This chapter is a bit shorter than the last ones by terms of words, but I think it's well rounded out all the same.
Today's chapter has been brought to you by the help of a small playlist of a loop of Fall Out Boy songs, particularly "Fame Infamy", "Centuries" , "Thnks fr th Mmrs" and "Alone Together" (in no particular order) . It may or may not show in this, but anyway, I've had "Fame Infamy" and "Alone Together" on loop for like three days, they're stuck in my head now
Jacky felt like his heart was pounding in his head, and his lungs just couldn't seem to get enough air no matter how hard he gasped. The dim orange-ish lights from the hallway cast a warm glow from the right, but the moon in the night sky peered through the blinds and threw contrasting sharp lines of bright on left, creating a confusing zigzag of visual light sensory information that he had difficulty trying to process in his groggy state.
The calm nature of the hospital ward at night only made his quiet sounds of distress seem distant but deafening in his own ears.
Nightmare.
He'd just woken up from a nightmare. He couldn't recall much detail of it, as it was steadily fading from his memory as time passed, but the sensation of terror still lingered over him like a bad head cold. He had these often, apparently, but it was rare for him to wake up from one on his own accord, as often the case was that one had to rouse him a particularly bad one themselves (rare ones where he'd actively be screaming in his sleep), otherwise he'd eventually calm down once the feeling of unease and fear faded as he entered another REM sleep stage.
Most of the time, he'd forget they'd even happened, as it was not unlike a child having night terrors. It was perfectly normal, he was told, given what he'd been through over the years, and it was almost anticipated as a likely "complication" of his head injury as of late. He simply had an overactive mind, even at rest.
He absolutely hated that he couldn't call out for Claire at this time of night, as visiting hours were well past over. Claire always seemed to know how to calm him down from a rather frightening dream, even if he didn't really remember it afterwards. She never brought it up in the morning unless he suspected it and asked her to confirm his suspicions, so he had the feeling that there was more incidents than he was actively aware of.
Apparently, a recurring element in his forgettable nightmares, based on what he'd been told over time from his shouts in his sleep, was drooling monsters and sharp toothed ducks, no doubt in reference to Paddywhack and… well, that horrid doppelganger of Darkwing that had really been the catalyst for Jacky's declining emotional and mental stability over the past few years.
The red glow of a digital clock or charging indicator for a phone seen through tired eyes always seemed to be a trigger for that, and Jacky suspected that why Claire had switched the old clock radio in the living room to a newer one with slick blue numbers a week before he'd snapped. Heck, he could recall that the last Christmas season, he'd insisted feverishly that they either get rid of the red lights on the strings, or at the very least cover them, because the sight of them out of the corner of his eyes made his skin crawl in ways he could not explain.
This troubled dream he'd just woken up from, however, he was absolutely certain that he'd been falling. Just falling.
He held a hand to his chest as he groped the space beside him with his other hand, trying to find his familiar little plush buddy as an item of comfort, which he snatched up and clutched close to his chest in a vicelike grip, eyes squeezed shut and a series of quiet whimpers escaping him as his body was wracked with post adrenaline tremors.
... The room's cold, that's all. They keep the thermostat set at cold and barely give you enough to stay warm…
He tried to use that as an explanation to himself as to why he was shivering, trying to think about it more logically. And the reason why he was unnerved had to be because it was night and quiet and dark.
And that he was alone.
... That's not really true. I've got Lumpy and Mr. Banana Brain. I can trust Mr. Banana Brain… I'm still trying to figure out what Lumpy's deal is, though…
Jacky tried to control his rapid wheezing by focusing on carefully breathing in the faint scent of cedar sawdust that drifted from his doll as he squeezed the banana plush. He opened his eyes and the cross-eyed nature of them made his vision doubled, and he could make out two very close, very blurry Mr. Banana Brain faces.
For reasons he could not explain, Jacky felt like a lead weight had dropped in his gut and a sense of panic gripped him in such a way that he flung the doll across the room with a strangled cry of fright. Mr. Banana Brain ragdolled into a picture frame on the opposite wall, and left it askew on its hanger as the doll dropped onto the backrest of a chair, slid off and onto the seating cushion in a tangle of limbs, staring back at Jacky with his perpetually innocent and goofy smile.
Jacky stared at his banana buddy in abject terror as another bad case of the shakes had swept over him, completely baffled as to why he'd reacted as such. He could never recall a time in which Mr. Banana Brain himself had stirred up an intense feeling of apprehension and horror. Even when Mr. Banana Brain had been under the control of Paddywhack, Jacky still didn't hold it against the banana buddy, so all feeling of horror of the incident was directed towards the large clownish monster instead.
