the Tower. Maybe to Avian Way. It was unclear. And didn't matter.

Once Darkwing had been collected, Gryzlikoff and the small goose with half moon spectacles moved back to the first responders. Talked for awhile, let the forensics team take photos and bag evidence. They watched as the scene was cleaned up. Then climbed into a nondescript black vehicle and drove off. Leaving the street looking as if nothing had happened. As if it hadn't been the epicenter of where the world changed.

Negaduck watched all of this transpire, cloaked in shadow and unmoving.

As soon as he'd seen the crime scene tape, the emergency vehicles flashing brighter than the Christmas lights lining the street, the EMT clinicians carrying a zipped body bag into the back of the ambulance, Negaduck had stepped back. Nestled himself into a small shopfront that was closed for the impending holiday, and took watch. Didn't move. Waited.

Until this moment, when the street was deserted.

No one paid him any mind.

It wasn't like anyone was going to come whisk Negaduck away to a haven of comfort. The only person in the world who might have thought to do such a thing was lying dead in a morgue downtown.

Negaduck was, not for the first time, truly and completely alone.

Slowly, he trudged up to the bank. Studied the sidewalk, the dark stain on the pavement. Looked up to the top of the building.

To gauge just how far she had fallen.

The First National was one of the tallest buildings in St. Canard. It must have taken around 30 seconds for her to fall.

And what had she been thinking in those moments?

Gosalyn.

His baby girl.

She'd been alone when it had happened. Her exit had been quiet. Solitary.

It went against everything Gosalyn was.

Had been.

Past tense was something he would need to become familiar with in regards to her.

The familiar rage, the frustration, the unbridled chaos bubbled up from deep within.

This, at least, was an old friend.

But here was not the place. As much as he ached to level the building, see it reduced to nothing more than fine powder and small pieces of rubble, he couldn't do it. Not on this street.

The same street in another universe, though. Would be more acceptable.

So he left, walking backwards down the street, not removing his eyes from the building in question until the First National was a small dot. Only then did he turn away and sprint.

The snow packed along the gutters and into shopfronts deterred him not at all. Patches of ice made him slip, but he never fell. Too great was his trajectory. Practically flying downtown towards the Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice Bakery.

He flung himself inside, catapulted through to the back room where the cake that served as the doorway to the Negaverse stood, and leapt inside. The swirling rainbow of colors that filled the space between each universe was little more than a blur on the edges of his vision.

There was only one goal in mind: get back to the Negaverse. Ravage. Pulverize. Decimate. Until he could feel something again.

Destruction went beyond second nature to Negaduck. It was his primary nature. It was who he was.

These past few years he had deluded himself into thinking that he might be more than just wanton violence. Gosalyn had been convinced that there was another role for him. That he might be worth something, worth getting a second chance and given a new life.

But she was gone.

And in her absence, he saw that she had been wrong. How laughable it was to think that he was anything more than what had always been.

Dark devastation.

Vaulting out of the cake and into his own universe, Negaduck shuddered. Twitched in anticipation for the weapons he would wield. For the explosions and flames he would unleash. For the impending mutilation.

Scampering down the street, he reached into his cape, fingers itching for his matchbook, for kerosene.

But something stayed his hand.

God damned Main Street. With its glistening glimmering Christmas decorations.

It was under that lamppost, a wreath weighed with heavy bulbous ornaments hanging from it, that Negaduck had stood last year. Watched Gosalyn spin in circles with her arms outstretched, the lights softening her to something almost ethereal as snow fell down around her in airy flurries.

It was down this street that the two of them, arms linked, had strolled as he had told her about his childhood.

Now Negaduck slowed his agonizing pace, coming to a stop as he looked around his city.

And instead of seeing the derelict buildings and dilapidated streets, he saw Gosalyn.

Climbing over parked and rusting cars to avoid the swamp that the nearby intersection had transformed into. Glancing upwards towards the tops of the buildings to see which would become her perch for whatever mission they were on. Grinning when she found a tree that had appeared dead blossoming in the early stages of spring. Complaining there weren't any good water parks to visit here when it got too hot and muggy. Navigating the cracked and deteriorating sidewalk to hand him a cup of spiced cider because "there's a chill in the air and you're not wearing a coat." Stopping to build a snowman that looked alarmingly like Negaduck, including the fedora that she'd snatched off his head to place on the mound of snow.

And if he walked the city, he knew he would come across more memories. Like ghosts lingering.

He'd walk by the field where he had taught her how to shoot a gun.

Pass by St. Canard College, which had been reduced to rubble after their run-in with the Negaverse's version of S.H.U.S.H..

Wind his way through the miles of murals that acted as the history book of the city. The last dozen blocks filled with vibrant color and discernible shapes, unlike the swirling dark nothingness from his past.

Negaduck turned in place, searching for somewhere he could go to release all this pent up energy. Anywhere that didn't have memories of Gosalyn clinging to them that would be destroyed with the structures.

Call him sentimental. But he would rather turn the gun on himself instead of on something that held a memory of her.

And as he completed his circle, looking at the tree in the center of town, he realized there was nothing here that hadn't been effected by Gosalyn in some shape or form.

The fight within him immediately died.

The fire burning deep down, begging to be unleashed, was banked until there was only smoke and ash.

There was nothing left in its wake but the husk of what he had been.

Withered.

Dried out.

Empty.

This was worse.

This was so much worse than when he had lost his mother.

