A/N: Oh, look, I fixed it. And in the end all I had to actually do was change the starting viewpoint. Huzzah!

LOVE FOREVER AFTER

Part 20: Lost Memories

Darkwing shadowed Grizlykoff, listening to their conversation as he and the scurvy looking elderly version of Storkein Harris headed down the streets back in the direction of Grizlykoff's apartment.

"How have you been, sir?"
The dog snarled quietly. "Not well. Drake Mallard has been haunting me."
"You must be kidding, sir!" Vladimir Grizlykoff said in shock. "Drake Mallard? I cannot get him out of my head either! His case has plague me since fire on Playhouse Avenue." Vladimir grimaced. "Who would kill such an uninteresting speck anyway? Bah, I see nothing memorable or important about him at all. How do you know this person?"
The dog was somewhat taken aback by that. "Uh ... do you remember when the 473rd infantry platoon of the Calisota Corp was posted to Ducklehoff?"

Darkwing could see the telltale signs that Grizlykoff was obviously having trouble with his long term memories as the moment dragged on and the bear wracked his brains. "That ... was a long time ago ..." Somewhere a light flicked on in his head and Grizlykoff's face belied a flash of inspiration. "Uh, excuse me for a moment. I need to call my ... supervisor about something for work."

Darkwing watched the bear step a few paces away from Harris and pull out his mobile phone. "Director?" He said.
"Hello, Agent Grizlykoff. I hope you're taking my advice and using your time off as ... time off."
"I am, sir, but I am just remembering this. Drake Mallard was in my contingent at Ducklehoff."
"Goodness. You served with him in the 473rd infantry platoon?"
"Yes, I have ... jog of memory." Vladimir looked over at his old platoon leader.
"Well, thank you for reporting in with this information. But now, I must insist that you take a break, Vladimir. As impossible a task as it may prove, you really must try for your own health."
"Yes, sir."
"There's a good fellow. Good day, Agent Grizlykoff."

Grizlykoff fell back in step with Harris and Darkwing felt a twinge of empathy for the bear, knowing what it was like to not remember such important things from his distant past. But then a surge of annoyance and frustration dispelled the feeling. If Grizlykoff had remembered then Cameron Lott would still be alive. In fact, Grizlykoff's bad memory of such a dramatic incident in his adult life was just darn peculiar. Darkwing would have to keep tabs on him and figure out exactly how bad Grizlykoff's memory was.

Grizlykoff struggled to remember. Vague, it was so long ago. He'd lost his job over the incident. But then they all did. Vladimir was lucky when S.H.U.S.H. took one look at his exemplary service records and offered him a job. His part in the ... mutiny? Yes, it was a mutiny. It didn't make S.H.U.S.H. bat an eyelid and before the military court had even resolved the case, he'd been up to his eyeballs in S.H.U.S.H. cadet training and the associated paperwork.

Twenty three years? No, it had been twenty seven. Vladimir was fresh out of school when he'd found a gun in his hands. He'd been young and impressionable in those days. Highly ambitious. When Mallard had upturned their captain's orders for that brief moment he'd had a very difficult decision on his hands. But ... what side had he chosen? He didn't recall.

Darkwing silently tailed Grizlykoff and his mystery friend all the way up to his apartment. It was pure coincidence that Grizlykoff had unwittingly stumbled on Storkein Harris first. At any rate Darkwing now had his killer in sight. The choreography of Harris' movements was a perfect psychological match with other murderers he'd tailed. Also, he might've had twenty seven years on him, but this was definitely Storkein Harris. Darkwing was finally going to make a stand against the firebug murderer.

In shadow form Darkwing slipped under Grizlykoff's front door. "I am the terror that flaps in the night."

"Darkwing Duck?" Grizlykoff asked in confusion. "Why are you here? Do you not heard of knock on door?"

"I am the ghost of Christmas present! I am Darkwing Duck!"

The short caped mallard appeared to the side of the two.

"It's you!" Harris yipped in shock. Grizlykoff noticed the colour drain out of his old platoon leader's face. Grizlykoff's brain was spinning. This was one person who had motive: Mane had agreed with Mallard when he'd taken over the platoon and Harris was not one to forgive. And he'd invited the cold blooded murderer into his own home! What a fool had he been? Grizlykoff snatched his own gun from the drawer in his hall stand and flicked off the safety catch.

"I killed you twenty years ago and I can kill you again!" Harris pulled out his gun and Grizlykoff fired before the other could trigger his weapon at Darkwing.

Grizlykoff watched the criminal collapse now harmless onto the floor, registering what Harris had actually said. The only person haunting Harris was Drake Mallard, so what had he meant by 'it's you?' Grizlykoff looked around his apartment in alarm. "Darkwing? Darkwing ... Mallard?"

But the avian was gone.

"Mallard? Drake Mallard ..." Grizlykoff stood there in shock for another long moment as the ring of the gunshot faded from his ears. Then Grizlykoff finally collected himself together and crossed the room, refusing to look at the pooling blood on his living room rug. "Telephone I need." He crossed over to the kitchen and picked up the receiver and dialed for emergency services to pick up Storkein Harris.
"Is he breathing?"
Grizlykoff stared blankly at his kitchen cupboards.
"Sir, is he breathing?"
Grizlykoff suddenly realised he'd been asked a question. "I know my job. You do not need to hurry."