There was no movement in the house on 537 Avian Way. All the lights were out, the rooms empty. The beds were made, waiting for their owners' return to spend them warmth and rest from the world's sorrows for at least a few hours.

It wasn't uncommon for the Mallards to be out at this time of the night, although the circumstances couldn't be more out of the ordinary. A single father, his adopted daughter and their close family friend by day, the residents changed into different roles once dawn hit St. Canard. Hardly anybody knew that the inconspicuous, pastel-colored home was the refuge of the city's guardian, his sidekick and his hero daughter in training (as she liked to call herself).

Next door, however, a worried duck boy sat on his bed, fluffing up his pillow absentmindedly as his gaze kept drifting to the dark window of his friend's room on the other side of the fence. Honker Muddlefoot rubbed his tired eyes and put his glasses on the nightstand. Why was Gosalyn not home yet?

After Quackerjack and Megavolt had left the scene, he had cracked the lock of the glass cabinet with one of his friend's bobby pins, and he and Launchpad had helped free Darkwing from his awkward prison. The sidekick had then guided Honker back to his frightened parents while Darkwing was waiting for the police – all the while not letting go of his daughter, who was still dazed and could only manage a weak smile in Honker's direction as a goodbye.

Not a single bad word had been spoken during the car ride back home – even Tank had been quiet – and the youngest Muddlefoot had found himself wishing his parents would raise the devil with him for once. He didn't blame Gosalyn. He hadn't refused to come with her, he had deliberately put himself into tremendous danger in his more than fruitless attempts to stop her. He had failed her, and he had failed his family. His behavior was worth a good telling-off, he perfectly knew it. But nothing happened, nothing at all. And this was an even greater punishment for him.

Binkie appeared in the doorframe. Honker smiled at her. His mother smiled back, but only faintly. She walked over to him, put the seam of his blanket underneath his feet and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"I'm sorry, Mom," the duck boy said, but she just rose a finger to her lips. Gently stroking her son's head, she whispered to him how much she loved him and it made Honker feel even more miserable.

"I know what a terrible mistake I've made," he tried once again. The female canary drew her hand away and seemed to think for a moment before answering.

"You were just trying to protect Gosalyn."

Honker frowned. She was right, he realized. He would never have let Gosalyn go alone. But he could tell that his mother's soft tone, her words weren't matching her feelings, neither on the inside nor on the outside.

"Now sleep."

Binkie rose to her feet and walked back to the door. She hesitated, and even though Honker could only see her silhouette against the warm bright light shining in from the hall, he was sure she was trying to suppress her tears. Relief? Frustration? Anger? He would probably never know.

"Good night."

The door was closed and Honker sat up in the dark. Once again his eyes fled to the neighboring house, but there was still no sign of life. He rested his head on the pillow and stared out of the window, ready to catch even the tiniest glimpse of a stir, but his eyes betrayed him real soon.

That very moment, the pair of blue chairs in the Mallards' living room whirled and released the figures of Darkwing, Launchpad and Gosalyn. The hero had changed back into his civilian clothes and slowly slid off the seat. Launchpad put Gosalyn down. She had recovered mostly, but her arms still felt numb from being paralyzed.

"Stupid Megavolt and his stupid powers," she mumbled and added a grin that she hoped would break the ice, but neither her father nor Launchpad responded. The taller duck put a hand on her shoulder and she understood that it was best to leave the adults alone for a while. As she quietly walked up the stairs to her room, she caught a brief look of her father sitting down on the couch, his head rested upon his hands.

Gosalyn got ready for bed. She felt extremely exhausted and all churned up inside. Sure, she had gone through more bold ventures than she could count since she lived with Darkwing, but this time it was different. She just couldn't put a finger on what it was that left her so unsettled.

Her room was dark, even the street lights were out at this late hour. Gosalyn crawled into her bed and looked out of the window, to Honker's room. She couldn't forget the expression on his parents' faces back in the fairground, the horror, and she wasn't sure if the reason for it was the situation they had gotten into - or herself. The duck girl sighed. She would go over to the Muddlefoots first thing in the morning and talk to them. She had to deliver on her promise.

Gosalyn closed her eyes, and sleep was already reaching its hand out to her when she felt her mattress sink down a bit. She opened her eyes again and saw her father sitting at the foot of the bed.

"Dad." It was the only word she could produce. She didn't know what else to say. She was tongue-tied. Drake wasn't looking at her, he was staring at the floor. Just like her, he didn't seem to know how to start this inevitable confrontation. At last he turned towards her. His face was unreadable in the dark, but his voice was calm when he spoke.

"I hope you realize that you've gone too far this time."

Gosalyn didn't answer. He was right, she knew it, and yet hearing it was a hard truth.

