They were to meet on the roof. The orphanage was too small to hold so many children and many of the older ones had to find other imaginable places to sleep. The bathtub was big enough to hold two kids, the kitchen table accommodated six, the class room can hold fourteen and, on nicer nights, the vegetable garden can comfortably hold five. So many children in so many places risked Darkwing being spotted. The roof was the best place to be.

He got there fifteen minutes early. Gosalyn was already there waiting for him.

"Bout time you got here," Gosalyn grumbled. "I could feel myself aging."

Darkwing didn't speak at first. He didn't know how to say this. His eyes went to the ground, almost in shame of what he was about to say. "Gos-"

"I brought everything I think I need," Gosalyn interrupted him. She took off her yellow backpack and opened it. Digging around inside, she talked thoughtlessly. "I got most of my clothes, my shoes, my favorite comic books-"

"Gos-"

"The marbles I won from Danny, my hair bands, my math book…why the hell did I bring this along?"

"Gos," Darkwing grasped her by the shoulders. "Listen to me…I-I'm not bringing you with me."

It took a second or two for what Darkwing said to dawn on Gosalyn. Darkwing could see her face slowly shift from a soft surprised look to a sudden, confused horror. She gave a half hearted smile, trying to play it off as a joke. "Ha, ha. Very funny, Dad."

"No, no, it's not a joke. What I've learned in the past few days showed me that I can't be a father. I can't be your father."

The grin disappeared from her face. Her eyes welled up with tears and she tried desperately to hold them back. "Why? Was it something I said or did-"

"No honey," He pulled her into a hug. He could feel her grabbing hold of his costume, her whole body shaking. "My life is too complicated to give you a normal home. A normal life."

"I don't want normal!" She screamed against him. "I don't need normal!"

"I can't be there for you, Gos," Darkwing knew nothing he said would make her understand. She will understand one day, many years from now. And she would hate him for it. "How many times did I miss dinner? How many times did I have to leave you alone in house for days? I can't be there for you always Gos. You deserve more.

"I'm so sorry," He kept saying to her, wishing he could take it all back. "If I was only there that night. If only I was there instead of Launchpad-"

Gosalyn suddenly shoved herself away from Darkwing. "Don't you dare!" She spat violently at him. "Don't you dare blame this on Launchpad. What happened was an accident."

Darkwing smiled weakly. Glad to know that nothing, not even this tragic event in her life, will subdue her strong nature. He did not have the heart to tell her he had already dismissed Launchpad.

He did not reach out to touch her again. Instead, he stood up to leave. "Goodbye Gosalyn. I wish you happiness."

"Just go," She said to him. "It's what you're good at."

He wanted to hug her, give her one last kiss goodbye. That, however, would be too cruel. Resisting that urge, he jumped over the ledge of the orphanage roof without a glance back.

How did things get to be like this? How did it happen? Drake thought the hardest thing to do as a father would be to take Gosalyn to get her first training bra. Her first date. Trying to find her an apartment. Never once, did he think he would have to give her up.

He would give up everything else, just to be with her.

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A week later, Drake sold his house.

Once he had filled the hidden tunnels with cement and rock, he placed up a 'For Sale' sign. The house itself was ruined, but the support beams and untouched plumbing made the house ideal for buyers who wanted a 'fixer-upper.' The large yard and perfect family location made the deal extra sweet and the house sold within days. Drake wanted nothing to do with the house any longer. He didn't want to know how many people fought for it, how much they bargained for it, or who bought it. The money will be sent into his account and that was that.

He moved into an apartment not far from headquarters. He was one of many unmarried men in that complex. Most of his neighbors did nothing but drink all day and most of the women spent their time inside. Drake found this animosity to be quite an advantage. He could sneak out and in without anybody noticing or caring.

Work certainly got easier. He didn't have to worry about coming home at a certain time or care if he came home smelling of sweat and blood. He was a bachelor again. He didn't have to care about anybody else but himself.

He hated every minute of it.

