Notes: It's Duke's turn. Yay. Okay, I did invent everything in this story, but I couldn't find another fear. First I wanted to write that his fear is being treated differently because he's a thief - but he has been a thief for so many years, he should be used to this. Then I got the idea with the rooms. I wanted that he visits many rooms, and in each of them something which frightens him. Hehe. But then I started writing, and after the second room I had already 3500 words - and no ideas. So that's the result. And I won't call it lame, because you all will kill me if I do. Just one explanation why I thought that the last chapter is/was lame: I wanted to write Grin's meeting with every duck, but I just managed Wildwing and Nosedive. I wasn't happy about it, but my inspiration was gone...*shrugs* That's why I wasn't satisfied with it. Oh well. C'est la vie...

To Face the Fears

by Kaeera

Chapter Four: Hidden rooms in your mind

It was dark. Dark and cold. The duck blinked and tried to recognize anything in the gloomy light. It was a building made of stone - he could feel the wall under his hands, on both sides. A corridor?
The grey duck stepped forward, his eyes accustoming to the darkness, making out contours, shadows and lines. It wasn't that dark, he noticed, more of a grey light. He could see doors, many doors, every single one of them different. Some smaller, some big, some wooden, some stone.

Duke opened the nearest door and stepped inside. And he froze.
There, in a strange light, was standing a male duck, staring at him. Time stopped for the ex-thief. He wanted to scream, wanted to shake the person, wanted to run away, but he did nothing. He couldn't. In those many years he had believed that this person was dead, would never come back. That it was over.

But there he was, looking at him with these disappointed eyes, these tired, old and disappointed eyes. Something else was glimmering in them, and deep in his heart he knew what it was, but his brain didn't want to accept it.
For the first time in many years, Duke panicked. He spun around, ran out of the room and closed the door. He looked frantically for a lock, but there was none, so he ran. Raced down the corridors, his heart pounding, eyes wide of fear and horror. He ignored the surroundings, blind of panic, just one thought in his mind: "Flee!"

Everything became a blur, and the only sound he could hear was his heart. Loudly in his ears, and he feared that he would hear it and find him. Some parts of his mind tried to stay rational, telling him that he was older, stronger now, that he could fight, but panic never listens to logic.
His body would run until he couldn't anymore. Corridors passed by, more doors, many doors, some of them vaguely familiar, doors he had seen on places all over the universe. Green doors, red doors, blue doors, yellow doors. Iron doors. Plastic doors. Glass doors. Doors which were no doors, but holes. Duke registered all this, but he couldn't make something out of it. Flee. Flee.
FLEE!
Running is the only way to escape. Hiding. Forgetting. RUN!

And so he did. Duke, master-thief, comedian, oldest of the mighty Ducks, experienced fighter, ran away from a picture, a picture of a man, a single person, more frightened than ever.

Fear

Is what we associate with it

Some people fear the darkness

Things you can't see

Claustrophobia, Fear of Heights

Panic arises

But there's no logical reason

It's just there

But Fear

can be different

Things you can hold, you can see

People

Animals

Objects

Making us unsure, making us afraid

Leaving us paralysed

Because there IS a reason

to be frightened...


One hour earlier:

"Uuurgh", could be heard. Duke groaned and opened his eyes. He blinked in confusion and yawned. Why was he so tired? "Urgh", he made again and sat up.

"Oh, wonderful.", he said sarcastically when he realized where he was. "A white room. Just what I need." And indeed, he lay on the ground of a very white room with no furniture in it. Empty. Deserted. Duke smiled a little bit: "This is it, huh? I am finally mad. Yeah. I always wanted to reach this state! Now I can compete with Nosedive!", he chuckled and stood up. The image of the blonde teen popped up in his head, and he laughed even more.

There was only one door, which was - of course - white, too. Duke examined it and decided that he could just open it - or he would just die of boredom. But as soon as he moved his hands, a sudden voice interrupted him.

I wouldn't do that if I were you it stated simply.

"Why?", Duke asked curiously, his hand frozen in the air.

Because it will destroy you.

