Author's Note: Yay! An update! Oh, and look! PLOT! :D

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"Launchpad, have you ever made grilled cheese before?"

"Well, sure!" replied the pilot indignantly.

Gosalyn was currently sitting on the hammock that was on the other side of the small shack, facing where Launchpad was making them some lunch in the kitchenette with a dubious look on her face. "You know how to grill it, right?"

"Heh, that's kinda what I meant when I said I've made it before, Gos" said Launchpad with a lopsided smile and a shrug of his shoulder. He looked back at her with a confident smile.

"Then why is it on fire right now?" she asked, her eyes turning to the burning bread and cheese on the stove.

Whirling around, Launchpad's eyesight was suddenly clouded with smoke. "ACK! Oh! Hot hot hot!" He grabbed the pan and set it aside, quickly turning off the stove completely. Launchpad blinked at the half charred food. "Uh...Lunch is served...?"

With a deadpan expression, Gosalyn replied sarcastically, "Yummy."

Both of them jumped at the sound of the front door slamming open, practically making the whole place shake. Owlishly, both Gosalyn and Launchpad watched as Darkwing walked through the door, slamming it behind him.

Seeing his broken, defeated, melancholy expression, the pilot and pre-teen shared a worried look.

As though not registering that they were even present, Darkwing slowly walked over to where Gosalyn was sitting on the hammock who jumped off it just in time before Darkwing fell face first into it. The hammock swung dangerously back and forth from both his weight and the impact of his fall.

"So, I take it working with Gizmoduck didn't work out so well, huh, dad?" guessed Gosalyn, having watched many of her father's self pity snits.

Darkwing's groan was muffled from the fabric of the blankets on the hammock.

"Uh...Can I interest you in some half burnt grilled cheese, DW? It's what we're havin' for lunch!" Launchpad offered in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Darkwing titled his head to the side so that one eye could be seen eyeing the offered food with disgust. Grunting at the sight, he turned his face back to the blankets. His voice was muffled but they could hear him as he replied, "Ugh, thanks, but I think I'll pass. I need to cut down on my intake of charcoal."

Gosalyn walked over and picked up her father's hat, setting it to the side. "So? What's got you so mopey?" She crossed her arms and tapped her foot; demanding answers. "Did you and Gizmoduck catch the Beagle Boys or what!?"

Darkwing made a noise in the back of his throat that was somewhere between a whine and grunt. He really didn't want to think about how that had ended. His fingers twitched as he remembered the absolute fury he had felt towards Big Time and the way his hands had been choking the beagle. Pushing those thoughts out of his mind, Darkwing turned his head to look at his daughter.

"Yeah, we caught them..." he said without an ounce of pride or enthusiasm.

"Uh, oh..." remarked Launchpad with worry. He set the plate of the grilled cheese aside. "That doesn't sound good."

With a huff, Gosalyn asked, "What did you do now?"

Darkwing's eyes widened in indignation and he pushed himself up instantly into a sitting position. "Just what do you mean by THAT, little lady!? Why are you assuming it was ME who did something wrong!?"

Nonplussed by her father's outburst, Gosalyn raised her eyebrows and replied, "Because otherwise you would have waltzed in here like you owned the place, bragging left and right about your amazing deeds!"

Pouting, Darkwing sniped back, "I wouldn't have 'waltzed' in and I wouldn't have 'bragged'!"

It was both Gosalyn and Launchpad who snorted in disbelief.

Eyes widening at their antics, Darkwing exclaimed, "I wouldn't have! It was that nefarious Beagle Boy and his cocky attitude that did it! He pushed my buttons and I-" Darkwing clamped his large beak shut; shocked that he had almost admitted the very thing he was trying to lie to himself about.

Gosalyn blinked. "And you what, dad?"

Darkwing suddenly seemed very fascinated with the ceiling. "I...maaaay have...lost my temper..." He paused before quickly continuing, hoping to glaze over the subject. "But it's fine! Gizmoduck was actually able to make himself useful for once and was able to cart them off to the police station!"

Gosalyn was eyeing Darkwing suspiciously, much to the vigilante's chagrin, but thankfully it was Launchpad who changed the subject before she could dig for more.

"Well, gee, DW, with everything that's been going on lately, and what with all you had done back in St. Canard, its no wonder! You've had it rough this past week or so!" He placed a hand on Darkwing's shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. This earned the pilot a tiny lopsided smile.

Gosalyn opened her mouth to say something more but there was a knock on the door.

"Gee, wonder who that could be" pondered Launchpad out loud as he headed for the door. "I'll find out."

Gosalyn meanwhile, continued to scowl at her dad. "You're not telling us the whole story!" she accused him.

"Am so!" he argued.

Launchpad opened the door to reveal Fenton on the other side. "Fenton!"

Fenton beamed up at the tall pilot happily. "Hi, Launchpad! Is Darkwing-I mean-Is Drake here?"

Launchpad nodded. "Yep. You tracked him down!" He stepped back to allow Fenton inside.

Darkwing rolled his eyes at the sight of the accountant. "What are YOU doing here?" he asked, with a little less bite than he would normally use when speaking to someone he knew to be Gizmoduck.

Fenton blinked, looking at him as though the answer was completely obvious. "I'm here to get you, Drake-err-Darkwing-hmm..Drake? Not sure which name to use in this case...Since I'm talking to you while you're Darkwing but referring to you as my coworker, Drake."

Darkwing pinched the bridge of his nose. "What do you need me for, Fenton?" He didn't have the patience to deal with the semantics of the situation.

"Wait" came Gosalyn's voice. "You're Fenton?"