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Not much would change in the next four months. As Summer slowly shifted to Fall, the leaves changed color, animals went into hibernation and people began wearing thicker clothing. Criminals react to the weather too; nobody wants to rob a bank on a cold day.

It didn't mean Drake pushed Gosalyn out of his mind forever. In the beginning, he thought about her often, mostly in a guilt ridden attitude. He would spend quite number of hours each day going over in his head the fire, the trial, and the moment on the rooftop. He would often make himself sick, having horrible headaches or becoming unable to eat. The weeks that followed, he began to function for a few hours without something suddenly reminding him of his daughter. At night though, when he had nothing to keep his mind off, he held a small photo of hers and stared at it for long endless periods.

Miss Griffin still came by about once every three weeks, picking up letters or Gosalyn's bank statements. Drake gave the mail over without a fight or discussion.

In the middle of the second month, without prompt or push, he would notice himself doing odd things. Sometimes he would be in a clothing store and find himself in the little girl section, looking over new shirts or shoes. One time, he actually bought a blue blouse, walked out the store and painfully remembered. He returned the blouse, muttering an off-handed apology to the person who just ranged it up for him. "Wrong size," was his excuse. Other times, it would be shoes. Other times, it would be possible Christmas presents. On the anniversary of the third month, he came home with a music glass box. He decided instead of returning it, he thought he could give it to Miss Griffin, hoping she in turn, would give to Gosalyn anonymous. When he tried to wrap it in a pretty purple wrapping, the box fell to the floor and shattered into a million pieces. He cried for thirty minutes after that.

Halloween was only a few days away and Drake made the mistake of buying a large bag of candy. His 'neighborhood' had only maybe half a dozen kids to speak of. He couldn't return it because he already opened the bag and had a few small pieces of chocolate.

As the devilish day came closer, people out in the street were already wearing their costumes. Some wore simple costumes, like eye masks and head dresses. Other wore full blown costumes: Scarlett O'Hara dresses, Geisha outfits, zombie costumes with artificial rotting flesh and blood. These freaks would spend the whole day in-character, acting out everyday situations much to the annoyance of everyone. This gave Darkwing the freedom to walk out in open public without somebody hounding him.

And to his horror, found out a local store started selling "Darkwing Duck" costumes cheap.

Unfortunately, even on this special day, Darkwing worked overtime. Halloween had the power to attract the weirdos and the freaks from all corners of the city. Darkwing spent most of the night stopping adolescent idiots from egging houses, graffiti, or harassing the younger kids for their candy. A few drunken party goers vandalized local shops and pranksters left flaming brown bags on people's front step.

All misdemeanors. It kept Darkwing miserably busy. He would argue that the police could handle most of these fools, but he was afraid some drunk might throw a Molotov cocktail into a house full of people or some teenager might want to reenact an urban legend. By the time he got back to headquarters Halloween was over for three hours.

He took off his sweat filled hat and threw it in some random corner. He unbuttoned his jacket but didn't bother to take it off. He flopped down on his pink kitchen chairs, moaning into his arms as he let his whole body relax. He was content to fall asleep in that awkward position.

His nostrils picked up the scent of coffee. He grudgingly picked up his head and saw a fresh pot brewing on the counter.

"Hey, DW."

It was Launchpad.

He looked like hell. He lost a considerable amount of weight and his hunch back did not help. There were dark bags underneath his eyes and he seemed to be very tired. He held a small sad smile on his face that didn't reach his eyes.

The memories of that fiery night came back to Drake. Could he forgive Launchpad? If it wasn't for him, Gosalyn would still be here. Their lives wouldn't have been turned upside down. Could he welcome him back? Could he forgive him?

Drake smiled. He found, he already has.

Was it because of Gos' scolding or because Drake did truly forgive him? Either way, it didn't manner. He was glad to see Launchpad. He was glad to see his old friend.

He invited him to sit down. Poured a cup of coffee. They made small talk.

"I got a job as a parking attendant," Launchpad was explaining what he had been doing with himself these past four months. "Pay wasn't well, but I made do."

