A/N: I'd give you a proper reference for the technobabble, if I could only remember where I got it from. Someone out there is bound to know. Perhaps it came from an old Merlin movie?

A/N: I like having plausible-sounding semi-fictional explanations for purely fictional phenomena.

Get Out Of Dodge

Darkwing woke up a couple hours later to a blaring alarm. He jumped off the armchair, looking around.

"Red Alert ... Red Alert..."
"Gee! That's a new one!" Launchpad called out as he stood in the middle of the tower, covering his ears.
"They've gotten into the house, Launchpad!" Gosalyn yelled back over the noise.

Darkwing climbed up to the security monitors and switched off the ruckus. He slid down the ladder and addressed his friend. "We all need to get out of here, Launchpad. If they find the trap door, they'll trash this place along with everybody and everything in it. Load up the ThunderQuack with as much equipment as you can and get back to your hanger. It's not perfect, but the less of Darkwing Duck they find up here, the more time they'll take figuring it out."

So saying, he went behind his screen and snatched everything off the clothes rack. He came back, dumping the pile on the table. "The colouring makes it easy." He yanked out all the purple and the brown and handed them to Launchpad, keeping the grey and black and green and pink.

"Wait a second, DW; you've still got my bowling outfit there." Launchpad attacked Darkwing's pile. Darkwing glanced at the fluffy thing as Launchpad stuffed it amongst the rest of his clothes. "Heh, somehow I don't think you'll be wanting that one." Launchpad chuckled.
"No, not really, Launchpad, thank you." Darkwing replied dismissively as he reached across the table and picked up his cell phone. "Yes; she's answered" he sighed. "Thank goodness; I wasn't keen on relying on Hamil Corp for this one." Darkwing shoved the cell phone into his pocket, bundled up his clothes and advanced towards the rat-catcher.

He put his clothes in the rat-catcher's compartment and then came back for Gosalyn's backpack and the blanket resting on the armchair. "Gosalyn, honey, are you ready?"
"Sure thing, pops." She replied with her arms full of gas grenades and grapple hooks.
He turned and saw that Launchpad was already getting things together to load up the flyer. "Good luck, Launchpad." He called out and they headed back to the motorcycle.
"You too, buddy."

Darkwing pulled up to the curb in front of grand central park and pulled out the lunchbox. "Here, Gos." He handed her a sandwich and took the other one for himself.
After a few minutes of weary silence between them, Darkwing and Gosalyn headed on to their destination. Darkwing parked in front of Morgana's home and pulled out the backpack from the compartment.
Gosalyn pulled out the clothes bundle as he swapped to his fedora hat.

Darkwing Duck took a deep breath, staring up the pathway to Morgana's chateau.
"Dad, what's the matter?"
He stopped in the middle of opening the gate. "I'm not in a fit state to talk to Morgana."
"What a time to be macho, dad!" Gosalyn grumbled.
"I am not being macho!" He exclaimed. "There's a perfectly rational reason for my concern!"
"There's no problem, dad. You can explain to her why you're tired at the same time as everything else."

"It's not that simple, Gos. Morgana's not normal, she's ..." He frowned. "You've watched monster movies; you do know why she has white streaks in her hair, right?"
Gosalyn looked up at him. "Gee, dad, I thought you hated that stuff. What movie did you learn that one from? I haven't seen it."
He shook his head. "Tell me, how is she able to make lightning in her hands and transfigure people and do all those other magical things?"
"She taps into the energy in the world around us."
"Around her," he corrected abruptly, "right."

Gosalyn was silent.

"Gosalyn, your faith in my intelligence is staggering!" Darkwing bristled with indignation. "I regularly outwit mad scientists and crazed geniuses." He shut the gate in front of them and turned back to her. "I come home with barely a scratch on me after defeating untold numbers of criminals that literally ogre over me with their size and weight." He gestured with his hands. "I invented a gas gun and I refill my gas grenades with my own chemistry know how." He pulled out his gas gun and twirled it in his hand before returning it to its holster behind him. "I always have an appropriate 'I am the terror' line to give out."
"I know that, dad." Gosalyn raised her hands in surrender but he continued on.
"I make my own costume." He grabbed the edges of his cape and swished it in front of him dramatically. "I also designed my own costume. You've watched me make a dress for you, I've made curtains." He tapped his head. "We may have TV dinners sometimes when I'm working on a difficult case but we have just as many proper roasts and any other time it's usually from the stove top."
"I know, dad."
"Doesn't any of that tell you that I might be a little bit clever at least?" He ended his rant with a pleading cry in his voice.

"Da-ad!" Gosalyn grabbed him in a hug. "Of course you're smart! But nobody's good at everything. You can't be perfect all the time and I much rather it this way with you less than perfect around Morgana than with someone that has a gun pointed at you."
He hugged her back. "Oh, I know I'm not perfect, honey. But the truth is that I'm really behind the eight ball when it comes to Morgana." He sighed. "I'm not sure if she even realises it. Maybe she does. She does forgive me a whole lot."

"Realises what, dad?"
He smiled weakly. "Let's just say, that with me around, her hair won't go much whiter. Come on, sweetie." He picked up the bag and swung the gate open.

