It has been years since he has stepped foot in here. The beige hallways taunt him with long‒ago memories, and while the room he now sat in hadn't been his own, it was practically identical. Granted, the technology has been updated since his time (though he notes smugly that none of it held a candle to anything at the tower!), but the seating arrangement and gaudy decorations plastered over the wall are enough to invoke a feeling of dread in his stomach.
That, and the reason he is sitting in a classroom at St. Canard Middle School in the first place.
"I'm so sorry to take time out of your busy schedule, Mr Mallard‒"
"Oh, no, really, it's no bother." Mainly since his busy schedule during the day only amounted to keeping the apartment tidy and sleeping—a lot.
"‒even so, I really do appreciate it. I wish the circumstances were more‒ pleasant." Mrs Pochard's beak twists into a deep frown. That feeling of dread grows in Drake's stomach.
"... I'm afraid Gosalyn hasn't been coping well at school," the brown‒feather duck adds carefully.
"I‒ er, well‒ what do you mean?" Drake is suddenly light-headed.
"I mean‒" Mrs Pochard pauses, obviously conflicted on how her next words should come out. "I mean ‒ she keeps falling asleep in class. She's a bright child‒"
Despite the praise, Drake can all but taste the oncoming but‒
"‒but I have to ask if everything at home is okay?"
Drake swallows the sudden lump in his throat. Pins of doubt begin to prick his body.
(you're a failure you're a failure you're a failure)
"It's just that Gosalyn finds it challenging to pay attention in school, and sometimes, keeping her eyes open is difficult," Mrs Pochard continues when Drake is silent. She stops to sigh and shoots him a firm and sympathetic look. "Mr Mallard, I'm aware that you've only been Gosalyn's legal guardian‒"
Dad, Drake firmly corrects in his mind.
"‒for just over a year now, but her grades have been slipping since she's been in your care."
The words come as a resounding punch to his gut. A slight panic slips over his features, but he quickly replaces it with a concerned frown. However, Drake had forgotten that the brown‒feathered duck was a teacher. She is trained to pick up on those tiny displays of genuine emotion.
"It's okay, Mr Mallard," Mrs Pochard's features soften along with her voice, and Drake can't help but feel like one of her students. "I'm not trying to imply that you're a bad father—quite the opposite. Gosalyn often boasts to the other children that she has the coolest dad ever." Mrs Pochard air quotes with her fingers as she repeats his daughter's words.
"... She does?" Drake realises that the desperation in his voice is intense. Unfortunately, he knows there isn't much he can do about it.
Ever since he was a young child, Drake has craved validation. From the bullies who bashed his face into his Darkwing Duck lunchbox, to the critics of every C‒list movie he has played a side character in and to the entire city of St. Canard as the Masked Mallard.
(but he also knows that only one person's validation of him is enough)
"She does," Mrs Pochard affirms, nodding. "There isn't a day where she doesn't call you her superhero. Mr Mallard, the quality of Gosalyn's home life doesn't cause any concern. I am only concerned that she isn't taking school seriously."
Drake opens his beak to defend his daughter, but the words catch in his throat—images of Gosalyn at home flash in his mind.
Gosalyn watching TV. Gosalyn scrolling through DuckTok. Gosalyn practicing her archery skills in her room. Gosalyn cheering at the news broadcast of Darkwing Duck's latest adventure against crime. Gosalyn‒Drake stops there before he drives himself insane.
He can't think of a single time he saw Gosalyn sit down and work on her homework. Drake protests weakly to himself that perhaps she does it in her room, but the young father already knows that isn't true.
"Mr Mallard?"
Drake is forcefully pulled back into the room from his mind, and he looks at Mrs Pochard. She has a single eyebrow raised; her hands clasped together. Drake knows this woman can read his mind, whether she possesses a psychic ability or not. It is written all over his face.
Drake clears his throat and makes a blatant display of focusing his full attention on the teacher. Then, he sits forward, adopting a stern expression and clasping his hands together like hers.
This satisfies Mrs Pochard, and she continues.
