And suddenly, a year and two months pass by...
Yeah, um... so... life just kind of... happened. In between having one of the worst years of my life, I've been trying to finish this chapter; however, there is another reason why it's taken so long.
In order to get the best version possible out to you, I made the decision to, from now on, create three drafts of each chapter. Which, yes, means every previous chapter is the first draft. Make of that what you will.
To prevent a situation like this from happening again, where it takes over a year for a chapter to be posted, I decided that after this chapter, every subsequent chapter will be written up before I post again. In other words, I'm going to finish writing the story so that I can post it on a schedule instead of posting it when the chapter is finished.
Ironically, it means it'll probably be another year before you see another chapter, and for that, I deeply apologise. I know this story doesn't have many fans, but to the ones it does, I'm extremely grateful, and I thank you so much for sticking around and having faith in me.
I'm posting chapter nine now as a "thank you" for waiting so long, and so that I may explain myself without posting under the guise of a chapter, but really, it's an author's note.
So, without further ado, here's chapter nine. I sincerely hope it's been worth the wait. Thank you.
P.S. I've updated chapter one, so please go and read that. Please also note that Drake and Darkwing's ages have been corrected from thirty-three and thirty-seven, respectively, to thirty-four and thirty-nine.
August 1992, one year ago…
The rain lashes against the streets below. High in the sky, the clouds obscure the moon, casting St. Canard into a grim darkness. He couldn't have asked for better weather.
It's a month to the day that she was snatched away. Deep down, a voice, one with the cadence of a nine-year-old girl with her hair in pigtails, tells him it is entirely his fault—but why face it head when he can face it down the barrel of a gun?
The pistol has been pointed at his target for a good five minutes, yet his target still wastes oxygen; he still sits on his stupid bike, talking to that stupid pilot while wearing that stupid purple outfit.
It's all his fault.
For the past month, ever since waking up and realising he was stuck in this godforsaken universe, Negaduck has been repeating that to himself every day. If he blames the entire event on Dopewing, then that means never confronting the fact that he's failed her.
(the one good thing in his life, and he fucked that up, just like everything else in his life…)
Negaduck shakes the (blatantly not true) statement away and wraps his finger around the trigger. One shot, just one, and he'll have his revenge.
Darkwing took his daughter away from him, so now, Negaduck will take Darkwing away from his daughter.
He squeezes the trigger.
"Don't even think about it."
His blue eyes roll to the heavens. Only one hero has a voice that sounds like nails on a chalkboard. He glances over his shoulder at Quiverwing.
"I said," Quiverwing growls, "don't even think about it."
"I'm not in the mood for games, kid. Run home to Mommy and Daddy."
For a moment, there's nothing, and Negaduck thinks she listened to him and left. He sneaks another glance to confirm it—when he sees that Quiverwing has drawn her bow and pointed it straight at him.
Negaduck snaps.
In a flash, he drops his gun and tackles Quiverwing to the ground, pinning her arms and legs to the ground. The young hero responds with a fierce glare and spits in his face.
The villain wipes off the spit and grabs fistfuls of Quiverwing's shirt, pulling her so close that his blue eyes are mere inches from her green eyes.
There's a bubbling in his gut. Negaduck ignores it, attributing it to a pizza he had found earlier in the trash.
"I'm going to say this only once, so listen up, kid," Negaduck snarls, "I am not in the mood for your—"
And in an instant, his words catch in his throat, overshadowed by a realisation that struck him with the force of an anvil smashing into his face. Those green eyes that glare at him behind a dark green mask are the same eyes he had grown to care for despite how much he hadn't wanted to. The same green eyes that always held a hint of mischief in them despite how innocent their holder professed to be.
"Gosalyn?"
Negaduck's voice is barely louder than a whisper, but she hears him. The brief shock that flashes in her green eyes is all the proof Negaduck requires. He releases her, stumbling on his knees to her side. Nausea rises in his throat.
