I Remember . . . Photographs and Memories
by Violet Mallard
This story takes place about four years after "Oh Ducky Boy".
"Where IS that manuscript? I had it yesterday!" Drake wondered aloud as he searched around the living room.
Just as he withdrew his bill from under the couch, he remembered.
"Didn't Violet carry a book up to her room last night. She said something about her nighttime story, so, I wonder . . ."
Drake then heaved himself up from the floor, and ran up the stairs to Violet's room. As soon as he walked in, he saw his manuscript, encased in it's red cover, sitting on top of Violet's neatly made bed.
"YES! Finally! I guess she thought it was her storybook they both have red covers. Next time I am going to have to buy another color.
Drake was just about to leave, when a small spot of lavender caught his eye, peeking out from under the bed.
"Hm, I wonder what that is?" Drake thought as he reached down to pull the book out from under the bed.
"Hey! I remember this! It's Violet's baby book. I wonder what is in it?"
With that, Drake laid his play down on the nightstand, and went over and sat in the rocking chair in the corner with the baby book. Softly rocking, and with a small smile on his face, Drake opened the small lavender book, filled with memories of his youngest daughter.
The first entry was a picture of Rose and Violet the day they came home from the hospital.
'I remember that day! It was the middle of May, and everything was in bloom. All the colors were so beautiful. The air was so warm and there was a soft breeze blowing through the oak next to the house. I was afraid to bring Violet home. I was afraid of not being able to take care of her sufficiently, and I was so glad I had Rose. I remember the drive home. Violet was so small. She didn't cry or anything, just slept peacefully in her baby seat all the way home. That baby seat! It took me a year to figure out just how that thing was supposed to work. Then, we arrived at home. I got out first to go and unlock the door, and Rose stayed behind to get Violet out of the car. I walked into the house, and a feeling of loneliness began to wash over me, a remembered aloneness from after Gos and LP left, and before I met Rose. 'Not anymore' I though to myself. Never again will this house be lonely, or too big for one old duck. No, now I have a family again. Then I turned around and saw Rose carrying Violet up the walk towards me. I have never been that proud before. I was so happy I almost couldn't stand it. It just seemed too good to be true, but it was, marvelously true.'
The next entry was a series of height and weight measurements for Violet's first two years.
'I remember how I made that big wooden giraffe that had measurement's on it for Rose to record Violet's height on. On the first day of each month, Violet would come and get Rose and myself, pulling us over to the giraffe, wanting us to tell her how much bigger she was now. Oh how excited she was to know that she was just a tiny bit bigger, how she would run over to the telephone and call everyone she knew to tell them that she was just a little bit bigger now than she was before. She doesn't do that anymore. I wonder if she remembers? Probably not, she was only two when she quit the game. Kind of sad, really. I always loved getting those phone calls at the theater on the first of each month, just about ten 'o'clock, a small lisping voice telling me that she was just a little bit bigger, and that soon she would be a big girl. Oh well, one of the memories of toddlerhood, I guess.'
The third entry in the little purple book was a picture of Violet the day she said her first words.
'I remember that day. I was working downtown at the theater. The leading duck had gotten laryngitis, and wasn't going to be able to perform for the next month. I was going to have to take his place, opening night was in a week, and I was frantically trying to learn my lines. When I heard the phone ring, I ignored it, but then I heard Larry calling for me, saying that it was Rose and something about the Duckling. I was terrified. I imagined all sorts of horrible mishaps having befallen Violet, I rushed over to the phone, anxiously asking Rose what was the matter, and she just started laughing, telling me that everything was fine, and that Violet just wanted to tell me something. At first I took what she said at face value, only to realize with a shock that Violet couldn't talk. Then, as I listen to the phone being picked up back at the house, and the breathing of a small child, all the while in the background Rose was urging Violet to tell me something, when all of a sudden I heard my daughter call me daddy, and laugh into the phone. My knees buckled, and I almost dropped the phone. Rose came back on the line and asked me if I was all right. I couldn't say anything, I could only nod into the phone, and then I heard Rose laughing, telling me that she would see me soon, and that she and Violet loved me. I managed to say that I loved them both too, and I slowly hung up. I then walked over to the nearest chair, and sat down. Larry came over to me, and asked what was going on, and if I was okay. I just looked at him blankly, until I jumped up and began dancing around the room with him, chanting the phrase 'She called me daddy! She called me daddy!' Larry was so shocked that he didn't even pull away, but instead allowed me to whirl him around, a huge grin on his canine face. The next day when I came into work everyone was there, and they had a huge cake adorned with purple icing to celebrate Violet's first words. That was such a wonderful time!'