"Mr Mallard, as I said before, I know you've only been Gosalyn's‒" The teacher pauses. "‒father, for just over a year now, and I know you probably feel that being firm with her would go against her happiness and well-being."
That isn't strictly true, Drake tells himself. He knows how to be firm with Gosalyn; it's just that every time his eyes look into her little green ones, all scolding and reprimands die in his throat.
He definitely remembers scolding her more before she was adopted.
(okay, maybe it is true)
"But when Gosalyn moves onto high school, they won't be as lenient as I am. So you need to be firm with Gosalyn now and plant the idea into her head that you are not a pushover."
When the meeting ends, Drake feels he has walked out of a therapy session (he has attended enough to be familiar). As he steps into his car, Drake's lunch threatens to push itself out of his stomach.
He knows what he has to do. He tells himself it's only temporary until her grades improve until a balance is found between fighting crime and school. Drake remembers that Mrs Pochard had said Gosalyn struggled to stay awake in class, and he knows that this is the perfect catalyst for what he is planning when he arrives home.
After a gruelling journey home and a mental note to add 'Sunday drivers' to his list of significant crimes, Drake parks his car in the assigned parking spot and takes the elevator to the fourth floor of his apartment.
"... you won't win today, Darkwing Duck! I've plugged into every fusebox in the city!"
"Poor, delusional Megavolt—didn't you know a power cut was planned today?"
Drake hears the voices before he sees them, and a fond smile picks at the corner of his beak when he sees Launchpad and Gosalyn sprawled on the living room floor, playing with his vintage Darkwing Duck action figures. As always, Gosalyn is playing the part of Darkwing Duck because, one, the real Darkwing Duck is her dad, so duh, two, Launchpad always lets her win, and three, she has yet to stay awake through a single episode.
(Drake always tries his best not to take that as a personal attack)
Drake watches for a moment longer (the daring Darkwing easily defeats Megavolt) and then decides to announce his presence to the two ducks deeply engrossed in their playtime.
"Gosalyn‒" Drake begins before he is cut off by the smaller duck slamming into his stomach. Drake winces but smiles down at Gosalyn. "Nice to see you, too," he groans through gritted teeth. Launchpad beams at the sight before he gathers the action figures to pack them away safely.
"Hey, Dad."
(the casual manner in which she says his name will always cause an ocean of love to crash over him)
"Launchpad and I cleaned the kitchen together. We pretty much started the moment you left." Drake is silent. He knows his daughter well enough by now to know her sentence is unfinished.
"Okay, I supervised," Gosalyn eventually admits, "but, I supervised him brilliantly."
"Gosalyn‒"
"I promise I'll actually help next time, Dad." Gosalyn steps back with a smile that says yep, definitely not in trouble now. She walks over to the couch, hands stuffed in her pocket, and all but slumps onto the beige sofa. "So, how did the parent-teacher conference go at school?"
If Gosalyn knows why her teacher had wanted to talk, her voice and face don't show it. Drake squints at her, but even with his expert knowledge of body language‒
(Drake isn't sure if he picked that up as an actor or as Darkwing)
‒he doesn't pick up on any signs that she knows where the conversation will head.
"Gosalyn‒"
"Okay, D.W., action figures all tidied away!" Launchpad walks in, rubbing his hands together in a congratulatory manner. Drake grunts at the now third interruption in a row and folds his arms across his chest to signal to Launchpad that he requires privacy.
Launchpad blinks at him, silent. Drake audibly groans as he runs a hand down his beak.
"Launchpad, I need to talk to Gosalyn." Blink. "Alone ." Two more blinks—and then it finally hits Launchpad.
"Oh, oh, riiight ." The pilot shoots two finger guns at Drake, alongside a cheesy smile. Drake only stares at him. "I'll just… leave. Like a tree." The two Mallards can only watch silently as Launchpad exits the apartment and closes the front door behind him. The silence remains until one Mallard opens their mouth.
"Are you planning to ask my permission to date Launchpad?" Drake explodes into a splutter of words.
"Wha‒ where did‒ no I‒ of course not!" Gosalyn shrugs.