"I know by now it's no use telling you to stay out of my cases." Drake exhaled shakily. "But this time you didn't only meddle in my affairs, you also disregarded all kinds of rules and caused even more difficulties than necessary."

"Dad, it's not like I was trying to stop Megavolt on my own," she suddenly sputtered. "I didn't even know he was there - "

"That's not the point, Gosalyn! Even if Megavolt hadn't been around, you risked your life. It's you who shouldn't have been there in the first place." Drake interrupted her. "You should've stayed with the Muddlefoots and watch the fireworks. Thank goodness my intuition told me to check up on the fairground after all!"

He rubbed his forehead with both hands. The girl knew her father's signs of frustration with her and she was used to his tirades. But this was another kind of reaction and it added to her feeling of discomfort.

"I'm sorry, Dad," Gosalyn finally brought herself to say. And even though it was the truth, the words proved incredibly hard to pass her lips. She felt ashamed of herself. "So, um … how long are you gonna ground me?"

"I'm not going to punish you."

"Huh? But - "

"I don't think it's going to help you understand."

The duckling stared at him. Her father looked serious, but also incredibly tired. It was a tiredness that came from within, from years of being alert at all times. Drake moved closer to her and pulled her into a hug. Eventually, Gosalyn's inner tension overwhelmed her. The two of them sat in the dark, arms wrapped around each other, the gesture implying far more than they could say at the moment.

"Don't let your overconfidence be added to the list of potential threats," Drake said after some time had passed. "And on top of all, don't get your friends involved."

Gosalyn looked up at him, sniffling, and nodded thoughtfully.

"I want you to realize what it would do to any of us if we lost you," he went on. "By whatever means. Life is full of hazards as it is, and it's bad enough there are so many delinquents in St. Canard to make it even more dangerous. We're facing an exceptionally high crime rate, it's getting worse and worse. And villains like Megavolt are the worst of all. They're downright evil and act with reckless disregard for other people. They have nobody to care for but themselves, and no conscience."

Drake's expression was bitter. It was obvious that he felt like he couldn't do more for St. Canard even though he wanted to, but it was another point of her father's explanation that stole Gosalyn's attention.

"What makes you so sure about that?"

Drake looked at her with a frown. "What do you mean?"

"That Megavolt is 'downright evil'," Gosalyn said carefully. "I mean, he wasn't born like that, was he?"

"Probably not, but that's not relevant." The male duck shook his head. "He proved his ruthlessness for more than ten years now and he stops at nothing … as you've witnessed today."

Once again, there was this bitterness, an undisguised sentiment that seemed to linger in the air. Even though Darkwing always acted tough and fearless, so many years of fighting would take a toll on anybody, Gosalyn thought. It was only human and she understood how scared he was for her life. It hurt her to see her father so vulnerable. But she couldn't push aside his opinion about Megavolt. There was a strong hunch battling it, so she allowed herself to phrase it. "I'm not sure he was actually trying to kill me."

Drake moved away from his daughter, obviously caught off-guard. He opened his beak and closed it, several times. Then he shook his head again as if to make clear that there was no way her assumption could be true. "You may not have seen the malice in his eyes, Gosalyn, but I did. He was firmly determined to harm you."

Once more, the red-haired duckling was overrun by her impulsivity. "Dad, he doesn't even know what he's doing half of the time! And the other half he can't remember."

"That doesn't justify what he's done."

"I know, but you were responsible for his light bulbs. He might have a point with the villain-hero-thing he mentioned," Gosalyn argued, and as soon as the words had escaped her she knew what was about to happen.

"What?!" The outcry that was trying to force itself out of Drake's mouth was choked down tightly, leaving only a strangled sound of indignation. "He's insane! I can't help it that he thinks they're sentient beings!"

"But Dad!" His daughter grabbed his arm. "That's exactly what I mean. You just said it yourself. His reality is different."

"Yes, but that's no excuse! Don't defend him, Gos!" the male duck said sternly. "That different reality makes him all the more dangerous."

"I'm not defending him, it's just … What about the times you had to work together?" she eagerly went on, ignoring the heat this conversation was building up. "He helped you eliminate my energy demons, he helped you take down Negaduck - "

"Yeah, he helped me, but only to save his own skin! May I remind you that in the end he always tried to trick me?" Drake shot back, obviously angry now.

"He might not have done that if he had been in his right mind. Again, he probably thinks you're the bad guy because you always foil his plans to liberate light bulbs." Gosalyn held his gaze and mirrored it with her own eyes. "And sorry, Dad, but you're pretty mean to him and make fun of his mental condition. It's not fair, he actually seems really smart! Remember when you tied him up to a chair to make him shut up? He's got good reason to be upset about you!"

"Okay, stop it!" her father cut her short, raising bot hands. "I can't believe we're having this conversation."