The next entry Drake came to was Christmas.
'I remember that year! It was the year we had the biggest snowfall in fifty years! For three days before Christmas Eve the snow fell in huge white flakes, and we had that enormous icicle that formed on the corner eve of the house. Violet was still too small to play outside, but Sallie, Sunny, and Sammi came over almost everyday to build snow forts in the yard. I remember I helped them make one of them, before my back gave out and Rose ordered me to bed. She was not pleased that I had managed to hurt myself the day before Christmas Eve. She moved Violet's bassinette into our room, so that 'I could be useful' while I was recuperating. It was so pleasant to simply lie there and watch my daughter. She seemed so small. I could reach out and touch her; my hand was so huge compared to her sleeping form. Even at eight months old, Violet was still not a big child. She still isn't for that matter. She must get that from my side. I remember Christmas morning, waking up and seeing Rose, peacefully sleeping on my left, and the bassinette with Violet on my right. I woke up and carefully sat up in bed to get a better look at Violet, when she suddenly woke up, but she didn't cry, she just looked up at me and smiled a big toothless grin. I grinned back, and simply laid there and stared at my daughter, this beautiful little yellow ball of feathers that was both Rose and myself, and yet not us, either. A whole greater than the sum of it's parts. That Christmas was a wonderful blur of cinnamon smells, mistletoe kisses, loved ones, singing carols, and playing the piano, ducklings running around and yelling excitedly, lights and shiny paper, pine scent and burning candle wax, until it was over. Everyone had gone home, and Rose and I had tucked Violet into bed a few hours before. We sat together on the couch, not talking, simply enjoying each other's company, all the while staring past the lighted tree out into the falling snow and the dark peaceful night. Silent Night, Holy Night, All is calm, All is bright . . . '
Drake had reached the last few pages of Violet's baby book, only to realize that they were not filled with figures and information about Violet's growing up, but instead Rose had filled them with pictures of everyday life around the Mallard home. Each picture brought back happy, yet also melancholy memories for Drake, who slowly began to realize how fast the past four years had flown by, and before he knew it his little girl would be grown up, and these pictures and a few others like them would be all he would have left of his baby girl.
The first picture was one of Drake and Violet playing the piano. Or, more realistically, Drake was attempting to play the piano with his two-year-old daughter on his lap.
'I remember how Violet used to crawl up onto the piano bench with me. In the beginning, she would simply sit beside me and sing along if she knew the words, but later she decided that she wanted to play too. I would be in the middle of a song, and here would come Violet, small baby hands banging down on the upper keys, and she would laugh and tell me that she was helping me. I would just look at her and laugh along with her, completely oblivious to the noise we were making. Then as she got older she wanted me to show her how to really play, and she would try so hard to stretch those little fingers all the way across the big white keys. She loved to put her hands on top of mine as I played, she would say that she was playing a duet with daddy. She was so proud the day she finally learned how to play "Mary Had a Little Lamb". As soon as she had played it correctly twice through, she ran off to go and get her mother, to show Rose her new skill. I remember how happy Rose looked as she watched Violet's sweet baby face looking down at her small hands concentrating so hard, and being so careful to not spoil her little song with the wrong note.'
Drake sighed contentedly, and continued rocking slowly, as the sun began to set beyond the little window with the yellow gingham and lace curtains.
