Twisted Strings of Fate
Chapter 61
I had dreamed of the day that I could be with my one true love. But with the curse, it was as if I didn't have one but four. My dreams could turn on a dime, thinking of one then another, imagining what it would be like if they loved me in return.
But then that loved was turned against me. It was used against me. But nobody knew just how far I would go to break the curse, or at least prevent it from spreading to the next generation. I don't think anyone understood how much pain I was willing to endure. I felt certain that I would never let Aphrodite break me. I was past the point of having a breaking point.
But I was wrong. I overestimated my willingness to go to the very end.
Charity gasped as she saw four swords appear out of thin air and point directly at the hearts of the four people she loved most in the world.
"If you refuse to be compliant, I will kill them," Aphrodite said, her hand extended to the swords as if her immaculate nails were the weapons themselves. "You can save them. Don't make the same mistake as my sister did and defy me."
Charity was so very tired, her emotions feeling like a worn flag in a storm, pieces of herself being ripped away, leaving her shredded and miserable. It would be so good to lower the flag, to give in. She wanted to rest.
But this was the last part of her journey, and she had to stick to what she believed.
"No," she said in a sob. It was the hardest word she had ever said.
"NO?" Aphrodite screeched, her hand shaking. With the shaking, the swords trembled and flew closer to their victims.
Drake, Launchpad, Fenton and Jim fought their bonds, but the glass tendrils didn't budge a bit. When Charity spoke, they stopped.
"No," Charity said again, tears spilling down her face. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I got all of you involved in this. I can't. I won't be her puppet. I won't give her any more power." She knew they didn't know the whole story, about how Aphrodite was threatening them so that Charity would give into the curse and have a child with one of them. She hoped that they could forgive her, at least, while they lived.
That is, if Aphrodite's threat wasn't baseless.
"It's okay," Drake said, turning his eyes from the sword to Charity. "If that's what needs to be done."
Fenton nodded. "We're heroes. Isn't that what we do, sacrifice ourselves to protect the innocent?"
Charity sobbed.
"Everything's going to be okay, Charity," Launchpad said, giving her a smile. "You're going to be fine."
"Don't cry," Jim said. "I'm not worth crying over."
Charity wished she could be brave, that she could be like those heroines in the books and movies she loved. She wished she could fight Aphrodite, but she wasn't warrior. And she couldn't stop crying. The only thing that kept her going was the thought that once Aphrodite had killed them, she would follow them. Damn the promise she made to Launchpad. This was her endgame, a way to give the Goddess of Love the finger, by taking away her greatest source of power.
But this was all a gamble. There was always the chance that Aphrodite wouldn't do it, couldn't do it. Just how much did Aphrodite rely on Charity's pain to give her power?
"They won't die easily," Aphrodite said.
The swords went closer to the guys, the points up against their chests.
"I'll make it slow and painful," the goddess said with a sadistic sneer.
"Go ahead," Charity said, wiping away her tears. For this, she could be brave. "That doesn't scare me."
This startled Aphrodite enough that the swords dropped a little.
"You can't hurt me worse than I've already been," Charity said. "You know this whole quest you sent me on, sending me to Tokyolk and into the past. And that side-quest to the Ghost Realm, you may think it might have softened me up but it didn't. I saw all the pain and torment that you caused my ancestors. I met my father's ghost. Go ahead and do your worst."
Aphrodite looked back to the four ducks tied up, the swords pressing against their chests just enough to go in.
Charity gasped, and it reminded her of Ares's sword when it sliced through Launchpad. She clutched her chest where a blossom of blood formed. But she didn't say a thing. And her eyes were completely dried now.
She stared at Aphrodite, daring her.
It had always been a gamble, this whole quest of finding the cure. She had shown her hand. It all came down if Aphrodite was serious or bluffing.
The swords clattered to the glass lake and Aphrodite lowered her arms. "Well played, little lovebird."
Charity didn't care if it made her look weak. She gave a huge sigh, feeling her body tremble as the guys were no longer in danger. She didn't care about the pain she was feeling. They were safe.
For now.
"Perhaps I've been using the wrong methods with you," Aphrodite said, tilting her head. "I see now that you are stronger than I thought. And stubborn. What is that phrase? You catch more flies with honey than vinegar? Perhaps I need to use a little honey to persuade you."
Charity knew that when the swords fell that this wouldn't be the end. But she hadn't expected Aphrodite's words nor what would happen next.
"If I can't convince you by threatening to take away all that you love, perhaps I can by showing you what you can have," Aphrodite said, stepping up close to Charity. "Let me show you what you have been missing out on by not giving into love."
"What are you—" Charity's sentence went incomplete as Aphrodite touched her forehead.
Charity adjusted the camera on the tripod, making sure that it was at the right height and angle to catch everything. She wanted to memorialize this moment so she could watch it over and over. And she wanted to share it with all her loved ones.
"Charity? Are you home?"
"In here," Charity called back, looking around the living room one last time. She had the camera centered on the part she had cleaned, leaving the piles of laundry she was supposed to be folding out of view.
"Oh, hey. You're filming. I guess I'll just go—"
"No, Launchpad. You're going to be in this one," Charity said, turning on the camera and pulling her husband into its sight. She made sure they were standing close to the X's she had marked with painter's tape, a trick that Launchpad's best friend—the other, other best friend, besides her and Dewey—Drake Mallard had told her about.
