Blue Waltz

Chapter 6: The Blues

Sept. 11 (Cont.)

Gosalyn ran and ran as fast as she could, not bothering to follow sidewalks or roads. She had done this before, but never without Darkwing Duck, and that scared her more than anything. She went through people's yards, jumped fences and dodged into bushes. A few times, she dropped into yards with barking dogs, but luckily they were friendly but noisy. Another time, she almost fell into a pool. And all the time she fled, she wondered if the crow and bulldog were right on her tail, if they were only a few feet behind her, ready to snatch her up.

When she could run no more, she collapsed under a pine tree that cast enough shadow to hide her. Breathing deeply, she glanced all around, looking for any sign of pursuit.

Had she gotten away? Had Ms. Loveatte been able to escape as well? Or was she now a captive of the fake foster parents?

Whatever the case may be, she had to call her dad.

Once her lungs stopped burning, she continued her trek, this time with a purpose to find a payphone. Unfortunately, in the suburban neighborhood, that wouldn't be easy. However, a few streets over, she came into a business district and spotted a phone booth just outside a gas station.

With no coins to feed the machine, she called collect, which her dad hated her to do since it would charge extra on their phone bill, but this was an emergency. However, the home phone went unanswered. On a chance, she called the secret phone that was in Darkwing Duck's lair.

"Gosalyn!" her father's voice shouted when he found out she called. However, his shout sounded more relieved and happy to hear from her than angry. "You shouldn't be calling me, especially on this line."

Gosalyn quickly spilled what had happened when the social worker took her to her new "foster home," how when Ms. Loveatte dropped her off the man and woman tried to give her something to drink that smelled foul. When she refused, they got mad. Gosalyn had fought them off for a while, but the man, the bulldog, grabbed her in a tight grip while the crow went to get some rope. Then she told how Ms. Loveatte had hit the bulldog with a chair and told Gosalyn to run.

"She might still be back there," Gosalyn said, remembering how the lovebird had shouted at her to run, standing between the duckling and her assailant.

"Okay, Gos, here's what you're going to do," her father said in a calm but stern voice. "In a minute, you're going to hang up and call 9-1-1 and tell the operator everything you told me. The police will pick you up in a few minutes. Stay where there's a lot of people. If you see the man or woman again, you start screaming for help."

"Wait, what about Ms. Loveatte? And aren't you going to come for me?" Gosalyn asked, wanting nothing more than to be in her father's strong embrace.

"I-I can't," her father said. "I can't be there as Drake. And I can't as Darkwing Duck. Nobody can know that you called me first."

Gosalyn nodded. Her father's secret identity was important, although she knew that if she really was in serious danger at that second, he wouldn't hesitate to risk it all for her. "Okay. But will you go back to the house and see what happened to the social worker. And maybe find that crow and bulldog."

"Chances are, they have already fled. But if you describe the house and Ms. Loveatte's car, maybe I can find her," her father rationalized. "If the police get there after I do, I could just say I heard it on the police scanner or was driving by and saw something suspicious."

"Dad, I want to come home," Gosalyn said, feeling tears coming to her eyes.

"I know, Gos. But…I know," her father said, his voice also chocking up.

Before she could begin crying again, Gosalyn hung up and called 9-1-1. With the operator, she went through all the information she gave her dad, answering the woman's questions and was reassured that a squad car was coming to pick her up. She remained in the phone booth, blocking the door with her body.

As she sat in the phone booth, watching the sun set, Gosalyn suddenly remembered the two cops that Ms. Loveatte had talked to in the DCF parking garage. Even though they were officers, Gosalyn had the feeling they weren't exactly the good guys. What if the police who were coming to pick her up was the buzzard and hound dog from before? What would she do if it was them?

Luckily, an unfamiliar pair knocked on the phone booth a few minutes later, a female duck with a cheerful smile and an elderly, chubby stork.

When they opened the back door of the squad car, they told her, "We're going to take you to the hospital, just to make sure you're okay. We'll call your parents when we get there."

Their cheer had made her feel as if everything was going to be okay, but their words cast a dark shadow. No, they wouldn't be calling her parents. They wouldn't be calling Drake. Who would they call?


