Twisted Strings of Fate Chapter 25, a DuckTales + DarkWing Duck Crossover fanfic

Twisted Strings of Fate

Chapter 25

I always wondered what it would be like to be part of a big family. I wished I had brothers and sisters growing up, but perhaps it was best that my mom only had me. Yet it would have been nice to have someone to talk to about the curse. My mom was pretty tight-lipped about it, and Grandpa lived too far away for me to see him often.

I envied those who had loud, noisy family reunions like they show on TV. However, perhaps by being in such a small family, I dodged a bullet.

"That's creepy."

Fenton cleared the Gizmoduck lens so he could look at Negaduck.

"Are you going to watch me all night?" Negaduck growled.

It was four AM, and Fenton had relieved Launchpad of duty only an hour ago. Since then, he had been running diagnostics on the suit to make sure that everything was wired properly after Hephaestus put it back together. For an ancient god, Hephaestus had some skills when it came to technology.

"I'm not looking at you," Fenton said from inside the armor. "Well, I guess I am, but through a camera. And I'm not watching it every second. I'm doing other things. Checking the suits systems."

"Can't you turn around or something? You're weirding me out," Negaduck snapped.

"If I turn my back, I can't guard you, now can I?" Fenton asked.

"What? Don't you have a camera back there?"
Fenton ignored the comment, but did rotate Gizmoduck forty-five degrees, which did allow his camera to stay on Negaduck.

Not long after this exchange, Fenton's sensors picked up a couple of warm bodies coming down the stairs into the basement. Strangely enough, he also picked up a cold spot leading them.

A knock came at the open door. Fenton cleared his lens again to see the ghost of a stuffy dog in an old-fashioned butler's uniform, floating outside the room.

"A Mr. Gearloose and Dr. Hoggins to see you, sir," the ghost said in a dry tone. The ghost floated away.

Fenton had heard rumors that McDuck Manor was haunted, but this was the first he had seen such evidence. He might have been surprised—maybe even excited at the prospect of studying the paranormal firsthand—if he hadn't been in Hades less than twenty-four hours ago.

Gyro entered, coffee in one hand and a briefcase in another. He was followed by a female pig dressed in a black suit.

"I didn't expect you'd come this late, Dr. Gearloose," Fenton said.

"Well, considering that you've kept the suit for over two days, it's a wonder I didn't charge over here the second I knew where you were," Gyro said, his tone more than a bit miffed. "I was up anyway. How is the battery holding up?"

"About twenty percent. I was going to bring it by in the morning," Fenton said.

"At least it's in one piece," Gyro harrumphed. "Despite Mr. McDuck approving of the use of the Gizmoduck armor this time, I have to insist that it not be kept away from its recharging chamber this long."

"I understand, but if you knew—"

The pig cleared her throat.

The two ducks turned to look at her.

"I'm sorry. This is my colleague, Dr. Hoggins. She's the expert psychiatrist that I told you about," Gyro introduced. "Dr. Hoggins, this is my intern, Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera."

"Also known as Gizmoduck, I presume," Dr. Hoggins said with a smile.

"Dr. Gearloose, you weren't supposed to reveal my secret identity," Fenton protested.

Gyro rolled his eyes. "Please. As if you haven't slipped up before."

Fenton was glad that the Gizmoduck helmet covered his cheeks so they couldn't see him blush.

"No worries. I am a psychiatrist, and we know how to keep a secret," the doctor said congenially. "I'll just charge this as your first session." She snorted in laughter. She sobered quickly when her eyes scrutinized the iron bars that split the room in half. "This is the patient, I presume."

Negaduck shifted, his manacles jangling.

"He's very dangerous, thus the chains," Fenton explained, hoping she didn't think they were mishandling Negaduck.

She must have heard the apology in his voice because she said, "Oh, I'm acquainted with Mr. McDuck and his family. Knowing Scrooge, I was kind of expecting something a little more medieval." She went to the bars and said, "Hello, Jim. My name is Dr. Hoggins. I'm here to help you."

"Help me into another cage, right?" Negaduck growled. "Throw me in a padded cell? More humane than this, right?"

"Oh, I think we can do better than that, Jim. First, I'd like to talk to you and then maybe we can make you a little more comfortable. How does that sound?" When Negaduck didn't say anything, she turned to Fenton and Gyro. "You two will need to leave. Patient/doctor confidentiality." She smiled disarmingly.

"Are you sure?" Fenton asked. "You do know he captured Mr. McDuck's family and chased several people around with a chainsaw, me included."

Dr. Hoggins waved a hand. "Oh, I've been regaled in all the gory details. To be quite frank, that's what got me interested in this case. Nothing like dealing with a violent sociopath to get one's blood pumping again." She laughed and snorted. "Now off you go, boys. If you're so concerned about my welfare, you can stay outside the door. If you hear squealing, then you can come to my rescue."

Fenton rolled out the door followed by Gyro.

For the next hour, Fenton and Gyro looked over the Gizmoduck suit. The senior scientist wasn't too happy about a Greek god toying with his creation, but after looking at the seam work, he was impressed. They worked in comfortable silence, needing no more than to exchange a few words to go about their labors.

When the door squeaked open, Dr. Hoggins stepped out, looking grim but satisfied. "Oh, boy. You weren't joking about this one, Gyro," she said. "I'm glad you called. Even the high class mental institution that Duckburg has would have trouble with him."

"And the diagnosis?" Gyro asked.

"Well, what I can tell you is that Jim Starling does meet the qualification for this new drug. At first, I worried that he might be schizophrenic with two personalities, but the Negaduck persona is merely a cover for Jim, not a completely different personality. If that had been the case, he would be disqualified," Dr. Hoggins explained.