Drake stood up and made for the door, but stopped at the last moment, turned around again and walked back to Gosalyn's bed, stopped short once more and remained standing at her desk at last. The duckling watched her father intently the whole time.

"Who knows what he really is like? Was like? Before he became Megavolt," she spoke up again. She hesitated, and suddenly remembered something. "You said you know who he is. Do you?"

Drake looked at her with furrowed brows. Then he sighed. "No."

"Does he?" Gosalyn whispered.

"I guess not."

Was that a pitying undertone? She wasn't sure. Gosalyn tucked up her legs and rested her chin on her knees. So many thoughts were whirling around in her head.

"Isn't that sad?" she said quietly. "What if he has a family somewhere? People who miss him? People who are looking for him? And he can't remember because his brain is fried. All he knows is he has to liberate light bulbs and electronics. What a life."

Drake looked at his daughter. The way she said it revealed an earnestness that was very uncommon for a child her age. It both impressed and worried him. He had never doubted her ability to empathize, she just let it show very rarely and only with regard to people she felt truly sorry for. He just hoped that she wouldn't get wrapped up in too much thought about all that, and that's what he told her.

"Maybe we should give it some more thought," she disagreed after a moment's consideration. "We know everything about the others. Bushroot was a victim of bullying, Quackerjack and the Liquidator were more or less driven out of business. But we know next to nothing about your archenemy."

More than ten years. That was longer than she existed.

"Who is Megavolt?"

"Who am I?"

He hated those blackouts.

Granted, he was used to them. It always took his mind a few moments to unconfuse when he woke up. What made it so bad was that this was none of those momentary memory gaps that filled by themselves and that you laughed about at the breakfast table half an hour later. He was literally searching for his identity.

What made him feel even more uncomfortable where the voices he had heard just now. Calm, hushed voices. He couldn't hear what they were saying. Were they talking to him? Or about him? They sounded familiar. Where were they?

He opened his eyes and was blinded by a dazzlingly white ceiling light. Cursing under his breath, he closed his eyes again and turned away with a moan. Nervous spots started to dance behind his eyelids.

"Where am I?"

No answer – but a headache greeted him now. He carefully peeked through narrowed eyes once more. This wasn't his home, his home looked different. He was lying on a battered couch, a blanket covering his body. He threw it back and startled a second at the sight of a power cord plugged into his chest before he finally remembered.

Slowly but surely, the rat's fuzzy memory cleared up and allowed him a quick reality check. The many crates told him that this was a warehouse, and upon closer examination – which proved a little difficult given his temporary defective sight – he perceived countless dull eyes, lifelessly staring at him from faces made of plastic, porcelain and fabric. A shiver ran down his spine. Not this place, he thought, rubbing his temples.

Stifled snickering reached his ears. He lifted his head, but still couldn't see properly.

"I'll never get tired of watching you struggle back to consciousness," came the teasing remark from above.

An angry spark jumped from the rat's whiskers. "Don't try me, Quackerjack." The cord was disconnected and dropped.

"Easy, buddy. How about you show some gratitude?" Bells jingled as the duck jumped down from his hiding place.

"What for?"

"Recharging you?"

"And almost causing a fire?" The rat pointed at the cord, then at the blanket. "Safety hazard."

"Oh, come one, Megavolt!" Quackerjack pouted. "Like you care about safety hazards."

"I do if they concern my health," the rat answered grimly.

"May I remind you that you're a walking safety hazard?" the jester countered, half annoyed, half amused. "And I'm not referring to your powers. If it weren't for me, you'd forget to eat and everybody would have to endure your bad mood."

"Would not," Megavolt grumbled through clenched teeth.

"Would too!" Quackerjack shot back.

Both villains stared at each other, arms crossed, feet tapping. The duck's expression was teasing, a wide toothed grin played around the corners of his beak.

At last, Megavolt rolled his eyes and lifted his hands. "The wiser head gives in." He smirked knowingly.

"I knew you would – hey!"

The sudden change in Quackerjack's expression rose a gloating giggle from Megavolt.

"Did you just call me stupid?" The toymaker looked insulted.

"No." The rat shrugged. "You did."

Quackerjack huffed, wanting to retort, but found himself unable to come up with something. "So were are even."

"We are." Megavolt smiled genuinely and nudged his partner in crime. "Thank you."

The duck's face softened. "Hey, don't mention it. I'm glad you're back to normal. Somewhat." He nodded towards the kitchen. "Dinner?"

The rat opened his mouth, but before he could reply his stomach rumbled loudly.

Quackerjack chuckled and grabbed his friend by the arm, dragging him along. "I'll take that as a yes."

Megavolt laughed a little awkwardly. "Wait, did you say 'dinner'?"

