Disclaimer: Darkwing Duck and its characters belong to Disney.

Criminal Intent

"There are many obstacles that face a person in life, these events are meant to build character and endurance, but sometimes there is only so much one individual can endure."

- Unknown

Affluent scientist Rhoda Dendren stared at the sunset, her heart beating mechanically, keeping the blood flowing in her body, with each beat her life fluid circulated, keeping her alive but doing little to dull the longing that was in her chest. Standing on the balcony of her home she watched the fading vestiges of daylight. She felt that while she had made a name for herself in the scientific world since she had left the university she was missing something. Her life seemed to be stuck in the fading light of sundown. Her work had improved by leaps and bounds, but her life had dimmed and was on the verge of burning out entirely.

She heaved a heavy sigh, her shoulders hunching together and her usual perfect posture slipping. Dull eyes looked through her round thick rimmed glasses and surveyed the affluent neighborhood of St. Canard in which she lived. The street and yard of her neighbors were devoid of people.

There was obviously something missing in her life, but she could not seem to find out what that something was. She had tried. Lord knew how hard she had tried. Several years of counseling had proven that she had tried. Post traumatic stress syndrome. That's what her councilor had said she had. That she had undergone a traumatic event, and that she had every right to feel the way that she did. He had said that her first year of counseling, now two years later it seemed even her usually patient doctor was becoming fed up with her lack of progress. She had tried numerous forms of therapy, but to this day she could not spend too much time around plant life without feeling as if she were in danger. She could almost feel their nonexistent eyes boring into her, waiting. They were just biding their time, waiting for the right moment to strike and turn her into one of them.

She shook her head the paranoia creeping into the edges of her consciousness. She had chosen this neighborhood because of its lack of plant life. The well-to-do citizens of the area had no desire to keep hedges trimmed, nor their lawns mowed.

Her area of scientific study had shifted towards curing diseases as opposed to invention. Her parents who had not known of her kidnapping by one of her former colleagues were ecstatic as they believed her previous desire to experiment was wasteful and if she practiced in this field she would stand a better chance of obtaining a wealthy husband, so she could settle down and raise a family. She spent many nights awake wondering if they'd be so thrilled about her career move if they knew why she had chosen it. This way she had decided if someone ever tried anything like had happened in her past she would stand a better chance of undoing it – in case a hero like Darkwing Duck did not arrive to save her this time.

She felt a crick in her neck irritating the muscles, but pushed the feeling away. She did not feel like moving. Everyday was like this, it was an effort to even get out of bed. The simplest of tasks was like trying to walk on the surface of Saturn. Yet, she managed. Every day she managed. There was always a niggling feeling as she pushed through that today would be the last day she could carry on, but it was never the case. The next day came and she wadded through it just as she had the last.

Avoiding people at all costs, never letting them know her in case they decided to hurt her, like he had. She could keep pushing herself as long as no one got too close to her, and if she stayed away from plants. Except in the grocery store she reminded herself. Those fruits and vegetable that lay on the cold hard shelves, or were wrapped in plastic, or imprisoned in cans of metal forced to soak in their own juices. Those she enjoyed being around. Whenever she felt stifled with paranoia she would go walk down the produce isle and pretend she heard the plants crying out for help, the pleas of the dieing. Her councilor would not approve, she knew. Frankly, she did not care.

The fading colors in the sky dimmed as the sun fled from the skyline of St. Canard, allowing the stars to shine in the sky like distant apartment lights. She turned stiffly, as she had stood unmoving for too long.

"Another day," she announced to herself, uncertain if she was happy about this or if she would wake up tomorrow.

-

A sharp ringing woke Rhoda from her slumber, her eyes shooting open and her heartbeat rising. She could feel her pulse throughout her body, her adrenalin flowing. It took her a moment to realize that it was her telephone ringing. With her hand trembling she reached for the telephone, noting the lack of light in her room. It was still night. Taking the receiver to her ear she heard silence on the other end.

"Hello?" she asked, her voice clear of sleep as the sudden noise had startled that from her. There was no response from the other end and she felt tendrils of fear creep up her spine. "H-hello?" she asked again her voice beginning to waver, again there was no answer. She was chilled to the bone. It had been almost a year since she had received a call like this. She had changed her number immediately after that, in fact that had not been the only time she had had to do so. "I-I suppose you have the wr-wrong number, goodnight." She hung up the phone and knew that that call was no wrong number. Raising her legs to her chest the blanket still draped over them she sobbed. Her head fell against her knees and her shoulders shook as she cried.

"When will you leave me alone?" she cried out her words muffled by her position. She wondered if she would ever be able to forget. There was no reason for her to believe that it was him on the phone, it could have honestly been a wrong number, or some drunk trying to call his wife, or even some kids at a slumber party. But she knew that it was him.

The phone rung again. This was his pattern. If she picked up the phone again she knew she would hear nothing but silence. He'd keep calling her until she changed her number, she didn't know how he had managed to get her unlisted number, but he had. She could call the police – but they wouldn't do anything. St. Canard had some of the most erratic criminal activity and they wouldn't have time for an unproven stalker.

The phone continued to ring grating on her raw nerves she felt the urge to grab the phone and hurl it towards the wall of her bedroom, shattering the offending object and ceasing its constant ring once and for all. She nearly acted upon the urge but a stray thought stopped her. What if she had thrown the telephone and the cord beneath her bed leading to the telephone jack was somehow tangled? Then the throw would only result in the telephone making a short trip through the air to land harmlessly on the soft rug of the bedroom. The receiver would lift off of its cradle and she would once again be exposed. She shuddered at the thought. So she slowly moved out of her position, lifted her head and brought her arm to the telephone and switched off the ringer.

That did not help still her fears.

She dare not turn on the light to her room. He might be right outside waiting to see her silhouette behind her curtains. If he found out her phone number, he must know where she lived. That thought did not sit well at all. It was easy enough to change one's number, but to move whenever one needed to change one's phone number was not so easy a feat.

Rhoda sat hunched in the dark for the rest of the night jumping at the common sounds of the night. Sounds that she vaguely remembered didn't bother her once upon a time.

So there you have it. This could be a stand alone or part of a larger story. I've given up on writing my sequel to Klangfarbenmelodie (my Rockman fan fiction) for the time being and am feeling the need to write another fan fiction so I thought I'd try my hand at a Darkwing Duck fan fiction. Let me know what you think. Good? Bad? Continue? Drop?