Beet and the Beauty
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When I was a little kid, I was a huge fan of the Darkwing Duck show. One of my favorite episodes was 'Beauty and the Beet', though as a little kid, I couldn't quite explain why I liked this episode so much (this turned out to me being one of these weirdos who like the bad guy/good girl pairings, which would explain why later I shipped Bowser/Peach or Ganon/Zelda but I digress…)
I'd all but forgotten about Darkwing Duck until recently when I got Disney Plus, and since then I'd been watching shows I enjoyed in my youth, as well as being able to enjoy shows in full that I'd only been able to catch a few episodes of during their original run or whatever. I also enjoyed newer offerings like DuckTales 2017 (loved the crossover with DWD) and it was a real hoot. Or maybe I should say that show's a quack, while Owl House is a hoot. I do love me some puns, hardee har har.
So I watched the entire run of Darkwing Duck, and 'Beauty and the Beet' remains one of my favorite episodes, although seeing this as an adult instead of a young kid definitely gave me a different perspective on the show.
There's only so much a children's show can do, or go into, both because of its intended audience, as well as its time format (but more the former, especially in this case) and there was a lot of stuff going through my head when watching and mentally critiquing various shows including DWD. So my mind got rolling, and my Bushroot/Dendron ship reawakened, and here we are. This story starts around where the episode would start plotwise, but as it's fanfic, it turns into what I hope to be a good ride. Feedback is appreciated. Have a lovely day, readers and fellow DWD fans!
P.S. - I agonized over the title for a good while. The other titles were pretty cheesy for me and I kept playing around with different titles, but the one that made the most sense to me was one directly inspired by the title of the original episode and the feel I am going for in this story.
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Prologue
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Scientific Research Lab 356 had not been a bad place to work until Doctors Gary and Larson had been transferred there. They were the nephews of one of the dean's friends, and it was obvious they were only interested in science for profit, and well, who didn't like profit? The university certainly did, which bolstered the dean's recommendation.
The last person that had worked in the same lab had been nearing retirement and found a lucrative part-time teaching job elsewhere, and not for the first time Doctor Rhoda Dendron pondered seeking a position at Ducksburg University, or one of the other prestigious universities across the country. By now, she'd had enough experience and a solid enough resume, didn't she?
The lab used to be a fun place for her to work, but as of late, it'd given her more stress and anxiety than even her time as a student, juggling full-time courses with waitress and then lab tech jobs to pay the bills, had given her. And poor Reginald – he might not be sexually harassed like she was, but messing around with someone's project was a pretty shitty thing to do as well.
She regarded Gary and Larson with a cool expression as she went over to Reginald, helping him to clean up the mess. The movies made being a scientist seem glamorous, working in high-end labs and coming up with fancy gizmos or substances for the main character of the blockbuster film. There was the saying that genius is one percent inspiration and ninety-nine percent perspiration, and that could be said for the scientific process. The work that went into innovation was fraught with failure when hypotheses were put to the test.
Once the pair of younger doctors were occupied with their work, Rhoda glanced at her co-worker meaningfully after they'd made some small talk about his experiment. Before she could say anything else, who would walk in the room but Dean Tightbill himself?
She greeted him politely and stood back while Gary and Larson fawned over him, even complimenting the ketchup stain on his tie.
...Yeah. A change in location – and coworkers – was called for.
"I'm sure Dean Tightbill has more important things to do than discuss wardrobe," she finally commented dryly. And as if the universe was not so subtly hinting that she was most certainly not wrong in her concerns for the future, the dean brought up the budget, and the need to cut back on expenses. He turned his attention to Dr. Bushroot as he said this, sneering at Reginald's workstation.
Rhoda winced with sympathy as Reginald started to plead his case, saying he was so close. Fiddling around with the tubes that were connected to a potted plant, he was rewarded with a small explosion. He exclaimed softly in horror as he examined the mess after the smoke had cleared. "Hey, this isn't supposed to be here!" he exclaimed softly, holding up the end of one of the tubes.
With righteous fury, he spun upon Gary and Larson, who stood there with their arms folded behind their back, wearing innocent expressions on their faces. However, it was something Rhoda saw right through since this was not the first time they had done it.
"Now, now, Dr. Bushroot, don't blame others for your failures," Dean Tightbill scolded.
"Can you give Dr. Bushroot more time?" Rhoda said, stepping forward. Poor Reginald needed someone to stand up for him after all that. He was standing there, looking so downcast that it was hard for her to see how Gary, Larson, or the Dean could not feel any empathy for him.
"Sorry, but time is money," the Dean replied as he turned to walk out of the lab. "And as you well know, money does not grow on trees."
The door closed behind him, and Rhoda was immediately at Reginald's side.
"With your experience, you can get work anywhere you want," she said encouragingly. He deserved better than this.