I remember that first time Rose and I allowed Violet to come to the theater with me. She had just turned two, and she had begged and begged to be allowed to come to work with me. Rose had finally relented, and I was more than happy to take her along. Violet never has had the same knack for getting into trouble that Gosalyn had. Violet is definantly a spirited child, but she shows it in ways other than Gos. Violet is very ladylike, and almost shy, until she gets to know a person, and then she'll talk their heads off. She is very inquisitive, and asks thousands of questions. She also wants to know how everything works, and why it works, and what happens if it doesn't work. I guess I should be glad that she doesn't have the trouble-seeking ability that Gosalyn did. I really think that girl took years off my life span! But she was a wonderful child, as is Violet. I am so lucky to have them both.
Oh, the theater. I remember Violet came in through the back door with me after we had parked the car over in the parking lot. I admonished her to stay close, and not go wandering around; the theater could be a very dangerous place if she wasn't careful. For the first time she looked a little scared, as if she was no longer altogether sure that she really wanted to come to work with me after all. I just told her to hold my hand, and that I would introduce her to everyone when we got inside. The back door was actually located on the side of the building, and opened almost directly onto the stage. Violet took one step onto that stage, and stopped dead. Because she was still holding onto my hand, I was forced to stop also, and as I looked down at Violet's face as she looked out at the vast theater full of empty seats I realized that the setting had instantly enraptured her. 'Come on Violet, I need to go to work, you can come and play on the stage after you meet everyone and we get settled in.' I remember she then let me pick her up, and we walked to my office, where the cast members for the upcoming play were waiting for me to start rehearsals. Everyone was instantly in love with Violet, and for once she wasn't shy with the new strangers. It was like she had found an extended family. From then on, Violet came to work with me at least once a week, and played with the cast members and with the props to no end. The St. Canard Theater became one little girl's playground of fantasy. When I would have to work late, and everyone else had gone home, Violet would go over and get into the boxes of costumes and play dress up. With each new outfit she tried on she would come and model for me, sometimes playacting a remembered character from the rehearsal, and sometimes just making things up as she went. I knew from that first outing to the theater that Violet Mallard would one day have a future as either a performer, a director, or some profession connected with the theater.
The next picture was a group shot of the Christmas play the Mallards had performed on Violet's second Christmas.
'This was Violet's first play. It was an adaptation I did of "Twas the Night Before Christmas". Rose and I were the Mother and Father, Sammy and Sunny were the children, Violet was the mouse, LP was Santa Clause, and Gos, Honker, Salli, and Annie were the reindeer. We got the whole thing on video, me in my purple bath robe, Rose with curlers in her hair, Violet in her blue sleeper pajamas with cardboard ears and a yarn tail, Sammy and Sunny in their pajamas and fuzzy slippers, LP in a big red Santa suit, complete with pillow stuffing and a cotton ball beard, Gosalyn with lipstick all over the end of her bill trying to be Rudolph, and Gos, Annie, Honker, and Salli decked out in cardboard antlers. Next year we should show that video to everyone again on Christmas Day, what a laugh that would be. I wonder where it is? . . . .'
The next picture in the baby book was one of Drake and Violet asleep on the swing in the back yard.
'This was the day we went to the zoo. Rose had desperately needed a day away from motherhood and so Annie had decided to take her out for a day on the town, and LP and I had been given the duty of looking after Sallie and Violet. We had decided to go to the zoo. It had been a wonderful day, and Violet had talked about the animals all the way home. She was so excited to see a real giraffe, and she loved the petting zoo with the sheep. When we finally got home, I was exhausted, and my back was killing me, but Violet was as awake as ever. I began to wonder at that point how Rose managed her all day. I still haven't figured that one out. I decided to try to get Violet to calm down and be quiet for a while by reading her a story out of her favorite book. I set her up on the swing in the yard, and then sat down myself. I started to read, and before I had even gotten to the third page, I could feel Violet's head in my lap, fast asleep. I put down the book, and looked down at her, stroking her hair, and thinking about how angelic she looked when she was sleeping. I guess I must have dozed off, because I didn't know Rose had this picture. I woke up a few hours later to Violet's gentle tugging on the neck of my sweater. That was a wonderful day.'
