(Author's notes: Be prepared for a roller coaster of emotions because that's what's coming up. Also, this is the longest chapter I have written for this story, so get comfortable.
Just to be on the safe-side, there is some description about abuse. It's not graphic, but I just want to forewarn anyone with a trigger.)
Twisted Strings of Fate
Chapter 28
Before there was Gizmoduck, before there was Launchpad, and before there was Darkwing Duck, there was my mom. Before I even knew about the curse, she and I were a team. We were united against a darkness that we couldn't run away from. Even before I was a part of the family's curse, I was a victim of the repercussions, and even if I didn't understand the circumstances, my image of what love was had been tarnished.
But the darkness went away, and things should have been better. But I had the Darkwing Duck show to fall back on and then Launchpad, and my mom just wanted to protect me. She resented my best friend and my heroes, but I couldn't blame her. If there was someone who understood just how much love hurts, it was my mom.
Just as he promised his Mama, Fenton went home that night. Maria was sitting at the kitchen table, finishing up a dinner of take out when he walked in. He gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek as he always did before sitting down next to her.
"I don't suppose you ordered something for me?" Fenton asked. He had left Mr. McDuck's mansion right after his shift watching Jim Starling, and hadn't had anything to eat since his family's party.
"Sorry, mi hijo," his Mama apologized. "Although there are some leftovers from the party in the fridge."
That was good enough for him. "Did you buy more antacids, Mama?" he asked, remembering Charity. Some of his aunts went a little crazy with the spices and peppers in their dishes.
"I'll go get them," Maria said as Fenton dished up. When she returned with the bottle of chalky tablets, she tapped the table nervously. "We need to talk about what happened today?"
"I figured," Fenton said, putting the food in the microwave.
"I'm sorry for not telling you that your father ran off with a lovebird," Maria said, drawing circles on the table with her finger.
"Mama, that's not the problem," Fenton said, raising his voice. "I don't care about that. What bothers me is how you treated Charity."
"This wouldn't have happened if I told you," Maria said.
"Why? Because if I knew about my father, I would have known better than to bring a lovebird to meet my family?" Fenton demanded.
"No, that's not what I meant," Maria defended.
"Then what? What would have changed if I would have known?" Fenton asked. "Well, I could have warned Charity that my family might be prejudicial against her."
"I am not prejudice," Maria said. "I was just a little surprised by her."
"Mama, it's been over sixteen years since he left," Fenton said, his voice turning kinder. "You need to let your anger go."
"You must like this girl a lot to get into an argument with your Mama," Maria said, leaning her check on her hand.
"She's just a friend," Fenton said for the umpteenth time that day.
"Yes, but she's also not just a friend," Maria turned it around on him. "I know my little boy enough to know when he has a little crush. You were the same way in the sixth grade with that little Waddington girl."
Fenton blushed and admitted, "I do like her, Mama, but that's as far as things will go."
"Why not? You're handsome and smart. You have a job with Mr. McDuck. Does she think she's too good for you?" Maria asked, her defensive-mom face on.
"No, no, it's not like that," Fenton said and sighed. "It's complicated."
"How complicated could it be if she can't accept even one date from you?" Maria demanded.
And Fenton realized he had opened a can of worms that he couldn't close, not until his mother had the entire story. He hoped that it would be okay if he shared the details of the curse. After all, he was a part of it, too, so it was partly his tale as well.
After explaining, his mother sat back with an expression of disbelief.
"It's all true, Mama," Fenton said, knowing what she would say next. "I've seen the curse in action myself. A second degree burn disappeared from my arm in an instant. I didn't even feel a hint of pain. And when I met Charity, I examined the burn that should have been mine on her arm. It's all real."
"Patito, it's a little much to swallow," Maria said.
"Says the woman who fought a shadow army and a moon invasion," Fenton said with a smile.
"Touché," Maria said, matching the smile. "If you tell me that this curse is real, then I will believe it. Although don't tell your abuela. Charity left a strong impression with her, and she might find a way to get you two married within the week if she knew."
"That's what I thought," Fenton said with a shake of his head. Having finished his meal, he took his dishes to the sink, rinsed them off and put them in the dishwasher.
"Will you please…apologize to her for how I acted," Maria asked. "I didn't mean to let what happened to your father affect my judgement. I guess I didn't know how much I've been holding onto my anger."
Fenton kissed his mother's forehead. "I will. Thanks, Mama."
"However, once you break this curse, if she doesn't go on a date with you, I will be having words with her," Maria said with a toothy grin.
"Mama!" Fenton warned. "Goodnight." He grabbed the antacids and headed to his room. After only getting four hours the night before, he was ready to crash even though it wasn't that late. He crunched on several of the antacids—more than he usually took to be safe—and prepared for bed.
Right before he turned out the lights, he received a text message from Gyro.
Intern, get to the lab at once. I have something to show you.
Fenton glared at his phone. Normally, he would be jumping to Gyro's beck and call. If Gyro wanted to show him something, it must be amazing. If it had been any other day, Fenton would be racing back to the lab, but he just couldn't muster the energy.
Gyro, it's late, and I need sleep. Can it wait until morning?
The reply was almost instantaneous. What are you talking about, Intern? It is morning.
Another text came in soon after. Oh, wait, that's PM instead of AM. My bad.
A third text. But it's not that late. I have been patient about you missing two whole days of work, so I insist you come in now.
Fenton groaned and got out of bed, replacing his pajamas with a work shirt. The things he did to be Gyro Gearloose's intern.
Coming out of his room, he found his mother watching one of her soaps. "Mama, can I borrow your car?"
"You going out?" Maria asked. "I thought you were going to bed."
"Gyro needs me for some reason," Fenton said, grabbing the keys from their hook.
"Hmph, that man better be paying you overtime," Maria said, returning to her show.
Fenton grimaced. His mother had forgotten again that he was an unpaid intern. Better not correct her or she might call up Gyro and yell at him.
Once at the lab, Fenton smelled the familiar scent of terrible coffee from the break room. The coffee machine was shared by Fenton and Gyro, and they usually forgot to clean the appliance and replace the filter regularly, so they ended up gulping down liquid that should have burned holes in their stomachs if it wasn't for the fact that they built an immunity to strong coffee. Fenton poured himself a cup.
"Ah, about time you got here," Gyro said.
"What did you want to show me?" Fenton asked, sipping the terrible coffee. Not that it mattered to him. He would have drunk it if it had the consistency of tar.
"After I brought back the Gizmoduck suit to the lab, I started thinking about my design and its flaws," Gyro said. "The biggest problem with Gizmoduck is the battery. So far, since you've only used it within the city, it hasn't been an issue. I invented the suit for first responders to protect themselves as well as those in danger during an emergency. I purposefully made it to accommodate anyone's size whether they be short or tall, big or thin. It's basically a one-size fits all."
"It certainly is roomy when I'm using it," Fenton said.
"And because of its size, it uses up a lot of battery power. Oh, it's good for a few days as you've proven, but what if a first responder can't get back to a recharging station or a mission takes longer?" Gyro asked. "And considering that Scrooge McDuck wants to keep using you and Gizmoduck to help this girl, you may reach the limit of the suit's capability one day."
Fenton nodded, following along. "So, you've upgraded Gizmoduck's battery capacity?" he guessed.
"No," Gyro said, putting his hands behind his back. "Having realized the flaw in the suit, I did what any scientist would do. I destroyed it."
"You WHAT?!" Fenton shouted. He dropped his coffee cup, ignoring as it shattered on the floor. His hands leapt to his head. "You destroyed Gizmoduck!"
Gyro's calmness was disconcerting at best. Gyro always had a "mad scientist" air about him, but now it bordered on insane.
"How could you destroy Gizmoduck?" Fenton demanded, grabbing Gyro's collar. Didn't Gyro know just how much being Gizmoduck meant to him? Yes, he was a scientist first, but when he was in the suit, he was a combination of genius and hero. He used both his brains and technology to help people. In the lab, it took months, sometimes even years, to get results, to help people. With Gizmoduck, the results were immediate.
Okay, Fenton could admit that being a hero was kind of a power trip, that it fed his ego. But some days, he really needed that pat on the back, that atta-boy to get through the day.
He couldn't imagine not being Gizmoduck.
"You're so dramatic, intern," Gyro said, pushing him away. "You're not going to make much of a scientist if you let your emotions get in the way of progress." He pulled out a remote and pushed a button.