Darkwing Duck rode solo in the Ratcatcher. He wished he had Launchpad as backup, especially against the mountainous bulldog that Gosalyn described, but they couldn't risk Ms. Loveatte recognizing the tall duck. They had been lucky so far that Drake Mallard and Darkwing Duck's lives hadn't collided to the point that his secret identity was at risk, but considering the last couple of days, perhaps he should talk to his partner about getting him a disguise. Or at least a mask.

After hanging up on Gosalyn, Darkwing turned on his police scanner as he drove down the cables of the Audobon Bridge, hoping to hear anything about his daughter. With relief, he heard a dispatcher contact a squad car near Gosalyn's location and sent them to pick her up. He continued to listen in as the two police officers picked up the duckling and drove her to the hospital. Along with the other chatter on the scanner, the dispatcher described the crow and bulldog wanted for attempted kidnapping as well as a description of the social worker and her car.

As Darkwing patrolled the neighborhoods close to the gas station Gosalyn called from, he kept his keen eyes open for Ms. Loveatte's car, systematically going down each street. However, if it wasn't for Gosalyn's description of the house, he might have missed the open door. There was no car parked in front and no lights on, but it was one of the few houses with a chain-link fence and the color of paint Gosalyn said.

Shutting down his motorcycle, Darkwing rushed to the front door, noticing a familiar stuffed bear and a picture of his family on the stoop. Taking out his gas gun, Darkwing slowly stepped inside, the setting sun barely giving him enough light. He immediately saw the prone body of Ms. Loveatte on the floor of the living room. Tiptoeing to the body, he kept an eye out for any movement within the house as he checked Ms. Loveatte's pulse. She was alive but looked to be unconscious, her body positioned as if she fell from an attack, her hair—which had always been in a tight bun—was loose and her glasses lay a few feet away. A few blue tail feathers littered the floor.

Before he did anything else, Darkwing searched the house, careful not to let his blind spots be too vulnerable as he checked each room. Another reason he missed Launchpad. It was nice to have someone he trusted to watch his back.

When the house turned up empty, including the garage that had some evidence of someone leaving in a hurry by the skid marks, Darkwing returned to Ms. Loveatte. He attempted to wake her, but whatever happened had left her in a bad way. He either had to call for an ambulance or take her to the hospital himself. Considering that he might catch a glimpse of his daughter, there was only one choice to make.

As a hero, Darkwing had frequently found himself carry a damsel in his arms. And given his body type, they were often taller than him, but that was never a problem if they were conscious. It was the unconscious ones that gave him trouble.

Hefting Ms. Loveatte into his arms, Darkwing spent some time shifting the body around so nothing dragged, carrying her more like a baby than a woman. Taking her to the Ratcatcher, Darkwing set her down in the sidecar, doing his best to buckle the limp form in.

The last time he had seen Ms. Loveatte, he had been so angry with her for taking Gosalyn away, but after hearing how she helped his daughter escape as well as seeing that she had been hurt because of it, Darkwing's feelings toward the lovebird had changed. She was a good person; he had suspected such before today. But what had happened to make her take Gosalyn away? She said that new evidence had been brought to DCF's attention. What was that evidence? Was this just a case of someone doing their job? Or was there more to the story?

Darkwing was determined to get to the bottom of this mystery.


Her next waking memory was of a cold wind billowing around her. As she opened her eyes, pain in her head and her stomach made her close them again. When Charity tried to look around again, she saw a blur of objects passing her vision and flashes of light in semi-darkness. It took her a while to realize the flashes were headlights and streetlights passing by. The fact that she was in a strange, open vehicle going forty miles per hour held little interest to her; she was more concerned about staying warm and hunkered farther down, away from the wind.

Moving her head was too painful, so Charity moved her eyes, looking up at the dark sky then at the vehicle she sat in. It appeared to seat only one, and her sight went sideways to the sound of a motor roaring where she saw dark fabric flying in the wind and the form of a duck sitting on the motorcycle. Her mind wasn't working correctly. She knew she was supposed to know the duck's name but she couldn't recall it. But she did know that safety was associated with him.