The next picture Drake came to was one of Violet and himself, playing around in Drake's office. Drake was sitting at the left half of the desk, typing furiously on the typewriter, a pencil in his beak and ink smears all over his forehead, sleeves, and fingers. Violet was perched on top of the right half of the desk, busily drawing on a piece of white paper with one of her fathers multiple color pens.
'Ah, how Violet loved to, and still does really; play in the office while I try to write. I remember how she used sit and stare at me, as I would peck away at the ancient keys. I have never been willing to get a computer, even though Gos has been hounding me about it for years now. I just like the feel of the old typewriter. Violet always seemed to be mystified at how pressing a button could make letters appear on a page. Now she just gets up on the desk and draws pictures with my pens. She learned her alphabet with me up there on that desk. I would write out the alphabet for her, and she would spend the next hour or so carefully copying each letter until she had it just right, and then she would move on to the next, always in her own, neat copperplate script. Other times Violet would want to play on the couch in there, taking off all the cushions and building forts and ships out of them. I love watching her play, especially since she isn't old enough to be self-conscious yet. She is so sweet and innocent as she plays make believe with her stuffed animals. Better yet though is when she falls asleep on the floor amidst her animals after she has been playing for several hours. I love to look up from a particularly involved portion of a play, only to see Violet, sound asleep in the floor, curled up on her side with some stuffed animal or another clutched in her small arms.
As Drake turned the page, he saw that the next picture was one of himself and Violet in Rose and Drake's bed.
'I remember when Violet used to get scared at night, and how she would climb up into our bed, and snuggle up between Rose and I. I would wake up and there would be my small daughter, where no small duckling had been the night before. I loved the feel of her against my chest. The clean smell of her hair, the way she would snuggle her head up under my bill. She felt so small and warm, so alive. I loved to wake up and have her small, vital presence so close to my heart. She was always so quiet as she would get into bed with us, she never woke me up, and as far as I know, she never woke Rose up either. I wonder how she used to do that. Oh well, secrets of a small duckling I guess.
The next picture in the album was one Drake had taken of Rose and Violet, just a few days after Violet had been born. It was a picture of Rose holding Violet and rocking her to sleep.
'I remember the night I took this picture. It was about a week after Violet had been born, and Rose was putting her to bed. It was one of the nights she sang that song. The song, which has become a permanent part of every child I have ever raised. That sweet, soft lullaby of a long dead grandfather, that song, which has so many memories, attached to it. Gosalyn first sang it to me that first night in Darkwing Tower. That song which had a last faded memory of Gosalyn's last blood relative attached to it, and a deadly secret arming code that a raving lunatic would attempt to kill us both over in the next twenty-four hours. That sweet, simple tune which finally opened up my heart, taught me to love another person again. Taught me to trust, and opened the door to my future and to Gosalyn's. I would probably have given up and died that day had it not been for Gosalyn. She was truly my saving grace. And Gosalyn. She would have remained in that orphanage until she was eighteen, without a doubt. She would have been emotionally crippled, and Quiverwing Quack would not exist. So much would have been different had it not been for that sweet, simple lullaby. And then the shock I felt at hearing Rose sing it to Violet. I never knew that Gosalyn had told anyone about that first night, but she told Rose; and Rose knew what to do with it. That lullaby connected my old life as Darkwing Duck and my current existence as Drake Mallard more firmly than anything else in the world could have done. That song, so simple, yet meaning so much.
Drake softly hummed the closing bars, "I'll be near to chase away fear, so sleep now and dream till tomorrow," as he softly closed the small lavender book, returned it to it's usual place on the bookshelf, walked to the door and turned off the light; only to look back for a moment, seeing as if for the first time his little girl's room, and all she meant to him.
Disclaimer:
Disney owns Drake Mallard/Darkwing Duck, Launchpad, and Gosalyn. They were used here without permission. Salli, Sammy, Sunny, Annie, and Rose are owned by Angela McDermott, and are used with her permission. Violet is mine, and was used with my permission. Please do not copy or reprint any part of this story for personal gain, because then Disney will sue us both, and I am a poor Veterinary student :) This story is a continuation of my other fic entitled "Oh Ducky Boy", and that fic is a continuation of Angela McDermott's "A Rose is a Rose" series.
by Violet Mallard
This story takes place about four years after "Oh Ducky Boy".