"That's good, right?" Fenton said. "So, now what?"

"Now we give him his first dose," Dr. Hoggins said. "Gyro, do you still have my briefcase?"

The scientist handed over the black case, and Dr. Hoggins popped it open, revealing a large, white bottle and a gray box. She picked up the bottle that made a rattling noise, indicating it was filled with pills.

"These pills were designed for emergency cases much like Jim's," Dr. Hoggins explained. "The treatment is fast acting, helping the brain and the body's chemicals to react in a mentally healthy way. For the next forty-eight hours, he'll need to take two pills every five hours. After that, he'll only need to take one pill night and morning every day."

"And he's cured?" Fenton asked, amazed. "This drug is revolutionary."

"It is and it isn't," Dr. Hoggins said with a sigh. "Unfortunately, its effects are only temporary. The body quickly gets used to the drug, and they become ineffective within a few weeks, a month at most. But by then, a doctor can get the patient on a more long-term drug."

"Fascinating," Fenton said, wishing he could analyze the chemical compounds in the drug and the effects they have on the brain. But that would have to wait for another day.

"Gentlemen, I want you to prepare yourselves, because it's going to be rough on the patient," Dr. Hoggins said. "The beginning side effects are nasty, similar to when a drug addict goes through withdrawal. He'll have anxiety, sweating, sometimes even vomiting and seizures."

"Sounds like the cure is almost as bad as the sickness," Gyro said.

"Will he be in pain?" Fenton asked.

"Oh, most of the symptoms are psychosomatic," Dr. Hoggins said. "Even though he'll express them physically, it's all in his mind. His mind will think he's sick or that something's attacking his body, and his immune system will react normally, but he'll be alright."

Fenton wondered if the curse would be able to tell the difference.

"The worst only lasts twenty-four hours," Dr. Hoggins said. "And I'll be here to monitor him and help with the side effects. I'll need a few bottles of water, some ibuprofen, and a chair."

"You're staying here?" Gyro asked.

"I have to. As I said, this drug is intense," Dr. Hoggins replied. "A doctor needs to keep an eye on the patient for two days before they can be released. Not only to make sure the drug is working correctly, but to keep an eye on the side effects and look for allergic reactions."

"He's dangerous. I don't think that's a good idea," Fenton said.

"Don't worry about me. I'm more prepared than you think." Dr. Hoggins opened the gray box, showing a small gun. She picked it up and loaded a little red and white striped dart into the chamber. "I'm a dead shot with this thing. I once took out an escapee serial killer at two-hundred yards." She grinned and this time, it wasn't friendly.

"My bad at underestimating you," Fenton said with a wry smile.

"Now, let's go make my patient a bit more comfortable," Dr. Hoggins said. "If you could unlock his manacles, please?"

Cautiously, Fenton unlocked the door and approached Negaduck. For some reason, when they were on the island, he had felt comfortable with Negaduck as they worked on the challenges together. But now, with an animalistic desperation surrounding him, Negaduck felt threatening. He quickly unlocked the manacles, then back away through the door, bolting it behind him.

"Do you understand what you're getting into taking these pills?" Dr. Hoggins asked Negaduck as he rubbed the feeling back into his wrists. "This isn't going to be a walk in the park."

Negaduck nodded.

"Would you like some water?" Dr. Hoggins said, calmly holding out two round, white pills.

Negaduck took the pills. He stared at them for a while before throwing his head back and dry swallowing.

"I suggest you sleep while you can," Dr. Hoggins said, her voice laced with sympathy. "We've got a long day ahead of us." She then turned to Gyro and Fenton, giving them a low-brow frown. "Didn't I ask you to get me some things? Water, ibuprofen, and a chair. I can't be expected to stand around all day."

Gyro sent Fenton to run the errand as he packed the Gizmoduck suit in its compact form for transportation. He said his goodbyes to the doctor and his intern before heading back to his lab.

When he returned with everything Dr. Hoggins requested, Fenton had also grabbed a chair for himself.

"Well, if you insist on keeping me company," the pig said, settling down. She pulled out her phone with a pair of earbuds. "Although I'm in the middle of a good murder mystery, so I'm afraid I won't be the best conversationalist."

Fenton sat in his chair, looking from the doctor to Negaduck, who had lain down on the cot in the cell. He was glad that Dr. Hoggins was with him. He missed the protection of the Gizmoduck suit, but was certain that the psychiatrist's skill with the tranquilizer gun was more reliable than pies.

Taking out his own phone, he prepared to spend the rest of his watch scrolling through science articles he'd been meaning to read. However, he couldn't concentrate on them, and it wasn't just because of the late hour. Instead, he bought and downloaded one of the books Charity had said was her favorite, remembering how animated she was when talking about it. After every few pages, he would glance up and check on Negaduck.

At eight AM exactly, Darkwing Duck shambled in with rumpled costume and feathers, and a large coffee cup in one hand.

"Oh, that smells delicious. Would someone be a dear and get one for me?" Dr. Hoggins said, pulling out her earbuds.

Fenton quickly made introductions and gave Darkwing a quick explanation as to her presence. The masked-hero looked to have approved of Fenton's initiative in getting the doctor here so quickly and took Fenton's chair.

After fetching the psychiatrist a cup of coffee, he poured himself a double portion of the java and gulped it down. Not that he needed it regardless of getting only four hours of sleep. He was used to late hours and little rest.

Not only that, but he felt wide awake in anticipation of taking Charity to his family's party. True, it wasn't exactly a date, but why did it feel like one?

With less than four hours until his uncle's birthday party, he didn't feel like catching up on sleep but it did give him enough time to go home, shower and find something nicer to wear.