She closed her eyes again, returning to a darkness away from the pain. Time passed until the sound of the motor stopped short, leaving her ears empty and her body missing the vibrations of the motorcycle. At least there wasn't any more wind and she felt warmer.

Arms pulled her out of the sidecar, and she felt dizzy from the pain and being picked up. Feeling as if she could fall any moment, Charity wrapped her arms around whoever carried her, finding comfort in anchoring her body. The body that held her tight was warm and strong, and she pushed her face into wool cloth as bright lights made her head ache even more. There was talking, both from outside sources and from the person carrying her. Her ear pressed to his chest picked up the vibrations.

Something pulled on her arms, and she held on tighter, not wanting to fall.

"It's okay. We've got you," a comforting female voice said.

The arms that held her loosened, and she let go reluctantly, relieved that she didn't fall but was placed on a soft surface with a pillow. The bright light was the only thing that disturbed her after that. There was a prick on her arm, and she felt something cold flow into her body. Warm blankets were piled on top of her when she started shivering, and her body relaxed.

After that, her mind started to clear up and she forced herself to open her eyes. Gaining more consciousness and memory by the minute, Charity started demanding that the doctors and nurses call the police to find Gosalyn Mallard. When they found out she was a social worker, they informed her that the duckling was in the hospital, brought in by the police not that long before Charity.

The doctors were testing her pupil dilation for signs of a concussion when two police officers brought Gosalyn Mallard in, completely safe and unharmed. Charity sighed with relief.

"Thank you, officers," Charity said, glad that the duckling was safe and that the officers were two she recognized. She was positive they weren't the kind to accept bribes.

"It was a pleasure. I haven't seen such a brave young lady since my partner first joined the force," the stork said, nudging the female duck.

"If you don't mind, Ms. Loveatte, we have some questions to ask. Or, if you'd like, you could come down to the station tomorrow so we can take your statement," the female officer said.

"No, I'd like to get this all over with. I have to wait around for tests or something," Charity said, looking at the doctor.

"An x-ray," the doctor corrected.

"And if you don't mind, we'd like to invite a third party consultant to sit in and perhaps ask some questions. He'll also be working on the case," the stork said, gesturing to a man that had just walked in.

Both officers looked ecstatic at having the masked duck in the same room with them.

Charity blinked a few times as her brain connected the dots. It was Darkwing Duck. And not only that, but she was ninety-percent sure that it was Darkwing who had carried her into the hospital, the person she had held so tightly not that long ago. She was certain that she had ridden in his motorcycle.

"Uh…I'm okay with that," Charity said, caught off guard by her own thoughts. She wasn't sure if she was embarrassed but too tired to feel it.

The doctor, finished with his examination, left the room.

Her mind was still a bit fuzzy, but she was able to answer all the questions the officers and Darkwing Duck asked, although Gosalyn was very helpful about supplying details she had forgotten or left out. The little girl seemed eager to help and gave exceptional information even though she had been through a harrowing experience.

Charity kept an observant eye on Gosalyn as the young girl's bright eyes remained on Darkwing Duck for most of the interview. There was some obvious hero-worshipping going on there, which explained some things, and it reminded Charity where some of the blame lay for the girl's situation.

"Well, it looks as if that's what we needed. If we have any more questions or find anything on these two kidnappers, we'll let you know, Ms. Loveatte," the stork said with a tip of his hat.

"Thank you," Charity said. "If you go back and investigate the house, could you look for my car keys? And my glasses? I had them with me, but I must have dropped them."

Darkwing Duck stepped forward. "I picked these up," he said, putting her glasses on the hospital bed near her feet. "However, I'm afraid that your car is gone."
Charity groaned. "My purse was inside. My wallet, my apartment keys, my—"

"If you could give us the license plate number, make and model of your car, we'll put out an APB," the female duck said, getting her pencil and paper ready to copy the information.

Charity rattled the information off, feeling even more tired at the theft. She would have to inform her insurance company, not to mention she'd have to have her credit cards canceled and get a new driver's license and…

"Ma'm, is there anyone we can call for you?" the duck asked.

"Oh…No. I'm fine. I will call my mother in a few minutes," Charity said, glad that she had family living nearby. "But can I ask a favor of you, officers?"