"Where IS that manuscript? I had it yesterday!" Drake wondered aloud as he searched around the living room.
Just as he withdrew his bill from under the couch, he remembered.
"Didn't Violet carry a book up to her room last night. She said something about her nighttime story, so, I wonder . . ."
Drake then heaved himself up from the floor, and ran up the stairs to Violet's room. As soon as he walked in, he saw his manuscript, encased in it's red cover, sitting on top of Violet's neatly made bed.
"YES! Finally! I guess she thought it was her storybook they both have red covers. Next time I am going to have to buy another color.
Drake was just about to leave, when a small spot of lavender caught his eye, peeking out from under the bed.
"Hm, I wonder what that is?" Drake thought as he reached down to pull the book out from under the bed.
"Hey! I remember this! It's Violet's baby book. I wonder what is in it?"
With that, Drake laid his play down on the nightstand, and went over and sat in the rocking chair in the corner with the baby book. Softly rocking, and with a small smile on his face, Drake opened the small lavender book, filled with memories of his youngest daughter.
The first entry was a picture of Rose and Violet the day they came home from the hospital.
'I remember that day! It was the middle of May, and everything was in bloom. All the colors were so beautiful. The air was so warm and there was a soft breeze blowing through the oak next to the house. I was afraid to bring Violet home. I was afraid of not being able to take care of her sufficiently, and I was so glad I had Rose. I remember the drive home. Violet was so small. She didn't cry or anything, just slept peacefully in her baby seat all the way home. That baby seat! It took me a year to figure out just how that thing was supposed to work. Then, we arrived at home. I got out first to go and unlock the door, and Rose stayed behind to get Violet out of the car. I walked into the house, and a feeling of loneliness began to wash over me, a remembered aloneness from after Gos and LP left, and before I met Rose. 'Not anymore' I though to myself. Never again will this house be lonely, or too big for one old duck. No, now I have a family again. Then I turned around and saw Rose carrying Violet up the walk towards me. I have never been that proud before. I was so happy I almost couldn't stand it. It just seemed too good to be true, but it was, marvelously true.'
The next entry was a series of height and weight measurements for Violet's first two years.
'I remember how I made that big wooden giraffe that had measurement's on it for Rose to record Violet's height on. On the first day of each month, Violet would come and get Rose and myself, pulling us over to the giraffe, wanting us to tell her how much bigger she was now. Oh how excited she was to know that she was just a tiny bit bigger, how she would run over to the telephone and call everyone she knew to tell them that she was just a little bit bigger now than she was before. She doesn't do that anymore. I wonder if she remembers? Probably not, she was only two when she quit the game. Kind of sad, really. I always loved getting those phone calls at the theater on the first of each month, just about ten 'o'clock, a small lisping voice telling me that she was just a little bit bigger, and that soon she would be a big girl. Oh well, one of the memories of toddlerhood, I guess.'
The third entry in the little purple book was a picture of Violet the day she said her first words.
'I remember that day. I was working downtown at the theater. The leading duck had gotten laryngitis, and wasn't going to be able to perform for the next month. I was going to have to take his place, opening night was in a week, and I was frantically trying to learn my lines. When I heard the phone ring, I ignored it, but then I heard Larry calling for me, saying that it was Rose and something about the Duckling. I was terrified. I imagined all sorts of horrible mishaps having befallen Violet, I rushed over to the phone, anxiously asking Rose what was the matter, and she just started laughing, telling me that everything was fine, and that Violet just wanted to tell me something. At first I took what she said at face value, only to realize with a shock that Violet couldn't talk. Then, as I listen to the phone being picked up back at the house, and the breathing of a small child, all the while in the background Rose was urging Violet to tell me something, when all of a sudden I heard my daughter call me daddy, and laugh into the phone. My knees buckled, and I almost dropped the phone. Rose came back on the line and asked me if I was all right. I couldn't say anything, I could only nod into the phone, and then I heard Rose laughing, telling me that she would see me soon, and that she and Violet loved me. I managed to say that I loved them both too, and I slowly hung up. I then walked over to the nearest chair, and sat down. Larry came over to me, and asked what was going on, and if I was okay. I just looked at him blankly, until I jumped up and began dancing around the room with him, chanting the phrase 'She called me daddy! She called me daddy!' Larry was so shocked that he didn't even pull away, but instead allowed me to whirl him around, a huge grin on his canine face. The next day when I came into work everyone was there, and they had a huge cake adorned with purple icing to celebrate Violet's first words. That was such a wonderful time!'