The duck watched the door carefully. "Is there a bomb?", he wanted to know. "I don't see anything."

Not a bomb
More terrible. Something which will destroy your mind, not your body.

Duke snorted. "If you destroy my mind, you have to destroy my body, not? This is stupid. You just want to keep me in this room."

Of course. Because here I could watch you slowly becoming mad. Outside, there are different dangers. It will be my pleasure to watch them, too, but I would have preferred this. it snickered. Honestly, it snickered! A sound Duke didn't like...a head without a voice: okay. A voice without a head: maybe okay. But a voice without a head and snickering?? No. Not good.

"Hahaha.", he mimicked. "I go where I want to. A stupid voice won't decide about me. Hey, I can still leave. Maybe there'll be some dangers out there, but I'm prepared. I have my saber...", he looked down at his body and continued; "Or maybe not, but I can fight with my hands, remember, I've been a thief...", the grey duck noticed that he was babbling. "Ehm, what I wanted to say is: You can't stop me. I am a Mighty Duck! And it's not that easy to scare me!", he finished and grinned triumphantly.

Scaring you? Why not?

The voice echoed in his head, coming from all directions. Duke turned around, looking for a loud-speaker or something like that, but the only thing he could see were the white walls. 'Annoying', he thought. 'I hate white. It's boring. Cold. And easily made dirty!'

Doesn't everyone have his own, personal fear? Something which scares you? Frightens the hell out of you? Panic. Fear. Can't you feel it? It's in your heart, Duke. Grey duck, great thief, you believe that you are strong? But there's something. You know it. I know it. Don't act as the strong man. It will just help me to destroy you

"I am not acting.", Duke announced. "And honestly, this whole thing is truly annoying. I bet it's some stupid prank by Dragaunus - ol'lizard lips could have thought of something better, huh? White room, really, that's old. He wants me to think that I am crazy.", he rolled his eyes. "But he has forgotten one thing - I already know that I am crazy.", Duke smiled evilly.

Don't joke about such things. They will backfire on you. Faster than you expect...

"Pöh", Duke made and shrugged. "Let them backfire. I don't care." he pointed to the door. "BUT I will leave now, never mind what you are saying, stupid voice! White is an uncomfortable color, and I really hate it. And if something dangerous is out there...I have been a master-thief for many years, and I fought in the rebellion against the saurians...I can defend myself. So stop this stupid play and KEEP SILENT!" with these (famous last) words he opened the door and left.

The voice snickered again, this time with a certain amount of satisfaction in it. Sure, you can defend yourself. But what if your enemy is... it continued laughing. And the door slowly closed without a sound.

Now:

Duke stumbled against a huge metal door. He was breathing hard, sweat glittering on his forehead, but the haunted look in his eyes didn't go away. Frantically he searched the area around him, ready to flee the moment he heard, saw, smelled anything. He resembled a small animal, the grey duck, an animal which was fleeing its biggest enemy. And in a way, this was truth. The person in this room....he had always been his greatest fear. But never he had thought that it would panic him like that; he had believed that he was grown-up now, could defend himself. After all he was strong and smart. His enemies had been far more tougher than this guy...and yet, he still was there, panting, nearly crying.

Lost.

Alone.

Oh, how he wished that his friends would be there. But then again - the idea that they saw him in this state wasn't a very pleasant view. They would think that he had lost his mind. No.
Had he lost his mind?
He shook his hand and touched slowly the door. Huge. Metal. Cool Metal. He leaned his head on it and sighed. What now? What should he do? He couldn't go back. No. He couldn't!

So he had to find another way. Which one? Was there any way?

Suddenly the door opened and Duke fell inside. Quickly he rolled on his feet, back to the wall and scanned the room. The scenery let him froze.
He was standing in a small and dark chamber. A small bed with old and dirty blankets filled one half of it; in the other was a small cupboard with some clothes in it. The air smelled old and bitter; and there was just a small window with dirty curtains.