So why then, why did the sight of Mr. Banana Brain's face this close to him made Jacky feel like he had been in danger?
... Must be the light… All this confusing feedback of orange and harsh light, and being half asleep and on edge probably made my brain all confused…
Of course, Jacky wasn't sure he totally believed that. He carefully slid off the bed and padded his way to the chair to retrieve the doll, thinking to himself about how the cold tiled floor chilled his feet as he scooped the doll up and hurried back to his bed quietly before anyone was alerted that he was still awake at this hour. He wasn't in the mood for questions.
He climbed back into bed and this time made sure to face towards the observation window instead of the window shades, so to keep the confusing zigzags of moonlight to a visual minimum should he half open his eyes before daylight again.
He tucked Mr. Banana Brain under his chin, keeping the doll close but away from his line of sight.
He'd bother with sorting that out in the morning, if he could remember to, that is.
"... This was made of rayon, it's dry clean only." Jacky said quietly, handling the old, battered but familiar cowl in his hands. "... The stains won't ever come out now, it's ruined."
"Unfortunately, the only way I was going to be allowed to bring this in is if it had been cleaned, since this is supposed to be a germ free environment." Darkwing said apologetically. "Even if I'd been able to get them out, the fabric's been compromised anyway from the landing."
"Yes…" Jacky said without much enthusiasm, staring at the abrasion in the fabric that was likely the point of impact. There was also several small cuts into it, as if something sharp and little had sliced into the fibers. "... There was a lot of glass, wasn't it..?"
"Huh?"
"I fell through a window, there was probably a lot of shards, a lot of them between me and the pavement." Jacky looked up and tilted his head a little. "I'm sure that partly why I needed stitches, I probably fell on the pieces on the ground. These holes here in the hat are clean cut, the pavement alone couldn't have don't that."
"I honestly don't know, there wasn't too much time between finding you on the ground and getting you here to really waste." Darkwing looked away, upwards at a corner in the ceiling as if purposely avoiding eye contact. "I told you, you were in pretty bad shape, the main concern was getting you help."
Jacky gave the hat a quick shake to smooth it out, but there just seemed to be a stubborn crease in it that he was certain hadn't been there before, or if it had been, he'd never noticed before now (a good assumption, as it was on the back and he'd rarely seen the back of his hat for years). The bells on the dingle-dangles gave a tired sounding jingle, and he wondered briefly if it was because of the age and condition of the bells.
The rest of his old jester costume didn't seem to fare any better. The frilled collar had his dried blood marring it's white surface with a large brownish stain, and the spotted sleeve looked as though it had been roughly rubbed with coarse sandpaper near the shoulder. His hat and sleeves were made of rayon, which was an affordable fabric that gave off a certain kind of glimmering sheen when maintained properly, but one snag could make the whole thing look unkempt and shoddy.
Jacky's natural talent as a toy maker for all manner of craft, particularly as a seamster, meant that he could have easily repaired or stitched up a new crisp costume with little effort, but that was then. Now, as he was becoming aware of the startling possibility of his new hindrances resulting from his brain injury, it was unlikely if he could ever restore the costume, much less craft a new replica.
Why, though? Why would he want to now, now that the entire QuackerJack persona had been so horribly tainted by his months long psychotic episode? No good memories remained with the costume; it was symbolic of shattered dreams and a lost soul.
… But, then again… He did meet Claire while he still wore his hat. She never made a snide comment about it, nor of how he would unconsciously grab at the dingle-dangles whenever he felt so much as a twinge of anxiety, not even tried to force him to take it off until he felt comfortable doing so.
Jacky carefully folded the tattered costume and pulled open the bedside drawer to set them inside.
"So, you're keeping it, then?"
"Of course, it has sentimental value, Darkwing." Jacky pushed the drawer closed with a quick jostle (on account of the darn thing getting stuck on the track), and looked sidewise at the Masked Mallard. "There's bad stuff, but there's also good stuff to it. I'm just not ready to get rid of it." He paused, trying to read Darkwing's body language. "... What? You think I'm going to relapse or something because I have it? It's a ruined costume, Darkwing. It can't do anything."
"I just figured after what happened, you'd want to get rid of it."