Seeing a new face that he's never been properly introduced to before, Fenton beamed happily. "Sure am, little miss!"

"So, this means you're the guy who's Gizmoduck underneath the suit?!"

Fenton's eyes widened and his mouth opened. He wasn't used to people flat out stating it like that; seeing as how Scrooge's own nephews had once thought Launchpad was Gizmoduck. I-um...Well-ya see-"

Darkwing groaned loudly. "Can we PLEEEEASE stop focusing on the fact that he's Gizmoduck and focus on what really matters!? And that is-Why did you want to see me, Fenton!?"

"Well, gee, Darkwing, isn't it obvious?" asked Fenton with a casual shrug. "You still have to finish your shift at the office! Scrooge will be upset if he finds out you're not coming back to work today! And of course that'll mean it's-"

"Coming out of my paycheck" groused Darkwing, cutting Fenton off and finishing the other duck's sentence.

"Precisely" nodded Fenton.

"Fiiiiine! I'll go change!" declared Darkwing as he stood up and started taking off his cape and jacket. As he did this, he asked, "You took care of the Beagle Boys, I take it?"

"Sure did!" confirmed the accountant.

Darkwing made a noncommittal sound before walking further into the small shack to change. Launchpad and Gosalyn stuck around with Fenton.

"Keen gear!" giggled Gosalyn. "So, do you like, keep the gizmo suit with you at all times or something!? Does it compact down into small space like your pocket or something!? I mean, obviously you have to carry it around with you somehow while being discreet!" Gosalyn walked up to Fenton and shook his hand. "I've always been curious but its cool to know I'm in on your secret! But don't worry! It's safe with me!"

Fenton smiled. "I should hope so, Gizmo Buddy!" His voice changed slightly into his alter ego's voice for a moment.

Darkwing, now dressed as Drake Mallard, walked back out, now dressed in his salmon colored shirt and vest. He was fixing his tie as he said, "Alright, alright, let's get this over with." He muttered darkly. Once they were outside the park and to the street, he added: "Let's go allow an old man to chew us out..."

Indignantly, Fenton piped up as they shut the door behind them, "Hey! That's my paramour you're insulting, I'll have ya know!"

As Duckworth opened the door for them and Drake slid inside he retorted back, "Stop giving me reasons to judge you."

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"Sooo...Is it safe to say I'm not actually getting paid at all for this week?" was Drake's depressed and sassy question once they found themselves in front of Scrooge McDuck's desk and after the old miser had properly chastised them for not having come back to work afterwards.

Scrooge leveled him a hard look. "Yeh may find this funny, laddie, but I do not. Time is money. MY money! I shan't be payin' anyone who's not getting work done!"

Fenton raised a hand. "Technically, my dearest, we WERE working, just not here at the Money Bin!"

Scrooge's eyes narrowed further and Fenton shrunk in on himself slightly under the glower.

Drake rubbed at his forehead. "Listen, gramps, I'll get back to work now, alright? I'll file your papers, I'll use your printer and make copies of all your transactions. Forgive me for not bending over backwards to fulfill all your wishes. I'm Drake Mallard, also known as the amazing and dangerous Darkwing Duck and I don't take kindly to people telling me what to do on a constant basis, alright?"

Scrooge looked about ready to murder, though he asked impishly, "Yeh said this was yer first real job, aye?"

Crossing his arms stubbornly, Drake replied curtly, "Yes."

"Well, I hate t'burst yer bubble, laddie, but yer in for a harsh reality check. I suggest yeh get used t'bein' told what t'do" he goaded.

Fenton fidgeted beside Drake, his eyes going back and forth as he watched the two of them. "Well, anyhoo! We managed to take care of the Beagles, just like ya wanted us too!" He said cheerily.

Drake looked away with a scowl at his comment; a look that Scrooge did not miss. "Somethin' botherin' yeh, Mr. Mallard?"

"It's nothing you need to worry about, pal" he snapped.

"That just gives me all t 'more reason t'think it is" argued Scrooge. "Out with it."

Drake's scowl only deepened as he started tapping his foot.

"Glare at me wall all yeh want; I won't be satisfied without an answer." After another moment of long silence, Scrooge turned to Fenton. "Per'aps Fenton might know what's going on. Fenton, mind sharin' with me what yeh think could be botherin' Mr. Mallard?"

Drake immediately glared at Fenton.

Feeling as though he was between a rock and a hard place, Fenton nervously answered as he cautiously took a step back from Drake. "Indigestion?"

There was a beat of silence.

Chuckling nervously, Fenton pulled at his collar. "Uh...Boy, is it hot in here?"

"Fenton" warned Scrooge.

"Erk! Umm-Well, I mean-I'd been busy tailing Burger and Bouncer most of the time while Drake-err-Darkwing tailed Big Time, but...I heard bits and pieces of their conversation-" began Fenton. "The place is falling apart after all-"

"Pfft! Please! It was nothing!" shrugged Drake. He was completely ignored.

"Big Time had been goading him. The whole time, by the sound of it, he'd been trying to get a rise out of Darkwing" explained the accountant.

Scrooge leaned back in his chair at this new information, seemingly unimpressed. "So? Big Time is known t'have a big mouth."

"Exactly! He's just some bigoted criminal, probably so in shock at the sight of seeing the infamous Darkwing Duck in the flesh-He didn't know how to handle it, so he frantically shouted insults at me!"

Quietly, Fenton added, "He certainly knew a lot about you, Drake. For someone he'd just met, I mean. Recent stuff too. That's what bothered me, Scroogey. Eh, I mean, Scrooge!"