Duke slowly walked into the room, touching everything as if he believed that it was a dream. And indeed, it had to be a dream, because this room was a shadow of his past. Long, long time ago he had known this chamber, had even lived in it, and had hated it. But with the time, the images had faded. Now he had to face all the memories again, which were flooding his mind, and it was enough to give him a headache. Duke sat down on the bed and stared into the space.

His room...in the old house. With four other kids.
Streetkids.
And they had learned how to steal...

Then the door swung open, revealing a dirty child who fell on the ground. It was a young duck, maybe 11 or 12 years old. He was grey and thin and...
It was himself, Duke realized and gasped. That was him! Him in his childhood! Small Duke L'Orange! He rubbed his eyes and looked again, and there! It wasn't a dream.

The younger duck was sitting on his knees, head bowed, some grey strains hanging in his face. "It's not my fault...", he whimpered and curled up into a small ball. Another duck entered the room and watched the boy with an icy glare. "Not your fault?", he mocked. "Stupid little brat! You have to work harder if you want to be treated better! You are living in MY house, living of MY money, eating MY bread. I taught you how to steal, now do it! It's time that you earn something!"

"But the people notice me....", the boy sniffed and crawled away from the large man, until he bumped into the wall.
Duke assumed that it had to be some twisted form of memory, for they both didn't seem to notice him, but still his heart was breaking. Memories which should have been forgotten came back into his mind, and he felt something hot running down his cheek.

Tears.

Duke was crying. Something he had stopped many, many years ago.
And so was the younger Duke - sitting in his corner and sobbing of fear. He knew what would come. And he didn't want it. But there was no way to escape...never...

The man grabbed the boy and hissed: "Don't dare to say anything. I collected you from the streets, gave you a home, and that's the thank??"
Little Duke just sobbed, eyes huge of suppressed emotions: "You didn't give me a home!", he spat of with the last bit of strength he had kept. "You used me! You told me that I would have a better life with you! You betrayed me!", he cried. "This is not my home. I've never had one. It broke apart years ago, and nobody can repair it. I fled because....", he fell on the ground.

The boy jumped back into the other corner of the room. The taller duck laughed. "I betrayed you. Oh, did I do something wrong to my little boobie?", he said in a sweet and false tone. Then his expression faltered from faked to dangerous. "I warn you, boy. You will get your next meal when you bring me five purses. Understood?"
Duke nodded, and the door closed with a loud BANG! The small boy stared at it, his shoulders slumped. "You promised me...", he whispered, "Promised me that I would have it better. At home was a disaster. A living hell. And there was...", he shuddered, "...he..."

Duke, who had watched the whole scene, shuddered, too. "...he...", he mumbled, remembering the one and only person who had made out of his childhood a nightmare. His fear. And the person he had seen in the room.

His father.

He had actually never liked his father. But they had lived together, and well, it was kind of an accepting. Duke went to school, his father stayed at home or went to work.
But then, things had changed. It all started with the alcohol. His father had always liked beer and wine, but even the small kid noticed that he drank more and more - and didn't stopped. He had been six-years-old.

Duke's mother was dead. Or away. He didn't know, because his father had never told him about her. There was just one picture, in the living room - a laughing woman with deep green eyes. Duke adored her, and greeted the picture every morning before he went to school. Although his life wasn't the best, Duke was a happy kid. He enjoyed the school, he had some friends, and every so often he would go on the streets and playing hockey with them. He was the fastest in the team, and he enjoyed it. Because his father didn't really care, he could stay out as long as he wanted. When he got home, there was always something to eat - old pizza, noodles or just a bread.

Sometimes his father got drunken. Not much in the beginning. Just once or twice a month - and when it happened, Duke hid in his room and waited until he fell asleep or left the flat. But then, the times came more frequently. The kid didn't know the reason for it; maybe he had troubles in his job, whatever, the man did never talk with him. But he did feel that it wasn't good, and often he watched his father with frightened eyes when he grabbed for the bottles. Once he had tried to hide all the alcohol they had at home. But his father had searched for him, threatening that something terrible would happen to him if he didn't hand them out. And he had hit him.
Duke had never been hit in his entire life. And he was quite shocked. This was the moment he realized that something was going wrong. But it was too late. And Duke was too scared to tell anyone.