The next entry Drake came to was Christmas.
'I remember that year! It was the year we had the biggest snowfall in fifty years! For three days before Christmas Eve the snow fell in huge white flakes, and we had that enormous icicle that formed on the corner eve of the house. Violet was still too small to play outside, but Sallie, Sunny, and Sammi came over almost everyday to build snow forts in the yard. I remember I helped them make one of them, before my back gave out and Rose ordered me to bed. She was not pleased that I had managed to hurt myself the day before Christmas Eve. She moved Violet's bassinette into our room, so that 'I could be useful' while I was recuperating. It was so pleasant to simply lie there and watch my daughter. She seemed so small. I could reach out and touch her; my hand was so huge compared to her sleeping form. Even at eight months old, Violet was still not a big child. She still isn't for that matter. She must get that from my side. I remember Christmas morning, waking up and seeing Rose, peacefully sleeping on my left, and the bassinette with Violet on my right. I woke up and carefully sat up in bed to get a better look at Violet, when she suddenly woke up, but she didn't cry, she just looked up at me and smiled a big toothless grin. I grinned back, and simply laid there and stared at my daughter, this beautiful little yellow ball of feathers that was both Rose and myself, and yet not us, either. A whole greater than the sum of it's parts. That Christmas was a wonderful blur of cinnamon smells, mistletoe kisses, loved ones, singing carols, and playing the piano, ducklings running around and yelling excitedly, lights and shiny paper, pine scent and burning candle wax, until it was over. Everyone had gone home, and Rose and I had tucked Violet into bed a few hours before. We sat together on the couch, not talking, simply enjoying each other's company, all the while staring past the lighted tree out into the falling snow and the dark peaceful night. Silent Night, Holy Night, All is calm, All is bright . . . '
Drake had reached the last few pages of Violet's baby book, only to realize that they were not filled with figures and information about Violet's growing up, but instead Rose had filled them with pictures of everyday life around the Mallard home. Each picture brought back happy, yet also melancholy memories for Drake, who slowly began to realize how fast the past four years had flown by, and before he knew it his little girl would be grown up, and these pictures and a few others like them would be all he would have left of his baby girl.
The first picture was one of Drake and Violet playing the piano. Or, more realistically, Drake was attempting to play the piano with his two-year-old daughter on his lap.
'I remember how Violet used to crawl up onto the piano bench with me. In the beginning, she would simply sit beside me and sing along if she knew the words, but later she decided that she wanted to play too. I would be in the middle of a song, and here would come Violet, small baby hands banging down on the upper keys, and she would laugh and tell me that she was helping me. I would just look at her and laugh along with her, completely oblivious to the noise we were making. Then as she got older she wanted me to show her how to really play, and she would try so hard to stretch those little fingers all the way across the big white keys. She loved to put her hands on top of mine as I played, she would say that she was playing a duet with daddy. She was so proud the day she finally learned how to play "Mary Had a Little Lamb". As soon as she had played it correctly twice through, she ran off to go and get her mother, to show Rose her new skill. I remember how happy Rose looked as she watched Violet's sweet baby face looking down at her small hands concentrating so hard, and being so careful to not spoil her little song with the wrong note.'
Drake sighed contentedly, and continued rocking slowly, as the sun began to set beyond the little window with the yellow gingham and lace curtains.