"An interesting thing I learned while being destitute; you can't afford to waste anything." There was almost a challenging edge in Jacky's tone as he gave the drawer a final shove to get it aligned. "It's honestly amusing how much good stuff people trash because they think it's junk just because they can't seem to figure out how to reuse it. Things I could put to better use, like those electronic components that got wasted on game consoles that got chucked every time a fancy, shiny new brain melter ensnares another poor soul. The costume's ruined, but there's still some use I could get out of the salvaged scraps."
"And you still don't remember anything about what happened, then?" Darkwing prodded, much like he had done nearly every visit thus far. It was almost tiresome to Jacky as to how persistent he was.
"Not a single thing." Jacky said truthfully, giving a shrug. "Blank. Absolutely blank. And not for lack of trying, mind you, because I really am." He paused, then added: "... Although, the strangest thing happened to me the other night."
"Oh?"
"Yeah." Jacky nodded, frowning slightly. "... Mr. Banana Brain scared me." Darkwing gave him a rather confusing look, and it took Jacky a moment to realize how odd his wording sounded in that context. "Oh! I mean that the way I saw him startled me. Actually, that explanation doesn't make much sense either, does it..?"
"Why don't you start over from the beginning of this incident, because the last time I heard about that doll doing things on its own, it was-"
"Oh, oh no, of course not, no!" Jacky cut him off once it clicked as to what Darkwing thought he must have been referring to. "No, you got rid of that cursed thing, didn't you? No, I mean that Mr. Banana Brain spooked me because… I don't know, exactly. He was really close to my face and I just felt scared seeing him look that… big? I don't know, but it's really weird because I can't explain it."
There was a silence that followed his statement. Not a stunned silence. Jacky stared at the shorter duck.
"... Darkwing." Jacky said in a forced calm tone. "What happened with Mr. Banana Brain that night?"
"What?" Darkwing certainly sounded thrown of guard, as if he hadn't expected the sudden change of conversation. "What do you mean?"
"When I fell. What happened with Mr. Banana Brain that night?" Jacky narrowed his eyes. He held up an arm and gestured to it with the other hand. "I might not remember a thing, but I can read context clues. I had bruises on both my arms that looked like hand marks, big hand marks. How does someone get hand shaped bruises on both of their arms if they fell out of a window! Glass cuts, Darkwing, it doesn't bruise! You know what happened, you were there! Why won't you just tell me what happened to me! I don't understand!"
Darkwing's nonverbal response was a simple, uncomfortable step backwards, and that only fueled Jacky's panic stricken agitation further.
"Don't run away from me!" Jacky screamed, mostly in anger, but there was a distinct twinge of fear underlining his tone now. He balled his hands and stomped his feet. "I have a right to know! I don't understand why you're keeping it from me! I don't understand why you won't tell me! I don't-! I don't under-! I don't get it! I don't understand why you just won't tell me what exactly happened even though you were there! I'm not stupid! I'm not! I'm not!"
It had become somewhat of a practice to simply let Jacky peeter out from an outburst, mostly because trying to defuse the situation often led to an escalation in his agitated state (although the orderlies on the ward floor kept a cautious eye and ear on him during such an event should it start to cause harmful physical distress). A symptom of his brain injury that aggravated his preexisting mood swings, it was something he didn't really have much control over to begin with.
"... I really think it'd be easier to explain if you would just finish watching those tapes." Darkwing said in a small voice.
"I don't want to look at those horrible things!" Jacky still hadn't lowered his voice. "Did you forget that I apparently massacred a Crimebot with my bare hands because someone said Ne-! S-Someone said-!" He really seemed like he couldn't get the words out now, as the offending name continued to die on his tongue.
"Negaduck?"
There was a loud howling wail of fear that escaped Jacky as he grabbed at his head feathers in rough handfuls.
"Are you daft! Don't say that name! Are you trying to make me lose it again!" He shouted at Darkwing desperately, as if the mere utterance of the name would cause the owner of it to suddenly manifest out of thin air in a cloud of smoke.
"What did he do to you, QuackerJack?" Despite the panicked energy of the clownish duck being almost enough to feel a change in the air, Darkwing himself seemed unreasonably calm. He folded his arms and looked at Jacky, who was still gawking at him as his fingers slowly let go of his head feathers so his arms could drop. "What happened?"
"... You want me to answer your question… when you haven't so much as answered mine?"
"If we're ever going to make any sense of all this, we need to know all we can, including that." Darkwing said. "It's very clear that you can't stand to so much as hear a passing mention of him, and this sort of reaction wasn't this strong before. What did he do to you?"
"... I don't remember." This was the first time Jacky actually sounded far from genuine on the statement. There was a sort of detached tone seeping into his voice now and he shook his head almost too quickly.