His father continued drinking and stopped working. He was fired. They did only spent money on alcohol. No food, no clothes. With the days and weeks, he became thinner and thinner. But his father didn't notice. And when the boy asked if he could have something to eat, he just stared at him with these drunken eyes and laughed. A deep croaking laughter. Duke always shuddered when he heard it.
A teacher finally noticed that something was wrong. But Duke, too scared and embarrassed, denied everything. He assumed that with the time, it would stop.

This was the first time the haunted look appeared in his eyes.

And it stayed, because the situation became worse and worse. Now his father did not only yell, but he did search for Duke, starting to tell him what a useless little jerk he was. He always tried not to listen, but it was hard, because his father had a very loud voice. Evening for evening he had to hear how much his father hated him, and it was enough to break his heart. He had never loved his father. And his father had never loved him. So why did it hurt so much?
And evening for evening, his father would drink more. And more. Until he was in such a terrible state that he couldn't recognize his surroundings.
He hit Duke. Hard. Until he was bleeding. Duke cried that night. Cried many nights. But nobody did ever listen. Nobody did care.
The small grey duck was scared. He didn't want to come home, because he didn't want to face his father. So he stayed longer and longer on the streets or at school. And when he came home, his father would beat him, because he hadn't come home. The body of the child was full of bruises, and he was way too thin for his age. But the people didn't notice. They looked away - even the neighbours who could hear the screams. Every night. Screams of a small and frightened boy. Nobody ever came.

And so he stopped screaming.

Stopped calling for help.

Lived alone with his fear.

Days, Months and Years passed, and his life didn't change.
Until one night, he made a decision. He would flee. His father, his greatest enemy and biggest fear, shouldn't have power over him anymore. He would run away, forgetting his past and beginning a new life. Without beatings, without alcohol. So 9-year old Duke ran away.

Living on the streets is never easy. It's cold in the winters, hot in the summers. You have to hunt your own food, you have to care for yourself. And there aren't many jobs for nine-year-olds. The only improvement was that he was free - and that he didn't have to face his father anymore.
But the haunted look stayed.
And so he had gratefully taken the offer a man had made. "Come with me.", the larger duck had smiled. "Come with me, and you will have a home. I will teach you how to earn your own money. You will have a roof over your head, and there are some other kids like you. You won't be alone."
He had hoped that he could live normally. And happily he had followed the duck to the old and grey house.

It hadn't been a home. It had been a trick of this duck. Duke sighed and leaned his head against the wall. The sobbing of his smaller copy filled the air. The large duck had been one of the best thieves in the city. And he had taken streetkids in his house to make thieves out of them. He taught them how to steal, and then they had to go to crowded places and steal purses. They did never get anything, just the food - and the small rooms.

But stealing purses was only the beginning. For his great coups, small thieves were needed. Easily to manipulate. So he took the kids.
And one of them, small grey and fragile, had been him, Duke L'Orange. He had stepped from one misery in the next. Years of hard training had changed the duck. But somehow he had managed it to keep his attitude - always a joke on his lips. He had realized that you could either take life as a big joke or as a serious thing. Taking it serious made him depressed, so he chose the other way.

And although he had always a smile on his lips, there had been the fear deep in his heart. A fear of one man, who became bigger in his memories than he actually was. One man who had destroyed his life.
Surprisingly he didn't feel any hatred. Maybe he was too frightened for that. Duke didn't know. What he did know was that the man was here. His father.

How?

He was thousands of miles away from Puckworld, wasn't he? And this wasn't a dream, was it? So how? He had assumed that his father had died by now. Better, he had hoped so. Had buried the memories under his faked smile.

No. Wrong. No faked smile. All the time he had lived with the other ducks - Wildwing, Nosedive, Grin, Tanya and Mallory - none of his smiles had been faked. In fact, he had enjoyed his life - and had simply forgotten about the person he feared the most.
But now...now he was in this chamber. The chamber of an unlucky childhood. And he felt ashamed, because he had freaked out. Was still freaking out.