They went up the path and onto the porch. Darkwing tentatively rang the doorbell. He really was exhausted. He'd barely snatched two hours of sleep that morning, topped off with a hefty blood donation.

'Speak now or forever hold your peace ...' the door swung open and he quickly opened his beak. "Morgana ..." He looked up into her green eyes. Even in his weakened state the sight of her made his face grow warm and his heart beat faster. "Thanks for your help."
"Of course, Dark. Come inside." She closed the door behind Gosalyn.

Morgana took the backpack from Darkwing, putting it beside the armchair in the lounge room. "That's better." She eyed the bundle of clothes in Gosalyn's arms. "Why don't you have a shower, Dark? You'll feel better for it."

He gazed at her, surprised and grateful that she wasn't asking for an explanation right away. "Thanks, Morg."

The airport was like a giant monument to duckdom. The thoroughfare was wide and spacious with decorative plants partitioning the view of the escalators and the keen white of the tiled floor.

Mrs. String waited beside her bulky husband in the arrival lounge. "I barely know him, Ham. I haven't seen him since I was five years old."
"It's still an excellent business opportunity. Come on, it's your turn, Preena. Only you can get those contracts he's sitting on." Ham said, greedily egging her on. "Think of the tennis court and just go for it! Lay it on real thick, babe. I know you can do it."
She smiled at him, tickling her finger under his chin for a moment. "Aw, I love you too, porky-pie."

The people started coming out of customs with their suitcases.

A portly grey haired man walked up to them with an uncertain look on his face. "Preena?"
She smiled pleasantly at him. "Hello, father ..." There was a brief moment of awkwardness which Preena finally resolved by putting out her hand to shake his. "I'm so glad you could come."
Ham coughed, politely reminding her that he was standing there too.
"Father, this is my husband, Ham String."
"I'm glad to finally meet you, Mr Lott."
"Call me Cammy." The men shook hands.

Cammy turned to Preena. "I had trouble recognising you. You're a bit different than the last photo your mum sent me." He looked her up and down as she stood there in her designer business suit. "I must admit I was expecting something a bit different."
Preena's smile faded. "What photo was it that mum gave you?"
"I don't know. Your mum was never one for putting labels on things." He pulled out his wallet and handed it to her. "Do you remember when that photo was taken?"

Preena snarled. "Oh, no, she couldn't take a picture of me before I had the birthday party. It just had to be after." She said through her clenched teeth. "Sometimes I wish that old-."
"Yes, well." Ham cleared his throat again, interrupting Preena's oncoming tirade about her mother. "Perhaps we'd better go, Preena, dear?"
"Yes." She snapped the wallet closed and handed it back to her father. "I can get you a much better photo, father." She twisted about on her high heeled dress shoes and strode off.

Morgana frowned, pacing in front of Gosalyn in the lounge. "I've never seen him like this before." She turned to her familiars. "Oh, Archie." She scooped him up off the arm of the chair and petted him.

"He's alright." Gosalyn repeated. "He just needs some sleep."
Somehow, Morgana had trouble believing it. "I know that what he needs is food. He hardly eats anything."
'Talk about a broken record.' Gosalyn frowned. "We had lunch on the way here, Morgana."

"Oh, that's just like him ..." But Morgana's tone changed quickly back to worry. "He's stubborn. What do I do?"
"Well, they won't be looking here, so dad could really rest awhile now he's got that chance."
"Rest? But ..."

"That sounds like a great idea." Darkwing yawned, coming down the stairs. "Thanks for letting me use your shower, Morg." He smiled at her. "I'm sure you appreciate my being a little more bearable to stand near now." He took her fingers, kissing them gently.
"I don't mind. You always smell a little bit musky. Well, not now. You rather smell like my shower gel instead."
He let out a quiet chuckle. "That's fine with me; I get to be reminded of you wherever I go."

"I'm confident Grizlykoff won't trace us back here for at least two days ..." He stepped back from Morgana and dropped down onto the chair beside Gosalyn. "I'm bushed."

"Dark-."
Gosalyn put her finger to her beak to quieten Morgana. She watched from her seat beside him as her father's body grew limp and his breathing evened out. She stood up. "He's out for the count." She said quietly, smiling up at Morgana. "Can you teach me how to make some of that food you serve at the restaurant?"
Morgana considered this. "Oh, I would be delighted to ... but how about you do your homework first?"

Gosalyn gaped at her in shock. "W-what?"
"Considering that you are missing school right now, I deduce that the books in your bag are for you to study with." Morgana pointed at the suspect backpack. She tapped her beak in thought. "I know; why don't we go through some of it together? You can show me how you learn in Normal school." She clasped he hands together. "That'll be fun, don't you think?"
"Um ... sure, Morgana."
"Come into the dining room, dear, and we'll get started." Morgana turned about and glided out of the room.

"It's a conspiracy, that's what I really think it is." Gosalyn grumbled as she went to her bag and dragged out the school books that her father had stuffed in there along with her toothbrush container. "I think I'll need to get a new bag after this." She grumbled, digging under the cans of spaghetti for her pencil case.

A/N: My English writing skills are pure junk all the way. If you don't understand something I would like to know so that I may endeavour to fix it. If you don't understand it the next reader will likely not understand it either (unless they're as strange as I am).