"You do."
"Nope, I don't, I have a brain injury, remember? I have amnesia. Don't remember a thing."
"This happened well before you snapped, you're honestly a terrible liar."
"Oh, no, I really don't, nope, not a single thing, nuh-uh."
"... Okay, then." Darkwing didn't change his expression. "Fine. Maybe if we're lucky, you'll be able to avoid a malingering charge added to all this."
"... What?"
"Your amnesia affects your memory of that four months' time. Your last confirmed contact with Nega-!"
"DON'T! SAY! THAT! NAME!" Jacky shrieked loudly, bringing his hands back to his head once more, this time to cover his ears. "ALL I ASK IS THAT YOU STOP SAYING IT! I DON'T WANT TO HEAR THAT HORRIBLE FOUL NAME NEVER EVER AGAIN!"
"... Alright, just calm down for a second." Darkwing seemed to realize he might have overstepped a boundary a bit too easily. He noticed that Jacky was trembling hard enough to make his teeth chatter audibly. "I'm just trying to help."
"... Demented… you're demented if you think that was even the least bit helpful…" Jacky mumbled hoarsely, rubbing a hand on his chest as he leaned heavily against the visitor chair in the room. He swallowed and took a sharp inhale of air, glaring at Darkwing. "... I suppose this is a good building to have a heart attack in, oof…"
"Unfortunately, that wasn't a very good sign." Darkwing scratched his head. "If you have such a strong reaction to that name, and you lash out, it's just going to be back to square one on trying to plead your case."
"... Well, it's simple, then, we just ban that terrible name from ever leaving someone's mouth."
"That's not how it works. Besides…" Darkwing clenched his jaw and gave a bit of a grimace at the thought. "That's not the only word to trigger a violent reaction out of you."
"So?"
Darkwing heaved a sigh before saying without missing a beat: "Whiffle Boy Video Games."
"... Shut up, that's not fair to do that to me."
"And it's not just the words, it's the mere sight of the things." Darkwing shook his head. "Everyone knows this. You've been extremely vocal about your hatred of those things in the past, to the point of being an absolute menace to the city, endangering countless lives, and even endangering yourself without a second thought."
"... To be fair, I wasn't exactly in a right state back then. Bankrupt, crazy and mad, it's not like I had anything else to lose at the time." Jacky looked at the floor to break eye contact. "... I mean, did it occur to you at any point that I was practically living in the sewers? I lost my house when I lost the toy factory. Those capers weren't just about getting my toys back on the market and laying waste to those brain rotting machines. I was trying to survive."
"You could have-"
"Could have what?" Jacky snapped back before Darkwing could finish his sentence. "Did you forget that I was completely dismissed by everyone as just a delusional clown? No one took me seriously, said I was being unreasonable about this new market rival, that I should either adapt or leave well enough alone. I had a nervous breakdown and everyone just left me alone. No one looked for me, they just said that I went out of business and left it at that. Once I didn't belong anymore, everyone just turned their backs when I asked for help."
"... Oh."
"'Oh'? Understatement of the gosh dang year!" Jacky gave a mock applause. "Of course, I'm sure you wouldn't completely understand. I'm sure you were welcomed back with open arms when you came back to St. Canard. I'm sure you had someone waiting for you, a nice home, and not have to swipe handouts because your checking account was depleted with all the lawsuits and bills and debt. Of course, you don't have a reason to hate your precious little 'Whiffster', and I honestly think it's an absolute shame that you can be so much fun to mess around with and still be ensnared by that brain melting fallacy you call a hero!"
"... Ooooh, boy."
"... Is that really all you have to say to this?"
"What did you expect me to say?"
"I don't know, I'm just a bit angry at you, I guess."
"Angry at me?"
"If you hadn't disappeared like that, I'm kind of sure all this wouldn't have happened and I'd still have my memory intact!"
"If none of that had happened, then you wouldn't have anything to forget about."
"Ha, so you admit it!"
"Where are you going with this, honestly?"
"I haven't the slightest idea, but it's making me feel a little less angry." Jacky admitted in a small voice.
"Good, then maybe you'll be able to answer my question now." Darkwing folded his arms again.
"... You're not going to stop on that, are you?" Jacky said quietly, looking at Darkwing, who continued to hold that waiting expression. Jacky heaved a weary sigh. "... He killed Mr. Banana Brain."
"I already know that, you've said that. I want to know what he did to you."
"... He killed Mr. Banana Brain… because I asked too many questions."
"... Too many questions?"