I remember that first time Rose and I allowed Violet to come to the theater with me. She had just turned two, and she had begged and begged to be allowed to come to work with me. Rose had finally relented, and I was more than happy to take her along. Violet never has had the same knack for getting into trouble that Gosalyn had. Violet is definantly a spirited child, but she shows it in ways other than Gos. Violet is very ladylike, and almost shy, until she gets to know a person, and then she'll talk their heads off. She is very inquisitive, and asks thousands of questions. She also wants to know how everything works, and why it works, and what happens if it doesn't work. I guess I should be glad that she doesn't have the trouble-seeking ability that Gosalyn did. I really think that girl took years off my life span! But she was a wonderful child, as is Violet. I am so lucky to have them both.
Oh, the theater. I remember Violet came in through the back door with me after we had parked the car over in the parking lot. I admonished her to stay close, and not go wandering around; the theater could be a very dangerous place if she wasn't careful. For the first time she looked a little scared, as if she was no longer altogether sure that she really wanted to come to work with me after all. I just told her to hold my hand, and that I would introduce her to everyone when we got inside. The back door was actually located on the side of the building, and opened almost directly onto the stage. Violet took one step onto that stage, and stopped dead. Because she was still holding onto my hand, I was forced to stop also, and as I looked down at Violet's face as she looked out at the vast theater full of empty seats I realized that the setting had instantly enraptured her. 'Come on Violet, I need to go to work, you can come and play on the stage after you meet everyone and we get settled in.' I remember she then let me pick her up, and we walked to my office, where the cast members for the upcoming play were waiting for me to start rehearsals. Everyone was instantly in love with Violet, and for once she wasn't shy with the new strangers. It was like she had found an extended family. From then on, Violet came to work with me at least once a week, and played with the cast members and with the props to no end. The St. Canard Theater became one little girl's playground of fantasy. When I would have to work late, and everyone else had gone home, Violet would go over and get into the boxes of costumes and play dress up. With each new outfit she tried on she would come and model for me, sometimes playacting a remembered character from the rehearsal, and sometimes just making things up as she went. I knew from that first outing to the theater that Violet Mallard would one day have a future as either a performer, a director, or some profession connected with the theater.
The next picture was a group shot of the Christmas play the Mallards had performed on Violet's second Christmas.
'This was Violet's first play. It was an adaptation I did of "Twas the Night Before Christmas". Rose and I were the Mother and Father, Sammy and Sunny were the children, Violet was the mouse, LP was Santa Clause, and Gos, Honker, Salli, and Annie were the reindeer. We got the whole thing on video, me in my purple bath robe, Rose with curlers in her hair, Violet in her blue sleeper pajamas with cardboard ears and a yarn tail, Sammy and Sunny in their pajamas and fuzzy slippers, LP in a big red Santa suit, complete with pillow stuffing and a cotton ball beard, Gosalyn with lipstick all over the end of her bill trying to be Rudolph, and Gos, Annie, Honker, and Salli decked out in cardboard antlers. Next year we should show that video to everyone again on Christmas Day, what a laugh that would be. I wonder where it is? . . . .'
The next picture in the baby book was one of Drake and Violet asleep on the swing in the back yard.
'This was the day we went to the zoo. Rose had desperately needed a day away from motherhood and so Annie had decided to take her out for a day on the town, and LP and I had been given the duty of looking after Sallie and Violet. We had decided to go to the zoo. It had been a wonderful day, and Violet had talked about the animals all the way home. She was so excited to see a real giraffe, and she loved the petting zoo with the sheep. When we finally got home, I was exhausted, and my back was killing me, but Violet was as awake as ever. I began to wonder at that point how Rose managed her all day. I still haven't figured that one out. I decided to try to get Violet to calm down and be quiet for a while by reading her a story out of her favorite book. I set her up on the swing in the yard, and then sat down myself. I started to read, and before I had even gotten to the third page, I could feel Violet's head in my lap, fast asleep. I put down the book, and looked down at her, stroking her hair, and thinking about how angelic she looked when she was sleeping. I guess I must have dozed off, because I didn't know Rose had this picture. I woke up a few hours later to Violet's gentle tugging on the neck of my sweater. That was a wonderful day.'