"Oh, not another one," Launchpad said with good humor. "What is it this time? A prank? A challenge? Oh, did we get another package? Are we doing another unboxing video? I love surprises."
"Well…it is a surprise, but it's not an unboxing," Charity said, heading toward the armchair and picking up a wrapped present. "This is for you."
"Aw, Charity. You didn't have to," Launchpad said, taking it. "Or did you? Is it my birthday?"
"No."
"Did I forget our anniversary?"
"Launchpad, we haven't been married a whole year yet," Charity said playfully.
"I didn't say our wedding anniversary," Launchpad said wisely. "That was a trick question." He then tossed the present a little bit before going back to his earlier inquiry. "It's not any special holiday, so why am I getting a present?"
"Just open it and you'll find out," Charity said with unbridled joy.
Launchpad huffed before tearing into the present, shredding the wrapping paper like a little boy on Christmas. However the end result wasn't what he expected. "A coffee mug? Well, I could always use another mug, so thanks Charity."
"Look at it," Charity hinted. "Read it."
Launchpad found the black letters against the white ceramic and read it out-loud. "Best Dad in the World." He paused before brightening up. "Oh, Father's Day is coming up, isn't it? And you got me this mug to give to my dad because you knew I would forget. Thanks so much, Charity. You're the best."
Charity slapped herself in the face. "No, Launchpad. I bought it for you. It's yours. This is now your most important mug ever."
Launchpad laughed as if she had told a joke, and stopped mid-snort, his eyes staring off into the distance as he worked things out.
Charity watched him patiently, knowing this might take a while. Finally his eyes went to hers, then traveled south down to her abdomen.
Launchpad rushed at her and picked her up, spinning her in a circle all the while shouting with joy.
Charity felt queasy, but she gulped down any discomfort so that Launchpad could enjoy this moment. It wasn't every day that a man found out he was going to be a father. And she would never get this moment back.
Somehow with all the spinning and celebrating, Launchpad set her on the couch and snuggled up next to her. "What are we having? Is it a boy or a girl? When are you going to have it? What do we need to do? We should buy a crib. And diapers. And I have to baby-proof the Sunchaser."
"Whoa, hold on," Charity said, smiling. She wrapped her hands around the back of Launchpad's head, her fingers in his hair. "I'm not that far along. We won't know if it's a boy or a girl for several months. We have plenty of time."
Launchpad snuggled lower down on the couch until he was even with her stomach. He pulled up her shirt, exposing the blue feathers of her stomach, and nuzzled her there. "Hello, baby."
Charity smiled, still playing with his hair, feeling his beak move through her feathers and against her skin. "I'm glad that you're happy."
Launchpad kissed her stomach a few more times. "I'm very happy." His beak traveled upward, baring more of her body.
"Launchpad," Charity said with a bit of warning in her voice but still smiling. A happy flutter tickled her heart. "The camera is still on."
Launchpad rolled onto his back, pulling Charity on top of him at the same time. "Edit it later," he said into her neck, his hands holding onto her gently. "Or better yet, post it. You'll get more viewers than ever."
Charity laughed. "I wasn't going to post it. I was going to send it to our parents."
Launchpad burst out laughing at the thought. "Well, my parents have been begging for grandchildren for a while, so this will definitely get them off my back, but your mom might have a heart attack."
"I know. So I'm going to put away the camera and then I'll come back and we'll celebrate," Charity said in a sultry tone.
But Launchpad wasn't ready yet to give her up. He took her face in his hands and kissed her with so much love, she could have done anything he wanted, camera or no camera. When they pulled apart, he ran his fingers through her hair.
"You're going to be a great mother," Launchpad whispered and kissed her again.
Charity kissed him back, putting all her love in the action. Oh, how she loved him. And there was nowhere else Charity would rather be than right there in his arms.
Charity gasped, feeling as if she had just been shoved into icy cold water. Things didn't feel right. Everything was different, strangely different, but in a way, she knew this was right. The other part, where she was safe and warm in Launchpad's arms, letting him love her, that had been wrong but when she lived that small moment, it had felt right. But it wasn't real, even though she had memories of a past that didn't exist. She had remembered their dates, how he proposed, and their wedding. They were fuzzy details, like a book that someone had quickly written, but they felt so real.
"What did you do to me?" Charity demanded, turning to Aphrodite. Her emotions were dizzy from the sudden change, the love and excitement she had felt slow to disappear. She longed to return to that moment, to be someplace she was safe and loved.
"Opening your eyes," Aphrodite said. "And opening your heart. Did you like it? How good did it feel for him to finally see you as someone more than a sister? Did it feel good for him to love you?"
It did, and it scared Charity how much she wanted to go back.
"As sweet as that dream is, you shouldn't settle on the first one," Aphrodite said with a smile. "You'll want to make sure you chose the right one." And she reached out and touched Charity's forehead again.
The audience burst out in a thunderous applause as the actress who won the latest award finished her speech and walked off the stage, the golden trophy clenched in her grip. She was all smiles and radiant in her victory.