"Gladstone, pick up. You better not be ignoring my calls. Phone me back immediately," Scrooge shouted into the receiver. This was his fifth voicemail message he left his nephew.

"Perhaps you should save your blood pressure and not call for a while," Mrs. Beakley suggested.

"Curse that boy's luck. More than likely, he does not want to be found," Scrooge said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. "If that's the case, we might be waiting for a while."

"Perhaps I will use one of my vacation days and take Webby on a day on the town," Mrs. Beakley said. "She's going through a growth spurt and needs some new clothes."

"That's fine," Scrooge said, waving his hand. "Maybe me and the boys could pop over to the Andes and—"

"You promised no treasure hunting until we have this curse broken," Mrs. Beakley warned.

Scrooge pouted.

When she awoke, Charity found the McDuck Manor an entirely different place than the previous mornings. Before, the residents were properly organized and working towards one specific goal. But today, everyone seemed to be doing their own thing. Mrs. Beakley and Webby were on their way out the door for a shopping trip. Launchpad was still sleeping, considering he had been guarding Jim since three that morning. Della announced she was going to look for a motorcycle in Mr. McDuck's garage, and Donald wanted his nephews to help him clean up his boat house, but the three boys said they were working on a project.

It was almost as if they had either forgotten about Charity or were so familiar with her that they didn't mind her doing whatever she wanted. However, that left her with an empty space in her schedule until Fenton's family's party. She couldn't find Fenton anywhere in the manor, and Darkwing was on guard duty. She could have gone down to talk to the masked duck, but after what she said to him last night, she wasn't sure she could face him. Her words had come out in the heat of the moment and had been too harsh, but a part of her was too proud to face Darkwing and apologize. At least, not yet. She would after the party.

After eating a breakfast of cold cereal, she went back to her room to wait until noon. In the meantime, she organized her things and contemplated if she should go looking for a washing machine for her clothes. She had been warned that snooping could have dangerous repercussions, so she decided to wait until Mrs. Beakley returned.

Instead, she took a luxurious bath and spent more time than usual fixing up her hair and feathers. With curly hair, it was sometimes a hit or miss when it came to a good day. If the humidity in the air was too much, she might as well dress up as a swamp monster rather than try to tame her hair. But today wasn't all that bad. She would never have hair like how Aphrodite prepared it, but she attempted to straighten it enough to get some attractive ringlets.

After rummaging through the bags her step-dad had sent her, she was surprised to find one of her skirts and a short-sleeved blouse that went with it. She hardly ever wore skirts, but she was in the right mood to show off her legs, especially with no bruises to mar them.

As she looked at herself in the mirror, she almost changed her mind. Dressed as she was, how could she persuade Fenton's family that she wasn't his girlfriend? Had she overdone it? Or was it that she wanted to look really pretty for Fenton?

She looked at the clock. It was 11:30. She still had time to change, but decided against it. Who cares if she spent a little more time on her appearance? It wasn't everyday she went to meet people. In fact, if her mother didn't treat her like Rapunzel locked in a tower her whole life, this might be how she would look and dress all the time. It's not like she was wearing more expensive make-up or perfume or anything really special.

Before she could change her mind, she left her room.

She purposefully left some time before she needed to meet Fenton so she could make her way down to the basement. Yes, Darkwing Duck was there, but it wasn't him she needed to talk to.

Surprisingly, Darkwing wasn't the only one guarding Negaduck.

"Oh, hello. Are you here to take our lunch requests?" the female pig asked, putting down her phone.

"Uh…sorry. I'm just here to talk to Jim," Charity said, her tone half-apologetic, half-confused. "And who are you?"

"I'm Dr. Hoggins, a psychiatrist," the pig said, standing up and holding out her hand.

"I'm Charity Loveatte," Charity said brightly, shaking. "You must be the doctor Fenton said would be coming. Thank you so much for helping us."

"My pleasure," Dr. Hoggins said. "Although it's not so pleasant for my patient." She turned a worried glance toward the cell.

On the cot, Negaduck huddled in a ball. He seemed to be asleep but was breathing hard. Although his brow glistened with sweat, he was shivering.

"What's wrong with him?" Charity asked, rushing to the bars. Her heart felt crushed seeing him like this.

"It's the side-effects of the medicine. I'm afraid that they're going to be severe for a while. But don't you worry, dear. I'm here to take care of him." The doctor patted Charity's hand.

"Thank you. Should I bring down some blankets for him? Maybe a cup of tea?" Charity wondered.

"That would be nice. And if it's not too much of a trouble, maybe a sandwich or two for me. Mustard, not mayo, though," Dr. Hoggins said with a grateful smile.

"Sure," Charity said, turning to look at Negaduck for a few moments more. She wished she could go to him and hold his head on her lap. She knew that always made her feel better when she was sick, recalling the comfort of her mother's hand on her head or the sound of Launchpad's voice, whoever was keeping her company at that time.

"And anything for you tall, dark and mysterious?" Dr. Hoggins asked, leaning to look around Charity.

She had forgotten the third person in the room. Her stomach flip-flopped as she turned to Darkwing.

"Yeah, I'll have one, too. But I'm a mayo guy," he said in his usual tone, nothing revealing how he felt about their exchange the night before.

Charity gave him a smile before rushing upstairs. She fixed a plateful of sandwiches, making sure to use mayo on half and mustard on the others, and a cup of Mrs. Beakley's tea. She found a pair of sodas and some apples to add to the meal. She then snooped around—despite what Mrs. Beakley said—and found a room with some blankets without getting cursed. Bonus!

With her arms full, she returned to the basement.

"Can I put the blanket on him?" Charity requested, pointing at the locked door.

Darkwing's beak stiffened, but Dr. Hoggins nodded.