"He said he figured out who you really were, and I got too curious. Who wouldn't have?" Jacky shook his head with a hand to it, and finally took a seat in that chair. "The next thing I know, I'm holding a foot in my hands and Mr. Banana Brain's sawdust is all over the asphalt and his eyeballs are like three feet apart, staring at me."
"... You know, it's a good thing you're talking about a doll, because honestly that would be a very startling description otherwise."
"Oh, I'm so glad you're finding solace in my misery, I was afraid that you'd find this recounting tale of the absolute shattering of what remained of any stability I had left absolutely horrifying." There was a bit of a breathless, hyperactive tone in his strangely calm voice, as if Jacky was on the verge of shouting again. "Eyeballs on the asphalt, Darkwing. Googly eyeballs. Mr. Banana Brain's eyeballs. Does it really matter if he's a doll or not? You don't seem to mind giving him his own wanted poster. Now, please, this is very stressful for me, I want to get this over with so you'll tell me how I got those bruises on my arms!"
"You seem to be handling telling me this better than I expected for all that being emotionally traumatizing."
"... I already went through the grieving process, Darkwing, it was exhausting, and I hardly did much outside of QuackWerks. And besides, I got Mr. Banana Brain back, it just doesn't hurt as much anymore to think about it." Jacky flashed a weak smile, but once again, his eyes looked tired. He sighed again, and this time it sounded heavy. "... He said I wasn't 'mean' enough."
"... Really, is that all?" Darkwing shook his head and made the mistake of not quite understanding why that would have been affecting Jacky in that context. "I thought he might have-"
Darkwing's words were cut off when he felt a rough shove push his several stumbling steps away from where he had been standing seconds ago. He blinked and looked back at Jacky, who was standing and appearing to be rather livid now.
"He didn't take me seriously, Darkwing." He said in probably the most forcibly calm tone Darkwing had probably heard ever escape that mouth. "He never took me seriously, I was just some clown he could just step all over. He never took me seriously. No one took me seriously, you don't take me seriously right now!"
Another shove. Darkwing had to admit that he didn't expect QuackerJack to be able to get sort of leverage by pure force, but it was probably due to his taller stature and the fact that Darkwing's stance wasn't exactly stable in this current position. He narrowed his eyes and shifted where his feet were so he didn't stumble backwards.
"You're being immature right now."
"And that's what it's always been about, hasn't it! Because I can't function like a proper adult, I deserve all this! It's my fault I can't keep up with the times, and I should just shut up and adapt!" Jacky screamed and continued to shove at Darkwing with both hands, but admittedly with more difficulty once the Masked Mallard had changed to a more stable stance. "... Stupid, stupid, stupid…" Each shove got less enthusiastic until he was eventually just standing there dejectedly, head hanging and arms held to his side limply. "... Stupid loser, worthless stupid clown, stupid, stupid, stupid knob, stupid, stupid, stupid…" Jacky mumbled, catching his fluffy head feathers in a shaky grip.
Darkwing blinked, taken aback for a second at the sudden stream of words. Well, gee…
"... QuackerJack." He said in a tone different than he'd been using so far, almost sounding like he was trying to sound softer. He practically had to stand on his toes in order to be level with the battered toy maker, who was standing in a hunched way, eyes wide and staring blankly at the tiled floor. A hand touched a flinching shoulder. "... Jacky. I want you to be completely honest with me. Did Negaduck make you feel useless?"
Sharp inhale, feathers prickled. Jacky dug his fingers deeper into the fluff on his head, accidentally plucking a few with a jerky twitch, and the little feathers fluttered to the floor.
"... I wasn't mean enough…" He squeaked. There was pause before he forced a harsh laugh, snorting through his nostrils while flashing a weak grin. "... He's right, you know. I've got no powers, I didn't have the spine to challenge how he treated us, and I just stood there and watched him hurt Mr. Banana Brain. I didn't have the nerve to try and leave because at the very least, I'd get some cut of the pay, no matter how small. I didn't have a lot of options at the time, but I could at least try to put my skills to some use, and at least try not to starve…"
"Well, I admit that isn't exactly a good situation, but larceny is still larceny." Darkwing said, flashing a grimace at the idea. "It's still breaking the law."
"I didn't have a choice!" Jacky gestured furiously. "I was broke, flat broke! I don't get why that's so hard to understand!"
"I do, but it doesn't excuse-!"
"Are you here to help me, or are you just gonna keep chiseling away at my logic? This is getting tiresome."
"You're getting tired of this? You're the one doing the instigating!"