"What d'ya mean?" asked Scrooge.

Drake interrupted, once again trying to take control of the conversation. "Now, now, let's not read into this-I'm sure he's read about me in the papers!"

"But recent news? From clear over here in Duckburg? Inside a prison where they're lucky they get one newspaper a week in there? Hardly. You have quite t'ego there, laddie" remarked Scrooge.

Drake sighed. "Okay, FINE! So, maybe he DID know a little too much about me! But so what!? What has THAT got to do with anything!?"

"It could very well mean, tha' this was all planned" answered Scrooge seriously. "Tell me, did Big Time mention the name Magica by chance?"

Drake shook his head. "No, but he mentioned Negaduck. Or rather hinted at him."

Scrooge's frown deepened. "And was it not Negaduck who attacked that plant scientist in St. Canard?"

"You mean Bushroot?" asked Drake incredulously. "Yeah."

"What are ya thinkin', Scrooge?" asked Fenton.

"I'm not sure yet, but I'm highly suspicious of all this..." muttered Scrooge more to himself. He looked at the clock. "Pluck me tail feathers, it's that late in day already! Ugh, I've got work t'do! And so do you two! Get back to yer desks! Now!"

Due to McDuck's tone, both ducks knew it was no time to argue; quickly turning and doing as they were told. Scrooge watched them leave, a bad feeling deep in his stomach. Over his long life; he'd developed a deep sense of people and the events going on around him. He knew when something wasn't right and at that moment, he was feeling weary. Something was about to happen and he didn't like it, but he couldn't do anything about it until he knew more information.

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It was the next morning that Scrooge finally got the piece of information that finally hit the nail of suspicion further into his gut.

"Good morning, Mr. McDuck!" greeted Mrs. Quackfaster as Scrooge walked past her desk to open his office door.

Scrooge mumbled deeply in his throat; nothing close to worthy of an actual response, his focus on unlocking his door.

Fenton had opted to stay away from the McDuck Mansion the night prior; having decided it would be best if he steered clear and allowed Donald to have some proper time with his nephews and uncle while he was home. Scrooge shook his head as he remembered how tense the relationship between Fenton and Donald was.

Shutting the door behind him, Scrooge did his morning routine, which was checking on his money; smiling down lovingly at his three cubic acres of cash before diving in for a dip. Once he was done, he cackled delightedly and sat down at his desk.

McDuck paused when he saw a small note on his desk; flourishing black ink on the paper, saying words that squeezed painfully at Scrooge's heart.

'You haven't been keeping your loved ones close, Scroogey!'

-Magica

Who could she mean? If anything, Scrooge was currently surrounded by loved ones more than ever now since Donald was in town. He had spent time with Donald, Huey, Dewey, Louie, Webby, and even Daisy last night. Certainly she didn't mean his sisters?! Or Grandma Duck. He wasn't even sure Magica knew about them. That only left-

Dread filled the billionaire as he stood up from his chair on shaky legs, nearly tipping over the chair. Distantly, he thought to press the intercom button before demanding, "Mrs. Quackfaster! Call Duckworth! Get him back 'ere! I need t'get t'Sunnydale Trailer Park!"

He rushed out his office door to find Mrs. Quackfaster frantically dialing Duckworth's number. His dark steely eyes then landed on Drake, who was just walking up to his desk. The mallard in question looked exhausted and clearly had yet to fully wake up.

"Mr. Mallard!" yelled Scrooge frantically.

Drake jumped and nearly fell backwards; a hand pressed to his heart. "What!? I haven't even sat down at my desk yet!"

Scrooge flew by him, shouting back at him, "Never mind that now, Mr. Mallard! Yer comin' with me this instant!"

Drake's eyes rolled up to the ceiling as he sighed loudly and started following after the world's richest duck. "I'm not paid enough for this..." he muttered.

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With a cup filled with coffee glued to one hand and the television remote glued to the other; her hair up in her usual curlers, Iva Crackshell was ready for her morning soap operas. Yes, it was early in the morning, and true, she had stayed up late the night before, but if it meant she got to see her favorite dramas, sleep was to be ignored.

However, this morning, her usual routine was interrupted by the very annoying alarm clock that was blaring from her son's bedroom.

Tearing her eyes from the TV, she glared at the direction Fenton's room was. With a light growl, she set her coffee down and stomped her pink slippers down the tiny hallway and pounded on Fenton's door.

"FENTON! TURN THAT RIDICULOUS ALARM CLOCK OF YOURS OFF!" she yelled angrily.

"Whiffle HO!" she could hear the little Whiffle Boy themed clock cry out.

That only irritated her further. She grabbed for the doorknob. "Fenton! Wake up!" She turned the knob and started opening up the door as she asked, "Are you even in here!?"

It was hard to say at first if he was there, for anyone who wasn't Fenton's mother, but Iva was used to the messy chaos that was his room; along with the tousled and twisted collected of sheets and blankets on the bed.

Iva frowned, though not out of annoyance, but of concern. Fenton was known to be an early riser; generally waking up with the sun. On days that he didn't, his faithful Whiffle Boy alarm clock woke him up for him. It was very strange and unusual for neither of those things to wake Fenton up.

Iva stepped up beside the bed where she knew Fenton's head likely was and pulled back some of the blankets. There, nestled in a little cocoon and dressed in his onesie pajamas, slept Fenton in a deep sleep. With a click, Iva turned off the alarm clock.

Her soap operas, for once, not being the center of her attention and her motherly instincts kicking in, Iva put a hand up to Fenton's forehead. "Fenton, sweetheart, wake up. You should be at work by now."

