A/N: 'Parallels' and 'Cause and Effect' are both legitimate episodes of Gene Roddenberry's Star Trek: The Next Generation. It is a family show, it is a science fiction/action genre, and it is a story about people and morals.

A/N: I could edit this forever, but I shall post it as it currently is.

St. Canard Prime: Part 4

Part Four

All afternoon, Gosalyn had been cooking. She yanked on the oven mitts and opened the oven. A blast of heat confronted her, and she waited back for a moment, then she reached in and pulled out the meatloaf tray. She put it on the sink and pulled out the tray of baked vegetables. She flipped the oven door back up with her foot as she took off the mitts. She reached over the hotplates and turned off the oven.

"Gosalyn, won't your dad freak out when he learns you've been playing with the oven?"
"Oh, Honker, I'm not playing, I've got two dads to look after now, I want to do something nice for them."
"It looks a little burnt."
"Only a little burnt." Gosalyn eyed the vegetables and the meat critically. "At least they're cooked."

"Well, that's one way of looking at it." Honker handed her a serving dish that he'd dutifully retrieved from the cupboard and a pair of tongs.
She put all the vegetables in the dish, and then put a saucepan lid on top of it. "That'll keep it warm till they get here." She handed the dish to Honker and he put it on the table in the other room.
"Uh, I think the gravy's gone a bit cold." He called out.
"Well, that's easy to fix, we can just heat it up in the microwave. Bring it back in here."

Gosalyn took the gravy from Honker. "Thanks Honk." She put it in the microwave and set the timer. "When they get in, I'll just close the door ..." A second later she heard the sound of the trap door mechanism and her father's voice.
"What do you mean 'it's not there'? You didn't have any equipment, it's not likely to be visible to the naked eye ..." Gosalyn slammed the microwave door closed and started it up. "Oh, and I can't believe you said that to Doctor Bellum, don't you have any self restraint, Drake?"
"I save that for when I need it, DW."
"Gosalyn, what are you ..." DW poked his head into the kitchen and a look of horror came over his face in a second.

"Uh, surprise, dad?" She smiled at him. "I cooked dinner for you guys. I know you've been really busy, and ..."
"That's great, Gosalyn! We really appreciate that." The other, Drake, dressed in a spare set of day clothes said. "What's in the microwave?"
"Gravy."
"Well ... you've ... really have put in a lot of work ..." DW swallowed his horror in the wake of his duplicate's enthusiasm. "You didn't burn yourself did you?" DW stepped towards Gosalyn.
"No, dad, I didn't." She shied away from him, taking up position in front of the bench where the meatloaf was sitting.

"Hello, Honker, I haven't seen you this short for a few years." DW's duplicate commented from behind him, making him turn around in distraction.

Gosalyn giggled behind him.
"Uh, hi, Mr. Mallard ... and er ... Mr. Mallard. I think mum's calling me for dinner too."
"I'll see you later, thanks, Honker!" Gosalyn called out.

DW turned back to Gosalyn, reaching for the knife in her hand. "Here, let me cut ..."
Drake pulled DW backwards. "She can handle it. Right, Gos?"
"Yeah but ..." DW spun around on Drake. "She-is-just-a-little-girl!" He clenched his beak.
"Only to the unsuspecting." The duplicate turned away calmly. "In actual fact, this is Gosalyn Mallard; rightful heir to the guardian of St Canard." The microwave beeped.

There was the sound of the trap door mechanism again followed by Launchpad's voice. "Alright, something smells good!" The pilot called out from the other room.
"It's Gosalyn's cooking!" Drake called back. "Of course it smells good, Launchpad." The duplicate moved out of the kitchen to join him in the dining area, and DW looked back at Gosalyn.
"Could you get the gravy, dad?" She asked quietly, and DW melted.
"I'm sorry, Gosalyn, I just ... want to protect you, I don't want anything to happen to you. You're my little angel." He eyed the meatloaf as she finishd cutting it up. "I hope you're being careful with those knives." She sighed, picked up the sliced loaf, and took it into the dining area.

Gosalyn looked from one Drake to the other, feeling very self-conscious about the food she'd spent all afternoon preparing. Despite having proclaimed that her cooking was good, the visiting Drake filled his plate with only vegetables.