"Well, this evening has been so wonderful that I wished it would never end," Drake Mallard—the host of the awards for that year—said. "But unfortunately it has to."
The audience "ahhh" mournfully just as Drake's words intended.
"I know, but at least we have one more award to hand out," Drake said. "The final award is for Best Actor in a Leading Role. And these are our nominees."
Drake introduced the first three with the same alacrity he gave to every nominee in every category, his professionalism and enthusiasm for his role as host not wavering once. But when the last nominee for the category came up, his tone changed.
"When they asked me to host this event, I was deeply honored and excited for this opportunity, but more so when I found out the last nominee in this category," Drake said. "Not only is he one of my personal heroes, but he inspired me to be everything that I am. Our final nominee is Jim Starling in his role as Detective P. King in the movie Dark Wings Rise."
The audience clapped as the camera turned to Jim Starling in his seat. He waved to the viewers before picking up Charity's hand, squeezing it tight.
Charity squeezed back, butterflies in her stomach. She was probably more nervous than Jim was, having never been to an awards ceremony before. It was glamorous and climatic, two things she never experienced in her life. She almost felt like Cinderella at the ball, coming into a royal palace when she was used to working in a kitchen all her life.
The big screen up on stage played a section of Dark Wings Rise where Jim's character was interrogating a suspect. After playing Darkwing Duck for the TV series over a decade ago and being out of the public eye since, it was an uphill battle for Jim Starling to start up his career again. Not only did he have personal issues, but it was hard for anyone to give him a chance. It was a lucky break when someone offered him the leading role in a Noir-style detective story which did surprisingly well in the box office.
After the clip, Drake went through the same rigmarole of taking the envelope with the results from his assistant, slowly opening it and giving the crew members a chance to play some dramatic music for the viewers watching on the air.
"And the winner is…" Drake said, pausing for effect, "…Jim Starling!" He looked just as delighted as anyone else.
Charity squealed and clapped louder than anyone there, turning to Jim with a big grin.
Jim looked stunned but then smiled, heading up to the stage to accept the award, looking dapper in his tux. He shook Drake's offered hand, patting the younger actor on the back.
Charity knew there was some history between the two, something about Jim knowing Drake's father. They also worked on the new Darkwing Duck TV series that was in pre-production. Jim, as much as he wanted to play the part of Darkwing Duck, knew that it wasn't meant to be. Graciously, he accepted a part as a new character, a mentor to the super hero, as well as one of the writers for the show. Drake would be playing Darkwing Duck, she knew that, but that hadn't been announced yet and wouldn't be until they started filming.
Drake then offered the golden trophy to Jim, who took it gently.
"Wow," Jim said, looking at the statue. He chuckled and then said, "Wow," again. The audience laughed.
"I'm sorry, but I'm just so surprised," Jim said, looking at the audience. "I honestly didn't think I had a chance at winning. I mean, I thought I could if there was a typo or something."
The audience laughed again.
"Not that I don't deserve it," Jim said with a crooked smile. "I kept telling myself that if I couldn't win an award as Darkwing Duck, I certainly couldn't win one as anything else. How glad that I've been proved wrong."
Charity smiled, sensing that the audience had been charmed by Jim. She felt herself swell with pride for him. He had worked so hard. It wasn't easy to work his way up from the bottom of a hole and end up here, accepting a prestigious award for Best Actor. He was amazing, and she was so glad to be able to share this moment with him.
"I know that everyone has a list of people they'd like to thank while they're up here or share some words of wisdom," Jim said, leaning against the pulpit, "but I'm sure everyone is ready to go home so I'll be brief."
A titter of laughter sounded which quickly quieted as the audience listened attentively.
"I have a lot of people to thank, not just for this award, but for my life in general. I won't mention them all by name, but to be sure, you know who you are and I'll be sure to come visit you soon," he said, giving the camera a wink. "But there is one person that I have to mention because if it wasn't for her, I would not be here accepting this award nor would I be the man that I am today."
Charity's eyes burned as she tried not to cry.
"I am indebted to her for helping me during a dark time of my life," Jim continued. "I had let obsession and hubris control my life and my decisions, which had nearly ended my life. She helped me realized that I had turned into my own worst enemy. Even when I tried to drive her away, she always came back. When I tried to give up on myself, she encouraged me become a better person. And even when I felt like I didn't deserve it, she loved me for who I was." There was a catch in his throat.
Charity wiped away a tear, hoping her mascara wouldn't run. Wouldn't that be the highlight of the show if the camera caught her at that moment?
"Tonight, I am the luckiest man alive, not because I won this trophy," Jim said, looking at the statue. "Don't get me wrong. This is a nice trophy. High quality. But it is just a thing, something to put on my mantle and for me to polish and shine once a year, but it's not a sign of luck. I'm the luckiest man because not only did I have someone who loved and cared for me enough to help me through the roughest time of my life, who tolerated me at my worst and stayed with me to the end, but is my best friend, my confidant, and my wife. Her love is what I cherish the most."
Oh, screw it, Charity thought as she let the tears pour down her face, imagining them leaving dark traces down her cheeks. She didn't bother to wipe them away, knowing it would just make a bigger mess.
"Thank you, Charity. I love you, and I always will," Jim said, then left the podium.