Fenton quietly groaned and curled in further on himself. "Five more minutes..." he mumbled.

"Fenton, come on, I'm not gonna baby you all day! I'm missing my soap operas for this!" Iva snapped.

Fenton squirmed under the blankets and sheets, his legs tangled in them, as he slowly began to wake up. "Time s'it?"

"Time for you to get up, that's what time" replied Iva with her hands on her hips. She watched as Fenton sleepily rose to a sitting position. "Fenton, are you feeling alright? This is very unlike you."

Fenton pushed the covers off with one hand while using the other to rub at his eyes as he yawned. "I feel fine, Ma'ma, just sleepy."

"Well, get your tail feathers outta bed! You're a grown duck! I shouldn't have to drag you outta bed! I'm surprised McDuck hasn't called yet, demanding to know where you're at!" groused Iva as she headed out of the room.

At the mention of his paramour, Fenton's eyes shot open; suddenly more awake than before. He looked down at his clock and squeaked in shock at the time. Normally he was already at the Money Bin, getting ready for the day's work.

Fenton practically fell out of bed in his haste to quickly get ready. "Why didn't my alarm clock go off!?" he shouted so that his mother could hear him.

"It DID go off, you didn't hear it!?" came Iva's incredulous reply.

"No!" Fenton gave a girlish cry as he tripped while trying to find his tie. The thud he made when he hit the floor shook the trailer.

"I know you're runnin' late, Fenton, but please try to keep the trailer in one piece, would you!?" came Iva's annoyed tone from out in the living room.

"Ow! Ooof, I didn't know I could hurt that part of my body!" groaned Fenton as he got up from the floor. "OH hey! My tie!"

Minutes later, Fenton walked out into the living room fully dressed and noted that Iva was back to happily watching her operas.

Without taking her eyes off the television, Iva picked up and shoved several magazines into Fenton's face. "Ack! What gives, Ma'ma?! I'm running late, as you so pointedly reminded me!"

"You left them here last night. You realize McDuck is the richest duck in the world, right? It's going to be pretty darn hard to impress him."

Actually taking the time to look at the magazines and seeing what they were, Fenton's face suddenly turned red. They were less magazines and more brochures for ring designs. Fenton had gotten them in hopes to be struck with inspiration on how he was going to propose to the love of his life; if he ever found the courage to.

"That won't matter to Scroogey! He'll see that I got him-whatever it is I'm going to get him-out of love and devotion!" declared Fenton as he set the brochures aside and looked around for his briefcase.

"Uh, huh." drawled Iva. "This is assuming he'll even say yes. Cause we all know how well he took to even dating you. Not to mention that Southern bell he has history with. Who's to say he doesn't run back to her?"

Faltering slightly at the reminder of Glittering Goldie, Fenton replied as cheerfully as he could manage, "Naww! Scroogey wouldn't do that! Why, it was Goldie who encouraged me to date him to begin with!"

"So you say" drawled Iva.

"Well, it doesn't matter what you think, Ma'ma! You weren't there!" huffed Fenton. Seeing that Iva was once again fully engrossed in her shows, Fenton leaned down over the back of the couch with a smile and gave her a kiss on the temple before leaving. "Love ya, Ma'ma! See you later!"

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Duckworth pulled into the trailer park and let Scrooge and Darkwing off.

"Go on back to the mansion, Duckworth! If we need t'go anywhere else, we'll walk!" instructed Scrooge once he was out of the car. Duckworth nodded with a slight bow before getting back in and driving away.

"Walk?" echoed Darkwing incredulously.

Scrooge whirled around to glare at him. "Oh, please! You're a supposed crime fighter! Walking should not deter you in the slightest!" He then added under his breath, "Youngin's today..."

Without another word, Scrooge marched up to the trailer he knew Fenton and his ma'ma to live in. He knocked on the door.

"Go away!" came the surly voice of Iva.

Darkwing blinked as he took in his surroundings. "You sure this is the right place?"

Scrooge ignored him as he tried turning the door knob; not at all surprised to find it unlocked. He pushed his way through the threshold, much to Iva's chagrin.

"SHHHH! I'm waiting to see if Anthony is really going to marry his secret lover!" she hissed.

Darkwing stepped in tepidly after Scrooge, taking in the sight of Iva in her bathrobe and hair curlers. Before he could get a word in, Scrooge began talking.

"Mrs. Crackshell! Is Fenton here!?" he demanded.

Darkwing did a double take. "Mrs. Crackshell!?" He made a small choking noise in his throat. "This- This is Fenton's mother!?"

"Who wants to know!?" Iva shot a glare up at the vigilante. "McDuck, why are you bringin' strange purple caped clowns into my trailer!?"

"CLOWN!?" shouted Darkwing incredulously.

Scrooge clamped a hand on Darkwing's large beak; making the hero squawk and try to squirm away.

"Where is Fenton?" repeated the old miser.

Iva scowled heavily and turned to look at the older duck. "He just left for work."

"So he was here!? When!?" insisted Scrooge.

Darkwing slapped Scrooge's hand away and managed to free his bill from the other's clutches. He picked up his fedora hat; which had fallen off, and angrily put it back on.

"Just now! He just went to work!" growled Iva.

"Was he okay!?"

"YES!"

Taking a second to control his own growing impatience and anger with the woman in front of him; since she clearly didn't understand the seriousness of the situation, Scrooge said evenly, "Mrs. Crackshell, I am sorry t'bother yeh with all these questions, but I need to know if Fenton is alright. I have reason t'believe he might be in danger."