"I just want you to tell me how I got those bruises on my arms! Certainly it can't be that hard!"
"All I'm saying is that you need to watch the rest of the tapes, otherwise you just won't believe me."
"How hard is it for you to answer one question? I swear, you're stubborn." Jacky rolled his eyes. "I can't imagine why you'd try to use that as leverage to make me watch those horrible things, it's not nice at all, Darkwing."
There was yet another momentary silence from Darkwing before he made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a groan.
"... Alright." He said in a level tone. "What would you say if I told you that you got those bruises from your little doll over there?"
"... Well, I guess I'd say that was absurd, because Mr. Banana Brain is filled with sawdust and nothing about him is shaped like giant hands." Jacky narrowed his eyes and frowned slightly. "Where are you going with this?"
"And what would you say if I told you that you were injured because of a machine backfire?"
"That's a more reasonable answer, but that wouldn't explain the hand shaped bruises."
"And the backfire led to a confrontation where Mr. Banana Brain would be responsible for what led to your accident?"
Jacky's eyes widened in surprise, and he blinked before he shook his head roughly.
"How dare you!" Once more, it was obvious that Jacky simply didn't believe it, nor did he understand why he was being told this. "Mr. Banana Brain would never hurt me! I don't know what you're doing, Darkwing, but that's just a low blow and I don't appreciate it!"
Darkwing had expected this sort of response. He didn't change his expression, and simply stepped to the cardboard box (which he'd used to bring the tattered jester costume to this visit) he'd set on the counter beside the window, and shoved a hand in it.
"Jacky, does this look familiar to you at all?" He said calmly and he extracted something and held it up, giving it a quick shake to direct the clownish duck's attention towards it
Jacky stared and Darkwing made a mental note of the apprehension, confusion and unfamiliarity crossing his face.
"... What… What is that?" Jacky seemed to recoil in shock. "Darkwing, what is that, where did you get that-that thing!"
"Well, Jacky, this is a Mr. Banana Brain." Darkwing said, setting the offending thing on the counter top. "You made this in an attempt to replace the original after you lost him. In fact, this is the second known attempt."
"There's more?" Jacky squeaked, seemingly unable to tear his eyes away from the grinning banana monstrosity. He didn't like the way it stared at him. "Darkwing, I… I don't remember that. I really don't remember that thing at all, I don't know where it came from, I remember all my toys I've made and I don't remember ever making anything like this!"
"Unfortunately, you did. You brought this with you when you attacked the Whiffle Boy Entertainment office." Darkwing cringed internally when any remaining color that had managed to stay in Jacky's face so far had left him.
"No. No, no, no, no, that's not a Mr. Banana Brain, Mr. Banana Brain is supposed to be a cloth doll, a rag doll, he's supposed to be friendly, maybe a bit of a trouble maker, but he certainly doesn't look like that!" Jacky shook his head, still eyeing the strange thing with no hint of recognition but all the same looking as though he was quite fearful for his well-being. "Darkwing, I don't like how it's looking at me, it looks so sharp and mean! Get rid of it! I don't like it! Get it away!"
Darkwing quickly shoved the harsh looking doll back in the cardboard box and folded the flaps in a quick motion to close it. Jacky was trembling as though someone had dumped a bucket of ice over his head, eyes darting around wildly, a wheezing noise escaping him again. It wasn't exactly clear if his face was wet from sweat or tears, or perhaps some combination of the two.
Oh, dear…
"Jacky? QuackerJack?" Darkwing approached him cautiously, hands held up in what he'd hoped appeared to be a non-threatening gesture. "Hey, I put it away, it's fine, it's gone."
There was a twitch settling in Jacky's face now, and the wheezing quickly became full on gasping for air. His eyes were very wide and his feather were ruffling down his neck and along his shoulders. He looked as though he was being stared down by a predator, and felt like his well-being was in danger.
"Alright, it's very clear that something about that thing set off a reaction in you, and I'm sure you're very confused right now." Darkwing tried to speak calmly, not entirely sure what to expect now. Would Jacky burst into tears? Would he start screaming? Would he collapse in a heap in the floor in a faint? Preferably not that one, it was important to reduce the chances of him hitting his head again. Darkwing put a hand on the shaking duck's shoulders. "I was just trying to confirm that you really have no mem-!"
Darkwing was cut off when he was sucker punched in the jaw, momentarily stunned as he stared upwards as the ceiling while something was pulled from his coat pocket. He shook his head roughly and directed his attention back at Jacky, and nearly fell over when he realized exactly what had happened.