"Sure," the stork said with a nod.

"Could you take Gosalyn out and get her something to eat and drink?" Charity requested. "After what she's been through, she could use a little sugar." She expected the child to jump at that, but Gosalyn seemed reluctant to leave.

"Come on, Gosalyn. I saw a soda machine down the hall," the stork officer said, waving to the door.

Strangely, the girl looked to Darkwing Duck as if asking for permission.

Charity pressed her beak firmly together at it. It bothered her that something was going on between these two, and it was the key reason Gosalyn was now missing her father.

But if Darkwing Duck was associated with Gosalyn in any way, he didn't let it on. He merely stepped aside as the officers exited, glancing at the girl as she followed. Closing the door, Darkwing Duck turned to Charity.

"You want to talk?" Darkwing Duck asked. "If you want to thank me for saving you, there's no need. I was just doing my job."

It was a line she had heard from action movies, and usually it was said with humility or even with arrogance, but from the masked hero, it sounded harsh. Darkwing Duck wasn't who she expected. The newspapers and media often portrayed him as light-hearted, heroic and magnanimous, sometimes even prideful and silly. But in real life, he was brooding and aloof. She appreciated his seriousness but sensed a bit of disdain from him and wondered if it was directed to her.

"Whether it was your job or not, I will still express my gratitude," Charity said softly, feeling small being alone with a local celebrity. "Thank you, Darkwing Duck, for what you did. I'm also glad that you are working this case because I have information that…is sensitive. I can't go to the police with it."

Darkwing Duck straightened up, his eyes seeming to come alive. "What kind of sensitive information?"

Charity had debated with herself if she could trust the police with what she wanted to say. In the end, she wasn't sure if anyone in the police department was safe, even those she knew well. But Darkwing Duck…Surely he—if anyone—was beyond Duncan's influence.

"As I said in my story, I seized Gosalyn Mallard from her home into DCF custody today, and the man and woman who tried to kidnap her were posing as foster parents. I told the police that I don't know why they would want to kidnap her, but that's not exactly true."

Darkwing Duck leaned forward.

Charity felt as if the tension between them doubled, but she kept talking. "Today, my boss ordered me to seize Gosalyn Mallard despite my recommendations to leave her with her father. He threatened to fire me if I didn't," she admitted. "I know it's no excuse for doing something I thought was wrong, but I can't lose my job. There are a lot of children counting on me." She glared at the masked vigilante, daring him to judge her.

For once, Darkwing Duck seemed taken aback, whether it was her words or her glare, she wasn't sure. "Why would your boss want Gosalyn Mallard?" he asked after a while.

"I can't be sure, but when I argued with him, he provided some pictures," Charity said.

"Pictures?"

"They were pictures of Gosalyn with you," Charity said, staring pointedly at him. "He had several of them. He claimed we had to remove Gosalyn for her own safety. I don't know if Drake Mallard knows or not that Gosalyn is spending time with you, but Duncan has made it quite clear that DCF is claiming that as negligence and abuse."

Darkwing Duck spun around and turned his back to Charity. And although she couldn't see his face, she could tell he was shocked by this information. Despite acting coldly around Gosalyn, he cared for her.

"Other than that, I don't know why my boss wants Gosalyn," Charity said. "But Duncan Musman is a terrible man and the reason Gosalyn was in danger. If I were you, I'd start with him."

"Is he after me?" Darkwing Duck asked, almost to himself.

Charity shook her head. "I don't think so. He didn't seem at all interested in you. When I suggested we bring charges against you instead of Drake Mallard for child endangerment, Duncan didn't want to cause a stir. Either Gosalyn was his target or he is after Drake Mallard." She almost mentioned her suspicion that this was all an elaborate plan to get Charity to quit, but she couldn't bring herself to mention this. After all, if Duncan wanted to get rid of her, there were easier ways of doing it.

Darkwing Duck didn't turn back around, only swiveled his head around. "Thanks for the information," he said with a nod, reaching for the door to leave.

"One more thing," Charity said, steeling herself for her next words. "I don't know what kind of relationship you have with Gosalyn, but you have no business being around that little girl."