"Go right ahead, darling," the pig said between bites.

Darkwing went to the door and opened it, keeping on one side of the bars as Charity went in.

Kneeling down, Charity put the cup of tea on the floor and carefully settled the blanket around Negaduck, tucking it around him. She used a corner to wipe away the sweat that hadn't soaked into his mask. She wondered if she should remove it to make him more comfortable.

As the cloth rubbed his temple, Negaduck's eyes half opened. They were bloodshot but awake.

"I just wanted to warn you. I'm leaving," Charity whispered.

"No," Negaduck rasped, weakly grabbing her wrist. "Don't go. Please."

"Shhhh," Charity hushed gently. "I'm not going far. It's only about six miles away, just for a few hours. I promise."

She offered him some of the tea, and he sipped it slowly. She ran her hand over his head soothingly. She expected him to push her away, but instead he closed his eyes again, going back to sleep. She caressed his cheek, allowing her love for him to pretend that perhaps this drug would change their relationship. Maybe it only took him getting sick to let her get close to him.

Charity furrowed her eyebrows. "He's sick," she said, confused.

"As a dog," Dr. Hoggins said, not understanding Charity's point. "But give him a day or two, and we'll see how he feels."

But he shouldn't be sick. I'm the one who should be in bed, Charity pondered. As she left the cell, mulling over this quandary, Darkwing locked the door behind her.

"Are you off to some place, dear?"

Charity's thoughts were interrupted by Dr. Hoggins. "Huh?"

"It's just you look like you're ready for a date or something," the pig said with a smile.

Remembering that Fenton might be waiting for her, she said, "Oh, yes. What time is it?" There was a clock on the wall, and it read ten to noon. "I've got to run." She jogged out of the room and toward the stairs, but at the sound of her name, she halted. She knew it was Darkwing before turning around. "Yes?" she asked, hoping that he wasn't going to get into something messy with this conversation.

"I—What I—Can I ask where are you going?" Darkwing sputtered, acting as flustered as she felt.

Charity wondered if it would be better to lie. She didn't want to feed the fire that was the rivalry between Darkwing and Fenton, but she hated lying. In the end, she said truthfully, "Fenton asked me to go with him to his uncle's birthday party." She waited for any sign of jealousy on the masked hero's face.

"Oh," Darkwing said, surprised. "That's…that's great." He didn't sound like he meant it. He looked away, his expression unreadable.

"Is there something you need?" Charity asked. She was trying to give Darkwing whatever time he needed to talk, but she felt anxious that Fenton might be waiting for her.

"Uh…I just wanted to tell you…You look nice," he said, a friendly smile forming on his beak. "Have a good time at the party. You deserve a break."

Charity smiled back, sincere and happy before saying goodbye and racing up the stairs. She was certain that Darkwing had more to say and was grateful that he left it for another time. The last thing she wanted was to bring any brooding feelings with her when she would meet Fenton's family.

Back on the main floor, she was surrounded by the triplets in the foyer.

"Hey, Charity. A package came for you," Dewey said, holding out a large box.

"Is it what I think it is?" Huey asked, his eyes wide and his pupils dilating with excitement.

"I don't think I'll be getting two packages," Charity said with a smile. "But I expect those are my family's journals." She had called her grandfather the day before, and as promised, he had sent the package overnight.

Huey gave a whoop of excitement, taking the package from his blue-clad brother. "You don't mind if I open it and start on my research? Please?"

Charity laughed. "Go right ahead. That's what they're here for."

Huey pulled out his official Jr. Woodchuck pocketknife out and carefully opened the box. He pulled out a booklet of printing paper that was about an inch thick. "It looks as if someone has transcribed the journals digitally. Oh, and there's a note from your grandfather, Charity."

Huey handed both the booklet and the note to Charity.

For the sake of the curious boys, Charity read this out-loud.

"'Charity, knowing my wife, I'm sure she is behind this quest you have taken upon yourself. While I do not want your grandmother to suffer, it is about time someone dealt with the family's curse. I'm just sorry that it had to be you. If I was of a stronger fiber in my youth, I might have broken it before you were even born. I have no regrets and wouldn't change the past, especially being able to take away your grandmother's pain. Please take care, my little one.

"'I have not only enclosed the digital transcription of the journals, but the copies that my mother transcribed in her own hand. I'm afraid that some of my mother's journals were damaged in a flood several decades ago, and I did my best to read them correctly.

"'Also, I am including the original journals that have been passed down through our family since our ancestors first started writ—'"

"What!?" Huey exclaimed, digging into the box. He pulled out a leather-bound book, set it down and reached back in. Almost reverently, he took out clear, plastic case that contained several old books, then another case that had scroll parchments. "These…these are really, really old. They're at least a thousand years old."

"I've never seen those before. I didn't know my grandfather had them," Charity admitted. She looked back at her note, skipping to the next sentence. "'They have been preserved time after time by experts at great expense, but if you can use them to stop you and your mom from being in unnecessary pain, then I don't care if they are burned or torn apart. You do what you must to live a long and happy life.'"

"This is amazing!" Huey exclaimed. "Do you know how many Woodchuck badges I can earn with these babies? I'm going to need acid free gloves and some other tools. Oh, I wonder if Gyro will let me borrow his clean room. We can't let the air ruin these precious items." He carefully repacked the shipping box and ran off, forgetting about everything else.

Charity watched then yelled after him, "Your welcome." She chuckled, knowing that her family's history was in good hands.

"You're looking good, Charity."

The lovebird looked down at the green-clad triplet who was taking a picture of her.

"Are you off on a date with Launchpad?" Louie asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Or Darkwing?" Dewey asked hopefully.