Jacky was shakily backing into a corner and holding the Gas Gun out in front of him in a not-so-steady grip with both hands, eyes fearful, teeth clenched in a grimace. He shook his head repeatedly, and kept his gaze trained on Darkwing, although it was obvious right away that he wasn't seeing clearly.
Darkwing threw his hands in the air and glanced at the observation window to make a subtle gesture to communicate that he wanted to try and defuse this situation on his own.
"... You fire a tranq dart at him, and we're going to lose any trust we have been building over the last two months…" Darkwing said in a low voice, watching Jacky very carefully.
"No, no, no, no, no, not gonna, I don't, you can't, can't, get away, get away…" There was a desperate edge to Jacky's voice, and there was just no way to tell what was running through his mind at the moment.
"Jacky, I need you to give me my Gas Gun back, it's not yours." Darkwing said calmly, reaching a hand out for it as he approached the terrified toy maker with caution. "You're scaring people right now, and I don't think you really want to do that."
The Gas Gun was quickly shoved against the front of Darkwing's beak. Jacky had his eyes squeezed shut, head turned away and was whimpering under his breath.
"... Guh-get away…" He stammered weakly. He sniffled loudly, tightening his grip in the handle. "... I'm not… you c-can't…"
"Jacky, I don't know what you think is happening right now, but I want you to give that back and we'll talk it out." Darkwing said, slowly lifting a finger toward the Gas Gun to push it away from his face. "No one is trying to hurt you, but if you don't calm down, I won't be able to stop them from sedating and restraining you, and if I know anything for certain about you, you don't like being held back."
Darkwing knew that the Gas Gun was loaded with a smoke cartridge, so there wasn't necessarily much danger behind it per se, but getting beaned in the face with a metal canister at point blank would leave quite a bruise either way.
Maybe he was starting to get through to the poor clownish duck with his words, because there was a momentary falter in how Jacky gripped the Gas Gun, followed by a harsh gasp as his eyes snapped open. Darkwing frowned when he realized that Jacky's eyes were not unlike the way they had been the night of his accident; glazed and dazed.
"... Jacky… Do you know where you are right now?" Darkwing spoke as if addressing a child, trying his best the keep the chaotic energy of the situation to a minimum. "Jacky, can you tell me where you are right now?"
"... Y-you're hurting him…".
"Jacky, can you tell me where you are right now?" Darkwing repeated, sounding more urgent.
"... Stop…"
"Jacky, tell me where you are right now."
"GIVE HIM BACK, NEGADUCK!" Jacky shrieked suddenly, which made Darkwing jump at the change in volume.
"QuackerJack, snap out of it, it's me, I'm Darkwing!" He grabbed Jacky's shoulders and shook the distraught duck, and flinched when it was not unlike shaking a ragdoll, as Jacky didn't seem to register what was happening right away as his head rocked back and forth with the motions. "Wake up!"
It took a good twenty seconds to finally get a coherent reaction out of him, and that particular reaction was confused shouting and flailing.
"Let me go! What do you think you're doing, Darkwing, you're hurting my neck!"
"Oh, thank goodness, you're back." Darkwing managed to sound deadpan while expressing his relief.
"Back? I haven't gone anywhere, I don't know what-" Jacky snapped before he blinked and opened his eyes a bit wider, looking mildly concerned. "... Um, what are we doing on this side of the room?"
"Well, you see, it's a bit of a funny story. Not 'ha ha' funny, but-"
"Darkwing, why am I holding your Gas Gun in my hand?" Jacky said in a slightly more concerned tone than his last sentence.
"Okay, before you start to freak out-"
"Darkwing, what did I just do!"
"I didn't mean for you to freak out right now, I was supposed to explain-"
"Get it away from me, I don't like this!"
Darkwing had a few seconds to register that Jacky had thrown the Gas Gun to the floor in repulsion, and less than that to respond to what was about to happen now that the Gas Gun deployed the loaded canister of smoke.
"YOU ABSOLUTE FOOL, GET DOWN!" Darkwing shouted as the cartridge ricocheted off the walls about four times, and hit the sweet spot in the baseboards that launched it directly at the overhead fire sprinkler system.
Jacky simply stared just as the object hit the walls, and didn't react immediately when Darkwing grabbed him by the shirt and dragged him to the floor, out of the trajectory of the thing, and threw his cape over both their heads to filter the smoke until it dissipated once the sprinklers ran for a good minute. Both ducks were on the floor in a prone position, with Jacky holding his hands over his head.