"Look, McDuck, I've told you, Fenton left not five minutes ago! You just missed him!" snarled Iva angrily, her eyes still glued to the television. "And if you must know, he was perfectly fine when he left! He just over slept, that's all! Goodness! You'd have thought he was dying or something with the way you're carrying on!"

Iva's words did not make Scrooge feel any better, seeing as how there was a chance that if his gut instincts were right, Fenton could very well be in danger.

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Fenton had just turned the corner of main street when he felt someone pull hard on his collar.

"ACK!" he cried out in panic and shock as he was pulled into an alley! With his eyes clamped shut, he felt himself get released and instantly put his hands into fists and readied himself for a fight. "Alright! What's the big idea!? I'll have ya know I won tenth place in a junior wrestling match once! I know how to throw a punch or two!"

"Fenton!" came McDuck's relieved voice. He pulled the tense accountant into a warm embrace.

"Scroogey?" said Fenton in confusion. He looked past Scrooge and saw Darkwing standing there, his Gizmo suitcase in his hands. "Darkwing? Gee, did I miss the memo about Take Your Favorite Superhero to Work Day? If so, I gotta tell ya Scroogey, I'm a bit hurt...I thought for sure you of all people would be more of Gizmoduck fan than a Darkwing fan."

Darkwing face-palmed with a groan.

Scrooge shook his head. "Nae, Fenton. Yeh weren't at work and I received a note from Magica. She said something that made me worry yeh was in danger."

Cocking his head to one side in thought, Fenton said, "Huh. I did sleep in, which is why I'm late and...well, as you can see, I'm fine."

"Nyeh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh!" The shrill laughter of Magica de Spell filled the alley way. "I wouldn't be too sure of that!"

Darkwing, Fenton, and Scrooge all looked around them, hoping to find the source of the laughter. A poof of red smoke and Magica appeared behind Fenton, who was immediately grabbed by Scrooge. Fenton stumbled into the older billionaire as Scrooge hollered, "Stay away from us, Magica! I'm warnin' yeh!"

Magica giggled and hid her smile behind her hand, acting flattered. "Who me? Surely you aren't threatening ol' Magica, now?"

"Get us out of here, Darkwing!" shouted Scrooge, his glare never leaving Magica. The enchantress from watched them with large amused eyes.

"HOW!?" exclaimed a surprised Darkwing. He paused and then said, "Oh! Here!" He pulled out his hook shot and aimed it at the top of the large brick building they were next to. "Nothing like a handy hook shot which is capable of holding up to 1,000 pounds!"

Scrooge and Fenton huddled around Darkwing and all three of them grabbed hold of the gun's handle. Darkwing pulled the trigger and the three of them went flying upwards.

Just as their webbed feet left the concrete, Magica reached out and grabbed Fenton's ankle; pulling down hard. "AHHH! I'm falling! SCROOGEY!" The accountant wasn't able to keep his grip on the hook shot, causing him to fall back down to the concrete hard. Scrooge had reached for him as he fell but had only managed to grab the suitcase instead.

"FENTON!" screamed Scrooge as he and Darkwing propelled upwards to the roof. Scrooge's gazes stayed downward, past his spats covered feet to where Fenton was now left defenseless against Magica.

On the street, Fenton grumbled as he slowly began to stand up. He rubbed his tail feathers. "Ouch. That was far from a soft landing..." His eyes then landed on Magica and he yelped, taking a step backwards. ""W-What do you want!? Ya need me to count somethin' for ya?! That's typically why people want me around! I'm really good with numbers! And counting! All I have to do is look at a jar of beans and I instantly know how much is inside it!" he rambled in fear.

"Shut up" groused Magica. She quickly snatched Fenton's left hand, much to the accountant's panic. She whipped out a small knife from the inside of her sleeve and cut it deeply along the pal of his hand.

"HEY! What gives!? That hurts!" whined the accountant.

With a poof of magic, a medium sized jar appeared. She took a moment to watch the blood pool in his hand before flipping it over and having the blood spill into the jar. Fenton groaned as she put pressure of his hand in order to speed up the bleeding.

"Boy, had you wanted me to donate blood this badly, you could have just guided me to the nearest blood drive! Pretty sure this isn't a sanitary way to do it, after all!"

"Quiet, fool! You think that is why I want your blood!? Ha! No! I want your blood because it is time to put it in my potion! Wheels in plan are finally moving into action!" she cackled. Her voice then lowered and, making the jar float in the air, she used her now free hand to reach over and place it on his chest. Fenton tired to move away, but her grip on his hand was too strong. "And...thanks to your beating heart, Magica is able to make this all happen! Nyeh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh!"

Fenton blinked in confusion. "My heart? What do you mean? What does my heart have to do with your potion!?"

"EVERYTHING! Nyeh heh heh heh! "

They both jerked in alarm when Scrooge's distant and anxious voice could be heard from way above them on the roof. "FENTON! I'LL BE RIGHT THERE! I'M GONNAE GET DOWN T'HELP YEH, LAD! DON'T LET ANYTHING SHE SAYS GET T'YEH!"

Up on the roof top, Scrooge sighed heavily after his shouting, currently knelt down at the edge of the roof top in order to see Fenton better. "Yech, this is awful! I donnae know what she wants with Fenton, but I don't like it! She's up t'somethin'!" He turned to Darkwing. "Darkwing! We have t'get back down there!"

Darkwing groaned. "You want to go back DOWN!?" he whined. "But I just worked so hard to get us UP here!" He groaned. "I suppose we have to though" he sighed in defeat. "You know it's easier to get up a building than it is to get down, right?"