Charity frowned. "I didn't give you permission to take my picture." She was getting wise with Louie. His young duckling act wasn't fooling her anymore. "And it's not a date. Fenton needed someone to go with him to his uncle's birthday party."

"Darn it. It looks like Webby's going to win the bet," Dewey said, scuffing the tile with his webbed foot.

"Okay, I didn't mind this whole betting thing at first, but if you're not even going to pretend it's a secret anymore, then I'm shutting it down," Charity said, feeling her cheeks burn. "First, I'm doing this for Fenton because we're friends. And second, my love life shouldn't be anyone's business. It shouldn't even be my business as long as I'm under a curse."

"Whoa, don't say something we're all going to regret," Louie assuaged. "If you shut me down, you're going to disappoint a lot of orphans and homeless pets."

"What?"

Louie held out his phone, showing her the website of his chosen charity. "Can you really say no to this face? Your contribution of hundreds of dollars will make sure she and her little kitten will find a loving home."

Charity melted, scrolling through one picture after another. She sighed. "You said hundreds? You're not joking, right?"

"Well, let's say it's closer to thousands," Louie said with a shameless shrug. "The gods of Ithaquack really like to bet."

Charity almost rubbed her face before remembering she put on makeup. "Thousands? Really?" She worried her bottom beak. "Fine. Just…don't talk about this around me, please? I don't want to know."

"No problem," Louie said, making a "zipping my beak" gesture.

At that time, Fenton slipped into the manor, quickly catching her eye. He made a gesture for her to hurry up.

"Thanks," Charity said, giving the phone back. "Please, don't make me regret this."

As she ran to the front door and Fenton, she thought she heard Dewey say to his brother, "You better hope she doesn't find out about…" but didn't catch any more of the sentence.

Great, now I've got to find out what that other thing is, Charity thought. She should have expected something like this from one of Scrooge's nephews.

As she raced out the front door and closed it behind her, she was met with the staring eyes of Fenton.

"What? Is something wrong?" Charity asked, looking down at her skirt. Did she get it dirty when she went to visit Jim?

"No, nothing's wrong. I just didn't think you would dress up for my family," Fenton said, looking embarrassed. He straightened the collar on his shirt. He wore a nicer one than what he usually wore into work, but maybe he should have worn his suit instead. He had contemplated it, but it reminded him too much of the incident with Gandra and Mark Beaks.

"Is this too formal? Should I go change?" Charity wondered.

"No, no. You look…really nice," Fenton said with a smile. But the smile quickly fell. "And we're running late. Come on."

Charity blushed, both from the compliment and Fenton grabbing her hand and pulling her down the stone steps to the idling cab in front of the fountain. Soon, they were whizzing out the gates of McDuck Manor to the city.

6.2 miles, Charity thought, hoping that it didn't cause Jim too much discomfort. Just a couple of hours. And that reminded of her of her earlier questions when she was in the basement.

"I went to visit Jim," Charity told Fenton.

"So you met Dr. Hoggins?" Fenton asked.

Charity nodded. "Thank you, again. But something was wrong with Jim. Dr. Hoggins said it was because of the medication he was on."

Fenton quickly gave Charity the run-down on the new medication, giving more detail from the research he had read online a few hours ago. "Dr. Hoggins reassured me that the side effects should abate within a day or two."

That was reassuring, but didn't answer Charity's biggest question. "He acted like he was sick, sweating and weak. Shouldn't I be feeling that for him?" Charity asked.

Fenton's eyebrow rose. "You don't feel anything? Nausea? Any body aches?" Fenton asked, going through some of the symptoms he remembered.

Charity shook his head. "I feel great. How can that be?"

"It might be because of one of three reasons," Fenton said. "One, the symptoms Negaduck is feeling are all in his head. The drug's active agents are to help those with mental illnesses and the side effects tend to be psychosomatic that sometimes manifest physically. He's not really ill or in pain, he just thinks he is."

Charity frowned. She didn't like the idea of Jim in that condition, but what was the alternative? The drugs were going to help him. And it wasn't real pain, so she couldn't take it away from him.

"Reason two could be because it's drug related," Fenton said. "Do you remember when Manny gave Darkwing the paralyzing drug?"

Charity immediately grinned, remembering the experiments. "Yeah?"

"You weren't paralyzed during that experiment. Paralysis can be a symptom of some illnesses. Perhaps the curse doesn't apply to drug-related symptoms," Fenton proposed. "Or reason number three is that the curse doesn't deal with mental illnesses. After all, Jim Starling has been dealing with mental illness for years, seeing a psychiatrist to help him with his paranoia and depression. But that wasn't transferred to you."

"Hmmm, that is interesting," Charity said. "Perhaps you'll have to do a lot more experiments to figure out if that was the case." She laughed but stopped when Fenton didn't join her.

"As much as the idea intrigues me," Fenton said, "I don't know if I could go through with it. I wouldn't want to do anything that could hurt you, even if there's only a remote possibility of pain."

They both found interesting things to look at outside the window.

Realizing that the awkward silence was his fault, Fenton wracked his brain for a different subject when he remembered he had brought Charity a present. "Oh, I have something for you." Out of his pocket, he pulled out a phone. A really nice and expensive looking phone. "I noticed you didn't have one of your own."

"I can't accept that," Charity said, although she wanted to. It was almost unheard of for someone not to own a cell phone in this day and age, but her mother had insisted that Charity not have one. She almost felt silly thinking this, being an adult, but she also never had a job to pay for one.

"Don't worry. It's my backup," Fenton explained. "That is, when I joined McDuck Enterprises, I was given a company phone and put on their plan. Even unpaid interns get some benefits. This was my old phone."