The floor near them opened up, and a cylindrical tube rose up in a cloud of fog. Inside a robotic figure stood with only a thick wall of glass between them.
"Let me present, Gizmoduck 2.0," Gyro announced in his usual flat tone.
Fenton's eyes widened to emulate a child on Christmas. "You built this today?"
"Well, I've been working on this prototype for some time, but after seeing the flaws of my first design, I finished it," Gyro said. "And because we've been working on the Gizmoduck program for so long, most of the bugs have been banged out. Unfortunately, because of its new design, there's going to be a whole new set of bugs to figure out."
"Have you tested it out yet?" Fenton asked, walking up to the glass and pressing his beak and hands to it.
"Unfortunately, I didn't have anyone to test it," Gyro said. "This prototype has been designed and measured to your exact height and body type. It was made for no one else but you." He pressed another button on the remote and the glass slid down with a hiss. "Care to try it out? The passcode is the same."
Fenton grinned and stepped back. "Blathering Blatherskite!" he said, holding out his arms.
The suit broke apart instantly, shooting toward him and encasing him with little effort. Within seconds, Fenton was inside this new suit, and he could tell the difference—or rather, the improvements. This new suit fit him like a glove, hugging his body as if it were a second skin. It didn't have the signature wheel of the last suit, but two legs. It had the same color scheme as the last, with the Gizmoduck symbol emblazoned across the chest. The armor was thinner and lighter, but he felt that that didn't compromise its durability. It felt as if it was made of a different material, a stronger one. Only the helmet seemed to be an exact replica of the old suit.
He tested the flexibility, and it moved along with his body without him needing to lift the extra weight. It read his muscle movements instantly and moved with him.
"The computer responds to both vocal commands as well as swipes of your fingers much like the last suit," Gyro explained. "And I've already synced it to those contact lenses of yours." Gyro gave him a scrutinizing look.
Gizmoduck grinned. "I was going to tell you about them, sir…eventually."
Gyro waved his hand. "I'll admit, they're clever, intern. I wonder why I didn't think of them myself."
Gizmoduck smiled gleefully. Not only did he get a brand new Gizmoduck suit, but that was a genuine compliment from Dr. Gearloose.
"I'll just stand back," Gyro said with a smirk, pointing at the ceiling, the very spot that the Mark Beaks robot broke into the lab. Someone had attempted to cover up the hole with some two-by-fours and cardboard.
With a twist of his wrist, Gizmoduck engaged the thrusters and burst away from the floor. His aim was off, taking out more of the building than he intended. Once out of the money bin, he was in a sky filled with stars and a city below him shining with lights.
"Whooooooooo!" he cried out, feeling the wind against his beak. He shifted his body's position, and the suit moved with him, changing his flight direction as easy as turning his head.
"Looking good, intern," Gyro's voice came in his ear. "All the systems are green."
"Okay, let's see how fast this thing can move," Gizmoduck said, grinning before turning the rockets onto full blast.
As usual, Huey was up at the crack of dawn, getting ready for their trip to Tokyolk. Not knowing how long they were going to be in Japan or what they'd be doing, he was thorough in his packing. He had to be careful in what he brought, determined to be prepared for several different scenarios but also wanting to limit his luggage to one suitcase. He brought something for warm and cold weather, packing a book in case he was bored, and many other things. It was so difficult to decide what he needed considering how troublesome his family was.
That was what made these trips so exciting, interesting, and educational.
As he shut the lid to his suitcase, he turned to the triple layer bed to attempt to wake his brothers. Dewey snored on the top bunk, his leg dangling dangerously over the edge and threatening to topple over. Louie's bed was, strangely, empty.
That did not bode well. It meant that he was scheming. In fact, Louie was so busy working at his desk with his laptop that Huey hadn't realized he was there until he took a good look around.
"Shouldn't you be getting ready to go to Tokyolk?" Huey asked, looking over his brother's shoulder. Surprisingly, he saw that Louie was working on a website that looked even more professional than the one he saw two days ago.
"Oh, I am," Louie said with a smirk. "My YouTube videos are a big hit in Japan, and I've been getting ready to meet with some important people there."
"Important people?" Huey repeated. "How deep are you Louie?"
"Oh, I'm very deep. Deep enough that I'll need a money bin bigger than Uncle Scrooge to swim in," Louie said with a wide-eyed grin.
"Your website says you've only raised five thousand dollars. And I thought you were giving it to a charity?" Huey said.
"Most of it," Louie said. "But it's growing faster and faster. Most of my movies have millions of hits. If I can keep up with the demand, I'm going to be rich even on my small percentage."
Huey looked at the computer with a worried expression. "Are you sure Charity is completely okay with this? I don't think she would approve of some of that merchandise. Wigs? Face masks? Phone covers? How did you organize all this in just a few days?"
"The great thing about the Internet is that people are quick to jump on trends. And some companies are so desperate to make a buck that they can design and churn out merchandise like this in an instant," Louie said excitedly.
"Sounds like the two of you have something in common," Huey said blandly.
"You should look at the stuff some of these fans have done. They're making plushies and t-shirts on Etsy. There's fanart and fanfiction based off of my videos," Louie said, bringing up several other windows to show his brother.
"You mean based off of Charity's life," Huey said. "This seems like you're going too far."
"Charity understands. Think of all the homeless children and pets she's helping, and she doesn't have to do anything," Louie said, leaning back in his chair. "Don't you worry. For once, I'm doing something good with one of my schemes. This isn't just to benefit me."
"Then why does it sound like you're getting all the credit?" Huey asked. "I'm certain that it was Charity's idea to give the money to others, because you aren't acting like you're helping anyone. You sound like someone who is only serving himself."
"Is it wrong to want some money?" Louie asked, sounding defensive. "Remember when we were living with Uncle Donald, how poor we were? We lived on a boat. Most of the time, we were fishing for our dinner. How many jobs had Uncle Donald gone through? How often were we moving around from one port to another just so that he could provide for us? I hated it. I hated being poor. It sucked"
Huey looked down, uncertain how to take this.
"And the worst thing is that Uncle Scrooge wasn't that far away with this nice house and a building full of money. What kind of family doesn't help their loved ones out when they're living on a stinkin' boat?" Louie asked, putting his hands deep in his hoodie's pocket.
"Uncle Scrooge had his reasons. Remember? They were fighting. If Uncle Donald asked, Uncle Scrooge would have helped," Huey said. "And since then, he's been taking care of us."
"But he doesn't do anything with his money," Louie said, waving his hands around. "He's the richest duck in the world, but he seems so miserable when it comes to spending money. He could have so many cool things, but he's living in the past."
"You shouldn't talk about Uncle Scrooge that way," Huey said, standing up to his brother.
"Sorry," Louie said sincerely. "I'm not complaining. I'm just saying that it's not wrong to want to be rich. And when I am, I'm going to be different than Uncle Scrooge. I'm going to spend my money. I'm gonna buy Uncle Donald a better boat, and get Mom…I don't know. What do you think Mom will like? A plane. Yeah, a fast jet she could fly anywhere she wants to."
Huey looked at his brother in a new light. Yeah, he was still a greedy schemer, but his reasons weren't entirely without value. "Look, I know this means a lot to you, but please, just check with Charity again. The last thing I want is for you to team up with another villain."
"Was that a joke?" Louie asked, smiling. "Look at you, big brother. What's next? Getting your stand-up comedian badge?"
"Oh, do you think there is one?" Huey asked, opening his Jr. Woodchuck Guidebook. "Because I have been collecting puns."
Louie chuckled. "Don't ever change, Hubert."
Huey smiled before repeating himself. "You'll talk to Charity?"
"Yeah, sure I will," Louie said, turning around to his computer. As Huey walked away, he finished to himself, "After Tokyolk."
"Fenton, where is my car?"
Opening his eyes blearily, Fenton tried to focus on his digital clock. "Hmmm, mrft, Mama?" he called out, waving out a hand. He was intending to grab his clock but for some reason, he smashed it. "Huh?"
"Fenton." His mother opened the door to his room. "What are you wearing?"
Looking at his hand, Fenton scrambled to sit up, feeling his bed break underneath him. "Oh, no," he said, realizing he was still wearing the new Gizmoduck suit.