"Yeah, as a gardener," Drs. Gary and Larson chimed in. It took a grand amount of self-control to not roll her eyes at them as they broke out in raucous laughter, continuing to crack jokes as Reginald turned away from her and walked off, not responding as she called out after him. She turned back to glare at Gary and Larson, and they regarded her with the same innocent expression as they did to Reginald after his accusation.
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As Reginald bustled around in the greenhouse, quickly putting together the last elements needed for his experiment, he pondered Rhoda's words. She was right, he could probably find work elsewhere. But that meant starting all over because there was no way in hell Dean Tightbill would let him take anything out of the lab per the university contract, and he didn't want to do that when he was so close. He probably would have accomplished his goal already if it wasn't for Drs. Gary and Larson.
Obnoxious little… Well, not so little, and with two burly young men against his scrawny middle-aged frame, what chance did he have whenever the pair decided to get a little rough with him? They were careful enough to not leave bruises or worse because there were only so many strings their uncle or the dean could pull, but that still left them plenty enough options for harassment.
But if he could prove them wrong, then he wouldn't need their funding. Such a breakthrough would practically make him a superstar in the science world. He would be featured in science magazines and have his papers published in the premiere scientific journals!
The botanist knew he was taking a risk, though. The logical part of his mind reminded him of the various trials and errors it took to get to this stage. But he was a man of emotion, too. Lots of people viewed scientists as nerds, beings more concerned about numbers and facts, and experiments than creating bonds with other people. And sure, scientists tended to be more introverted, but it didn't mean they weren't lonely, or that they didn't feel things as intensely as others.
He wasn't conscious of any of that at the moment, but his emotions were indeed running high. His hands shook as he looked up at the glass ceiling, seeing the rain come down in sheets as lightning crackled overhead. He'd collected and studied various plant specimens through the years, carefully choosing a combination for his serum. The main purpose of his experiments was to give people a way to synthesize energy into food the way plants did. But he didn't have the time to collect energy through the solar panels.
He was about to capture lightning in a jar, in a very close to the literal sense of the word. Fretfully, he looked down at the serum as he hooked an IV to his arm. The vial seemed to glow green under the muted lights in the greenhouse. There was a flash of light, and he gasped as he felt the surge rip through him.
Dr. Bushroot gained consciousness several moments later, sprawled out and nearly falling out of his chair. Pulling the needle out of his arm, he noticed the serum vial was empty. The petunia that had served as a living conduit was dead. Looking down at his arm, he rubbed it. He felt no different, other than being somewhat light-headed, but then he'd just received the literal shock of his life.
Flexing his fingers, he frowned thoughtfully as disappointment crashed over him. Perhaps he did need to start somewhere else. It'd be nice not dealing with Drs. Gary and Larson, but he would miss Dr. Dendron. Rubbing his eyes, he looked over at the clock. Still quite a few hours left before dawn. Might as well get some sleep. After all, sleep was supposed to help clear the mind, and hopefully, he'd wake up with a new insight.
Sunlight was filtering in through the leaves, and Reginald lifted his head, rubbing one of his eyes. As he registered his surroundings, he remembered his seemingly ill-fated experiment.
Crap. He rose to his feet, and instinct led him to the closest hose that was used for watering the plants. Carefully pressing the nozzle, he shuddered in pleasure as the cool liquid splashed down his throat. After several large gulps, he smacked his lips. Sometimes the greatest pleasures were to find in the simplest things, but he hadn't expected the water to be so satisfying.
It was Saturday morning. So he still had a couple of days before he had to confront the dean or the mischievous pair. But first, some fresh air, and perhaps a bite to eat.
He lifted his face, closing his eyes as he took a deep breath, feeling more calm. His face warmed as a light breeze ruffled his feathers. He lifted his hand, spreading his fingers before arching his back in a stretch. Oh yeah, that fresh air really was helping. And the sunshine, it almost felt as if his body was drinking it in.
Almost without thinking, he started walking along one of the paths on campus. There were relatively few people around, so the peace and quiet was nice. He looked around, taking in the landscaping from the lawns to the simple topiary that accented this spot or that. It was pretty basic for what one might see on any campus or office park.
With what a nice morning it was, he was loath to go back inside and hunch over a desk or lab table. There was a public park and trail just a few blocks from campus, so he cheerfully ambled down, taking a quick look at himself as he passed by the window of a cafe. He saw what he expected – a balding, middle-aged duck, but it was one with spring in his step.
He walked through the park and wandered along the trail for a bit, enjoying the natural surroundings, sunlight filtering in through the trees that canopied much of the path. He reached out, touching the bark of trees or the petals of wildflowers.