Scrooge didn't answer, just looked away in annoyance. Until his eyes landed on the Gizmoduck suit case several feet away. His eyes flickered from Darkwing to the case.

Catching on to what the old miser was thinking, Darkwing immediately shook his head. "No way! Forget it, gramps! I'm NOT putting that damn suit on! I'm DARKWING DUCK! I don't need a suit to get things done!"

"Call me 'gramps' one more time and I'll see t'it yeh never get another job in yer life! Now, do this for me and MAYBE yeh'll still have a job in the morning!" snapped Scrooge furiously as he stood up and walked up into the vigilante's face.

Darkwing backed up, putting his hands up in surrender. "Fine, fine!" Watching the older duck back off, he commented as he walked over to the suit. "Boy, you really don't want Magica near Fenton. Why!?"

Scrooge seemed to be getting more and more irritated by the minute. "What part of ' she's an evil enchantress who can't be trusted', don't yeh understand!? Now MOVE-Oh, GIVE IT HERE!" He snatched the suit case from Darkwing's hands. "If yeh want something done right, do it yerself!"

Darkwing watched as Scrooge stepped away, placing the case down on the roof and backed up a few feet before calling out, "Blathering Blatherskite!"

Down below on the street, Fenton groaned as more and more of his blood spilled into the jar. Magica leaned in close and said smugly, "Just a little bit more dah'ling!"

"Scrooge won't let you get away with this!" Fenton snapped.

"Oh, you think so?" asked Magica tauntingly. She leaned in close to Fenton, who looked away. "Well, little lover boy, I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but your precious Scroogey is the reason you're IN this mess!"

Fenton's eyes widened. "That's a lie!"

"Is it!?" she jeered. "Then tell me, what happened in Sitka, France several months ago?"

Fenton stopped squirming, ignoring the numb feeling that was starting to make its way up his arm. "I-What does that have to do with anything!? And how do you know about that anyways!?"

"Just answer question!"

"We went to look for treasure, so what!?"

"Be more specific! Did you find the treasure then?"

Fenton opened his mouth to answer, only to realize he didn't know how. He stared at Magica.

"I'll take your silence as an answer. You can't remember can you?"

Fenton closed his eyes and forced his brain to remember the trip to France. They had found the Golden Heart, right? Surely they had. Scrooge would have gone into a depression of sorts had he not and Fenton would DEFINITELY have remembered that. They flew over seas with Launchpad and Glomgold. They got to the inn they had stayed, met the locals. They had found the old secret gardens beside the chateau. Then...

Blank. Fenton's memory went blank after that. After they went into the gardens, what had happened?

He remembered waking up back in the garden near where they had stayed. Scrooge had told him he had been knocked on the head and passed out. Then he remembered they went back home. Scrooge had reassured him that everything was okay and had left it at that. It was only now that Fenton was realizing any of this.

Why hadn't he realized he had lost so much time? Had they been there hours? Days? Longer?

Magica smiled, seeing the confusion written on the younger duck's face. "Do you find it strange that you can't remember anything from that trip? Surely Scroogey would have made sure you knew all about it, right?"

Angrily, Fenton used all his energy to rip his hand out of Magica's grip. The enchantress seemed unaffected by his sudden anger and looked carefully at how much blood she had collected, seemingly satisfied. "Look, I may not know what's going on here, but you just stay away from Scrooge and me, you hear!?"

"Big words for a little accountant!" giggled Magica. She leaned back down and said quietly. "Though don't be mad at me, dah'ling. I'm not the one keeping secrets from you. Your dear sweet Scroogey is! Nyeh heh heh! Don't believe me, ask him about Sitka, France yourself! I'll bet if you ask he'll brush off the subject and try to change it! Nyeh heh heh heh heh!"

There was suddenly a great large cloud of purple smoke and Magica whirled around to see Scrooge, inside the Gizmoduck suit, land safely on the ground thanks to the suit's propeller while holding onto Darkwing.

"I am the terror that FLAPS in the night!" Darkwing said through the smoke. "I am the-" Darkwing stopped in mid speech, the sound of him getting hit in the gut ringing in the air. Darkwing gasped loudly as the smoke began to disappear. "Gahh! I am the-hero who just got slugged in the gut-by an angry billionaire...Owww..."

Scrooge wheeled himself closer to Magica inside the Gizmo-suit as Darkwing stayed back and hugged his hurting torso. "I'm not in t' mood for theatrics, Darkwing!" To Magica he said, "Don't mess with him, Magica! I'm warnin' yeh!" warned Scrooge.

"Nyeh heh heh heh heh heh! Too late, Scroogey! He's already been messed with! And I do think your little lover boy will be demanding some answers now! Whoops! Suppose that is my bad! Nyeh heh heh heh heh!" With a puff of red smoke of her own, Magica was gone.

Whispering the words that would take the suit off, Scrooge clambered down and out of the suit, which fit itself back into the suit case automatically. Forgetting about the suit and Darkwing, Scrooge ran straight to Fenton.

"Fenton! Me treasure!" he gasped, kneeling before Fenton on the concrete. He enveloped him into a large hug.

"Hi, Scroogey" replied Fenton quietly and tiredly. He returned the hug, his face expression somewhere between blank and sad. He placed his chin on Scrooge's shoulder as they sat there for a long moment.

It was Scrooge who pulled away first, checking over Fenton for any injuries. "What did she do to yeh?! Are the tremors still botherin' yeh- Are yeh- Mother McDuck! Yer hand!" Scrooge had seen the bloodied hand and was now inspecting it closely. "We need t'get ya back home and have this looked at!"