The sprinkler system all along the ward went off, followed by the emergency alarms, perhaps a bit of confused and annoyed screaming, and at least four individuals trying to evacuate while carrying armfuls of soggy belongings rushed by the room's door.
"... Oops."
"Yes, Jacky. 'Oops'."
Admittedly, Claire had no idea what to say about this. There were three fire trucks outside the hospital building, and she probably shouldn't have been too surprised to see that Darkwing and Jacky were both seated on a bench beside a hedge, saturated with water, with the latter of them hugging himself with a large fluffy towel and shivering slightly despite sitting in the sunshine.
Both of them wore very identical expressions that seemed to indicate they both were frustrated with each other.
"... Should I ask?"
"Darkwing's not allowed to bring his gadgets here anymore."
"... That just opens up even more questions."
"There was… an incident." Darkwing grunted, squeezing water out of his hat. "... Things got a bit out of hand, neither of us handled it as well as we should have, and now half the ward has to be squeegeed."
"... I still have questions."
"Darkwing started it!" Jacky snapped, pointing at him. "He wouldn't tell me exactly where those bruises on my arms came from even though he was there and would know!"
"... In his defense, he's been asked to not try to force your memory to work." Claire had a feeling this was probably part of the reason why they were outside at the moment anyway.
"Besides, I was just here to return your belongings to you!" Darkwing shouted at Jacky, despite being right beside him on the bench. "I figured you would have been glad to get your stuff back!"
"How many times do I have to tell you that I have no idea what that thing is in that box! It's not one of my designs!" Jacky shouted back.
"And the water and fire trucks are here because..?" Claire interjected calmly.
Jacky's face flushed red suddenly and he looked at the ground as if embarrassed greatly. He settled into the towel with a bit of an uncomfortable expression.
"... There was an incident…" He mumbled.
"Jacky, are you alright?" Claire said, putting a hand on his back. "What happened?"
Before Jacky could answer, Darkwing spoke first.
"Bit of a funny story, really. Not 'ha ha' funny, mind you, but anyway, there was a bit of a disagreement, and my Gas Gun fell and hit the floor and set off the smoke cartridge that set off the sprinklers." He said, carefully avoiding the key detail that was the catalyst.
Jacky stared at him with a bit of a frown. Claire noticed that right away.
"Jacky, is that what happened?"
"... Well, it's not incorrect, but it's not everything." Jacky shook his head and looked back at the ground. "... Just tell her what I did, there no way we can keep that a secret, it's probably on the security tapes anyway."
"... Jacky, what happened?"
"Like I said, there was an incident." Darkwing said, looking upwards and scratching his head. "More specifically, Jacky got confused and thought he was elsewhere, and grabbed the Gas Gun."
"Jacky! Please tell me you're alright at least!"
"... I'm not hurt, if that's what you mean…" He mumbled, burying his face in his hands. "... I didn't hurt anyone either, I don't know what happened other than I freaked out badly and had to be talked down, but Darkwing said I just didn't know where I was at the moment…"
"... What caused that? Are you sure you're alright?"
"... I cracked." Jacky said quietly, perhaps too calmly considering the situation. "... What's happening to my brain..?" He added in a somewhat desperate tone, shaking his head slowly. "... Why can't I remember these things..?"
"Jacky, you're still recovering from a brain injury, memory problems are part of it."
"... Am I recovering? I don't feel any better than yesterday or the day before or last week…" He said, looking up again. "... I really don't know what just happened today, I mean, I don't know why I'd just do that… I'm so tired of not being sure of anything anymore..."
There was a silence between the trio before Claire took a seat beside him in the bench, keeping a hand on his back, but now in the motion of gentle swirls. A small visible shudder spread throughout Jacky not unlike the sweet spot being found behind a dog's ear, even going as far as to curl his toes and ruffle his feathers. He squeaked, then clapped his hands over his beak as his face got red again.
"... Okay, I'm sure I probably like being scratched like that, but Claire, not in front of Darkwing, it's embarrassing!"
"It made you feel better, didn't it?"
"... Well, yeah, but still!"
Honestly, I love the flow of the middle act there. It happens pretty much naturally with the mood whiplash, and I've been waiting for a chance to let Jacky vent out a lot of that frustration.
Alternatively, the Gas Gun bit was almost instead going to be knock out gas deployed and both Jacky and Darkwing get knocked out instead, but I decided on the smoke setting off the fire sprinklers because I needed an excuse to put Jacky outside in some sunshine, since he hasn't actually been outside on a nice day for weeks.