Hours passed, and he barely noticed the rumble in his stomach, having drunk some water from a stream that curved near the trail at one point. He did draw a few curious glances from others using the trail, being in a lab coat instead of exercise or casual clothing, but presented as harmless, so he would get an occasional friendly wave from a jogger who assumed he was just some scientist taking samples. Which was not that far from the truth.
"Oh my goodness!" he exclaimed softly when he checked his watch for the first time in what almost seemed like forever, seeing that it was late afternoon.
The evening air was pleasant on his face as he walked back to the lab, picking up a burger and fries as he did so, barely noticed by others as people young and old brought themselves outside to enjoy a mild weekend night. Not the best choice, he knew, but he had never been much of a cook, and many a long night – either as a student or professor – had taught him to make use of the various eateries.
He sat back with his food, pulling the wrappers onto the work table, closing his eyes, and munching idly. When he'd chosen a drink to go with his meal, the idea of soda didn't entice him as it had when he was in high school or college. Maybe I'm getting old, he mused as he'd decided on water. But it tasted good, especially refreshing against the salt and grease of the Number Four menu option he'd chosen for his evening repast.
He finished his meal in the silence of the greenhouse, a desk lamp illuminating his surroundings. His thoughts were a bit of a muddle, the anxiety creeping back in as he pondered the reality of his situation. One hand balled into a fist, and he let out a slow sigh before sipping the rest of his water. He didn't relish the prospect of looking for a new job, but he did not want to share the same campus with Gary and Larson.
Reginald's hand hovered over his phone as he considered checking his messages. There weren't many people who would call him. He'd left it in the greenhouse after he'd gone outside this morning, lost in the pleasure of the sunlight and fresh air. He swallowed once before typing in the passcode, glancing at the screen. Nothing from the dean, or those associated with him. No news is good news, I guess, he mused before blinking as he scrolled down to his text messages, seeing Dr. Dendron's name.
It took him s moment to fully register just what he was seeing. He was what some would jokingly call a dinosaur, due to how little he used technology. Video games and social media had never really interested him. To him, e-mails were mainly functional, though the occasional spam or meme made it into his inbox.
Good morning, Reginald. I know yesterday was quite the day, and I just want to be sure you're doing all right.
-Rhoda
It was short and simple, like the other messages they exchanged, but this was the first time she'd contacted him for something that wasn't essential and work-related. He thought of her words of encouragement from the day before, and let out a quiet sigh as he pondered a possible reply. He'd never had an easy time with women in a romantic setting. He tended to overthink and short-guess himself, and high school and college had gone by with him firmly establishing his reputation as an awkward nerd.
"Oh, Rhoda," the doctor murmured as he stared at the keyboard before he felt a rumble in his stomach. The burger had been a bit too greasy for his liking, but hardly something to complain about, or so he thought. It was quite disappointing compared to how he'd felt earlier today, basking in the sun, surrounded by trees and plants.
Plenty enough about Reginald remained duck, but the changes he was dismissing to stress or a cheap, greasy meal was evidence of the budding success of the clandestine experiment he'd conducted on himself. Rising to his feet, he poured himself a cup of water from the sink before gulping it down as his gaze moved slowly around the greenhouse. With just one lamp on, the building took on an ethereal feel, the taller plants silhouetted against the inky blue sky.
Though the greenhouse stood firm against any wind that might come up against it, Reginald could swear that he heard the rustle of leaves. He glanced over at the large Venus flytrap that he'd affectionately named Spike. It was a relic from his college days and owed its robustness to the various plant serums he'd designed over the years as he'd experimented with plant nutrition. Some people would say Reginald needed a dog, but hey, plants were a lot easier to care for. He picked up one of the leaves, examining it to ensure Spike's health. Too bad more people couldn't appreciate plants were, and how vital they were to living. There was plenty to learn from these unique lifeforms, regardless of what naysayers like Dean Tightbill might think.
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In the cartoon, Bushroot's metamorphosis was almost instantaneous, but in real life, I think something like what Bushroot engineered would cause a more gradual transformation, like Seth Brundle's transformation in The Fly movie, although less horrifying, and that the process would involve more than just hooking yourself up to a petunia.
Yes, I am a science fiction nerd and think such a process would require at least a bit more complexity, but DWD was a children's show and I don't blame them for presenting Bushroot's story the way they did. But that's what makes fanfiction so great, you can explore things that a children's show did not have the time or depth for, lol. As for the time setting, I was torn between the original early 90s, or updating it to the 2020s and could not decide so I am leaving the year a bit ambivalent – I really like Bushroot's design in DT17 so I am mixing in a bit of the two because there are pretty damn great things about both shows.
Anyway, I hope y'all enjoyed this first installment, there will be more to come as the next part is already well underway. Feedback/reviews are always welcome and very much appreciated by the author. And have a happy and safe 2023… it feels weird to know that it's already been 3 years since COVID came out. Damn.