Last night, he had tested it out for hours, Gyro always in his ear talking him through the upgrades and working out the bugs they had found. Because Gyro had full access to the suit at his computer, he could upgrade the software immediately. It was definitely a big change from the old suit.
Afterward, Gyro told him to take the suit home since it was ready for him to take to Japan. But after that, Fenton had no recollection of what happened once he walked into his Mama's house. He must have been so tired that he collapsed in his bed and forgot to take it off.
"Sorry, Mama. I'll…take care of that later," Fenton said, standing up to look over the remains of his bed. "I got to go. Mr. McDuck will want to leave as soon as possible."
"But where is my car?" Maria asked with hands on her hips. "I need to be in the bullpen in less than a half-hour, and my car isn't anywhere to be seen."
Fenton's eyes widened. "Ah…I may have left it at the lab." He smiled sheepishly.
"What am I supposed to do? It's too late to catch the bus," Maria protested with arms in the air.
"Mama, the lab is closer to the precinct than the house. I'll just drop you off," Fenton said as a quick solution.
"Aren't you trying to keep your identity a secret? That's not going to go well if all our neighbors see me walking out of my house with Gizmoduck," Maria told her son.
"Ah, but this isn't just the old Gizmoduck," Fenton said, wiggling his fingers to activate the computer in his lens, finding the right icon to click on.
Maria jumped back as he disappeared. "Fenton!"
"I'm still here, Mama. I'm just invisible."
Waving her hands in front of her, she smacked him a few times in the beak.
"Mama, I didn't move. I'm still in the same place," Fenton protested, stepping back and covering his beak. It didn't sting, and he wondered just how much Charity was feeling that.
"Then let's get going. I don't want to be late," Maria said, grabbing her keys and purse.
Fenton followed her out the door, waited for her to lock up, and together they walked down the sidewalk a while before they ducked into a neighbor's yard that had quite a few trees. Picking up his mother, Fenton engaged the Gizmoduck boosters and lifted off in the air, careful not to leave too big of a burnt patch in the grass.
"Remind me to bake Mrs. Fieldman some cookies," Maria said.
When they gained enough altitude, Fenton turned off the cloaking device and picked up speed toward Scrooge's money bin. In the parking lot was Maria's car from last night. He dropped her off, listened to her usual advice about being careful and to not forget to eat like he sometimes was prone to do. Flying away, he returned home to pack up a suitcase and get his passport before going back to the McDuck Manor.
Circling the large home, he thought of an idea that he just had to go through. Using his lens, he searched for heat signatures, surprised to find that he was able to see better than before. The interference from Scrooge's magical items was no longer a problem. On top of that, the suit was able to tell him who each of the heat signatures belonged to, seeing that Launchpad was in the basement with Negaduck and Dr. Hoggins. The different members of Scrooge's family were milling about the manor. But the person he was searching for was still in her room.
Perfect.
Hovering just outside the window, he tapped on it gently. A few seconds later, Charity's face appeared, peering out beyond the curtains tentatively. When she saw him, she unlatched the windows and opened them.
"Good morning, Charity," Fenton said in his Gizmoduck voice.
"Fenton? I mean, Gizmoduck?" Charity looked him up and down.
"Like the new upgrade?"
Charity paused a moment for consideration. "Well, you're not as intimidating," she said, making a gesture that indicated the bulk of the last suit. "But it suits you better."
He smiled. "Care to go for a morning fly?" He held out his hand.
Charity grinned before stepping out onto the window sill and leaping out into the air, trusting him to catch her.
He did so, delighted how not only the suit worked easily with his body to catch her, but how good it felt to have her in his arms. "Hold on tight," he said and turned the boosters higher so they shot up into the air at an incredible speed, Charity's hair streaming behind her. His audio sensors picked up her scream, but it was different from the time she fell through the air. This one was filled with glee, ending in laughing and whooping.
He did barrel rolls and loop-de-loops, diving and climbing over and over again. It was like being on the wildest roller coaster without a track. When he got a sense that she couldn't scream any more, he took her back down to the mansion. Instead of taking her to her room, he settled on the pinnacle of the roof.
Charity balanced on the peak and looked down worriedly. "It's going to be a bit hard to get to my room from here," she observed.
Fenton sat down and patted the roof next to him.
Charity joined him. Even though this new Gizmoduck was smaller, she still felt tiny in comparison. "I'm guessing your boss isn't mad at you anymore," Charity said.
Fenton nodded. "How are you feeling? After yesterday?"
"Nothing a good night's sleep didn't fix." She twiddled her thumbs together. "Have you seen Jim yet?"
"No," Fenton said. "My shift doesn't start for a while. I wanted to see you first." He didn't need his lens to see the deep blush on her cheeks. Then he remembered that morning with Maria. "Does your beak hurt?" he asked tentatively.
"Not now, but I felt something earlier," Charity said, touching the body part. "Was that you?"
"Guilty. I went invisible and scared my mama. She whacked me a few times," he said, earning a chuckle from the lovebird. "And I hope you don't mind, but I told her about your curse. We had a long talk about you and how my dad ran off with a lovebird and how you aren't my girlfriend."
Charity laughed again.
"But my abuela wants you to be," Fenton said. "She really liked you."
"No, I think she really wants more great-grandchildren," Charity said, casting her eyes downward. "She was very instructive in how to make that happen."
"Oh, yeah. I should have warned you about her," Fenton said. "Since Abuelo died, she's gotten a little raunchy."
"A little?" Charity asked jokingly. "It was alright. I just took out the translator."
"Smart."
From their vantage point, they watched as a vehicle turned off the main road, heading toward McDuck's gate.
"Oh, crap. That's Glen's car," Charity said, standing up. She put a hand on Fenton's shoulder to balance herself. "My mom's here."
Fenton quickly picked her up and took her back to her room. Careful not to burn anything, he stepped into the room as he turned off the thrusters, landing on the carpet. With a swipe of his finger, he directed the suit to go into passive mode. The different parts folded in on themselves until they cleared away from Fenton's body and formed into a briefcase.
It was a lot better than the duffle bag Fenton lugged around. He always felt as if everyone was looking at him as if he were carrying a bomb. A briefcase was a lot more inconspicuous.
"That's cool," Charity said, grabbing the handle before Fenton could. She picked up, looking surprise. "It's so light."
"One of Gyro's biggest secrets," Fenton said, taking it from the lovebird. "Bigger on the inside. I haven't figured out how he does it yet."
Charity gave him a small smile before asking, "I've met your mom, are you ready to meet mine?"
Fenton looked down. He was still wearing his shirt from yesterday, and it was wrinkled from sleeping in the Gizmoduck suit. "Maybe you should go by yourself. I don't think I'll make a good impression."
Charity's shoulder's drooped. "Believe me, you could be wearing an Italian suit, and you still won't make a good impression on her. Besides, look at my hair." Her normally bushy hair was a tangled mess. "Oh, and by the way, thanks for this. I already spent an hour on it." She gave him a wry smile.
"You look beautiful," he couldn't stop himself from saying, blushing at his boldness.
"You're sweet," Charity said. "If you talk like that to my mom, she might not hate you." She grabbed his hand and pulled him out of her room.
Just as they walked out, Drake came out of his room. Seeing the two of them, he frowned.
"When did you get here?" he asked, although by his tone, anyone could tell he wanted to say, "What were you doing in Charity's room?"
"He took me flying," Charity announced with a bright smile. "And you're just in time. I need some support." She grabbed Drake's hand, dragging him along.
Fenton and Drake matched glances over Charity's head, both considering the other. Fenton could only guess what Drake was thinking, and he wondered if they saw each other in the same light.
Teammates. Companions. Maybe even friends? But something else came into Fenton's mind.
Rivals. Yes, he couldn't help but think of Drake as a rival. But he couldn't imagine the two of them actually fighting for Charity's attention, not while she was holding both of their hands. Could they be friendly rivals? Just two guys that both enjoy Charity's company, who want her to be happy and loved, and are willing to let bygones be bygones when the curse is broken?
When Charity is ready to choose, I will either step up or step aside, Fenton thought, remembering Persephone's words. Until then, I can be the friendly rival. He smiled. Charity has been a big Darkwing Duck fan and spent a lot of time with Drake, but Fenton wasn't going to sit back anymore. He enjoyed taking the lovebird in his arms even if it was just to dance with her or take her flying. What would it be like to be able to do that whenever he wanted? For the rest of his life?