All this time, Quiverwing has been Gosalyn. How did he not see it sooner? How did he not realise the moment he heard her voice? All this time, Quiverwing has been his dau—
No. She isn't his Gosalyn. They may have the same green eyes that shine with spirit and the red hair that stands out amongst hundreds, but she isn't his. This Gosalyn probably doesn't see the good in everyone, especially not someone unworthy of redemption.
Not someone who locked up and left the only person worth living for.
Not a monster like him.
He turns away from Quiverwing and, in the most dangerous tone he can use, tells her to "Get lost."
He doesn't make sure she's left; the quiet footsteps tell him all he needs to know.
For another half hour, Negaduck remains on the roof, only sitting. When he finally leaves, he heads for his nearest hideout. Fortunately, it also happens to be his most rotten. An abandoned junkyard, the stench of decaying trash permeates every inch of the place.
The masked menace dumps his hat and cape on the floor and collapses on the couch, narrowly avoiding a protruding spring. He stares up, not focusing on anything in particular.
He needs her, and he hates it. He's spent his life pushing everyone away, protecting himself from the hurt they'd cause him, most of all his family. He doesn't need anyone, and nobody needs him.
Except her. Out of everyone, in not just one but two universes, only one little girl had fit perfectly into the little girl-shaped hole he'd had no idea had even existed in the first place.
She had stolen his heart utterly and mercilessly.
(... he can't live without her…)
A plan forms in his mind, so stupid and insane that anyone else wouldn't dare to entertain it. But if anyone can pull it off, it's him. No matter how long it takes, he's going to get Gosalyn. Come hell or high water, he'll get his little girl back.
Tracking down what had happened to the Ramrod in the Primeverse gives him more trouble than sneaking into SHUSH headquarters to steal its plans. By a wild stroke of luck, it appears that SHUSH has the same idea for Ramrod as he does. Their plans probably (definitely) won't be as good as his would've been; however, it will save a fuck ton of time. Time that can be spent tracking down—and stealing—the required parts.
Negaduck returns to his main hideout. A bulging trash bag is slung over his shoulder. Since the Ramrod was the only one of its kind in this universe and had been blown into a million tiny pieces (something else to thank Darkwing for), he has no choice but to build his Ramrod using random junk. He throws the trash bag into a hiding spot and heads for the space where he's set up a TV and couch; it's as close to a living room as he'll get now.
The moment he steps through the door, he discovers he's not alone. Dressed in her stupid costume, Gosalyn stands confidently between the TV and the couch, the vibrant colours of her costume standing out like a sore thumb among the dreary decor. With her arms tightly crossed and a sharp glare, she is clearly trying to appear intimidating. It's about as intimidating as her moronic father.
"Are you stupid?"
"How do you know my name?"
"Guess that answers my question." Negaduck sits on the couch. "Get lost, kid."
Gosalyn stands her ground. "You know my dad's name, too, don't you?"
"I said, get—"
"Because I'm not, you know. Stupid. I know you're Darkwing from another universe."
Negaduck quirks an eyebrow, "And? What's your point?"
"My point—wait, I'm right? You are from another—"
Negaduck shoots her a sharp, irritated glare. He crosses his arms, clearly showing how fed up he was.
"Right, right. Sorry." Gosalyn clears her throat. "My point is that since you and Darkwing are the same person… well, that means that you know his name."
Negaduck looks at her with a blank expression.
"... Get lost, kid."
"It makes me wonder ‒ why have you never used that against him?"
"Are you deaf, as well as stupid? I said—get. Out."
"There's nothing stopping you from looking him up in the phonebook. So why haven't you?"
Negaduck leans forward, his beak twisting into a vicious scowl.
"Kid, this is a dangerous line to tread. Leave, now."
"Because, in my opinion, if you really want to kill him, that seems like the most logical step, doesn't it?"
Negaduck flies to his feet and steps towards her. Gosalyn doesn't even flinch.
"That's enough."