"Thank you," Charity said, taking it. "Maybe I can call my step-dad and ask for some money to put some minutes on it."

"Well…" Fenton rubbed the back of his neck. "I already did that."

"Fenton," Charity said, feeling slightly irritated that he spent money on her. "I promise to pay you back."

"It's okay. I figure you should get something out of meeting my family," Fenton said. "They're a handful. Oh, that reminds me. I don't suppose you know any Spanish."

"Uh…"

"Because my abuela doesn't speak a word of English, and a lot of my family prefers not to use any English around her. My cousins and the younger kids, they'll speak in English," Fenton explained.

Charity smiled sheepishly. "Well…I did take two years of Spanish in High School, but…I barely passed only because I memorized lines from YouTube videos of the Spanish version of Darkwing Duck episodes." Her grin widened.

Fenton contemplated this for a few beats. "That's…actually perfect. You'll do great," he said, handing over a small bead of plastic that looked like an earbud without the cord. "This is a Bluetooth translating device. It's synced to your phone that has a great translator app that I downloaded. It'll translate all spoken Spanish into English. If you're having problems speaking, you can look up words with your phone."

Charity looked concerned. "Wait, aren't you going to be with me the whole time?" she asked.

Fenton laughed. "No, no. They're going to try to separate us right at the door so that they can interrogate us individually, so let's keep our stories straight," he said seriously. "We're not dating. We're not boyfriend/girlfriend. We're just friends."

"And that I'm head-over-heels in love with you because of an ancient curse," Charity added with a grin.

"Don't ever mention that," Fenton said. "If my family found that out, they might just marry us on the spot."

Charity laughed and blushed at the same time. "Maybe I should have changed my clothes and gone with a more casual look. But then again, at least I don't have my Aphrodite make-over anymore. That might have blown their minds."

"I like you better this way," Fenton said with a smile.

Charity's blush deepened. "Stop it," she told the scientist, trying to be mad at him. "If you keep saying things like that, nobody is going to be convinced we're not dating."

"You could have fooled me."

Fenton and Charity turned to the cab driver, who was looking at them through the rear-view mirror.

"We've arrived," the cabby said with a smile, tapping the meter to show how much the ride cost.

As Fenton paid the fee, the driver winked at them. "Good luck you two."

Chuckling at the thought of the driver listening to their conversation, they approached a large, two-story home. It was in an older neighborhood where the houses looked more Victorian than modern, and most of the homes were in good repair with tended lawns.

Fenton took a deep breath. "You ready?"

"You look more scared than I do," Charity observed with a smirk.

Matching her smile, Fenton knocked on the door.

Within five seconds, the door was flung open and a short, middle-aged duck cried out, speaking in rapid Spanish as she threw her arms around Fenton.

It took Charity a while for her to realize a feminine voice was translating in her ear.

"Little Fenton, I'm so glad you came. Your mamá has been waiting for you. How's your job as a scientist? You look so skinny. Come in and eat something," the voice in Charity's ear said.

The woman's eyes fell on Charity, and the smile froze.

"Tia Carmen, this is my friend, Charity," Fenton introduced. "Charity, this is my Aunt Carmen. She's married to my Uncle Angelo, who is turning fifty today."

"It's so good to meet you," Charity said nervously, holding out a hand. When they shook, she felt as if Fenton's aunt was a little hesitant.

"Fenton, ¿ya conoce tu mamá a tu novia?"

Charity's device translated, "Fenton, has your mamá met your girlfriend?"

"Charity doesn't speak Spanish, Tia," Fenton said. "And she's not my girlfriend." He refrained from answering his aunt's question.

"Well, come in. Come in," Carmen said in accented English, although her smile still looked tight-lip. "Your cousins have been looking forward to seeing you."

Fenton grimaced.

As they walked into the house, wonderful smells of spicy, fragrant foods wafted around them like a blanket. There were people everywhere, both adults and children, most eating from paper plates while sitting on couches and chairs while a few ducklings knelt on the floor and used a coffee table to prop their plates. There was a large "Happy Birthday" sign hung on the ceiling and dozens of helium balloons bobbed in the air.

Several people called out Fenton's name along with a few sentences in Spanish. There were so many people talking that Charity's translator didn't work properly, only translating a word here and there.

"And this is Fenton's girlfriend, Charity," Carmen introduced to the large group, putting a hand on the lovebird's shoulder.

"We're not—" Fenton started to protest when a taller duck with larger proportions of muscles raced up and grabbed Fenton around the neck, rubbing his hair with broad knuckles.

"Puchis primo, trayendo una chica como ella a esa casa. Tienes cajónes!"

"Puchis, cousin, bringing a girl like her into this house. You have drawers," the translator said, although Charity wasn't certain if it was accurate.

"Hello, Antonio," Fenton said, struggling to free himself. In the end, he just hung limply.

"Tia María, tengo tu patito aquí," Antonio called out, walking away with Fenton still in a headlock.

"Aunt María, I have your little duckling," Charity heard in her ear.

Charity tried to follow, but Carmen stopped her with an arm around her shoulders, leading her to the circle of people eating.

"You must tell us how you met," the older woman insisted. "You must have a wonderful story of how you started dating."

Charity felt she had no choice since all eyes in the living room were on her. Taking a seat that was vacated by a teenager after a few terse words in Spanish, she faced the crowd. "Well, first off, we're not dating," Charity said firmly, finding over a dozen disbelieving eyes staring back at her.

Skipping the first time they met when Gizmoduck saved her during the invasion of the moonlanders, Charity tried to keep to the truth, telling how she met Fenton in the crowded restaurant and that later they met again at McDuck Enterprise's lab.