He squeezed Charity's hand as they descended the staircase. For now, he would take what he could get and give in return. It was strange, but he couldn't remember being this happy in a long time.
Is this…love?
When Charity, Drake and Fenton went down the stairs, her mother and step-father were already in the foyer. Mrs. Beakley was talking to them in her stiff, professional manner. At the sight of Charity coming toward them, they broke off whatever chat they were having and met her half-way.
Charity's mother took her daughter into her arms, although the hug was quick.
"Mom, Glen, how are you doing?" Charity asked conversationally, accepting a hug from the male lovebird which was longer and warmer than from her mother.
"We're doing fine, although the house is too quiet without you," Glen said with a smile. His eyes darted to the two men on either side of his step-daughter.
"Glen, Mom, I'd like you to meet Drake Mallard and Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera. They both have been helping me with the curse," Charity said.
Drake held out his hand but was surprised when the male lovebird pulled him into a hug. Blinking with surprise, he watched as Fenton received the same treatment.
"I can't thank you enough for watching out for Charity," Glen said. "Her mother and I have been so worried."
Charity's mother's expression didn't mirror these words. Her voice was stoic but hard as she scrutinized the two men. "So they know everything?" Charity's mother asked with one raised eyebrow.
"It would be silly to ask them to help me without telling them about the curse," Charity said, her voice and face turning hard.
Charity's mother folded her arms. "And are either one of them…involved?"
"Aimee," Glen said in a warning tone. "We came here to visit with Charity, not interrogate her." He had an envelope under one arm and handed it over. "Here you go, sweetie."
"Thanks," Charity said, taking it.
"So, what's going on?" Glen asked as if talking about the weather. "You've said you've made some progress, but we've been kept in the dark."
"It's a long story. Maybe too long," Charity said, thinking over the past few days. Did she want to tell her mom and Glen about her run-ins with Negaduck, Beaks and Glomgold, and then follow up with what happened on Ithaquack? The story of the curse is hard enough to swallow; would they believe that she went to the Underworld and talked to gods.
"You don't have to tell us now," Glen said, taking his step-daughter's hand. "We'd just like to know that you're safe and maybe where you are from now on."
"I can do that," Charity said. "Fenton helped me get a cell phone, so I'll make sure to send you a text every day." She glanced at her mother, seeing the hard expression hadn't changed. "As for where I'll be, I needed my birth certificate because we'll be going to Tokyolk."
"Absolutely not!" Aimee exclaimed. "You cannot go traveling abroad, chasing after a dream. You are coming home with us right now."
Charity frowned and stepped away. "Mom, I'm not a child. I know you want to protect me, but I'm done with doing nothing. I want to change things."
"You can't break the curse. Nobody can," Aimee said adamantly.
"I'm at least going to try," Charity said. "And even if I can't, I'm going to actually live my life. It's not doing me any good keeping me at home."
With her beak set in a firm line, Aimee stepped forward and, with a quick hand, grabbed a fistful of feathers from both Drake and Fenton's arms, plucking them.
"OW! Ah!" Charity squealed twice for each time. She tightened her hands into fists.
"I see," Aimee said with a bitter smile. "It wasn't bad enough with Launchpad and that actor. There are two more of them?"
"It's not their fault," Charity said angrily. "They didn't ask for it. They're just as much victims of the curse as we are."
"Really? Then where's their scars. Where're their wounds to show that they are suffering?" Aimee said, holding out her arms.
Charity's beak pressed in a thin line. Her mother still had a bandage over her wrist. It had been the case when last she saw her mother.
"Last time I checked, victims are being harmed by someone else. They're the absolute opposite," Charity's mother said, her words as deep as a bite.
Charity bristled, seeing Drake and Fenton turn their heads away in shame. "How can you say that with Glen right here? Do you think he wants to hurt you?"
"They're all the same," Aimee proclaimed, ignoring how Glen turned his head away. "They say that they're sorry, that they'll try harder. They say just the right words to keep you around. And because you love them, you'll forgive them as they hurt us over and over again."
"Shut up!" Charity shouted angrily. "You don't know them, Mom. And if I didn't break away from your over-controlling hand, I would never have known them."
Charity's mother looked hurt. "I was trying to protect you. I know what it's like to be blinded by love. I just don't want you to have to go through what I did."
"They're not like Dad," Charity shouted. "Just because you married a sociopathic masochist doesn't mean I'm going to make the same mistake."
"Well," Charity's mother said, adjusting her jacket, "I know when I'm not wanted. I've tried my best to protect you, but it seems you think you know what's best." Then she turned around and walked back to the front door.
Mrs. Beakley, who had stayed but refrained from being a part of the conversation, opened the door without a word.
"She didn't mean it," Glen said, stepping up to Charity.
"Don't defend her," Charity said. "She meant all of it. I shouldn't have goaded her though."
"She does love you. And in her misguided way, she is trying to help," Glen said.
Charity rubbed her arm. "Is she still taking her medicine? You're reminding her each day?"
"Yes, but you know the side effects. She has her good days and her bad days," Glen said with a sigh.
"Why can't she understand that I'm trying to do what's best for both of us?" Charity asked, her voice small. "It's like she doesn't want us to be happy."
Glen put his hands on his step-daughter's shoulders. "You keep going, no matter what. Your mom, she's been through so much pain that a part of her is broken inside. She's always going to believe that the best thing to do is to not fight it. But you're spirit isn't broken. You keep going, Charity. Save yourself, and save your mother." He pulled her into a tight hug, and when he let go, Charity's eyes were moist.
Reaching into his wallet, he pulled out some money and put it in her hand. "Take care of yourself. And don't worry about your mother. I'm looking after her."
"I know you are," Charity said. "Thanks, Glen. I love you. And tell Mom that I love her as well."
They hugged one more time before the male lovebird followed after his wife. Charity walked side-by-side with him outside and stopped at the steps as he got into his car. She waved as he backed up, seeing the two figures waving back as if they hadn't exchanged bitter words.
Charity sat down on the stone steps, and Fenton and Drake joined her at either side. "Wow, I thought that things were going to be rough but not that rough. Has my family's baggage scared either of you too much?" She gave them a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
Fenton responded first after a moment's pause. "You've met my family. And that was on a good day."
"No family is perfect," Drake said. "At least your step-father seems like a good guy. Maybe I should introduce you to my family. My step-brother is the most annoying person on the planet."
Charity's smile was only for show. "My mom and I fight, but we do love each other. I just feel sorry for Glen. I know he loves my mother, but she's always doubted that. After my father, I don't think she can believe in true love. The curse messed her up really bad. Because of it, I don't think she's capable of real love except for me and Grandpa and Grandma. She doesn't have many friends and seems afraid to make any connections."
She lapsed into silence for a while before continuing on. "When my dad was alive, he would come home from work and grab a beer and a soda from the fridge and take me out onto our apartment balcony. We would sit and watch the sunset, drinking our cold drinks as he smoked a cigarette. He would smile and kiss my forehead while telling me jokes and stories from his childhood, and he would laugh and laugh, and I would laugh along because sometimes he was funny and sometimes it's what I knew he wanted me to do. And sometimes, that's how our day would end and things weren't so bad because Mom only had to deal with the ulcers in her gut from his drinking, the hangover in the morning, and the racking cough from the smoke in my father's lungs.
"But then some days, while telling one of his stories, he would take that cigarette and push it against his arm, and I would hear Mom screaming from inside the apartment. She never screamed for long because Dad wouldn't stop until she was quiet. And each time, he forced me to stay by his side and listen to her screams and smell burnt feathers."
Charity had kept the words deep inside her all this time, and perhaps it was the fight with her mother that finally released them. She needed to say them, to let someone else in the world know what her mother went through. And after witnessing the fight and hearing such terrible things against them, she felt that Fenton and Drake should know what her mother went through to make her so bitter, to make her hate strangers.
"He said he did it to make her tough. She had to learn to deal with pain if she was going to love more than one man," Charity said, her beak twisted in disgust. "I wished I could say he only did it when he was drunk, but that wasn't the case. In fact, when he was sober, he was meaner."
"Did he ever…do anything to you?" Drake asked, his voice a deadly growl.
"No, not once," Charity said. "It was like he hated her for being under the curse. Mom says that he was sweet once, before he knew about all the details and about the other men she was bonded to, but I can't remember that far back. I think he saw it as a betrayal or that she was cheating on him."