Jim returned to his seat and Charity took his hand, squeezing it. He lifted it up to his beak, kissing each of her fingers. Then he looked into his wife's face before pulling out the square of cloth from his tux's pocket.
Charity laughed, taking it and dabbing at her eyes.
The final ceremonies went like a blur for Charity because she didn't watch the stage. Instead, she concentrated on feeling Jim's fingers intertwined with hers. She loved how easy it was to love him.
And then it was over and everyone was leaving their seats. As all the nominees were in the front, they had better access to the exits and were out the door quite quickly, only to come in contact with a wall of photographers.
Charity hid her face, sure that she looked a mess from crying, but Jim whispered in her ear, "You look beautiful," as if he knew what she was thinking. She trusted him and posed with her husband when requested by the photographers. There were also fans behind thick, velvet ropes, asking for pictures and autographs. Charity waited patiently, smiling at the enthusiasm of those who had waited outside for this exact moment to meet their hero. They were waylaid for over thirty minutes as Jim talked to fans and had his picture taken. They finally made it to the street where lines of limos waited. To save on time, the limos were provided by the award ceremony to take the nominees and invited guests to their next destination.
"Congratulations, Mr. Starling," the limo driver said as he opened the door.
"Thank you," Jim said, helping Charity inside first before sliding in. The door shut behind him, and the sounds of the cameras flashing and fans calling to celebrities dimmed to a low hum.
The limo driver climbed in and called out, "Where am I taking you, Mr. Starling?"
"To the Hilton, please," Jim said, nodding to the face reflected in the rear view mirror.
"You don't want to go celebrate?" Charity inquired.
After the award show, there were several parties they had been invited to, held by celebrities who were guests and wanting to hob-nob with the elite and congratulate the winners. It sounded like a lot of fun and plus it would help with Jim's career. He had even talked about which parties would be the most beneficial, so Charity had assumed they would go to at least one.
Jim pressed the button that raised the glass divider between the passenger section of the limo and the driver. He discarded the golden award on the backward facing seat, seemingly not at all interested in it. "Maybe I am getting a little old as people have been saying," he said, pulling Charity nearer to him. His strong hands gripped her hips and pulled her on his lap. "Because it seems like all I want to do is to celebrate with you." He nuzzled his beak into her hair, resting his forehead against her cheek.
Charity didn't believe the whole "old" shtick for a moment, especially when he was strong enough to lift her onto his lap. And she knew from experience just how well he took care of his body, how disciplined he was with his diet and exercise, and if anyone saw him in ways only she had seen, nobody would dare to call him old.
She was surprised, but not only because he decided not to go to any of the parties. In public, he limited himself to holding her hand and giving her quick kisses. There was always a level of distance between them when there was a chance of someone watching them. Even in the privacy of the limo, Jim always kept a respectful distance. Charity knew this had to do with his old-fashioned senses, like how he carried a handkerchief with him at all times or opened doors for her when he could. It was out of respect for those around him that he limited his public displays of affection.
But that boundary had disappeared as he held her so tightly, so intimately, as if he had a great need to have her near him, to touch her.
"Jim?" she questioned, wondering if he was alright. Was something wrong? Had the evening been far more stressful than she guessed?
"I meant every word I said," Jim said, his beak wandering across her jaw. He took deep, even breaths, taking her in with all his senses. "I can't imagine what my life would be like without you. I will love you for the rest of my life and beyond." One of his hands rubbed her back up and down, while the other was on her knee just where the hem of her dress stopped. His fingers drew tantalizing circles on her inner thigh.
Charity felt a thrill at his attention. "And I love you, too. I love you with my ever fiber," she whispered, her hands on his chest, moving inside his tux jacket.
They kissed, at first soft and tender, then more passionate and Jim's need flared. His hand moved up an inch along her leg.
Yes, it seemed as if they would have to unfortunately miss out on the post-ceremony parties. It was a good call for them to retire to their hotel room early for the evening.
The limo didn't seem to be moving, but Charity didn't mind. To be in Jim's arms was the highlight of the evening, and there was nowhere else Charity would rather be than right there.
Charity came back to reality with a jolt, her emotions turning a one-eighty once more as she found herself back on the glass lake, facing Aphrodite. She was breathing hard, her face flush and her body still reacting from the vision she was given. She ached, and a part of her wanted to break down and beg to be sent back. But it wasn't real. That hadn't been her, and it hadn't been Jim.
Charity took several steps back, putting a hand out as if to stop Aphrodite. "Stay out of my head," she shouted, her voice raspy as if she had been choking.
Aphrodite smiled. "But I'm not done showing you what I can do for you. If only you knew all the good I could do for you, then perhaps we could to an understanding."
"No," Charity cried out, shaking her head. She thought if she could keep the goddess at arm's length, she wouldn't be able to take over her mind, but that thought was erroneous. The goddess merely touched her hand, and she was lost.
Charity stepped out of the sliding glass doors, seeing the backyard for the first time since Fenton had bought the house. Before, it was a desolate area with a rickety fence and weeds in every corner. The previous owner had left tons of junk in the backyard, including a truck with no wheels or engine.
The transformation was amazing. It was the same fence, but it had been straightened and strengthened, painted a light tan color. The weeds were all gone and the debris must have been taken away, including the truck. Green grass grew thick and tall, although she could see lines where the sod had been laid out recently.