"You mean, Fenton experiments on people?" a young boy asked, looking both horrified and excited

"Uh…it wasn't anything terrible," Charity said, finding a believable lie to fill in the blanks. "He was testing a new medicine for burns, and I so happen to have a second-degree on my wrist." Charity realized at this time, there might be holes in her story that she wouldn't know how to fill.

"Que cielos, how did you do that?" a woman about Charity's age asked.

"Cooking," Charity said, using her mother's fallback to her own unexplained burns. "But as you can see, it's healed really well." Well, not because of Fenton's medicine, but it did help, she thought to herself.

"How long have you been dating?" another woman asked.

"We're not dating," Charity said. Again she worried about being caught in a lie. If she told them they didn't even know each other a week, they would wonder how her burn healed so quickly.

"Have you kissed him yet?" a young girl asked unabashedly.

Several adults berated the girl's audacity in Spanish, but by the looks in their eyes, they wanted to know the answer as well.

"We haven't kissed," Charity said. "Because I'm not his girlfriend." She really needed to get off this subject. And her stomach offered the best suggestion. "I'm going to get something to eat. That food smells really good."

She practically jumped out of her seat and sprinted in the direction the smells were wafting from, finding a table spread out with a variety of foods found south of the border, and better yet, they were authentic instead of the restaurant knock-offs she was used to. She took a little of everything, her plate piled high with beans and rice dishes, scooping dollops of guacamole and sour cream in the middle and feeling sorrowful that she couldn't eat everything.

"Oh, I'm so glad someone has come with an appetite," another woman about the same age as Carmen told Charity. "It's so good to see Fenton with such a nice and pretty girl."

"Thanks," Charity said with a smile. "But we're not dating."

"Oooooh," the woman said, putting a finger to the side of her nose and winking as if they shared a secret. "I don't suppose you've met María, Fenton's mamá, yet?"

"No," Charity said with a shake of her head. Since the woman was refusing to let her find someplace to sit down and eat, she filled her fork and began eating right there.

"Hmmm," the woman hummed, smiling in the same tight-lipped way as Carmen. "Well, I hope it goes well." She patted Charity's shoulder and walked away.

What was that about? Charity wondered. Had Fenton forgotten to mention something about his mother? Did she have three eyes or webbed fingers or something? She wandered the house with its crowd, seeing if she could spot Fenton, but wherever Antonio had taken him, it wasn't with the majority of the family.

Finding the backdoor open to a big backyard with tables and chairs and even more people, Charity decided that she could at least enjoy the sunshine and eat her food at the same time. However, as she made her way to a table, she noticed how many eyes followed her, heads turning to whisper to neighbors.

Her presence was certainly making waves. So much for convincing his family that she wasn't dating Fenton.

She was almost done with her food and contemplating going back for another plate of desserts when a cacophony of voices cheering broke through the normal chatter. Around the side of the house, a group of boys ranging from teen-aged to their early thirties ran into the yard, carrying Fenton above their heads. The children who were eating with their parents or playing games in the grass all jumped up to follow, starting a chant.

It was a single word in Spanish, and Charity's Bluetooth translated.

"Fly. Fly. Fly."

At the children's cheer, the group of boys started flinging Fenton into the air as high as they could. Fenton had a ruffled yet resigned look on his face as he was tossed time and time again. Eventually, the group released him before the crowd of children pleaded for their turn.

Charity was laughing so hard that she couldn't suppress it when Fenton sat down beside her.

"What was that about?" she asked, still chuckling.

"It's an old family tradition," Fenton said. "It started out as a game my uncles played to toss all the kids into the air and pretend that they could fly. But as everyone got older, my uncles set a requirement so they wouldn't have to let the older kids have a turn and save their aching backs." Fenton didn't volunteer more information.

"And what was that requirement?" Charity asked, smiling.

Fenton sighed, trying to lay his hair back to where it was. "You couldn't have a turn if you've had your first kiss."

Charity's cheeks puffed out as she suppressed more laughter.

Fenton hid his face in his folded arms on the table.

"I'm—I'm so sorry," Charity tried to say sincerely.

"Yeah, well…my cousins have replaced my uncles in the tradition and keep it alive just for me," Fenton said. "And to make sure I play along, they tell all the younger kids that the oldest has to go first, so nobody gets a turn unless I go."

"Oh, the worst kind of blackmail," Charity said. "It's sweet that you tolerate it for them."

"Like I have a choice. I'm not exactly Gizmoduck like this," Fenton said, gesturing to his body. He looked downtrodden.

Charity had noticed that the males of Fenton's family tended to be on the larger side. Not exactly body-builders or behemoths, but she couldn't recall the last time she'd seen so many defined biceps. Or for that matter, pecs. She suspected the single men were the ones that liked to wear open shirts.

"I like you as you are," Charity said, mimicking what he said to her back in the cab. She touched his arm.

Fenton smiled.

"Awww, they're so cute," a teenage girl said as she passed by.

Fenton and Charity both jerked away from each other.

"Dang it!" Charity hissed. "I thought I had almost convinced them."

At that, it was Fenton's turn to laugh. "I think we have more than our work cut out for us." That's when his gaze went to behind Charity. "Oh, there's Mamá. Mamá, over here."

"Fenton! I'm so glad you could make it," a rich, accented voice said from behind Charity. "And who is this?"

"Mamá, I'd like you to meet Charity, my friend. We're not dating," he said firmly. "Charity, meet my mamá. This is María Crackshell-Cabrera."

"How do you do?" Charity said as she turned around and offered the hand.

If the smiles she received earlier were strained, María's was so taut it might snap.

"Nice to meet you," María said, both her tone and handshake ill-fitting the greeting. "It's good to know the face of the girl who's kept my son away from home for two nights in a row."