There was silence as everything sank in.
"As I said, the curse messed my mother up. She's suspicious of people's motives to help her or love her. It's why she hates Launchpad so much. And now she hates the two of you.
"But I think that the worst thing about the curse for her is that after my father died, she stopped loving him. And now she has to live with those memories, how her emotions for him were false. She remembers just how much she loved him all those years, and looks back on everything with hate, even the good times.
"That would mess anyone up, you know."
She was done explaining about her mom, glad that she could tell everything without dropping a single tear. She had had enough of those over the years when it came to her mother's condition.
"How did you father die?" Drake asked.
Charity had wondered if this question would come up. Some people brought it up and others let it be. She had never shied away from the question, being as straight forward as she could.
"My mother killed him," she answered, her throat tight. "It was self-defense, but her lawyer argued temporary insanity in court. I guess they were both right, but I became the kid at school with the crazy mom. Makes it hard to invite people over for birthday parties and sleepovers." She smiled at her dark sense of humor.
Drake leaned back, putting his elbows on the top stone step. "My father died when I was around eight. He was a stunt man for Jim Starling. He died on the set for one of Jim's movies."
"Which movie?" Charity asked.
"It was To Die For. There's a scene where Jim's character had to jump from a burning building to a helicopter. It was supposed to be a standard stunt with a safety net to catch him if he didn't make the jump. But something was wrong with the net. It wasn't secured."
"I remember that movie," Charity said. "I have all of Jim's movies memorized. I remember in the end credits, they had a memorial for him. I'm sorry, but I don't know his name."
"Cal Mallard," Drake said. "He's why I always wanted to be an actor. Well, and because of Jim. He and Jim were friends."
"Really? Wow," Charity said. "Did you know Jim when you were a kid?"
"I met him a few times. Of course, this was all before the Darkwing Duck show. I guess that's what sort of got me into it. Jim and my dad look so much alike, it was almost like seeing him back from the dead," Drake continued.
Charity took his hand. "Was he a good father? Did he love you?"
Drake looked into her eyes for a few moments before say, "Yeah."
"I'm glad," Charity said. She turned her head to look at Fenton, taking his hand. "It looks like we all have father issues."
When Drake looked over Charity's head at Fenton, the scientist explained. "It's not as good as a story. My dad walked out on my mom and me."
Charity looked at Drake with a secret smile. "With a lovebird," she added. "That was fun, meeting his family."
Drake's face looked as if he wasn't sure how he felt about that.
"I kind of like that we have something else in common besides the curse," Charity said, pulling their hands into her lap. "It's not the happiest of connections, but we're kind of the same."
"Charity, we were already connected," Fenton said. "We're friends."
"And that will never change," Drake jumped in. "No matter what. We'll all be friends."
Charity's mouth split in a sneaky smile. "Even the two of you?" she asked.
Fenton and Drake looked at each other, not saying anything.
"Aww, come on," Charity cajoled. "Can't Darkwing and Gizmoduck be friends? You could start the Justice Ducks."
"Gizmoduck is not allowed to be a Justice Duck," Drake said with determination. "That's not cannon."
"Neither is my fanfiction," Charity said with a grin.
"Justice Ducks? What's that?" Fenton asked.
"Oh, we're so watching Darkwing Duck tonight," Charity said. "All of us. Fenton's still a Darkwing virgin, so it's going to be great."
"V-v-v-virgin?" Fenton stumbled, turning red.
"It's always more fun to watch it with a bunch of people," Charity said, not noticing his embarrassment. "And bonus, we get to watch it with Darkwing Duck. This is going to be epic. I'm telling Launchpad." She pulled out her phone and began texting.
Soon, her phone beeped, indicating a text message.
"Oh. Uh, Drake. Launchpad needs you downstairs. Jim is asking for you," Charity said, her smile gone.
Both Drake and Fenton looked somber, remembering the day before when Charity had last seen the actor.
"Well, you two are in charge of the snacks," Drake said. "And if we want to get through the whole series, we'll have to start soon." Drake went back inside.
"Wait, the whole series?" Fenton asked. "How long is it?"
Charity put on a cheesy grin. "Well, it only went on for two seasons. And the second season isn't all that long."
"How long is it?"
"Ninety-one episodes. Plus the movie." Charity smiled sweetly.
"That's…We're going to need more than just snacks," Fenton said, giving in. "And didn't we promise Mr. McDuck that we would watch Nega—I mean—Jim."
Charity's mood dampened quickly. "Well, it would have been amazing to watch the series with Jim Starling, but I doubt he wants to see me. Maybe there's a room in the basement with a TV? Or we could watch out in the hallway? That way we could all be together."
She sounded so hopeful that Fenton patted her shoulder. "We'll figure something out," even though he wasn't looking forward to the show.
When Drake went to the basement, the change in Jim Starling was stark. He still looked pale and worn out, but his eyes were clear and his voice calm as he spoke to Dr. Hoggins and Launchpad. He had even removed the black mask from his face, resembling his old self.
At Drake's entrance, Jim stopped talking, his face turning suspicious. Dr. Hoggins and Launchpad turned around when the duck became silent.
"Drake, this has been the best day of my life," Launchpad said. "Jim's been telling all these amazing stories about being on the set of Darkwing Duck, stuff that nobody else knows. It's so cool."
Drake really wished he had heard those stories himself. He was envious that Launchpad had been on guard duty during a time when Jim was lucid. If he had this shift, he could have learned more about his father. But that could wait.
"You wanted me for something?" Drake asked.
"Oh, you're the guy who wanted me to call my agent last night," Jim said, suspicion disappearing. "Yes, you are. You're also Cal's kid."
Drake smiled. It sounded good to be referred to as his father's son. "Yes. It's good to see you back on your feet, sir," he said. The mention of his father also brought out his polite side, remembering how his father always insisted that he call people sir or ma'am when he was a kid.
"I don't suppose you…know exactly what I said," Jim said uncertainly. "My memories are a bit foggy."
"You told your agent that you needed your passport, but I couldn't hear anything from the other end. You hung up soon after that," Drake said.
Last night was interesting. He had spent twenty minutes trying to get Jim to wake up not only to take his next dose of medicine, but also to give him a number. In the end, Jim, acting more like a drunk, took Drake's phone and dialed himself. If it wasn't for the fact that Drake had been getting constant texts since then demanding information, he would have wondered if Jim had even called anyone he knew.
"I've answered all the texts they sent. I hope you don't mind," Drake said, holding out his phone.
Jim snatched the phone and swiped through the chat, his beak sagging at the corners. "She's going to be here in twenty minutes." Practically throwing the phone back at Drake, Jim paced back and forth. "Twenty minutes. I thought I would have more time." He rubbed at his face, pulling back his hand and staring at it with disgust. He looked down and tugged at the red turtleneck he wore. "Is there any way I could get a shower? And perhaps a change of clothes?"
Considering what he had been through, Jim was a wreck.
"Absolutely not," Dr. Hoggins said. "As remarkable as your progress has been on the medication, we all promised Mr. McDuck that you would remain in that cell the full forty-eight hours. However, we can bring you some water to clean up and a sheet for some privacy."
"He hasn't even been out to use the bathroom," Launchpad whispered to Drake.
There was a chamber pot inside the cell, but so far, Jim hadn't used it, thankfully. Even though he drank a full bottle of water with each dose, he usually sweated the moisture out through his pores.
"I'll go get you some hot water," Drake said. "Launchpad, there's probably some sheets in one of these rooms down here."
When Drake returned, one sheet hung over a quarter of the cell, giving Jim a good amount of privacy. Setting a bucket of water, a bar of soap and a washcloth inside, Drake locked the door behind him. "I think I have some clothes that might fit you," he said as Jim took the items behind the sheet.
"And a brush if you can, please," Jim said.
As Drake was leaving once more, Jim poked his head out beyond the sheet. "Oh, and one more thing?"
"Yes." Drake felt the old fanboy part of himself become giddy by helping his hero. His hero was back. Jim Starling was back!
"That girl…Is she okay?"
Drake's glee fell. "You mean Charity?"
Jim was filled with guilt. "I've done terrible things. I don't remember everything, but I remember her. Is she okay? I didn't…Did I hurt her?" His forehead was more wrinkled than before with worry and sorrow.