The next picture Drake came to was one of Violet and himself, playing around in Drake's office. Drake was sitting at the left half of the desk, typing furiously on the typewriter, a pencil in his beak and ink smears all over his forehead, sleeves, and fingers. Violet was perched on top of the right half of the desk, busily drawing on a piece of white paper with one of her fathers multiple color pens.
'Ah, how Violet loved to, and still does really; play in the office while I try to write. I remember how she used sit and stare at me, as I would peck away at the ancient keys. I have never been willing to get a computer, even though Gos has been hounding me about it for years now. I just like the feel of the old typewriter. Violet always seemed to be mystified at how pressing a button could make letters appear on a page. Now she just gets up on the desk and draws pictures with my pens. She learned her alphabet with me up there on that desk. I would write out the alphabet for her, and she would spend the next hour or so carefully copying each letter until she had it just right, and then she would move on to the next, always in her own, neat copperplate script. Other times Violet would want to play on the couch in there, taking off all the cushions and building forts and ships out of them. I love watching her play, especially since she isn't old enough to be self-conscious yet. She is so sweet and innocent as she plays make believe with her stuffed animals. Better yet though is when she falls asleep on the floor amidst her animals after she has been playing for several hours. I love to look up from a particularly involved portion of a play, only to see Violet, sound asleep in the floor, curled up on her side with some stuffed animal or another clutched in her small arms.
As Drake turned the page, he saw that the next picture was one of himself and Violet in Rose and Drake's bed.
'I remember when Violet used to get scared at night, and how she would climb up into our bed, and snuggle up between Rose and I. I would wake up and there would be my small daughter, where no small duckling had been the night before. I loved the feel of her against my chest. The clean smell of her hair, the way she would snuggle her head up under my bill. She felt so small and warm, so alive. I loved to wake up and have her small, vital presence so close to my heart. She was always so quiet as she would get into bed with us, she never woke me up, and as far as I know, she never woke Rose up either. I wonder how she used to do that. Oh well, secrets of a small duckling I guess.
The next picture in the album was one Drake had taken of Rose and Violet, just a few days after Violet had been born. It was a picture of Rose holding Violet and rocking her to sleep.
'I remember the night I took this picture. It was about a week after Violet had been born, and Rose was putting her to bed. It was one of the nights she sang that song. The song, which has become a permanent part of every child I have ever raised. That sweet, soft lullaby of a long dead grandfather, that song, which has so many memories, attached to it. Gosalyn first sang it to me that first night in Darkwing Tower. That song which had a last faded memory of Gosalyn's last blood relative attached to it, and a deadly secret arming code that a raving lunatic would attempt to kill us both over in the next twenty-four hours. That sweet, simple tune which finally opened up my heart, taught me to love another person again. Taught me to trust, and opened the door to my future and to Gosalyn's. I would probably have given up and died that day had it not been for Gosalyn. She was truly my saving grace. And Gosalyn. She would have remained in that orphanage until she was eighteen, without a doubt. She would have been emotionally crippled, and Quiverwing Quack would not exist. So much would have been different had it not been for that sweet, simple lullaby. And then the shock I felt at hearing Rose sing it to Violet. I never knew that Gosalyn had told anyone about that first night, but she told Rose; and Rose knew what to do with it. That lullaby connected my old life as Darkwing Duck and my current existence as Drake Mallard more firmly than anything else in the world could have done. That song, so simple, yet meaning so much.
Drake softly hummed the closing bars, "I'll be near to chase away fear, so sleep now and dream till tomorrow," as he softly closed the small lavender book, returned it to it's usual place on the bookshelf, walked to the door and turned off the light; only to look back for a moment, seeing as if for the first time his little girl's room, and all she meant to him.
Disclaimer:
Disney owns Drake Mallard/Darkwing Duck, Launchpad, and Gosalyn. They were used here without permission. Salli, Sammy, Sunny, Annie, and Rose are owned by Angela McDermott, and are used with her permission. Violet is mine, and was used with my permission. Please do not copy or reprint any part of this story for personal gain, because then Disney will sue us both, and I am a poor Veterinary student :) This story is a continuation of my other fic entitled "Oh Ducky Boy", and that fic is a continuation of Angela McDermott's "A Rose is a Rose" series.