"You've forgotten the meat."
"I can't eat ..." He pulled a face. "I'm on a diet. I can't eat meat."
"Well, how about some gravy for the vegetables, Drake?" Launchpad offered. Launchpad insisted on calling him 'Drake', to make sure he didn't get confused.
"I just want vegetables. Thanks."
Gosalyn lowered her eyes, staring disheartened at her plate. 'Bummer; obviously did something wrong.'

A sound of panic filled Drake's next words, "no, Gosalyn, it's not that at all. I just can't eat that stuff. You don't ... understand. It's not you. I really am on a ... diet."
"A little bit won't hurt you, Drake." Launchpad picked up the gravy.

Drake yelped and dragged his plate away. "Don't come near me with that stuff!" He quacked desperately. "I'm serious; I can't eat it! I can't eat Hungry Hippo burgers, I can't eat at Cafe Le'Qua, I can't eat hot dogs, I can't drink soda pop, I can't stomach any of it! On the other hand I can drink Morgana's ghoulade, I can eat Morgana's spider cookies, and I can eat Gosalyn's vegetables." He speared a piece of carrot and said nothing more, just stared gloomily at the meatloaf. "I barely remember what it used to taste like." He added in a hushed voice. He glanced up at his duplicate and then scooped up some beans with his fork.

"That sure is a real strict diet you're on, Drake. Is it working?" Launchpad asked.
"What's working, Launchpad?" Drake asked forlornly.
"The diet." Launchpad scratched his head in confusion.
"I ... suppose you could think of it that way ..." A small smile returned to Drake's beak. "That's what I like about you, LP; you always look at things positively."

DW tossed ideas around with his double as they continued eating their dinner.

"Quackerjack knows time circuits." Drake suggested. "Megavolt's an expert on universal equations. They could have joined up against us."

"I still think it'd be difficult for them to pull off." DW countered. "We're talking about an infinite number of timelines. What about Morgana? She's great with portals."
"Morgana would never do something like this!" Drake was adamant.

"Yes, but in whose universe?" DW countered coolly. "Not yours or ours maybe. I know Negaduck knows a bit. They may have teamed up." DW offered the idea.
"So you think Negaduck's probably in on it, DW?"
"Not so likely, Launchpad." Drake countered. "You see," he explained, "technically Negaduck is also Drake Mallard, and if there's one life he values it's his own. This stunt, however, puts him in jeopardy too."
"You're right." DW agreed. "Clearly we are talking about someone even more twisted and deranged than Negaduck."

Drake shook his head. "Beats me who that could be. Can you pass me the carrots, Gos? Thanks."
"Yeah ..." DW grumbled, continuing to wrack his brains. "It's probably staring us right in the face."
Gosalyn stared at them, "if you wanna talk about alternate universes, what about Darkwarrior Duck?"

"Gosalyn, that's ridiculous-!" DW rejected automatically.
"Why, yes, of course!" DW's counterpart interrupted him yet again. "Let's see: ingenious, unhinged, obsessive compulsive to an ex-ter-eme, un-inhibited, blink-er sighted, grimly de-termined ... Yep; that checks off all the boxes." Drake grinned at Gosalyn. "Good job at profiling, sweetie. You got him on your first go!"

"Gee, thanks, dad." She grinned back at him.

Thwarted once again by his alternate version, DW steamed in silence, narrowing his eyes. He continued eating, glancing suspiciously at Drake, determined to piece together the mystery at his dining room table.

"So you're allergic." DW said in conclusion of his visitor's diet issue as they finished dinner. "How did that happen?"

"Steelbeak was experimenting with a dangerous poison." Gosalyn's extra dad said plainly, putting his fork down on his empty plate. "I got hit, I went down. Since then, I have the grim satisfaction of scaring the living daylights out of him. Every time he sees me, he just bolts. And there isn't a cure. I've looked. Even Bushroot has had a good look for it. At one point, he thought Lycium Nycanthropus might be in the answer somewhere, but-"

"Of course, I'm so stupid!" Gosalyn slapped her forehead and stood up, pointing at him. "I should've figured! You're a vampire."
"Young lady, I'll thank you to remember that I'm not just any vampire; I am Darkwing Duck." All the empty dishes rose up several inches from the table, and whizzed into the kitchen on their own.
"Keen gear!" Gosalyn turned back to gape at him.
"Yeah." He chuckled. "You'd be surprised at how many sets of plates I broke getting that skill working properly." The dishes landed with a chink in the kitchen. "That one was a lot of hard work."