"There has to be a reason why you haven't."
"Kid—"
"Are you scared, huh? Is that it?"
Her words slap him across the face. He stands completely still, as though time has come to a halt, his gaze locked onto her with an intensity that makes it impossible for him to look away. Every muscle in his body is paralysed.
He does know Darkwing's real name. He also knows he should use that information to his fullest advantage. He could easily attack the Mallard household and be done away with Darkwing, once and for all.
He is stopped by only one thing.
The image of her face, battered and bruised, and all life extinguished from her eyes. It is enough of a haunting image that Negaduck has never once entertained the idea of attacking Darkwing where it would really hurt, more than hurting Darkwing himself.
Negaduck snatches Gosalyn's cape in each fist with a guttural snarl and hauls her tiny body into the air.
"Listen up, you snivelling little brat. I don't have to explain myself to you or any other loser in this miserable world. So, I'm going to say this once more: get. Out. Now."
He tosses her out of the nearest window, the little girl landing squarely on her rear.
"Hey!" Gosalyn complains, hurrying to her feet. Her beak turns down in a frustrated frown. "What do you think you're doing?!"
Thrusting a finger in her beak, Negaduck threatens, "If I see you back here, you will not like the consequences. Don't let that happen."
Though she sticks her tongue out, Gosalyn decides to use her brain for once and leaves. Negaduck keeps an eye on her to ensure she leaves, then returns to where he's holding the Ramrod parts.
He gathers the recently acquired parts, finds the plans, and sets about trying to get them to fit where he needs them to.
As Negaduck works, there's only one person he thinks about.
What is she doing right now? Is she tucked up in bed? Is she still getting her straight A's? Does she still wear her ridiculous dresses with her ridiculous matching ribbons?
…
Does she miss him?
His hands come to a stop.
What if she doesn't miss him? What if all this effort is a waste of time? After all, she had helped Darkwing. That had to mean something. Had she—finally—grown tired of him? She hadn't complained once when being taken to the Tower along with Darkwing and the Friendly Four. She might have begged to stay with him if she had still wanted him.
Negaduck glances down at the scattered junk surrounding him, and his vision blurs.
Can he handle her rejection a second time?
Gradually, Negaduck gets to his feet and gazes around the room before spinning on his heel and sweeping out of the room, his cape billowing behind him.
He doesn't bother to lock up.
An anonymous tip, written on stained paper, is left in Darkwing Tower. It warns of a planned attack on the Children's Orphanage on Senora Avenue. It doesn't tell them who is planning the attack; nevertheless, the note is enough for Dad and Launchpad to stake the orphanage for most of the day. After a substantial amount of begging—and a promise to finish her homework before tomorrow—Quiverwing is (very reluctantly) allowed to accompany them. However, it is on the condition that she remains no more than a spectator. Quiverwing grumbles, but she knows she'll break that condition.
When the crime-fighting family arrives, Quiverwing is ordered to remain on the Ratcatcher while Dad and Launchpad split up, observing all sides of the orphanage. Dad gives a heads-up to the orphanage staff, then keeps watch away from the Ratcatcher.
Quiverwing pushes her hand to her cheek. Her dad has parked the Ratcatcher two streets away so the "criminal scum" wouldn't be alerted to his presence and "run away screaming like little babies".
When Quiverwing pointed out that this would probably be good, her dad frowned and asked, 'How would I get my front page headline?'
The redhead rolls her eyes. Her dad would be insufferable for WEEKS.
Whatever. Quiverwing is confident nothing will happen. Her gut instinct tells her that the note is fake, most of all because she's seen the handwriting on it before—and she thinks it belongs to Negaduck.
But why would he fake a note? Negaduck wasn't the type to announce his attacks, so Quiverwing is sure it must be fake if the note is from his hand. He wouldn't give a warning if it were someone else's attack, either; he wouldn't care enough.