"Oh. I mean, I'm definitely not against the idea. You and Launchpad would make a very cute couple‒" Gosalyn's eyes brim with excitement, "‒oh, and you know what? Then I could boast to everyone that I have two‒"
" Gosalyn, I'm not going to date Launchpad !" Drake shrieks.
(... okay, that wasn't actually the worst idea in the world)
Gosalyn is stunned into silence, her eyes widening enough to convey her surprise that Drake had yelled at her. The sight is enough for Drake to send another hand running down his beak.
"Gos, honey‒ I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you." Gosalyn raises her eyebrows before a smirk slips onto her youthful features.
"I should say so, Mr Grumpy Puss."
(‒grumpy puss?! where had she even learnt‒)
"Is this something to do with school?" Gosalyn asks. "Because I swear I had nothing to do with that sewer gas incident in the boys' locker room‒"
"Wha‒ gas incident‒" Drake decides he'll talk to her about that one another time. "No, this is about your poor grades in school."
"Oh. That." Gosalyn sits up straight. "Is that all?" Any relief Drake feels that his daughter actually does care about her situation quickly falls from underneath him.
"What do you mean‒ is that all?" Drake struggles to comprehend what Gosalyn has said. "Gos, this is serious." Drake exhales through his bill and pulls a chair from the kitchen table.
(they really needed a bigger apartment)
(or a house would be nice, too)
Drake doesn't want this conversation while she sits, and he looms over her. If he sits, he can show her he wants to be on the same level.
(or something to that effect)
"Why?" Gosalyn asks. "It's just school."
"Gos, honey‒ I didn't like school, either. But I studied hard, got good grades, and became an actor. If I hadn't had those good grades, I would never have got a part in the Darkwing Duck movie, I would never have actually become Darkwing Duck, and I would never have‒"
(I would never have met you.)
Drake shuts his eyes and blows another exhale through his bill.
"My point is‒ you need good grades, kid. They're essential in life." Gosalyn levels him with an unimpressed glare.
"You don't need good grades to become an actor, Dad. Any loser can wander in off the street and do it."
(ouch)
Drake clears his throat.
"Fine, but my point still stands. Our society deems good grades important, so you need to start thinking about them."
(it definitely wasn't because he didn't want the school, or any other authority figures, to paint him as a bad father because he didn't nag his daughter about her grades‒)
"Why?" Gosalyn repeats. "We both know I won't have a traditional career when I'm older."
(oh)
(OH)
The sudden realisation hits Drake like a truck, and he has to stop himself from laughing out loud at his own naivety.
(of course, it was that)
She's his daughter—how did he not realise this sooner?
"... Dad?" Gosalyn is concerned at his silence because she's looking at him with big, questioning eyes, searching for any answer in his eyes to his feelings on what she had said.
She doesn't have to wait long.
"Gos, honey‒ you‒" Drake isn't sure how to proceed. "You can't just not care about school because you fight crime."
"Why not ?" There is a bite in her reply. He hadn't responded in the way she had wanted.
"Because, honey, the world doesn't work that way."
He can picture it now.
("sorry, but I'm taking my daughter out of school because she wants to be a crime-fighter, full-time")
"You're Darkwing Duck," Gosalyn grounds out, and Drake can't help feeling like he's just been insulted. "Make it work that way."
Drake raises an eyebrow at her increasing attitude.
"Okay, time out. You need to change that tone‒"
"I don't need to change anything!" Gosalyn yells as she flies to her feet. Drake bites back the reprimand of having her shoes on the couch. "I don't care about school; why can't you understand?! All I care about is fighting crime with you and Launchpad, and‒"
"And what, Gosalyn?" Drake presses. Gosalyn's face turns grim when she hears no anger in his voice. Drake can almost hear the furious plotting in her tiny mind to escape the situation.
Her demeanour changes instantaneously.
"Annnd‒ it's actually been a long day, Dad, yeah‒ watching Launchpad is exhausting!" Gosalyn fakes a yawn and hops onto the floor. "I need a nap before patrol tonight." She begins to flee to the safety of her room, but Drake is quicker. His hand darts out and takes a fistful of her green hoodie.