Fenton winced. "Ouch...Heh, yeah, it stings a bit." he admitted. He looked back at Darkwing from behind Scrooge. "Hi Darkwing!"

Darkwing, still nursing his hurt ego from his failed entrance, nodded in the accountant's direction.

Fenton looked back down and saw that he was getting blood on Scrooge's jacket. "Cheese and crackers! Sorry, Scroogey! I'm getting blood all over your jacket!" exclaimed the accountant with no small amount of dismay.

"It'll wash out" the rich duck quickly dismissed. "Are you okay?"

Fenton nodded. "It doesn't hurt much, honest" he said on a positive note. "Just lots of blood."

"Magica did this to yeh, didn't she? But why though? What was to be gained?" He didn't give Fenton much of a chance to respond as he twirled around, looking for something. Darkwing was standing several feet away and his eyes widened; eyeing the hero's cape. Reaching over to the masked vigilante Scrooge grabbed the purple and pink cloth, much to Darkwing's dismay. Before Darkwing could react, however, Scrooge tore a long piece off the bottom of his cape off.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey!" protested Darkwing hotly. He gathered the remains of his cape closely to his chest. "You can't just rip my cape!" he whined.

Scrooge made a sound of disgust. "Oh, go bark up another tree, laddie. I don't want t'hear it!" He focused on wrapping the material tightly around Fenton's still heavily bleeding hand.

Outraged, Darkwing threw his arms up in the arm in indignation. "You see this!? You see!? I've been made fun of and called vain over this before, but this right here is why I keep so many Darkwing suits with me! So that when the world's richest duck decides to make my cape into rags on a whim, I have spares!" However, the vigilante's complaints fell on deaf ears. This only made Darkwing more upset. "No respect! NEVER any respect!"

Fenton answered Scrooge's earlier question. "Uh...well, I didn't cut my hand open myself if that's what you're asking. She wanted my blood, I guess. Though I still think the way she did it was definitely not sanitary."

Scrooge made a soft sound in his throat and shook his head with a small smirk on his beak. "Did she say anythin'?"

Fenton made an uncertain sound as Scrooge wound the ripped material around the palm of his hand tightly and tying it securely. "Sure, she said quite a bit. Though it was far from what I would call a pleasant conversation." Scrooge looked up and finally managed to make eye contact with Fenton, who seemed to be doing everything in his power not to meet his gaze.

Caving, Fenton said, "She said something about my heart being important and also something about a potion."

Scrooge had stiffened at the word 'heart' and pulled back to look as Fenton intently. ""Heart' yeh say?"

Fenton nodded and then mumbled, "She also said you'd know something about it..."

It was Scrooge's turn to look away.

"Uh, unless we want to be caught in what looks like a rain storm, I suggest we move this elsewhere." Darkwing's comment brought the other two ducks back to reality, snapping them out of the thoughts. He was looking up at the sky warily. In his hands he was tightly holding onto his torn cape. "I, for one, do not wish to be caught in a down pour. I would like to salvage what I can of my outfit, thank you very much."

Looking relieved at the distraction, Scrooge and Fenton both stood quickly. "Aye, that would probably be best. Come on, let's get a move on."

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"Here are the bandages ya wanted, Uncle Scrooge" announced Donald as he walked into the foyer. In his hands were several wrappings and bandages that would hold around Fenton's hand. "Mrs. Beakley said you wanted them. She's still trying to find the antibiotics."

Scrooge, Fenton, and Darkwing had immediately taken off to McDuck Manor; Darkwing having switched back to being Drake Mallard.

Fenton was sitting in one of the large red cushioned chairs while Scrooge stood next to it, cradling Fenton's bad hand. Drake was standing next to the large bookcase, watching uncertainly. He was out of his element at this point. He would have liked to have been able to go home, possibly back to bed, but Scrooge was insisted Drake come back to the mansion with them. And judging by the old miser's tone, he was not in a mood to be argued with.

Scrooge turned at the sound of the sailor's voice, a small smile of appreciation on his beak. "Ahh, thank yeh, Donald." To Fenton, he asked softly, "How yeh holdin' up, treasure. Yeh look tired."

Fenton nodded. "I AM tired, actually. And I don't know why." He slouched further into the large chair, still holding his hand out for Scrooge.

It was then that Donald noticed Drake standing off to the side. "Hey, who are you!?" he demanded.

Drake jolted, shocked that he was suddenly the center of attention. "You talkin' to me? Oh, gee, I thought everyone was ignoring me. Um, well, I'm Drake Mallard. Nice to meet you!"

Donald shook hands with Drake, a bewildered look on his face. "You a friend of Fenton's then?"

Drake shrugged. "The term 'friends' seems a bit strong..."

Scrooge, who was busy bandaging Fenton's hand, said impatiently without looking away form his work, "Mr. Mallard works for me, laddie."

Donald peered around the chair to see what was going on. "What happened?"

Fenton and Scrooge both ignored Drake's muttered question, "What did he say? I can barely understand him..."

It was Scrooge who answered loudly over Drake's mutter. "That woman from the other night? Remember her?"

"The black haired lady with the creepy laugh? Yeah" frowned Donald.

"She was the one who did this to Fenton" replied Scrooge. With a sigh, he pulled back from finishing Fenton's bandage and looked at his nephew straight in the eye. "I would prefer not to involve yeh, Donald, but I'm afraid feigning ignorance would be a bad move. Magica de Spell is up t'something. She's been after me Number One Dime for years and I fear she's no longer pulling any punches. She's full blown intent on getting what she wants from me and she seems t'be plannin' on takin' it out on all me loved ones."