"What?" This time, Darkwing Duck spun around, anger evident on his face.

"A grown man like you shouldn't have allowed Gosalyn hang around you, especially with your occupation," Charity continued to lecture, feeling the power of the social worker behind her words. "Do you have any idea how much grief her father is in right now because of you? No, you probably don't. How many times have you let Gosalyn sneak out at night and spend time with you?"

Darkwing Duck sputtered out different defenses, sounding more like a stuttering fool than the cool hero he had been before. "But you—I can't even—Do you know—What am I—"

"You are a grown man," Charity interrupted him. "You send her home. You tell her father what she's been up to. You don't let things continue. What would have happened if she had gotten hurt? Or if her interference caused someone else to get hurt? That would have been your fault."

"I know that. Don't you think I know that," Darkwing Duck growled. "But what could I do? Do you know how hard it is to wrangle that girl? She doesn't listen to me. She's stubborn and…" He couldn't finish his sentence, huffing out his anger.

Charity sympathized with him. She had only known Gosalyn a short time, but she had an idea how head-strong the girl could be. But she still glared at the hero. "Then you tie her up and send her back to her father."

"Tried that," Darkwing Duck snorted. "She's an escape artist."

"Well, then next time, find a more creative way to keep her from endangering herself," Charity said. "But one way or another, you're partially responsible for her situation. If it weren't for your association with Gosalyn, she would still be with her father."

Darkwing hunched his shoulders, looking like a little boy pouting.

Charity sighed, knowing she had to be hard on him. He wasn't the bad guy, but what she said had to be said and she wasn't sorry. "That's all the information I have. I don't know why Duncan wants Gosalyn or who those two people were who tried to kidnap her, but I will do all I can to make sure Gosalyn stays safe. If there's anything else I can do to help the investigation, let me know." At this point, Charity reached out to her side, thinking to grab one of her business cards. But they weren't where she expected. Her purse wasn't there.

Right, it was in her car. Or with one of the kidnappers who were going on a shopping spree with her cash.

"You can contact me at DCF," Charity said, wondering if she should give her home phone number, but after the stern lecture she gave him, Darkwing might be too angry to accept any of her help.

"I will if I think you can help," Darkwing Duck said, practically rushing to the door. "Please, do all you can for Gosalyn." Then he left.

Charity let out a sigh, not feeling good about that conversation. She ran through it over in her head, wondering if she left something out or should have said something differently. The man had to know how he impacted the Mallard family, yet he wasn't the one to blame. This was all Duncan's doing and whoever was pulling the strings. Yes, Charity was certain that Duncan was only doing someone else's dirty work. But whose?

Not long after that, Gosalyn burst in, followed by the police. "Where's Darkwing?" she asked instantly.

"He left," Charity said. "He had…to get back to work."

Gosalyn frowned but sat in the chair next to Charity's bed. "So, what's going to happen to me?"

Charity knew this question was coming and was prepared with an answer. "It's too late to look for a new foster home, so you'll come home with me," she said, grabbing her glasses from where Darkwing left them and put them on.

"Can you do that?" the female duck officer asked. When all eyes turned to her, she shrugged. "I thought only foster parents could take foster kids. I just don't know all the rules of DCF."

"I'm actually qualified to be a foster parent, although I only do so on an emergency basis. Only for a day or two at a time until a better foster home could be found," Charity said. Most of the time, she took infants or children who were seized in the middle of the night because their parents were busted by the cops. She had her guest bedroom set up to take a child any time.

"Tomorrow, I'll see about getting Gosalyn into a foster home," Charity said, looking from the police to Gosalyn. "I'll let you know where she's staying in case you need to get ahold of her."

"No, I don't want to go to a foster home," Gosalyn said, her voice frantic.

"I told you, Gosalyn. I can't take you back to your father," Charity said, sadness and fatigue softening her voice. "The law says you have to stay with foster parents."

"What if they try to hurt me or take me away like before?" Gosalyn said, real fear tinting her voice. She grabbed Charity's wrist and held on like a lifeline. "Don't make me go."

"I promise I'll make sure that won't happen," Charity said, leaning toward the duckling and putting an arm around her. "I'll find someone that I know very well."