"You practiced on the crockery!" DW squawked at him. "What were you thinking?"
Drake, the vampire, shrugged. "I guess I was caught in the wake of Gosalyn's enthusiasm. I wasn't thinking much. We were just having fun, and I was learning."
DW hid his face, mortified.
"You should practice calming down more often, Drake." The vampire looked at him. "You'll go grey before your time." He left the table and ventured towards the kitchen, "I'll wash up."
DW pounced on him in a fit of nerves. "Oh, no you don't. I want ... my ... dining set to remain in one piece, thank you. I will wash up."

"You see what I just did there, Gos?" DW turned around to his duplicate, talking to Gosalyn still at the table. "Without saying one word of mistruth, I can even manipulate my own sensibilities. Don't underestimate the mental game your enemy is capable of. Don't ever let the bad guy start talking. He could weaken your resolve, break through your defences, exactly like I did right now. They could ... catch you on an unrelated topic, sideline your thinking, defocus your mind, and the next thing you know, they've trounced you. I'm Darkwing Duck, the master of psychological manipulation. You see it now, you'll see it again. Don't ever listen to the bad guy."

DW harrumphed from the doorway. "If you'd be so kind, this is my daughter. I'm her father, and her teacher."

The vampire copy's face fell. "You're right. And I know that after cooking all afternoon, she won't have done her homework yet. I'll patrol, you can stay in with Gosalyn." He went to the door, and opened it, almost instantly disappearing.
DW bolted across the room and slammed the door shut.
"Ow!" The vampire copy reappeared beside DW. Then he laughed. "You win."
"You're staying right here where I can keep an eye on you." DW's eyes widened. "Your clothes have changed!"

"Oh, bother." The visitor was dressed in his monochromatic version of the Darkwing Duck costume again. "Sorry about your clothes." He grumbled. "I just need some fresh air."
DW clenched his fists. "Not-under-my-watch!"
"I'll-go-mad-under-your-watch!" Dark Duck objected back, equally as loud.

"This is the only thing I'm good for." He added in a quieter voice, 'besides, I delivered Tom Weedley the Diamond Suite killer to you for the Vegas police. I put Yale in jail for the Wicker's incident. Surely you can extend a little bit of faith. DW, I need to get out there. I need to do my job. The Quiverwing Quack is out there in some far away universe, doing the exact same thing, and, well, that's all I have to go on." The door opened by itself, he turned into a bat and dove out the entranceway.
Try as he might, DW could not move the door. "How'd he do that? It's ..." DW struggled with the door, then it shut on its own, making him stumble. "Stuck."

He turned, collecting himself. "Upstairs, Gos. It's homework time."
"No fair, you promised you'd ..."
"I'll join you once I've done the dishes. Go on."
"... Okay, dad." Reluctantly, she went up the stairs.

DW went into the kitchen. He picked up the top plate from the stack. He looked at it in confusion. He looked at the next plate and then shuffled the whole pile together. The cooking tools, the gravy dish; everything was clean again.
"They're clean already. How'd he do that without water? It's like we haven't even used them."
Launchpad stood in the doorway. "Well, so, I guess the dishes are done."

"Do you want me to try to follow him, DW? He was eating vegetables. And after all, he is you."
DW struggled with the question for a long moment. "Maybe ... Hey, I know, you can use the surveillance cameras! He seems to like disappearing everywhere a great deal, so it'll be the best way to track him."
"Sure DW, but I don't know how to use that stuff." DW cocked an eyebrow at him.
"It's really easy, LP." He ushered his sidekick towards the blue couch with a fleeting amount of instructions, finishing with: "You know where I am."
"Sure." Launchpad nodded and disappeared through the trap door with a press of the mouse's head.

DW paused at the base of the stairs, looking up. "I know I can't protect you forever. Maybe I should start training you properly. The Quiverwing Quack." He smiled. She really had picked a good name for herself. "Math first, though." He marched up the stairs.