Before, there had only been two cement steps leading down, but now there was a large, covered porch with a trellis on one side. Colorful paper lanterns encircled the porch, lighting up the night and making such a simple area seem magical.
"Wow, you did a lot of work," Charity said, walking out and spinning in a circle. "Did your cousins help you?"
"I am a scientist. I do know how to work a hammer," Fenton said, his offense all pretense.
Charity smiled. "Oh, I'm sorry, good sir. I did not mean to impugn your honor."
"Well, I may have had a little help," Fenton admitted.
"Just a little?" Charity teased. She leaned against the rail. "It's beautiful. It's the perfect place to come out and read a book. You just need a porch swing." She always wanted one. Her mother wasn't an outdoor type of person. Even when she married Glen and they moved out of their apartment into a house, they didn't do many things in their backyard.
"One more last touch," Fenton said, holding out a remote and pointed it to the backdoor. There was a small, square device installed on the side, and when he pushed the button, music started playing from speakers that had been hidden in the ceiling of the porch.
Charity recognized the first song from a playlist she had given Fenton. She smiled as Fenton came from behind her and held her.
"What do you think?"
"It's amazing," she whispered, leaning into his embrace.
"I'm glad you like it."
He had bought the house only a month ago, and he had spent a lot of time fixing it up, at least the outside. The inside had been filthy when he had purchased it, but now it was clean enough for him to live in it, but there was a lot of damaged that needed fixing or rooms that needed to be updated. It wasn't a new home.
"Would you like a drink?" Fenton asked, his beak close to her ear.
"Yes, please," Charity said. She started to follow Fenton indoors, thinking that she would help him make some tea, but to her surprise, he had a bottle of wine and glasses already on a round table outside. "Alright, so what's the occasion?" she asked, holding the glasses while he worked on the wine cork.
"What do you mean?" Fenton asked. He seemed nervous and almost dropped the bottle. After struggling a bit, he opened it.
"I mean that this seems like a special day," Charity said. When Fenton filled both glasses, she handed one to him. "You took me to a romantic restaurant, and we took a walk in the park. And now you showed me this." She gestured to the lanterns and the wine. "Did something good happen to you at work?"
Most of what Fenton talked about was work, about the experiments and projects he was involved with at McDuck Enterprise. Ever since he had received his doctorate and gotten a nice raise, he had been very excited about work.
Not to mention, Gizmoduck had several successes this past month, including getting awarded a medal for his service. Was Gizmoduck going to be recognized once more?
"Well, not exactly," Fenton said, tugging on his tie. Instead of his usual button-up shirt and tie, he had dressed up. Even on special occasions, it was unusual for Fenton to remember to do anything more than comb his hair and shave.
"Please don't tell me that you've only softened me up for bad news," Charity said, half-joking. She gulped down her wine.
"Uh… I hope not," Fenton said. He fumbled around with his jacket, checking the outer pockets before searching in the inner ones. In his search, he managed almost to spill his wine twice before Charity took the glass from his hands. "Sorry. I had this planned a lot differently. Everything was supposed to go perfectly."
"Fenton, this is perfect," Charity said, wondering what had happened throughout the night to make him feel that way. As far as she knew, nothing had gone wrong all evening.
"Well, I wanted to do this earlier at the restaurant, but I kind of…backed down," Fenton said. "I guess it didn't feel right, but here, right now, it does."
Charity blinked, wondering about his words, until he went down on one knee. Her heart quickened as she figured everything out.
"Charity, I love you. There is nothing in the world that would make me happier than if I could spend the rest of my life with you," he said, pulling out a ring from his pocket, the object he had been searching for. "Will you marry me?"
Charity stared, happiness erupting in her chest. She wanted to throw her arms around Fenton and tell him her answer, but her hands were filled with two wine glasses. Slowly, she knelt down next to him, careful of the dress she was in, and set the glasses down. Free of the burden, she threw herself at Fenton, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him.
He was caught off guard as they both tumbled to the wooden floor, but he still wrapped his arms around her, kissing her back. "Is that a yes?" he asked against her beak.
"Yes. Yes, it's definitely a yes," she said into his neck. She felt him sigh more than heard him. "Were you worried that I'd say no?"
Fenton gave a nervous chuckle. "A little."
She snuggled closer to him, playing with the feathers along his neck. "I'd be crazy for not wanting to be with you." She gave him a sweet, prolonged kiss, putting all her love into the action before nuzzling his cheek.
Fenton sat up, helping Charity in a position with her back against his chest. From there, he took the ring and gently slid it on her finger. "The perfect size."
"Gee, I wonder how you did that," Charity teased. "Mr. Gizmoduck."
Fenton chuckled. "You're going to have to get used to being called Mrs. Gizmoduck soon." He kissed the back of her neck as he wrapped his arms around her.
The song over the speakers changed, turning on a slow, sweet song. Fenton hummed along then sang with the lyrics. This surprised Charity, not that he sang because he did so often with her, but that he knew the words to this song. He must have been listening to her playlist recently.
I found a love, for me
Darling, just dive right in and follow my lead.
Well, I found a girl, beautiful and sweet
Oh, I never knew you were the someone waiting for me.