"No. Can't I stay with you?" Gosalyn pleaded, her eyes wide. "You said you can be a foster parent."

"I…yes, I can. I can take you for a day, but I'm your caseworker. I can't be your foster parent at the same time," Charity said.

"Then give her case to someone else," the stork officer suggested. "Problem solved."

"What? No, I've never fostered for that long," Charity said, looking up to the officers than back at Gosalyn, feeling nervous and pressured, but at the same time sympathetic toward the scared, little girl.

"What's more important? Being Gosalyn's caseworker or making her feel safe?" the duck officer asked.

But Charity had promised that she would help with the Mallards' case. She would make a good witness to help Gosalyn get back home. But on the other hand, she could foster Gosalyn and still be a witness, she just couldn't testify as the caseworker. If she handed it off to someone she trusted, then wouldn't it equal the same thing. She didn't have so much hubris to think that she was the best social worker in the office.

"Are you okay with that, Gosalyn? You may be living with me for a few months, possibly more," Charity said. "And as I recall, you don't like me that much."

Gosalyn looked down but refused to let go of Charity. "I don't hate you, but I still don't like you that much," she admitted. "But I know I'll be safe with you. You protected me even though you got hurt."

Charity sighed, resigned to the fact. "Well, then it looks like I have a new roommate. Officers, if you need either of us, please call my home number."

"That's good to hear," the stork said with a smile. "And some other good news, the chatter on the radio says that an abandoned vehicle fitting your car's description was found in a ditch just outside of town."

"That's at least something," Charity said with a small smile.

"Unfortunately, you won't get it back soon," the duck officer added. "We'll need to search it for evidence. Hopefully the kidnappers left some prints for us."

"How many days?" Charity asked.

"A couple. At latest, you'll get it back by Friday," the stork replied.

That wasn't terrible. She could pay for taxis or a rental for that many days. It would take a chunk out of her weekly expenses, but at least she didn't have to buy a new car.

The police took Charity's contact information before leaving. Soon after that, a nurse came by to take her to her X-ray, Gosalyn following the wheelchair down the halls and waited patiently with the technician in the other room. The good news was that Charity didn't have any fractures in her skull. Besides a minor concussion and some burns from the taser that had knocked her out, she was in good health and ready to go home.

Charity and Gosalyn watched nighttime television as the nurse brought some paperwork for Charity to fill out, including insurance information. Before lifting a pen, the lovebird picked up the phone by the bed and dialed her mother, doing her best to give a short version of the adventure so to keep the call short and asked for a ride home.

A half hour later, the paperwork was done and the nurse rolled them out to where Charity's mother was waiting.

Gosalyn had never seen a mother and daughter that looked so much alike. They had the same color of curly hair and feathers, same brown eyes, and even their beaks smiled the same way. Charity's mother was only a little plumper and she had long furrows in her brow.

"And who is this?" Charity's mother asked after greeting her daughter, bowing a little to be more on Gosalyn's level.

"This is Gosalyn Mallard. She's going to be living with me for a while," Charity announced.

Charity's mother held out her hand. "I'm glad to meet you, Gosalyn. I'm Aimee Loveatte," the older lovebird introduced.

"Hello," Gosalyn said, shaking the sky blue hand.

There was light talk in the car, mostly Aimee asking questions about the evening's events and making sure her daughter was feeling alright. She asked Gosalyn a few question like what subjects she liked in school and how old she was, and when the duckling said she liked hockey, Aimee seemed particularly interested.

"Good for you. Don't let anyone tell you you can't play just because you're a girl," Aimee said to Gosalyn.

The last time someone had told her that, she had challenged them to playing street hockey. She scored five shots on him and gave him a black eye.

After fifteen minutes in the car, they pulled into an apartment complex. As Charity opened the door for Gosalyn, she shook her head. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't think to ask the police to look for your bags," Charity said, realizing her hands were empty.

Gosalyn had forgotten about that, too. "Well, I guess that means I don't have to do my homework."

Aimee laughed. "She does have a point. Don't worry, luv. We can go shopping tomorrow to get you some new things."

"What about my old stuff?" Gosalyn asked, following the two lovebirds to a set of metal stairs.