Donald listened carefully, soaking all of his in. "Can't you just call the police, uncle Scrooge?"

Drake started to laugh at the very notion of the police being of any help, but after a quick glare from Scrooge, the shorter mallard began to cough and clear his throat in order to hide it.

Addressing Donald, Scrooge said evenly, "We are past the point of callin' the police, I'm afraid. She's much too strong of a foe for them to handle. Which is why we'll have t'take care of her ourselves."

Donald looked uncertain.

"If you want MY opinion-" began Drake brazenly.

"I don't" quipped Scrooge before he could continue. Drake clamped his beak shut with a scowl. Scrooge then pressed on by saying, "We need t'get to the bottom of all this. Figure out what she's after. Playin' defense isn't going to help us beat her." He pointed at Drake. "I want t'meet this Dr. Reginald Bushroot."

With a deadpan expression, Drake said, "You really don't. I've known the guy for years; trust me. No, you don't."

The rich duck growled lightly under his breath. "Quit testing my patience, Mr. Mallard! I want t'meet him! I think there may be a connection between wha' happened t'him and Magica's plans!" He looked down at Fenton, who looked half asleep. "You've met Dr. Bushroot haven't you?"

Fenton pursed his lips as he thought about all his encounters with the villains from St. Canard. "Briefly. I mean, he's a member of the Fearsome Five and I've gone up against them before."

"Huh?" asked a very confused Donald.

Drake, Fenton, and Scrooge suddenly seemed to remember Donald was even in the room and they were borderline from blowing Darkwing's and Gizmoduck's covers. Scrooge placed a gentle hand on Donald's shoulder. "Lad, would yeh be a dear and go and tell Mrs. Beakley to hail a cab for Mr. Mallard. He'll be on his way back to St. Canard to pick up Dr. Bushroot."

"I'm doing what now?" chirped Drake."No, I'm not going to pick up that wilting pansy!"

A scathing look in Drake's direction promptly shut him up. Donald left the room after giving them all another weary look.

Once Donald was gone, Fenton said, "Scroogey, I don't think you realize what you're asking. Bushroot is a dangerous criminal!"

"Aye, I understand that more than yeh think! But the fact of t'matter is: He may be the key to figurin' out what is goin' on! I want t'figure out what Magica is plannin'! I suspect she's got this Negaduck lunatic helping her. Which makes me even more anxious! Magica does not work well with others and the idea of her working together with another known criminal worries me!" explained Scrooge.

"Alright, fine, gramps! I'll go and get Bushroot. But I doubt he's going to be very much help" insisted Drake.

Scrooge slammed his fist down on the coffee table, making Drake and Fenton both jump. "Tartan me feathers! Don't yeh get it!? It's less about whether Dr. Bushroot will know how t'help us an' more about figurin' out what Magica WANTED from him! Magica is an enchantress! She's creatin' something!"

"She DID mention a potion" piped up Fenton.

Scrooge nodded. "Precisely! She's collectin' ingredients!"

Drake thought about this, a sour look on his face. "An enchantress? Pfft, pleeeeease. You don't want to talk to Bushroot. You need to talk to the lovely Miss Morgana McCawber! She might know how to help!"

"Fine then" relented the old miser. "She did seem quite pleasant the other day. Invite her as well, Mr. Mallard."

"Gladly."

Mrs. Beakley then poked her head into the room. "Uh, Mr. McDuck? You had asked for a cab for Mr. Mallard?"

"Aye, yes. Is it here yet?"

"No, but it's on its way" was her reply.

"Best get goin' Mr. Mallard" advised Scrooge. "Mrs. Beakley will see you out."

Drake muttered under his breath as he followed the cheery house maid out of the room.

"Scroogey?"

Scrooge turned to Fenton. "Aye, lad?"

Fenton looked away, more nervous than Scrooge has ever seen him. Even on the day he had decided to ask the older duck out on a date in the Klondike. "Did we ever find the Golden Heart?"

Scrooge paled slightly at the mention of the legendary treasure he had been hell-bent on getting three months ago. After a moment, he huffed and brushed the question off, "Donnae be askin' silly questions, Fenton. Yeh know we did."

"Actually, I don't know. I remember hardly anything from that trip" confessed Fenton pointedly. He sat up straighter in his chair.

Scrooge looked away. "Aye, yeh did hit yer head awful hard on a rock when yeh were there. Comes t'me as no surprise" he said airily.

Fenton looked down at his lap, his expression heartbroken. "Magica told me you're keeping something from me. At first I didn't want to believe it, but the fact that I can't remember anything from that trip makes me suspicious." Scrooge opened his mouth to retort, but Fenton said louder and more passionately. "But I don't care! I see what she's tryin' to do here, Scroogey, my love! And I refuse to fall for it! She wants me to turn against you! Yeah, sure, maybe you're keeping secrets from me, but..." His voice broke and sniffed. "While the idea of you lying to me makes me want to pull my feathers out, I want to fully believe you're doing it for a good cause! To protect me!"Fenton stood up and gave Scrooge a fierce hug.

Caught off guard from this passion-driven speech, Scrooge could do nothing but hug him back. "Fenton...I'm not-"

Fenton pushed away and shook his head. "No, no, Scroogey! It's fine! You don't have to say anything! I trust in you! If it was anything truly important, you would have told me! I believe in that!"

Scrooge stared at him for a moment before his gaze softened. "Oh, laddie, what did I ever do t'deserve yeh?"

Fenton chuckled and gave his paramour a kiss. "I dunno. But I'd like to think it musta been something amazing!"

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