"It's just a duck.", he told himself.

"You are older now. Stronger. He can't hurt you.", cried the rational part of his brain. Duke shuddered and hugged his knees. What was wrong with him? He could just punch the old man and go away. He knew that he could do it! His father had never been the strongest.

And yet....Duke felt like he was still six years old, hiding in his room. Crying in the night. How could you fight such a fear? The panic was there, controlling him.

Slowly he lifted his hand and watched it. Trembling. He trembled. Of fear? Maybe...he glanced at the boy, his younger self, who was still huddled in the corner. So many years had passed, and still nothing had changed? That couldn't be. No. He couldn't run away forever. He had to face his fear.
But...so many buts...how could he face it when he was scared like hell?? It was impossible. Duke covered his face with his hands and sighed. What would the others think? He, the master-thief, the comedian, hiding like a kid? Nearly crying?

They wouldn't understand. They didn't know how it was, this fear, this overwhelming panic. If they were here, everything would be better. He didn't know why, but he was always stronger when his team-mates accompanied him. Maybe because he couldn't stand it to be weak in front of others. Or maybe because they needed him to be strong.

No. It didn't help to wonder what had happened or would happened if they were here. He was alone, and it was his problem. And he had to find a solution. Because he wanted to go back!

A nagging voice deep inside of him told him that his only chance to flee was to go back. To enter the room in which his father stayed. To speak with him. Maybe fight. And winning.

This would mean a fight against his fear. He had always been a good fighter. Why not? A small grin appeared on his face. What had the voice said? He would go mad? Why not?
Better being mad than being scared. Better doing something than sitting in a corner.

Better facing your fear than running away forever.

The decision was made. And although he was frightened more than ever, he felt strangely relieved. Maybe his father would kill him - he had no doubt that he could do it. Maybe he would become mad because he couldn't stand the fear. Maybe his brain would explode. It didn't matter.
He finally could do something. He would stop it. No more running away.
One last time he glanced at the boy, then he stood up and walked to the door. Opening it, he turned around and whispered: "Farewell."
Then he opened the door and stepped out.


Facing your fears

Not by running away

Sometimes you simply have to stand up

And say 'No'

You have to stay

Although your legs are trembling

Although your mind is screaming

Facing it

Looking straight into the face

Of your fear


He froze.
His hand remained on the handle of the door, not moving the slightest bit. An awkward silence filled the corridor. Time seemed to stop, as the two opponents watched each other; one with an icy, the other with a frightened, but determined, glare.
Gloomy light shone over the two ducks, revealing deep lines of worry and alcohol in the face of the older one. Duke stared at his father, regretting his decision. The same panic caught him again, and his legs wanted to run away. But he forced them to stay and to look into the face of his worst enemy.
Minutes passed, and the silence grew heavier and heavier.

"Father...", Duke finally choked out, his hands trembling. He gulped.

His father stared back and said: "Useless little brat.", like he had done so many times before. But this time...this time Duke felt something else inside him. Not only the fear, not only the embarrassment....the words formed on his tongue without thinking, and he spat out: "I am not useless! There's only one useless person in this building, and it's NOT me!"

His fathers eyes grew wide, and Duke realized what he had said. Shocked he stepped back, recalling every single word he had spoken. Had he really...had he really said that? Had he insulted his father? Duke grinned. He HAD done it. And he was still alive.

Then the words came faster and faster. "I hate you!", he spat out, both anger and happiness evident in his voice. "You've made the hell out of my life! You have destroyed everything I had, with your stupid alcohol. It destroyed YOU, and it nearly destroyed ME!!"

The fear disappeared, making place for the long buried anger. "The only thing I wanted was a normal family. But you...you lost your job! You started drinking! You never bought me clothes, or food, or books. You didn't love me....", tears formed in his eyes, as painful memories came back, but that didn't prevent him from continuing. "You have no right to be called FATHER. I have no father, and I will have none. And you can't no longer scare me. I am older now, older and stronger. I am a member of the Mighty Ducks, and I helped to save your world, my world. I have friends who are like a family to me. And you....you belong to the past. I don't want to see you! Go away!"