"Who said you're going on patrol tonight?" Drake asks her. His voice is calm, but a fire simmers underneath the surface; there is a distinct lack of an exploding red-headed duck that usually follows his threats of no patrols.
"... you did‒ this morning."
"Right," Drake nods, and for a moment, hope shines in Gosalyn's green eyes. "And now I'm telling you that you can't." Gosalyn's head sinks into her shoulders, and she looks at him through her eyelashes.
"I guess I'm grounded, too, huh?"
"For a week," Drake confirms. Gosalyn's eyes roll to the ground.
"I guess that's fair…." she grumbles. She starts to cross over to her room but is visibly confused when her feet stay in the same place.
"There's more we need to talk about." Drake lifts his daughter, hand still firmly grasped around her hood, and deposits her on the couch.
Drake turns away from her and takes a deep breath in. He recalls the breathing lessons taught at the St. Canard School of Acting, and breathes in for eight seconds, holds it, and releases it for another eight. He repeats this twice before he turns to face his daughter again. She has an uncertain expression.
"Okay, Gosalyn," Drake starts calmly. "Here's what's going to happen‒ and I don't want any back talk, young lady!" Drake snaps, wagging a finger at Gosalyn when she opens her little beak. She promptly shuts it.
(the breathing exercises have never been that useful to him, in the end)
"Your teacher told me you're having problems staying awake in class," Drake continues when Gosalyn doesn't protest. She draws her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around her legs.
"Yeah, so?" Gosalyn mutters into the crook of her elbow.
"So, young lady, until you learn to prioritise school, you can forget about tagging along for patrols."
Tears spring into Gosalyn's eyes, and Drake feels the punch to his gut for the second time that day.
"That isn't fair, Dad," Gosalyn says, her voice cracking with tears, "you were the one who asked me to be your crime-fighting partner, remember?"
Drake did remember asking her that.
(he also remembers that it was his way of asking her to stay with him because she was just a child‒ and he was Darkwing Duck)
"And now you're going back on your promise because I got a few lousy grades?"
" Because your attitude needs to change," Drake corrects. Gosalyn sniffles and pulls her hood over her red hair. The sight shoves a sword into Drake's heart. He sighs and sits next to her.
"Gosalyn, I'm not banning you forever. It's just until you improve at school." Drake places a hand on her shoulder, but she pulls away from his touch.
"Fine," she mutters. "Whatever." Her green eyes snap to his. "Can I go now?" Drake silently nods, and the girl skulks from the couch and to her room, where she slams the door shut behind her.
Drake remains where he is, his eyes fixed on Gosalyn's door. The urge to burst into her room, sweep her into his arms and beg her forgiveness for upsetting her is almost too much to ignore.
He understands how she feels. If the roles were reversed, and she had temporarily banned him from crime-fighting, he, too, would've been upset. But the roles aren't reversed, and he has to be the horrible dad.
Drake wouldn't change that for the world. As long as Gosalyn grows up happy and healthy, he will happily be a "horrible" dad. He would do anything to protect her, and if it meant stopping her from doing what she loved most, then so be it.
(yes, his heart has just broken into a tiny million pieces)
Knowing Gosalyn will want, and needs, time alone, Drake moves from the couch to prepare dinner. He shoots a message to Launchpad that it's safe to return home, and pulls out ingredients for dinner.
During the hour it takes Drake to make dinner, he hears Gosalyn's door open once. When he turns to catch a glance, the door is promptly shut once more.
Once dinner is ready, Drake sets out three plates at the small table in the kitchen (where on Earth was Launchpad, anyway?), and crosses the room to knock on his daughter's door.
"Gosalyn? Dinner's ready?" No answer. A frown tugs at Drake's beak. "You can eat it in your room if you want to." Nothing.
(she's not hungry)
"Or if you're not hungry right now, I can keep it warm…?" His voice trails off weakly.
(she's asleep)
"If you're asleep, I can just come back later‒ but I guess you wouldn't know since you're‒" Drake swallows the lump in his throat, "‒asleep."