Fenton looked at Charity then at his mother strangely. "As I told you, Charity needed help."

"She must have to make you forget to tell your own mother where you are," María said, her tone tinted with frost.

Both Charity and Fenton didn't miss the intonation, the latter widening his eyes at his mother's rudeness, the former trying hard not to react.

"Excuse us," Fenton said, and surprising even himself, took his mother's elbow and led her away.

Charity watched as Fenton spoke to his mother. Even though she couldn't hear exactly what was said, she knew they switched from English to Spanish as the conversation grew heated, although kept in hushed tones.

Realizing she was staring, Charity paid closer attention to her plate, scraping the last bites of tamales into her mouth and chewing slowly. That's when she noticed that everyone in Fenton's family was watching María and Fenton, their glances not at all discreet.

After a few minutes, Fenton returned to the table, his mother going back into the house.

Charity didn't want to ask what the argument was about. It wasn't her business, but she could tell it bothered Fenton. She couldn't imagine a nice guy like him fighting with his mom that often.

"So, how many cousins do you have?" Charity asked, tapping her fork against her empty plate.

Fenton sighed. "Well, my abuela, she had seven kids. María, my mother, she's the fifth in line. All of my aunts and uncles have married at least once. Let's see…three, eight, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, twenty, twenty-two…I think. And about half of them are married and have kids of their own. Don't ask me how many great-grand-children my abuela has. I can't keep track of them."

"Big family," Charity observed, nodding her head.

"I'm sorry about Mamá," Fenton apologized. "I'm not sure why she was so rude."

"It's not my business," Charity said, holding up her hands.

"I don't understand why she acted that way," Fenton said, shaking his head. "I don't suppose you've been arrested, have you?"

Charity's face twisted into wry humor, not understanding the joke. "No. Why?"

"Oh. I guess you didn't know my mom's a detective with the police department," Fenton said.

"Nope," Charity said, shaking her head. Then her eyebrows turned down. Her voice turned to a whisper. "Does she know you're…" She didn't dare finish her sentence so she wouldn't give anything away in case somebody was listening. And how nosy this family was, it was a possibility.

"Oh, there's no hiding anything from my mamá," Fenton said with a chuckle. "And she still thinks that I brought my girlfriend, just like everyone else."

"Perhaps we're protesting too much," Charity said. She shrugged. "Let them believe what they want. When you find yourself a girl you really like, things will be different. Then your family can embarrass someone else."

Fenton smiled. "Yeah…maybe.." His eyes remained on her.

And for once, Charity didn't look away. What did it hurt to let herself pretend that Fenton was more than a friend just in her mind? She was already pretending that this was kind-of, sort-of, maybe a date, even if he didn't see it that way.

"Charity, after the curse—" His sentence was cut off by loud music. Fumbling for his pocket, he pulled out his phone that was blaring "Hero" by Nickleback. He grinned sheepishly before putting the cell to his ear. In a deep voice, he said, "Yeah?" He listened for a few moments before saying, "I'm on my way."

Charity frowned, getting a sinking feeling.

"Uh…Charity?" Fenton's voice was back to normal. "Listen…Don't be mad."

"I'm already mad," Charity said, suspecting what was going to happen. She had seen too many movies and read too many comics not to know.

"I need to go. The Beagle Boys are trying to rob a bank again," Fenton whispered, standing up.

Charity grabbed his wrist. "Don't you leave me alone," she ordered him.

"I'm sorry," he said with an apologetic smile. He pulled away.

"Don't you leave me alone," Charity hissed again, her eyes glaring at him.

"Sorry," he whispered, slinking away.

And Charity found herself in the middle of a family reunion that wasn't hers that could choose to speak a language she knew very badly, and no money to call a cab. She was stuck.

(Author's notes: Hi.

First, you have noticed that I have used a bit of Spanish, and the next chapter will be likewise. I'd like to thank my wonderful husband (who is a Spanish teacher) for supplying the Spanish as accurately and culturally as he could for the situation. He learned his Spanish while serving a religious mission in Guatemala but has studied different dialects. In my headcannon, Fenton's family is from Mexico, and my husband has done his best to choose words and phrases that are more common to that country. Each of the Spanish speaking countries has their own dialects, sometimes even their own words. One word might be innocent in one country while in another it could be a swear word.

With the English translation that Charity hears in her Bluetooth, they're not 100% accurate because I wanted to use the Google translation of the Spanish since she is using an app. Here's an example. The word cajónes in Spanish is the same as "balls" in English slang, but the direct translation is "drawers."

Second, how Fenton calls his mother in the show "M'ma" as the cannon spelling is used from what I've seen on the Internet, but I am using the more traditional Spanish spelling of "mamá". I am doing this because I feel that it adds more to Fenton's connection to his family and his background. Also, this chapter, I made sure to add the accent on mamá, but I have been lazy and not done that in previous chapters. Sorry.

Third, from what I've found on the Internet and the show, Maria Crackshell-Cabrera has been called an officer for the Duckburg PD, however, I refer to her as a detective (promotion!). I have done this for the simple reason that she is not in uniform when she's on the job. All officers must be in uniform while working, but detectives don't have uniforms and sometimes wear their badges on necklaces much like Maria does. Not to mention, she would be a senior member of the force, and it is very likely that she has been promoted to detective.

Thank you everyone for reading. If you like my writing and my OC, Charity, I have a few more fanfics with her in it. "The Hit" is an AU fanfic where Drake Mallard is Charity's body guard. It's an action/comedy story, and I highly suggest reading it. Also, if there are any Darkwing Duck '91 fans, I suggest checking out my story "Blue Waltz."

I'll see you next Tuesday.)

Hi.

I'll see you next Tuesday.