Fenton stood up, pulling Charity up with him, and immediately swayed with the rhythm with his hands on her hips.
Charity danced with him, a simple box step. She put her arms around his neck and laid her head against his shoulder, listening to his tenor voice.
'Cause we were just kids when we fell in love
Not knowing what it was
I will not give you up this time
But darling, just kiss me slow
Your heart is all I own
And in your eyes, you're holding mine.
She had heard about couples having songs that were special just for them. She didn't understand how they had decided upon a song, or perhaps the song just spoke to a couple, but from that point on, she knew that this would be her and Fenton's song. She lowered one of her hands, using a finger to trace a line down Fenton's neck to his collar bone. At some point, he had ditched his tie and loosened a button on his shirt, exposing more feathers. She remembered when they had first started dating how he rarely deviated from his business-like attire, but now he could relax more around her.
Baby, I'm dancing in the dark
With you between my arms
Barefoot on the grass
Listening to our favorite song
When you said you looked a mess
I whispered underneath my breath
But you heard it
Darling, you look perfect tonight.
The song, the night, everything did feel so perfect. And Fenton, he was perfect. He might not think so, but he really was the perfect guy. How could he have doubted her love for him?
They danced throughout the entire song, holding each other close and exchanging soft, sweet kisses. When the song ended, another slow one began about love and passion, so they continued to dance, not needing to exchange a single word to express their feelings for each other. They danced, almost forgetting about everything else until the speakers played something hard and upbeat, upsetting the mood they had formed.
"It's getting late," Charity said, reluctant to move away from Fenton. Her fiancé. She liked the sound of that. "I have an early morning." Because Fenton had picked her up from her apartment, they would at least have the car ride home to be together. And perhaps a long good-night kiss. A very, very long good-night kiss, she was planning.
Fenton nodded, scratching the back of his head, a sign of his uncertainty. "Or…you could stay the night," he suggested tentatively. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.
A warmth spread throughout Charity's body. They had both discussed the idea of being together intimately, but they had yet moved to that level. Fenton had been Charity's first boyfriend, first committed relationship, and practically her first everything besides kiss. It was the same with Fenton. They were both inexperienced and had been hesitant to take that crucial leap. There had been a few almosts, a few times when their kissing became so passionate that they almost crossed that line, but they never did. It just never felt like the right time.
But now, with Fenton looking at her in that way, with his hands steady and sure on her, with calm, longing in his eyes, Charity felt that everything was the way it should be.
"Okay," she whispered, moving closer to him. She felt a delicious shiver course through her body at the thought of being even closer to him.
But they didn't go inside just yet. Another soft song came through the speakers, and they continued dancing, but this time it felt a lot more intimate. Fenton's kisses became bolder, finding new spots like her wrists and her shoulders. His hands remained proper, but every touch brought new feelings to Charity's skin. Charity moved her curved beak through Fenton's feathers, sensing his breath increasing.
And even though a part of her longed for him to lead her in the house, so take her up to his bed, she remained where she was, stretching this moment out because there was nowhere else Charity would rather be than right there.
This time when Charity broke from the vision, she scrambled away from Aphrodite, still feeling the euphoria of Fenton's touch on her body even though it had been nothing but a lie. She wanted to be with him, to kiss him and let him love her as the vision had promised her, but she knew that she couldn't give into the lie. And she was afraid that if Aphrodite touched her one more time, showed her the last vision, that it would be too much for her, that she would break down and beg for Aphrodite to give her one of the lies.
She should have known that running would be no use. She couldn't escape. So when she felt her body be bound by invisible bonds and fly her back to the goddess, she wasn't prepared to be brave.
"Please, no more," Charity begged, her body tense.
"Now, now, little chick. We can't leave something unfinished," Aphrodite said and touched the lovebird one last time.
"Reporters on site have said that the flames are still not completely out, but that they are under control. The firefighters at the site of the fire have said that they cannot tell the extent of the damage done to the apartment building or if anyone remains inside, but they have done all they could without endangering any of their men. The Fire Chief has declined to comment on whether or not this fire was an accident or a case of arson."
The TV was overrun with footage about the fire downtown, some repeat from the last hour and the hour before it.
Charity sat at the edge of the couch, her muscles sore from tensing for long periods of time. Her lungs burned from smoke inhalation which she coughed and coughed for minutes on end, and she could feel burns all over her body. She could even smell smoke, although that might be part of her imagination. Yet she hadn't been anywhere near the fire.
"Several people have been pulled from the fire, many saved by two mysterious figures that were definitely not firefighters," the reporter continued. "It seems that the city of St. Canard once again owes a great debt to Darkwing Duck and his mysterious partner for his help. However, the crime fighting duo was not available to comment and some wonder if they may still be inside the building."
Charity pressed her hands together, rocking on the couch. She was in so much pain, she knew that at least one of them was alive. She hoped that they were both alright. She needed them both to be alright. She didn't know what she would do if she lost either of them. She needed both her best friend and the love of her life.
"Please let them both be okay," she repeated over and over. "Please let them be okay."
There was no telling which burns had come from whom, and she hadn't paid much attention to where she was hurt and whether any of the burns had disappeared—a sure sign that one of them was dead.
No, she couldn't think that. They were both okay. They were both alive.