Then there's something wrong with the apartment because it's suddenly way too hot, and the room blurs.
(check her room check her room check her ROOM ‒ )
Drake doesn't want to invade Gosalyn's privacy, but the paternal instinct that took root inside him a year and a half ago, which has since grown exponentially, is screaming wildly at him to just.
Open.
The.
Door.
She would have to convince Dad to move to Duckburg; that city was in peril at least twice a day! The supervillain capital that is St. Canard? As silent as a feather in the wind.
Gosalyn mutters crossly under her breath as she walks the streets. No murders, no grievous bodily harm, no littering!
The young duck knows she will have to take matters into her hands. She's resourceful; she broke into two separate places in twenty-four hours! She's Gosalyn Mallard! She can do anything she sets her mind to! She only needs a dummy, plastic bags, and a permanent marker.
The media's attention would be fine, too.
Ten minutes later and Gosalyn's plan is ready. A villainous-looking duck mannequin sits atop the bank's roof, and two cartoonish sacks with dollar signs drawn on them are in its evil hands. A message demanding all of St. Canard's money, lest the city be blown to smithereens, blares through Gosalyn's Bluetooth speaker (she never leaves home without it!)
"The dastardly villain is, as of yet, unknown to us, but we are sure to learn their evil identity as we bring you more on this story."
"Look, they have cartoon money sacks! They must be serious!"
Gosalyn hides behind the doorway to the roof and cheers as she watches the local news on her phone.
"I can't believe my plan is working…." Gosalyn then remembers it is the people of St. Canard, a city that has bred both her and her dad. She shouldn't be shocked.
"Oh, really? And just which plan is that? Is it the one to get yourself grounded for a month?"
Now she's shocked.
Gosalyn turns to face her father, who is now in his full Darkwing costume. His face twists in anger, his arms tight in a fold across his chest.
"H-Hey, Dad…"
"Don't you h-hey, Dad me, young lady!" Darkwing shrieks. "Just what do you think you're doing?!" Gosalyn slumps against the wall and shrugs. Then, unable to think of an answer that doesn't sound completely ridiculous, Gosalyn changes the subject.
"How did you find me so fast?" She's only been away from the apartment for twenty minutes. Gosalyn had assumed she could have at least forty-three more minutes before Dad caught up to her.
Dad begins to drum his fingers.
"I'm your father," he answers, and Gosalyn notices one of his eyelids is twitching, "I always know where you are." Despite her situation, Gosalyn releases a snort.
"Dad, come on, I'm not five‒"
"Plus, I installed a tracking app on your phone for moments just as these." Gosalyn's stomach drops like a lead weight into her shoes.
"The WHAT?!" Gosalyn shrieks in the same high-pitched manner her father had moments before. "How could you‒"
"Oh, no, young lady, don't you start with me!" Dad snaps, shoving a finger at her. "You're in no position to call me out on anything!" Gosalyn doesn't retort because she knows he's right. "Now, we are going home, where we'll have a loong discussion, especially one about climbing out of windows on the fourth floor!"
Dad reaches out to grab her, but Gosalyn is quicker, and she ducks and slides underneath him.
"Go- Gosalyn!" Dad yells out in a strangled gasp. Gosalyn doesn't stick around to hear the rest of his scolding. Instead, she runs into the stairwell and begins descending the stairs.
She doesn't hear her dad start to run after her for the pounding heartbeat in her ears.
Gosalyn keeps running until she can no longer-
-because a familiar red beam of light is blocking her way. Gosalyn finds herself frozen to the spot and unable to do anything but stare.
"Aha!"
Dad drops before her, blocking out the angry, red light beam. He puts his hands on his hips and opens his beak to, undoubtedly, yell at her. But once he takes in the sheer terror on his daughter's face, his face falls, and he turns to look.
He recognises it just as quickly as his daughter does.
Before Darkwing can scoop his daughter up and get out of there, the red beam of light shoots out towards them. Instinctively, the masked father turns his back and extends his cape out, hoping to shield them both.
It doesn't hit Gosalyn, at least.