Negaduck is behind it, but why? If it is only to draw Dad's attention, then he would simply destroy a part of the city. There's no fun to be found in luring him to an orphanage except, perhaps, to mess with him.
That has to be it. It's a prank.
Or, Quiverwing realises with a start, it's a diversion. While Dad is distracted here, Negaduck will attack another part of the city. She has to warn her dad. He'll stake out the orphanage for at least forty-eight hours if he has his way.
As she leaps from the Ratcatcher, Quiverwing's ears pick up a noise behind her. Drawing her bow and arrow, Quiverwing swivels, finding an alleyway. Overstuffed dumpsters, complete with flies, sit at the front while beyond is shrouded in darkness. The young hero rolls her eyes at such a cliché and treads forward, her bow ready.
"You can come out now! I'm not a dumb little kid, and I don't scare easily!"
"Is that so…?"
Letting out a yelp, Quiverwing spins on her heel to aim her arrow at the punk who—
She scowls at the yellow-jacketed mallard leaning against the Ratcatcher, his arms folded and beak curved up in a manner that intensely irritates Quiverwing. She returns her bow and arrow to its quiver, then folds her arms across her chest.
"I knew this was you. I recognised your handwriting."
His smirk falls, and Negaduck raises an eyebrow. For the second time in the last five minutes, Quiverwing once again rolls her eyes.
"When you shot Darkwing with that particle accelerator thing, remember? And you left that dumb rocking chair with that even dumber note."
"Oh, yeah." Negaduck snickers. "That was pretty funny."
"It was NOT funny," Quiverwing grouses. "Look, what do you want? Darkwing's waiting by the orphanage. If you're trying to distract him, then it's not gonna work."
"That idiot? He wouldn't know a distraction even if it walked up to him and told him it was a distraction before hitting him in the face. Besides, I'm not here for Dipwing." Negaduck pushes off the Ratcatcher.
"Then, what are you here for?"
"... You're right."
"I usually am," Quiverwing mutters, "About what?"
"I do know Darkwing's name… It used to be my name before…"
"Then, why don't you do anything?"
Negaduck's blue eyes briefly flicker to her.
"Well?" Quiverwing urges. "Don't think I'm not gonna let you not tell me this time. You came to me."
"... When I take Darkwing down, I want it to be fun," Negaduck lies.
"Sure…" Quiverwing drawls. Negaduck might not be her dad, but he is the same person as her dad, and she always knows when he's lying.
Crossing his arms, Negaduck grunts. "Hmph. Has anyone ever told you how much of a brat you are?"
"Every day of my life!" Quiverwing boasts.
Though it's barely noticeable, the corners of Negaduck's beak lift.
"Quiverwing?"
The young hero turns her head to see her dad heading towards her. Oddly, he doesn't appear concerned or alarmed. If anything, he looks annoyed. That isn't his usual reaction to Negaduck (most of the time).
When Quiverwing shifts back to Negaduck, she finds, with a third roll of her eyes, that Negaduck has vanished; though neither would ever admit it, not even under the most intense torture, Negaduck and her dad have a flair for the dramatic.
"You okay, honey?"
Quiverwing smiles. "Hey, Dad. I'm fine. What's up?"
"Ah, you know." Dad lifts her hat and ruffles her hair. "Just checking on my little girl and being a good parent."
Quiverwing doesn't hide her smirk. "... You got really bored, didn't you?"
Dad looks offended. "Wha‒ w-why, of course not! I'm a highly trained professional. I don't have the luxury of—"
"Dad."
Flopping over, Dad sighs dramatically.
"... Fine. Yes. I'm bored. I mean," he begins pacing, "is it really too much to ask for bad guys just to show up?! It's rude and inconsiderate! I have better things to do with my life than hang around here!"
Quiverwing tunes out her dad as he continues to rant. Her green eyes roam the immediate area; as expected, there's no sign of the masked menace.
The duckling has no idea why the villain would fake an attack just to speak to her, but Quiverwing does know one fact.
Negaduck will want to see her again.