She checked her phone again, waiting to see if a message would come while she watched the screen. She couldn't contact them. She promised she would never do that, not on the phones they kept with them while "on the job." She had their special numbers memorized—in case of an emergency—and never saved on her device. And Drake and Launchpad made it clear that checking to see if they were okay wasn't an emergency.
They would contact her soon. They always did. They always made sure to let her know that they were alright during cases like this, when they were involved in anything really dangerous that ended up on TV.
Why hadn't they contacted her yet?
The TV's speakers played a dramatic ditty, and the words "Breaking New" in bold letters appeared on screen.
"It appears there is an update on the situation down at the police station," the news reporter said, a finger to her ear as she listened to something in an ear piece. "We go live where the Captain of the 16th precinct is making a statement."
A stately bloodhound stood in front of a podium where an occasional flash from a camera highlighted his face. "We are prepared to make a statement about the fire still in progress. We now have crucial evidence that says that the fire was purposely started and that it was a premeditated crime. We also have a suspect in custody and are currently questioning him. I will be taking a few questions at this time."
"Captain. Captain," a man up front called out. "How did your officers come to this conclusion so quickly? The firefighters haven't been able to make a full investigation."
The bloodhound took a deep breath. "We were given an anonymous tip leading us to finding the suspect as well as evidence that the fire was started with highly combustible chemicals. We're certain that once we can investigate the fire, we'll find evidence that matches the chemicals found at the suspect's residency."
"Captain," a woman called out. "There is a report about that the suspect had tried to flee but was apprehended by someone that isn't on the force. Care to disclose who brought in the suspect."
The police captain did not look happy but was truthful. "Yes, that report is correct. Two citizens have stepped up and assisted the police in apprehending the suspect, and while we are thankful for their help, I would like to remind the rest of the city to leave the police work to the—"
At that exact moment, the sliding door to her balcony opened up and she was on her feet, heading toward the person who stood half in her apartment. She rammed into him so hard that he had to take a step back or topple over.
"You're okay," she said with relief, touching Darkwing's face, his neck, his chest. "And Launchpad?"
"He's fine. We're both fine," Darkwing said, guiding her back inside the apartment and closing the sliding door then the shades. Even though it was dark and they were on the fifth floor, they still needed to be careful not to be seen. "I'm more worried about you."
"I'm fine," Charity said right as her lungs burned once more. She held back the cough as much as she could before bending over.
Darkwing sat her down on the couch and reached for his duffle bag that he had brought with him. Unzipping it, he pulled out an oxygen tank, hose and facemask. "Here. Breathe deeply," he said, setting it up so that Charity could get a constant flow of oxygen.
Charity took deep breaths, relaxing on the couch but keeping a firm grip on Darkwing's hand. Her body relaxed now that he was here in front of her. But she could see the signs of the night's work: singed feathers, a tear in his cape, a missing button on his uniform, and part of his hat burned away.
"Where are you hurt?" Darkwing asked, pulling out bandages and anti-biotic cream that was specifically used for second degree burns. Charity was familiar with most first-aid materials.
Charity didn't answer. She leaned forward and took of Darkwing's hat so she could see his face. She put her hands on both his cheeks and leaned her forehead against his. She could smell the smoke on him.
Darkwing let her hold him for a while before gently pulling away and replacing the oxygen mask over her beak. He kissed her hand before asking again, "Where are you hurting? If you don't tell me, I'm going to examine every inch of you." He gave her a rakish smile.
Charity had ignored the spots on her body that continued to burn and radiate heat. She pointed out the worst of them first, several on her legs, one bad one that covered three fingers and a small section on her cheek. She also had a few abrasions that had matted blood.
Darkwing took great care in treating her, cleaning away the blood, applying cream and covering each wound with bandages. He did everything with as much expertise as any EMT; he had plenty of practice.
"We really need to choose a different activity for our dates," Darkwing said, kissing her hand after he had secured the bandage.
"You said you would text me," Charity demanded now that she was no longer being babied. "You promised."
"We had to catch the bad guy," Darkwing said. "We didn't have the time."
"It doesn't take two to drive the Ratcatcher," Charity said. "Next time, make sure Launchpad texts me. You two are going to send me to an early grave."
"Don't say something like that," Darkwing said, suddenly serious. "I don't like hurting you. I don't like that you have to hurt for us. We can stop at any…I won't let us go anywhere too dangerous."
"Don't you dare," Charity said, pulling away the oxygen mask. "Don't ever change. Not for me."
"Charity, you know I…" Darkwing started to say.
But Charity didn't want to hear this argument again. She discarded the oxygen, and held onto Darkwing with her face to his chest. "Shut up," she said. "Can we not talk about this again? Please. Please, just hold me. All I want is for you to hold me."
Darkwing obliged, pulling her tight into his arms. After a while, he picked her up and sat on the couch.
Charity lay with her head on his shoulder, curled up tight against him and holding on as if she would never let him go again. She didn't intend to, at least, not anytime soon.
Darkwing laid his head against hers, his hand on her knee before he traced it up and down her legs, his touch so soft that it almost tickled. He carefully went around her bandages and once in a while he would lift her leg up so he could kiss the flesh closest to her bandages. His hand kept going higher and higher.