"Hmm…" Drake sighed into his cup. The conversation was cheap and boring. Both of them knew what they really wanted to discuss. Out of respect for each other, they continued on with the small talk for a few minutes longer.

There was a quiet pause. Both of them waited for the other to break the silence. Launchpad spoke first.

"So what happened?"

It took two more cups of coffee for Drake to explain the full situation. What happened after Launchpad left, why he did it, when he did it, what happened afterward. Launchpad stayed quiet during the conversation, only muttering the occasional grunt or "Mhhm."

"Did I do the right thing, Launchpad? I think I did, but something…" He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't know how to express his feelings.

"That's something I cannot answer, D," Drake noted Launchpad called him by his old nickname. Up until now, he called him 'Drake.' "It sounds like you did the right thing. It makes sense. But growing up as an orphan isn't an easy thing. I know…because I am an orphan."

Drake placed down his mug. His eyes widen. "You're an orphan? I never knew."

"I don't tell many people," Launchpad said with a sad smile. "My real parents were killed in a car accident when I was eight. Because I was big for my age, a lot of people though I was fifteen. That is a big problem for orphans."

Drake frowned. "I don't see how looking a little older should be a problem."

"When you think about it, it's perfectly logical, despite how crude and mean it is."

"Mean?" Usually Drake would have just stayed quiet and listened, but this applied to Gosalyn.

"People don't want used goods," He went on to explain, with a rather sore look on his face. "If the kid is too fat, too short, too skinny, too dark, too light, too tall; think of a reason a person doesn't want a kid, and I've heard it. The major deciding factor is age.

"If the orphan is a baby, they have the largest chance of being adopted. But as soon as the kid is over ten years old, you might as well give up on the kid."

"I don't understand."

"Who does? I think it's because adults don't want a kid whose personality is already set. They want to shape 'em into a smaller version of themselves."

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The conversation went from the kitchen table, to the hanger, and finally outside. The cold November air weakened their coffee and chilled them to the bone. At this point, both had nothing else to say.

"So where do we go from here?"

Drake poured the remains of his cold coffee over the edge of his headquarters, into the churning bay far below. "Do what we have always done. Protect the city. Stop criminals," He shrugged. "The usual."

"D', I need to say this," Lauchpad suddenly said.

"I don't need to hear it."

"Please!" He begged. "I've been thinking about that night every day. And I always asked myself, why did I leave the oven on? Why didn't I check on the pizza?"

Drake wished he shut up. He knew all Launchpad wanted was to get this off his chest, but Drake feared if he started spewing out reasons why Gosalyn was lost that night, Drake would blame him all over again.

"If I had only kept an eye out, or rechecked how much gas was coming through, or kept my mouth shut in court-"

Something Launchpad said caught Drake's attention. "Wait. What did you say?"

"I said if I had only wore my lucky underwear that day-"

"Not that! You said something about gas!"

"Oh. We're outside so I thought it would be okay to let one rip-"

"I'm talking about the oven!"

"Oh," Launchpad turned red. "I was told the reason the house caught fire was because I left the gas in the oven too high."

Drake's eyes went wide. His mouth dropped. For a moment he couldn't speak. He was too stunned by this sudden realization.

"D?" Launchpad said cautiously. "You okay?"

Drake snapped out of his shock. Buttoned up his coat and went back inside for his hat.

"D?" Launchpad said again. "What's up?"

Darkwing dusted off his hat and repositioned it on his head. With dark eyes, he said, "You said the fire started because of the gas oven. There's only one problem with that. We didn't have a gas oven."

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A/N: Um, yeah. This chapter was really hard to write. There was stuff I thought was strong, some stuff I thought was weak. I might rewrite it, but I know I'm just lying to myself at this point.

Just like how I'm always saying I'll exercise or study. Ha!

Anyhoo, small chapter coming up next. Hope you liked this one. If not, then tell me how I can improve! I mean it. (But be gentle! I bruise easily.)

Anyhoo, R/R!