The jester squeezed him down on a chair and hopped over to the stove. The bells on his hat jingled as he prepared their food. "Yeah, you slept for 15 hours straight."

The rodent's eyes widened behind his goggles. He looked at the clock. Quackerjack wasn't kidding. "Sweet Edison, I must've been really wiped out."

The duck nodded, giggling. "Out like a light, to be precise."

The prongs on Megavolt's helmet sparked and he harrumphed, but was quickly rivaled by his stomach. Quackerjack turned around with a triumphant grin and put down a plate in front of his friend. Toast, fried eggs, a knob of butter, arranged like a face. The rodent frowned. There was a prune beneath the eggs – and what was that around them?

"Is that blueberry jam?"

"It is."

Megavolt's frown deepened. "Wait, is that supposed to be me?" He pointed at his dinner.

The duck nodded eagerly, grinning. The rat could only stare at him. "And they call me crazy …"

"Aww, you're no fun, Megavolt!" Quackerjack patted his arm. "Now eat before your teeth melt away."

The rodent muttered something under his breath and carefully scooped some food on his fork. The jester was a nutcase, true, but he was also a decent cook and Megavolt was grateful for his hospitality.

"So you really don't remember anything?" Quackerjack asked after some time had passed. He received head-shaking as an answer, so he went to tell Megavolt everything. The rat listened intently, feeling better with every bite he took.

"That gingerbread gave you a pretty nice sugar rush. It was funny at first, you were giggling like a schoolgirl. But then you started babbling incoherent stuff. You really had me scared for a second. And then – " The duck snapped his fingers. " – you just fell asleep right on the spot."

Megavolt remained silent. Being so reliant on somebody else to jog his memory was a fact he had accepted a long time ago, yet he had never gotten entirely used to it.

Quackerjack noticed his friend's sour expression. "I'm sorry, but no more sugar before bedtime, Megsy."

The rodent shook his head, still in thought. "What exactly do you mean by 'incoherent stuff'?"

"Well, just that: incoherent. It sounded like you were talking to someone, but then again you weren't." He shrugged. "Damnit, you hear voices all the time! Sometimes I walk into the room and can't figure out if you're talking to yourself or to one of your appliances! How am I supposed to tell if you're having a chat with Meredith or Roger or Lucy or – what's the name of your new toaster again?"

Megavolt looked at him, seemingly offended that his friend couldn't remember. "Eileen. But it's neither of them. Those voice are different, they're new." He paused for a moment. "Actually, they're not. I could swear I've heard them before. I can hear them talk, but I can't hear what they're saying."

Quackerjack tapped his cheek. "I think I know what you mean," he said at last. "You call it your 'creepy déjà vu feeling'."

"I do?" Megavolt asked and the jester nodded carefully. "That describes it pretty well. I mean … I know my memory is bad, but when I woke up it was a whole different level of confusion. It felt like a … desperate struggle of some kind."

Quackerjack seemed to understand. "It sure is creepy not knowing who or what your subconsciousness is trying to remind you of."

Silence fell. Both villains stared at their plates. Megavolt's expression conveyed an immense uncomfortableness, and Quackerjack decided that it was best to let him be for a moment. He cleared the table quietly and when he was done he caught his friend with lifted goggles, something he didn't see often.

Megavolt rubbed his eyes. "Gee, how did I sleep in these?"

"That, mister, remains a mystery to humanity. I don't touch you any more when you're sleeping ever since that one time when I tried to remove those and got fried to a crisp." Quackerjack wasn't sure if that comment would annoy the rodent, but he saw him grinning softly. So he went on, "What about we go out, have some fun and take your mind off things?"

"Sounds good." Megavolt nodded. He looked out of the window and sighed. "But I guess that'll have to wait a bit."

The view of Audubon Bay was filled with a dense curtain of rain this early evening. Finally. They had gotten way too little of it lately. Fog was gathering on the water surface, the outlines of downtown St. Canard were vaguely visible in the distance.

Ahead of him was Beaker's Point. The lighthouse was a relic of bygone times, a place he knew from his youth. He would never have thought that after all these years, he'd become a frequent visitor all over again.

He only came when it was raining, and he only came by day. Turning up in the dead of a clear night in this abandoned part of town was too much of a peril. But then again he never felt entirely safe when he was here.

He stepped out of the car and quickly walked up to the tall building at the end of the breakwater. He knew how to scan the surroundings, what signs to look out for and how to handle this without causing a stir. The parcel was small and – as usual – wrapped in a plastic bag to protect it from the rain. He put it down in front of the door and gave it a pat.

Retreating was always the hardest part, for more than one reason, and every time his heart was beating uncomfortably in his chest. He might get caught the next time, he might give up coming here at all, he might provoke a change or a storm.

The uncertainty followed him back home.