"It might take the police a few days to return them, but in the meantime, I'll provide you with everything you need," Charity said. "I'll call your teacher on Monday and explain your missing homework."

"Oh. So, I still have to go to school?" Gosalyn asked.

Charity chuckled. "Of course. Did you think foster kids never went to school?"

Gosalyn never thought about it much. At the orphanage, the workers held their own classes, much like a homeschool system but on a larger scale. Only the older kids went to public school.

They climbed two sets of stairs to the third floor. Charity went to one of the doors and knocked. A female duck with dark brown feathers answered, smiling. "Charity, what can I do for you?"

"I misplaced my keys, Angie. Can I take my spare for a few days?" Charity asked with a shrug.

"Oh, sure. Hang on." She disappeared back into the apartment.

Then another face poked around the door, this one a young, speckled rooster, smiling up at Charity. "Hi, Char."

"Hi, Simon. How was Bunny today?" Charity asked the child.

"He was good. I gave him his treat today," Simon said.

"I bet he loved that," Charity said just as Angie returned. "Thanks, Angie."

"Hey, Charity, are you okay? You're getting home late," Angie said, looking past Charity to Aimee and Gosalyn.

"I'll tell you about it tomorrow. It's been a long day," Charity said. She moved to the door kitty-corner of Angie's and put the key into the lock.

Immediately, a dog barked from the other side.

"Calm down, Bunny. It's okay," Charity said, and the barking stopped. She turned to Gosalyn. "Oh, I didn't ask. Are you scared of dogs? Allergic? He's really a big sweetie."

Gosalyn shook her head, looking forward to meeting this dog. Drake wouldn't let her get one even though it was one of her dreams. She had always imagined getting a big German Shepherd or a Husky or a Saint Bernard, something big enough to ride and scare Tank. From the sound behind the door, she expected—well, maybe not as big as a shepherd, but a good-sized dog. When the door opened, she was disappointed.

"What happened to his legs?" Gosalyn asked as the tan and white dog went to her, sniffing her shoes and wagging his short tail.

"They cut them off when he was born," Aimee joked.

Charity laughed, patting her dog on his head. "Bunny is a Corgi. They have short legs like a Dachshund."

"By the sound of him, I thought he would be bigger," Gosalyn said, squatting down to pet Bunny.

"Yeah, that's Corgis for you. Big bark in a little dog," Charity said, stepping into her apartment. "Come on in."

Gosalyn followed Bunny inside, taking in the furniture and décor.

"Mom, I'm going to take Bunny for a quick walk. Could you show Gosalyn to her room and find her everything she needs?"

"Oh, no problem," Aimee said. "Come with me, luv."

Gosalyn took one last look at Charity as she retrieved a leash from a hook, which sent Bunny into barking fits and little hops. She smiled, sensing a difference in the atmosphere than the fake foster home. Yes, she was certain she was safe here.

"Here you go," Aimee said, turning on a light in a room.

It was simple and definitely decorated more for girls. The room was painted light pink, and the bed, nightstand, dresser and the desk that made up the furniture was white. The quilt on the bed was a patchwork of pinks and purples, and there were a few stuffed toys and dolls in a box near the closet.

It wasn't Gosalyn's favorite style, but she knew it could have been worse.

The strangest thing was a small crib in the corner.

"Oh, sometimes babies get taken away from their mammas in the middle of the night, and Charity keeps them here for a few days," Aimee said, touching the wooden bars. "I'll help her take it down tomorrow so you can have a little more room."

Gosalyn sat on the bed, finding it the right amount of springy. Good for jumping and sleeping.

"Now, would you like something to eat, or a bath or watch some TV?" Aimee asked, looking eager to serve.

To Gosalyn, all of those things sounded good, but at the same time, she didn't want to do any of them. "Um…can I just be alone for a while…Please?" Gosalyn requested.

Aimee smiled sadly. "Of course, luv. Just to let you know, I'll be staying the night, so you and Charity won't be alone tonight. I'll just get the couch bed ready and put in a movie. If you want some company or anything else, you just find me."