He breathed heavily, his finger pointing towards his father. The older duck looked at him angry. "I never wanted you! I didn't want to care for you! You've always been in the way. My wife died because of you! She died when you were born! You killed your mother!", his father shouted.

Duke roared back: "You hated me because of THAT? I was a baby...believe me, if I could have changed it, I would have. Because she was certainly a better mother than you a father. But it's the past. And you had absolutely NO RIGHT to hit me. To scare me like that. Hell, I ran away from you - I lived on the streets. Even now I still have nightmares, sometimes. Nightmares of you with the bottle of whiskey in your hand. Hitting me, an innocent six-year-old. My world broke, father! You destroyed everything!!!"

"But now", Duke hissed angrily. "But now it's over. My whole life I have been frightened of you. MY WHOLE LIFE! Do you know how long that is? You have the SLIGHTEST IDEA what a torture it was? No, you don't. You did never think about others, you selfish...piece of dirt! I won't run away any more. Look at me, father! I am taller than you! And stronger! I can easily hit you. You have no power over me. It's over!"

"You....", his father replied. Looking into the eyes of the worn out duck, Duke noticed something he had never seen there before.

Fear.

He had frightened his father? He HAD frightened his father. He...he had managed it. The panic had disappeared. Duke had won the battle against his fear...
He grinned happily and said: "Switched roles, huh? Do you like it? Being the weaker one?"

His father stepped back. "I...never wanted this to happen...", he said with a broken voice, and Duke frowned. The man looked straight into the eyes of his son, and Duke could see tears shimmering in his eyes. "I never wanted it...", he repeated. The small figure started to disappear.

"I'm sorry, Duke..."

"Wait!", Duke shouted and grabbed at him, but it was too late. There was only air between his fingers. He stared down on his hands, a single tear rolling down his cheek.

"It's over...", he mumbled. "I've done it. I have won. So why am I not happy?" He rubbed his eyes. "Maybe because I feel pity for him...", Duke snorted. "I feel pity, but I hate him. Isn't that strange? Well, at least I haven't panicked. I have actually faced my fear!" he beamed. "And I am not crazy. Well, maybe a little bit. Huh. Okay, a big little bit.", he laughed.

It was over.

To be continued...

Special Thanks To(wow, that sounds cool^^):

Dolphy: For beta-reading all my chapters and picking out some of my stupid mistakes(I actually managed it to write 'Nosedibe'!! How stupid can someone be??) And for being the other German MD fan out there on ff.net! You're art rocks, girly-girl!!

PapillonStar: Cookies! Ehm...*takes a sip of coffee* For writing great stories and mailing me! MUSIC ROCKS! Hey, I want to see your story with Mandi! I am waiting*glares*

Icelightning: Thanks for the reviews^^ I love your story! And I DID continue mine, you see? It just takes some time...*coughs*

Ottercub(or Lily C.): You reviewed every story of me! This is so cool! And the reviews actually help...I mean, there's constructive critisicm in it*laughs* Thanks a lot! Continue reviewing*hint hint*

Angelfire: Discussing with you is always great! And your stories are even better*smiles sweetly* THANKS A LOT!!! Hope your broken leg gets better!

Prince Tyler Briefs: I hope I did write the name right...you and your sister, you are cool! Thanks for the reviews*beams* They make me so happy!! *hands out cookies* You can give them to Puppetmon! But not all...I don't want that he (she?) gets sugar high!

Becks Michaels: Last but not least. Your stories rock, girl, and I always enjoy reading your mails. Continue your basketball! Show them that MD fans are tough! Yeah!

AND A BIG HUG TO ALL THE OTHER PEOPLE WHO HAVE REVIEWED^^ I know, I am pathetic, but I just finished writing this chapter, there's the music of our concert in the cd player and I am totally over-enthusiastic!! (It's like that when you hear yourself on a cd!) MWAHAHA!! And I ate too much sugar*dances* WUAHAUAHAUAH! Ugah!