"We've all hurt her," Launchpad answered, his voice more serious than usual. "But I know she's forgiven you. And she really wants to see you."
Jim looked down, his hands turned into fists and looked at if he wanted to hit the bars of his cell. He did, but so softly that it would cause no one any pain. "Not yet. I can't see her just yet. Can you tell her that…Say…What can I say? Is it enough to say 'I'm sorry'? I don't deserve her forgiveness."
Drake felt like he needed to say something before he left, let Jim know that he wasn't alone in how he was feeling. "You have until the end of your forty-eight hours to think about what you're going to say to her, but believe me, you'll feel much better after meeting her. Charity has a way about her that makes everything…alright." Then he left.
Upstairs, he looked through his suitcase, picking up a salmon button-up shirt and an argyle sweater vest. Yes, it was a little outdated, but he thought that Launchpad and Charity would have gotten a kick out of it. It was an almost exact replica of Darkwing Duck's civilian clothing from the TV Show.
How would Jim react to the outfit?
Hoping that the actor wouldn't mind using Drake's brush since he didn't know where to find a brand new one, he took everything downstairs. In the foyer, he heard a car pulling up. He looked out the window, seeing a cab stop next to the fountain and a female Mandarin duck get out. That must be Jim's agent.
As he walked to the basement, hoping someone else would escort the woman downstairs, Charity and Fenton burst through the front door, the former with wide eyes.
"It's Yāzi Peking!" Charity exclaimed, seeing Drake at the window. "Did you know Yāzi Peking was coming?!"
"Who is Yāzi Peking?" Fenton asked.
Drake knew exactly who she was. He cursed before sprinting down to the basement. Inside the room with the jail, he called out, "Why didn't you tell me that Yāzi Peking was your agent?"
Launchpad gasped, clasped his face between his hands and gave a little squeal.
"I thought you knew," Jim Starling said from behind the curtain.
"Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh," Launchpad repeated, looking around for something. "Is she really here? Is she coming down here? How do I look?" Launchpad attempted to flatten down his hair.
And as silly as Launchpad was acting, Drake was not far behind him. He wished he was able to take a shower and change his clothes right at that moment because he wasn't fit to meet Yāzi Peking.
"Did you bring me some clothes?" Jim asked from behind the curtain.
"Oh, yeah," Drake said, passing them through the bars. Jim's hand darted out and grabbed them.
"Who is she?" Dr. Hoggins asked.
"She was an actress," Drake explained. "She starred in a few series in the 90s and a couple of movies. But the most important role she played was—"
"Ahiru Asashin," Launchpad interrupted. "She was a ninja that was hired to kill Darkwing Duck but found out she was tricked into thinking he was a bad guy and almost lost her honor. She later became one of the Justice Ducks for a short time, but that happened in one of the books. I had such a crush on her when I was a teen."
"Me, too," Drake said, feeling his excitement level rising. "There was that episode where Darkwing had to go to Japan and help her find her father's killer. That was the best. I totally ship her with Darkwing."
"What? Really? Not Morgana?" Launchpad asked disappointed.
"Oh, come on. There's only physical attraction between him and Morgana. No chemistry," Drake argued.
"Boys!" Jim jumped in with a crisp tone. "There's one fact that you forgot about Yāzi." With a snap, he pulled the sheet down, revealing him well-groomed and neatly dressed as a prisoner could be. "She's also my ex-wife."
Right. I forgot about that, Drake thought, caught in the excitement of meeting—in his opinion—one of the most beautiful women in the world.
They heard the clacking of high heels before she entered the room. When she laid eyes on the sight, she gasped, lowering her sunglasses with an expression of disbelief. "Jim, you are alive!" Yāzi cried out, rushing to the bars. "What are these men doing to you?" She shot a glare toward Launchpad and Drake with her slanted, golden eyes.
Drake gave a sheepish smile and Launchpad fainted, crashing to the floor. Drake realized just how bad things looked. Jim had been missing for months, and when his ex-wife received a short, unclear call out of the blue, what else was she supposed to think seeing Jim behind bars?
"Everything is fine," Jim said, holding out his hands in a calming gesture. "I'm in here for my own good."
"What happened? Where have you been all this time?" Yāzi asked. Then she whispered, "Blink twice if you need me to call the police."
Jim opened his eyes wide, trying hard not to blink even once.
"Ms. Peking was it?" Dr. Hoggins said, standing up. "My name is Dr. Hoggins. Your ex-husband is receiving treatment for a psychotic episode. Due to his wishes, he wanted to be treated outside of a hospital and avoid the press catching wind of the story."
"Oh," Yāzi said, her beak forming a perfect circle. She turned to Drake. "Sorry."
And now that she wasn't yelling or panicking, Drake was able to admire her. The petite, short duck was as thin as when she was in her prime and had aged gracefully since she had quit being an actress and worked as an agent. Dressed in a business suit, the dark blue went well with her Mandarin mottle-brown feathers. Her blue-black hair was straight and gleaming, going well past her shoulders in a straight cut.
"Did you bring my passport?" Jim asked, reaching out past the bars.
"Are you leaving the country?" Yāzi asked, holding on tight to her purse.
"I have to."
"Before I give anything to you, you're going to explain everything to me," Yāzi insisted. "After the reports of your death and worrying about you for months, I deserve that much."
Jim scratched his chin, his eyes rolling upward as he searched for the right words. "Honestly, I'm not certain of anything right now."
Dr. Hoggins jumped in. "People with Jim's condition tend to have no memories when they're in their manic state. From what I can tell, he had a psychotic episode during the incident at the movie studio. Since then, he has been wandering through sewers and the country side, and somehow made it to St. Canard where these two wonderful men recognized him and went through a lot to help him. By that time, Jim was so manic that he was a danger to himself and others."
Yāzi's eyes widened. "I knew you were having problems, but Jim, I thought you were getting help."
"I was, but it wasn't working," Jim said, looking away. "It was different back then. There were some things I didn't know, but everything is clear now. I'm on new medication, and I'm thinking better than before."
"Then are you ready to come home?" Yāzi asked. "I'm certain I could get you work when you need it. Reporters will be vying for your story."
"I'm not going home," Jim said. "I have a lot that needs to be done."
"Like what? Jim, you're getting a comeback," Yāzi said, spreading her arms wide. "Darkwing Duck is becoming more popular."
"He is?!" Drake exclaimed with a big smile. When Yāzi looked his way, he toned it down a bit. "That's great. Does it by chance have anything to do with that guy from St. Canard?"
"Strangely, it does," Yāzi said. "You're old fans are screaming for a reboot, and new fans are popping up. You're not trending yet, but there are some people who are stopping and taking notice. No more car wash opening ceremonies and dinky autograph sessions. Darkwing Duck is back."
Jim looked less than pleased. He knew he should be excited, but he felt broken down like an old car that had nothing left to give. "Yāzi, I would love to get back to work, but it's too soon. I can't. I have…reparations to make to a few people. I need some time."
"Well, how much time do you need?" Yāzi asked, hands on hips. "Because we need to jump on this soon or else Darkwing Duck is going to be forgotten."
Drake gasped. "No! Darkwing Duck can't be forgotten"
Yāzi turned around again, giving Drake a weird look. "I'm sorry, but who are you? You look kind of familiar." She squinted at him.
Drake's eyes widened. "Oh, nobody. I'm just a fan. Yep, just an ordinary fan. Of Darkwing Duck. Because he's the best. Yep. Just a fan. Not anyone important."
"Smooth," Jim growled, his voice getting dangerously close to sounding like Negaduck. "Yāzi, just give me a few weeks. I need to finish my treatment, get into therapy, and get my life in order."
"As long as it's only a few weeks," Yāzi said. "And you need to stay in contact with me, okay Jim? No running off and pretending to be dead anymore."
"I promise," Jim said, putting his hand over his heart. "I'll even stay in touch, maybe do a few interviews here and there to prove that I'm not gone."
Yāzi grinned. "Oh, thank you Jim." She gave the bars of the jail cell a glare. "Uh, is all of this necessary? Or am I not allowed inside?"
"Oh, you can go in. It's just part of the agreement with Mr. McDuck that he stay behind bars until the end of his treatment, which should end…" Dr. Hoggins looked at her watch, "…in approximately fifteen hours."
"Well…if I could go in, I'd like to at least say good-bye to my ex-husband," Yāzi said.