Gosalyn smiled. Dr. Waddlemyer's wife had died when Gosalyn was two years old, so she had never known her grandmother, but she imagined that she would be as warm and sweet as Aimee had been. Her grandfather was a jolly and caring man, but could never talk of his wife for long before becoming tearful, so Gosalyn hadn't asked about her often.

Lying down among all the pink, purple and white, Gosalyn breathed deeply, trying to push back the tears. So much had happened in one day, and it was too much to process. She didn't want to cry. She had already done that once today. That was her limit. She wasn't going to be weepy.

There was a knock, and Gosalyn bolted upright, wiping her face. Whether it was Aimee or Charity, she didn't want them to see her tears. She was tough. She was spirited. She wasn't going to cry again.

However, when the knock came again, she realized it wasn't on the door but the window. Turning around, she saw through the darkness the outline of an orange bill and a purple mask. With a big smile, she struggled to undo the latch on the window and throw it open, practically jumping outside into the arms of her father.

Hugging as tight as she could, she didn't fight her tears this time. He could see them all he wanted.

"Gosalyn, are you okay?" he asked after holding her for a few minutes.

"I'm fine."

"You're not hurt?"

"No. Thanks to Ms. Loveatte," Gosalyn admitted.

Darkwing placed her on the window sill, and from that position, she could see that he was dangling from the building's eaves with his grappling hook.

"How did you find me?" Gosalyn asked.

"I put a listening device in the hospital room," Darkwing said. It was one of the most unethical things he had ever done as a super hero. It was lucky that nothing sensitive had been discussed while he listened in. "When I heard you were going to live with Ms. Loveatte, I followed you here."

"I think I'm safe with her," Gosalyn said.

"I think so, too," Darkwing agreed. "She gave me some information that might lead to who tried to kidnap you today."

"What is it?" Gosalyn asked, her usual curiosity and energy back as if nothing had changed. "What are we going to do?"

"We are doing nothing," Darkwing said, poking Gosalyn's beak. "You are going to stay here and behave yourself for Ms. Loveatte."

"But Dad—"

"One of the reasons that they—whoever they are—want you is because they have photos of us together," Darkwing revealed.

Gosalyn's eyes widened. "So, do you think they wanted me to reveal your secret identity?" she asked.

"Maybe," Darkwing said, having theorized this. "Or they could just be using you to get to me. Or something else entirely. I can't be sure. A lot of what has happened just doesn't make sense. Whatever is happening here, you and I can't be seen together."

"But Dad—" Gosalyn said her usual protest.

"This time, I mean it," Darkwing said sternly. "Things are different now, Gosalyn. Whoever this guy is, he's after you. And it's because of me. The last thing I ever want is for you to be in danger."
"But I can help. I've always helped before," Gosalyn protested.

"Not this time," Darkwing said, touching his daughter's face. "At least, not with me. I need you to keep an eye out."

"For what?"

"For anything unusual. See if anyone is following you around or if they're watching you at school. Whoever tried to kidnap you will do it again, but they'll find out about your habits and schedule first. But most importantly, don't go anywhere alone. Always be on your guard and stay safe."

"Okay," Gosalyn said, kicking her feet as they dangled three stories in the air. "What about Ms. Loveatte?"

"What about her?"

"I could ask her about her job. You said she had some information. Maybe she'll have more. I could be a spy," Gosalyn said, sounding excited.

Darkwing nodded. "That's a good idea. But if you have anything important for me, you can't call me. You can't be in contact with Drake Mallard, and you can't call my secret lair from just any phone, okay?"

"Okay," Gosalyn agreed, her tone low with disappointment. "But how will I tell you if I find out anything important.

"Your bed time is 9:30," Darkwing said. "Well, it's supposed to be if you went to bed on time, which you will from now on. And I'll be right here to tuck you in."

"You will?" Gosalyn said with a smile. "Every night? Promise?"

"I promise."

"And you'll sing my song?"

"Yes."

"Can you sing it to me now?"

And even though she wasn't dressed for bed and still had her shoes one, Darkwing tucked Gosalyn into the pink and purple bed as he sang:

Rest your head, Little Girl Blue

Come paint your dreams on your pillow.

I'll be near to chase away fear,

So sleep now and dream of tomorrow.