Because now. Now, he was nothing.

Not even his rage could soothe him.

"The city is not half so bad as I imagined it to be."

Negaduck forgot to be startled at the voice. At the idea that he wasn't alone with his thoughts. That he had, probably, been followed.

"Then you didn't hear the right stories," Negaduck growled, his voice still, somehow, unchanged. Still graveled and deep. And here he thought that, too, would be broken.

He looked over to see Scrooge McDuck, who was standing nearby, a winter coat buttoned all the way up to the collar, his top hat in place, his glasses glinting in the Christmas lights, and hands resting atop his cane that was planted precisely between his feet.

"Well," said Scrooge, studying the city square around them, "Gosalyn did have a way of making things seem better than they perhaps were."

At the mention of her, Negaduck straightened, a sharp pain lancing through his gut. "Why are you here?" he snarled, his tone harsh.

"I was worried about you."

Negaduck blinked in surprise, the anger flitting away in the wake of the open honesty Scrooge was offering him. "Why?" There wasn't anger in his voice anymore, just incredulity.

Scrooge finally turned his gaze to Negaduck, the brilliant blue somewhat dulled."You were the only one who was alone. Drake has Launchpad. Max is with Goofy. The boys have Donald. But you. There's no one."

Shivering, and fully prepared to blame the winter weather for that, Negaduck scowled and wrapped his cape around himself. "Thanks for the reminder."

Scrooge tapped his cane on the street, his eyes moving back to the decorations. "I do know loss, and I know what it can do to you. Make you feel like you're life's not worth anything, that all the joy and pleasure in the world has a been locked away, just not an option for someone like you anymore.*

"I did not want you to have to process something like this on your own. And I know that Gosalyn would have wanted the same."

Negaduck swallowed. "So you're here because of her." It was stated so matter-of-factly. Like the answer to a riddle.

"No." Scrooge smiled slightly and shrugged. "I like you, laddie. Probably more than you realize. I was being honest when I said that I was worried."

Negaduck pulled his cape around himself all the tighter. He didn't know what to do with this blatant act of kindness. From Gosalyn, it was something he'd grown accustomed to. But from someone else. Someone Negaduck knew so little about, had only interacted with in the most cursory of ways. He didn't know how to categorize it.

"So," said Negaduck when the silence ate away at him too much and he couldn't take the stillness anymore, "what do we do now?"

"There's no rulebook when it comes to this type of thing," said Scrooge. "You'll just take whatever time you need to grieve. And if it's all right, I would like to stop by from time to time. Make sure you aren't up to anything too stupid."

"I am an adult, you know."

"Not to me," said Scrooge with something like affection warming his tone. "Besides, losing someone we love makes fools of us all."

"Sounds like you've got some personal experience."

Damn.

That was.

That was mean.

Scrooge had only come with good intentions.

But Negaduck had never done well with good intentions.

Scrooge sighed. "Lad, I've lived through my fair share of history. That doesn't come without a price. I've seen people come and go, a good deal of them I cared about. This never gets easier. It doesn't stop hurting. But you realize that being with those who are left is the best way to move forward."

Not in a thousand years would Negaduck have guessed that Scrooge McDuck would have considered being with him to figure out how to move forward. There were so many better candidates.

Speaking of.

"How's Darkwing?"

Scrooge hummed and returned his gaze to the city around them. "I couldn't say. Launchpad's with him, so he's not alone."

Negaduck didn't think Darkwing would ever be alone.

Unless you counted those sad pathetic versions of him that had isolated themselves. Darkwarrior Duck. The silent arrow slinging one who called himself Quiverwing.

All the other Darkwing's he had met were obnoxiously horrendously surrounded by those who loved him. Sometimes worshipped him. Darkwing was enveloped by people who would be there no matter what. Who would support him.

So, of course he wasn't alone—

Wait.

Hold on.

Darkwarrior and Quiverwing Duck. There was something there. In their isolation. Why had they become solitary?

Because they'd lost their Gosalyns.

A frigid realization shot through Negaduck like a bolt of electricity.

Oh.

Shit.

"We have to go back," he said, turning towards the Sugar and Spice Bakery and marching towards it.

Scrooge started following Negaduck, his cane clack clack clacking away behind him. "What d'ya mean?"

"We have to go back to the Prime Universe," Negaduck said, quickening his pace as he turned down a corner and sped towards Everything Nice. "Darkwing is a ticking time bomb."

"Lad, I can't speak to how well he might be doing right now, but like I said, he's not alone—"

"He wasn't alone in those other universes, either. Not at first. There are other worlds where Gosalyn has died, has left, and Darkwing pushed everyone away and destroyed everything around him in the process."

Scrooge harrumphed as they reached their destination. "Who's speaking from personal experience now?"

Huh.

Interesting.

Scrooge could be mean, too.

"Oh, please," Negaduck scoffed, wrenching the door to the bakery open as he sent Scrooge a sneer. "I destroyed everything because there was nothing better to do. You can't push people away if no one's there in the first place."

With that, Negaduck strode back into the bakery, back into the storage room, back into the cake.

Gosalyn had only feared one iteration of her father: Darkwarrior Duck.

So, if Darkwing was about to go supernova, Negaduck was gonna make damn sure he would be there to do something about it.

After all, her last words to him had been, "Please watch over Dad and Max."

So, of course, he would.

A/N: *Quote by Griffin McElroy from The Adventure Zone: Amnesty arc.*