Drake retrieved the keys and opened the door.
Inside, the female duck pulled out of her purse one item after another. "Here's your passport, and I also brought your wallet that the police found in your hotel. And here's some cash since I noticed you didn't have any. If you're traveling abroad, you should have cash on hand."
"Thank you," Jim said, taking each item.
"And that number you contacted me with, is it yours?" Yāzi asked.
It was at that time, Drake realized that he had Yāzi Peking's number. Wow, he had Yāzi Peking's number.
"No, the phone belonged to my…friend," Jim said with a wave toward Drake.
"Then you'll need a one," Yāzi said. "Here, take mine. I'll buy another."
Drake's heart sank. Not that he would know what to do with her number. Maybe he could get her as an agent. If anyone would know of any acting jobs in St. Canard, it would be an agent. And maybe he could make some appearances as Darkwing Duck, especially if he was becoming popular.
"Oh, Jim. I'm so glad you're alive," Yāzi said softly, putting a hand on his cheek.
Jim smiled. "You can't get rid of me that easily, my flower," he said in a soft voice.
Yāzi smiled before pulling her hand back and slapping him on the same cheek. "And that's for yanking my heart around, you jerk. Next time you die, stay dead!" She turned smartly on her heels and marched out with her beak held high.
Even though it wasn't Drake who was struck, he had still flinched and back up until he came to the wall. Perhaps he could find a different agent. Poor Charity, he thought, having heard the force of the slap.
"She always was a spitfire," Jim said, rubbing his cheek even though he felt no pain.
"Is that why you divorced her?" Dr. Hoggins asked.
"No, it's why I married her," Jim said with a grin. "We got a divorce because we were better business partners than marital ones."
"Wha…huh…Where did Yāzi go?" Launchpad's sleepy voice asked from the floor. "Did I miss her?"
"You fainted, LP," Drake said, helping his friend to his feet. "And she's gone. Sorry you missed her."
"Awww, I really wanted to get her autograph," Launchpad said with a pout.
"Oooo, I forgot to ask for one, too," Drake said, feeling the loss.
"Save it, you two," Jim said, leaning against the bars. "I'm sure I can persuade her when you have something more than just your shirts to autograph."
Drake and Launchpad's eyes widened.
"Do you really think she'd autograph our shirts?" Drake asked hopefully.
"If we run, we could catch up to her," Launchpad said, heading to the door.
"Don't faint on me this time, buddy."
At the announcement that everyone had their passports, Scrooge was anxious to get going. After going down to the basement, he interviewed Starling himself, surprised by the change the drugs had on the man and convinced that he was no longer a danger to anyone. He then told the family that the second Starling's treatment was over, they would be boarding the plane and heading to Tokyolk.
Mrs. Beakley, always planning, gave the instruction that everyone was to stay up until then. With Tokyolk thirteen hours ahead of Duckburg time—or eleven hours behind, depending on how you see it—by staying up till three AM would help with the jet lag. Everyone would sleep on the plane and wake up close enough to Japan's morning time.
Everyone, that is, except Della. With such a long flight, she would fly the plane at the beginning, and Launchpad could finish with neither one getting too exhausted. Della was fine with this, preferring to fly at night. The Sunchaser would also have to stop on the west coast to refuel before heading over the Pacific, and Scrooge trusted her to do that without any problems more than Launchpad.
When the kids heard the plan of having a Darkwing Duck marathon, they felt up to the challenge to try to get through the whole series in one sitting despite Mrs. Beakley insisting there wasn't enough time. Dewey sat high on the excitement meter along with Charity and Launchpad at the thought of watching it with Drake. He even solved the problem with who would watch Jim Starling, asking Donald for the favor. The adult duck readily agreed, having been the only one in the family that didn't have first-hand experience what kind of terror Negaduck could wreck on a person's psyche.
"Do you want to watch with us, Gladstone?" Huey invited as the group moved to the TV room with armfuls of snacks and drinks.
"No, thank you. I've got better things to do," Gladstone said, holding up a book.
Dewey and Louie stuck their tongues out at the thought of choosing a book over a movie.
Starting at one o' clock in the afternoon, the group, crowded on a single couch and armchair or spread out on the floor, began the marathon.
Episode one:
"Drake could you do that?" Dewey asked, bouncing on the couch.
"Uh…yeah, sure. Easy," Drake said, rubbing his chin.
"That is physically impossible," Fenton said. "Physics doesn't work that way."
"He could totally do it," Charity said with a grin. "Come on, show us."
Drake messed up the lovebird's hair.
Episode Five:
"So, the guy just steals lightbulbs?" Fenton asked, tilting his head.
"Yep," several people answered.
"And this is Darkwing Duck's nemesis?"
"Yep."
"Not the ninja assassin?"
"Nope."
"Not the scary clown guy?"
"Nope."
"Not even the mob boss that is in control of a world-wide syndicate and has enough power to literally destroy the world?"
"Nope."
"The electricity guy?"
"Hey, how about you get shocked by electricity a few times and see how you feel about it," Drake suggested. "Isn't Gizmoduck just one big conductor? I'd like to see how you fair against Megavolt."
"He's got a point," Launchpad said.
Fenton texted Gyro about a possible upgrade against a villain wielding electricity.
Episode eight:
Charity kept her eyes shut and covered her ears. "Tell me when it's over, okay Launchpad?"
After watching for a few minutes, Launchpad winked at Dewey before nudging Charity.
The lovebird opened her eyes just as Quackerjack received a close-up, laughing manically.
Charity screamed and shoved Launchpad. "Freaking crap, Launchpad. You lied to me!" Not trusting her best friend, she sought safety between Drake and Fenton. "I can trust the two of you, right?" she asked as she huddled with her knees pulled up, burying her face in Fenton's shoulder.
"You really are afraid of clowns," Drake said, putting an arm around her.
Launchpad chuckled. "Especially ones that are in the sewers."
"Shut up," Charity grumbled.
Fenton's face turned red as he felt Charity's beak close to his neck. "Uh…how many episodes are with this Quackerjack guy?"
"Thirteen including four that have the Fearsome Four in it," Drake answered. His eyes slid to the scientist. "Quackerjack is my favorite villain. How about you?"
"Well, his presence over the audience certainly has impacted me," Fenton said with a grin.
Muffled against Fenton's shirt, Charity said, "I can't tell if you're making fun of me or are taking advantage of my situation."
Episode thirteen:
Webby slunk down in her seat as the end credits rolled. "Guys, I'm all for testing my endurance, especially since this is perfect practice in case I become a sniper, but we've been watching for over five hours straight. Maybe we should have a break or something."
For once, the kids had found their match for enthusiasm and energy. While Launchpad, Charity and Drake were already putting in the next disc and talking about fan theories, Webby, Louie and Huey's spirits were dampened. Dewey was still good to go, but Fenton had been only half-listening to the plots. Using markers and some paper, he was designing a hovercraft after being inspired by one of the episodes. Drake, every now and then, took a look and gave suggestions, looking like he would squeal with delight every time.
"I think that's a wonderful idea, Webbigail," Mrs. Beakley said. She had watched an episode here and there, having seen them all and only stayed for her favorites. "It's almost dinner time. How about everyone race around the mansion and the winner gets to pick where we order take out?"
"Sushi!" Charity shouted, reacting faster than anyone else. She weaseled her way through the others, jumping over Fenton's drawings and racing out the door.
Mrs. Beakley only managed to flatten herself against the door to prevent Launchpad from barreling into her.
"Gross. We're having tacos," Launchpad shouted on her tail feathers.
"I'm on Team Sushi," Webby said, always eager for something other than pizza, which the boys always outvoted her.
"Tacos!" Louie and Dewey shouted.
Drake followed them, more wanting the exercise than actually caring what they ate.
"Aren't you going with them?" Fenton asked Huey.
The red-clad triplet shrugged. "Competition gives me anxiety."
Fenton set aside his pencil. "Then how about a friendly jog? Men of science must exercise their bodies as well as their minds."
"Okay," Huey agreed, the two of them headed out at a slower pace.
With the TV room empty, Mrs. Beakley pulled out a trash bag and began throwing out empty rappers and pop cans before vacuuming up popcorn and loose candy and spraying air freshener to clear away the smell of corn chips.
Episode eighteen:
Louie sighed. "Can we fast forward through the theme song?"