Charity lifted a hand, tracing Darkwing's beak, going from one cheek to the other, playing with the slope and curve in front. With care, she moved her fingers to the back of his head and removed his mask.
"There's the man I fell in love with," she said with a smile, looking into Drake's face.
Drake dipped his beak under Charity's chin with his forehead against her cheek, her curly hair pillowing his head. "You know I'd do anything for you."
"I know," Charity said. "But I don't want you to quit."
"But what if—" Drake began but Charity stopped him.
"How many people did you save? How many did you pull out of the fire?" Charity asked.
"Five."
"If you had quit, then those five people wouldn't be alive today," she said. "And you caught the bad guy so he couldn't start any more fires, saving even more lives. I don't want you or Launchpad to stop being heroes because of me. I'm proud to be a part of that."
"But I hurt you," Drake said, holding her tighter.
"No," Charity whispered, bringing her beak near to his. "I protect you." She kissed him.
He responded, gentle at first but then with more want in his kisses. He continued to cradle her before slowly tilting her onto the couch. He was on top of her with most of his weight on his arms and knees, careful of her wounds.
But Charity didn't want careful. She wanted to feel his weight against her, be entirely surrounded by him. So she pulled him down until they both sunk into the couch cushions. She kissed him more passionately, her fingers making furrows in his hair and feathers.
Drake met her passion, moving his kissing from her mouth down her chin and neck, tracing her collar bone. His hands lifted, tugged and pulled at her clothes, but slowly, exposing only a little flesh here and there. He intended to take his time with her.
Charity felt both thrilled and comforted by this, living in this moment and knew what to expect in the moments to come. And even with her wounds, the pain she felt, it was worth it to be with Drake, to be a part of his life, because there was nowhere else Charity would rather be than right there.
Although Charity had felt the abrupt change from reality to visions and back to reality several times, this time was no less jarring. However, with her body still bound by Aphrodite's powers, she could barely move as she was jolted away from the final vision. At least she hoped it was the final vision. She couldn't take any more, to have her emotions jerked around like this, to experience love and devotion like she always longed for, to have her feelings reciprocated, to be in a relationship, to be loved.
"I know that it wasn't enough time with each of them, but certainly you've gotten a taste of what it would be like to be with one of your suitors," Aphrodite said, appraising the four ducks still bound. "Now you know your potential futures. I can make any of these scenarios possible. Oh, it'll take a little alterations here and there, some memories will have to be erased, but I can give it to you. Or perhaps there's something you didn't like. Perhaps you would like something changed here or there, so that it's just right, it's within my power to do so."
Aphrodite sounded like a home-maker on an info commercial, trying to sell her audience the perfect product. Try it now, today. This offer has only a limited time.
"Or perhaps you can't chose just one," Aphrodite said. "It may be a bit precarious, but I could somehow arrange it so you can see one on the sly. I've also heard that poly-amorous relationships are coming in style. Would that be more amicable to you? Is it that you can't choose at all, can't stand to leave a single one alone? Will you be happy with all four?"
The last lingering feelings from the vision disappeared and Charity felt her gorge rise. She was disgusted. Aphrodite was using them as a bargaining chip, talking about altering them, changing them to fit her plans. Did it matter to her if they didn't love her in return? No, it probably didn't. And being the goddess of love, it wouldn't be a problem to make them all fall in love with her.
"No," Charity said. "I don't want them!"
Aphrodite whipped around. "What is wrong with you? I'm willing to give you paradise, to alter reality just for you. I'm going to give you everything you want."
"This isn't what I want," Charity screamed. "You don't understand anything about love."
"I make love happen," Aphrodite yelled back. "And you are fighting against it."
"This isn't love," Charity argued. "Love is a choice, not something that happens because of a curse or magic. What I feel isn't real. You're a fake. A phony. You are poison."
"They love you!" Aphrodite shouted, pointing to the four ducks. "That is real."
"It's no more real than the love I feel for them because of the curse," Charity said. "They have feelings for me, but it's not true love. Their feelings are more out of guilt and obligation." Charity looked away from them, speaking the truth as far as she knew but knowing it would hurt them. She couldn't look at them, not when Fenton and Drake had practically professed their hearts to her. "And because of that, I don't want them. I can never accept their love because I will always question if it is real. And they will always wonder the same of me, always feel lesser because I'm under a spell. So I reject your offer."
Aphrodite eyes widened and her nostrils flared, which was still becoming on her perfect face. "If that's how you feel, then I have no choice. You are all free to go."
(Author's notes: I have been waiting such a long time to write this chapter. It was really fun to write some "what-if" scenarios of Charity in a relationship with all the guys. But I wanted to point out one thing about these scenarios, I purposefully made them centered on the lives of the guys and not showing anything about Charity's future because they are basically fabrications from Aphrodite and not a realistic telling of the future. I made them almost too perfect as well as a little off the mark because Aphrodite is only focused on the relationship and not on anything else.
I'm really excited that tomorrow I will be posting the last chapter of the story, but also a little sad. I've been working on this story for over two years (I started it in Feb of 2021) and I can't believe how long it is. Thank you everyone for sticking with me this long, for those who have been reading since the beginning and those who just came in. All of your comments have really made it worth it.)