Everyone ignored him as they sang at the top of their lungs.
Episode twenty-five:
"My brain feels like mush," Huey said, standing up and stretching.
"I know. Isn't it great," Dewey said. "When's the last time we did something like this?"
"Ottoman Empire season six," Louie reminisced happily. "The loveseat they made was…" He kissed his fingers to show just how magnificent he thought of his favorite show.
"I need to do something else before I turn into a zombie," Huey said, standing up. "Something else besides Darkwing Duck."
"And the first one is eliminated from the competition," Dewey said, pretending to be an announcer. "In these endurance competitions, it's usually the ones that wear hats that drop out first."
"What does my hat have anything to do with this?" Huey demanded.
"How about if we watch the movie Mrs. Beakley and I made," Launchpad suggested, pulling out his phone.
The boys and Webby took notice.
"Absolutely not," Mrs. Beakley said. "I've worked too hard to establish myself as an authority figure around here and that movie is going to undermine everything."
"Too late. I'm already casting it," Launchpad said, sending the movie from his phone to the TV.
Mrs. Beakley sighed.
Episode thirty-three:
Louie's head began bobbing. The last time he checked his phone, it was past midnight.
Dewey slapped him.
"Ahhhh! I'm awake. I'm awake," Louie announced, startling those around him.
"Perhaps we could play a game while we watch," Webby suggested as she yawned. "It might help us stay away."
"Oh, let's play Uncle Scrooge's favorite game," Dewey said. "Scroogopoly."
"The only game that's longer than this movie marathon," Louie said, his eyes already drooping again.
"I get to be Scrooge's top hat," Webby called.
"I get his cane," Huey said.
"I want to the headless man horse," Dewey said.
"And always, I get to be the number one dime," Louie said with the tone of a child who had had this conversation several times.
"Does anyone else want to play?" Webby asked as she pulled out the box.
The adults politely declined. Mrs. Beakley was in the armchair, knitting. Fenton was sending photos of his sketches to Gyro, texting him back and forth about the hover plane. Charity, Launchpad and Drake were still enraptured by the TV.
"Your loss," Webby said. "We'll see who's still awake by the end of the night."
Episode thirty-four:
Webby and the three boys lay sprawled on the floor, snoring softly. It had been Dewey's turn, and he had somehow fallen asleep while rolling, face-planting the board. Louie lay in a fetal position, clutching his multi-colored paper money in one fist. Huey lay on his back with the instructions of the game covering his head. Webby, strangely, was asleep while sitting up, her eyes still open.
"I never expected them to last the night," Mrs. Beakley said, helping her granddaughter to the ground and closing her eyes. "It's a wonder they made it this late."
Charity yawned. "I'm trying not to join them. I haven't been up this late in a long time."
Launchpad laughed. "Really? I'm super awake. This is really easy."
Charity glared at him.
"Oh, right. The curse," Launchpad remembered with a grin.
"I'll make us some coffee," Drake volunteered.
"Ooo, make a double for me," Fenton requested.
Episode forty-one:
Charity felt herself slipping. She had tried playing with her phone and drinking coffee, but whether it was that her body had no more to give or the boys' fatigue was catching up to her, she was going down. And the fact that she was snug between Drake and Launchpad didn't help. Their combine body heat made her far too comfortable.
"Charity?"
"Hmmm," she replied to Mrs. Beakley's inquiry.
"I need to see you for a minute," Mrs. Beakley said.
Charity stood up and stretched.
"Do you want us to pause it?" Drake asked, reaching for the remote.
"Naw. It's one with Quackerjack. I don't mind skipping it," Charity said, following after the nanny groggily.
They went down a few hallways before Charity spotted Dr. Hoggins and Donald standing just outside a door. Suddenly she was awake as she realized why they might be upstairs.
"He wanted to talk to you first, Charity," Mrs. Beakley said. "He's finished with his treatment and the doctor has given the okay to let him out."
Dr. Hoggins nodded.
Charity's heart quickened and she stopped walking. The memories of Jim yelling at her made her quiver inside. She wanted to see him so badly but was afraid to go in.
"We'll leave you alone," Dr. Hoggins said. "I haven't had a good night's sleep in over two days, and I've called a cab to take me to the nearest hotel." The pig, while smiling, had large bags under her eyes.
"And I've got to pack and tell Uncle Scrooge we're ready to leave," Donald said, leaving.
When it was just her and Mrs. Beakley, Charity faced the door with uncertainty.
"If you'd like, I'll stay in the hallway," Mrs. Beakley said kindly.
Charity shook her head. "No, I'll be alright." Then she knocked on the door.
Was she supposed to knock on the door? Or was she just to go in? He knew she was coming, but did she really want to surprise someone on anti-psychotics.
"Come in."
Her heart jumped as if her ribcage was made of rubber. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door.
It was a small sitting room with a few book cases of knick-knacks and books. Standing in the middle of the room on a rug was Jim Starling, looking more scared and nervous than she felt.
She smiled shyly as she approached. "Hello, Jim."
"Before you say anything," Jim said, breaking eye contact with her and looking down at some papers he had crinkled in his hands, "I'd like to speak first. Even though some may say that I'm…not responsible for my actions because of mental illness, but…what I did to you was…unforgiveable. I'm sorry for the…pain and…agony I put you through. I won't be…I won't be able to do enough to repair the…damage I've done to you for all these…years." As he spoke, he kept pausing, clearing his throat or swallowing. His hands were shaking.
Charity couldn't stand hearing Jim say these words, especially since they were almost a mirror of her own feelings. Reaching out, she tentatively touched one of Jim's trembling hands, slowly enclosing it within both of hers.
He stopped talking, finally looking up into her face. He looked scared enough to run.
She took away the papers and let them flutter from the floor. Whatever apology he had written, she didn't need to hear it. Jim acted as if each syllable he uttered had pained him, and she couldn't bear for him to feel like that anymore. She stepped closer, wrapping her arms around him and rested her head on his chest.
"I understand," she said, listening to the sound of his rapid heartbeat. "It's okay. Everything is going to be okay."
She felt his hand on her back, gentle and hesitant, but they slowly enclosed her.
"You're better now, Jim. That's all I wanted," she whispered, tightening her embrace. "You don't need to do anything for me. But I'll stay close to you. I won't let Aphrodite hurt you anymore."
Jim's arms tighten around her, squeezing her so tight she couldn't move.
It was wonderful being there, feeling safe and secure. All four of them were with her. She had all of them in her life, and she couldn't remember being so happy.
"Oh, little bird," Jim said, pulling her away and putting a hand on the back of her head. "I don't deserve your love. You're so young, too young to waste even a quarter of your heart for an old man like me."
"You're not old," Charity said, still keeping her arms around him.
She knew that if it had been anyone else, the age difference would bother her. She had fallen in love with him when she was only ten. Yes, that had been a little weird thinking back how she was enamored with the actor when she wasn't even old enough to wear a bra. But it wasn't so bad. He was only forty-two, just a seventeen years difference.
"See? I don't deserve even your small flattery…Charity." Again, he had paused in his words to swallow. Was this the first time he had called her by her name?
She looked up into his face and a memory came to her, foggy and bleak, from when she was in the Underworld. "You kissed me."
That pained looked changed his face again. "I'm sorry, but that wasn't me. That was…the other me." He couldn't even say the name. "You weren't supposed to remember what happened in Hades."
"It comes to me in pieces," Charity said, remembering how part of her memory came to her when talking to Launchpad.
"I wished you hadn't. That…it wasn't done out of kindness. I did it to spite…D-Darkwing Duck." Jim's face twisted for a second as he said the name. "You were in a place filled with unrequited love. You didn't belong there. I know there are many who love you. And while I can't love you like the curse makes you love me, please let me care for you."
As Jim closed the distance between them, Charity closed her eyes, relishing the feeling of his beak on her forehead. A warmth radiated from her chest, and she felt like she was home. How long had it been since someone had kissed her forehead? It brought tears to her eyes.
"I'm going to do everything in my power to help you break this curse," he whispered to her. "I owe you my life, and I will do anything you ask me to. I promise this."
What could Charity say to that? She didn't want anything from him. She didn't need him to be so devoted to her. She didn't need him to apologize. This moment had been enough.
She hugged him again. "I love you, Jim," she said, saying what was in her heart. "Just let me love you."