(And he does, many times.)
"DW?"
As Darkwing regains consciousness, he's faintly aware of a familiar voice and a pair of hands patting his torso, moving up and down in a frenzy.
The masked mallard struggles to open his eyes, but Darkwing Duck is nothing if not determined, and after a small fight with his body, he wrenches open his eyes. His body gets its own back, however, with shooting pain through his hip—a loud, pained groan croaks from his beak.
Two large hands help him to sit up. One is placed on his back, while the other is wrapped protectively around his (much smaller) hand.
(... he kinda likes it…)
"Gosh, DW, are you okay?! I-I, well- I hit ya so hard, I kinda split you into two!"
"Huh…?" Darkwing's voice is soft, dazed from the dull pain creeping all over his body. He has no idea what's happening or even where he is. All he remembers is—
Gosalyn.
Darkwing shoots up straight. He blinks, and his hazy vision clears. Directly in front of him, Launchpad is kneeling, concern etched into every inch of his face.
"Drake…?" Launchpad murmurs, "You okay?"
Slowly, Darkwing's eyes travel down.
Launchpad is holding his hand.
Launchpad… is holding… his hand.
LAUNCHPAD.
HAND.
Darkwing reacts in his usual, calm manner. He scrambles to his feet, putting space between himself and Launchpad. An intense rush of heat spreads across his face.
"Dra—"
"I-I'm fine!" Darkwing squeaks. Launchpad doesn't look convinced. Darkwing clears his throat. "I'm good, Launchpad. Really."
"You're red in the face, DW. Are you sure you're okay?"
If possible, the heat grows hotter.
"Well, you- uh, did just hit me with a plane, LP. But not only did I survive it, I'm walking and talking. I'll wake up in excruciating pain tomorrow, but otherwise—yes, Launchpad. I'm sure I'm okay."
That seems to have worked. The pilot smiles and nods, then turns to see an unconscious Drake lying on the floor, just as Darkwing had been only minutes earlier.
"Gee, either I really did split you in two, or you've gone and replaced me."
Darkwing crosses his arms. "He's not a replacement, LP. He's me, from another universe."
"... Oh." Launchpad grins. "Okay! I guess that makes sense."
The duck on the ground emits a low moan. Launchpad rushes to help him.
"I got ya, DW. Uh, not you, DW. I mean, this DW. DW Two? DW B? Boy, is this gonna be confusing…"
"Never mind that, LP. Gosalyn's in trouble. We've gotta find her."
"You mean she's been kidnapped?"
"No, she hasn't been—" Darkwing pauses, blinks once, and then his beak curls into a scowl. "Hey! Why do you assume she's been kidnapped? She's never been kidnapped!"
"Well, DW—uh, you, not the other one—there was the one time with Megavolt when Gos was sleepwalking, then there was Quackerjack with that giant teddy robot, oh, and Tau—"
"I get the point, LP! Thanks."
"You're welcome, DW. Uh, you, not the other one."
Darkwing rubs his hands down his face. There's a sharp migraine developing behind his eyes.
"How do you have Grandpa's machine? It was destroyed!"
Gosalyn knows she should be making a quip like, "It's not exactly in perfect working order…" but she can't.
All she can see is… her grandfather's machine… blown to pieces—by her own hands.
His voice rife with emotion, Negaduck orders, "Get out of here, Gosalyn."
"As if you actually expect me to do that," Quiverwing grumbles, "You've got my Grandpa's machine. I deserve to know why."
Negaduck's head jolts upright, his eyes widening behind his black mask. "Are your ears full of shit?! Get outta here!"
Quiverwing matches his energy tenfold. "I'm not going anywhere until I get some answers!"
"I'm not in the mood for this bullshit! Get out!"
The arguing pair stand in front of each other, fists clenched and beaks inches apart.
"No! Not until you tell me why!"
"It's none of your business."
"It's my Grandpa's machine! It's very much my business."
Negaduck growls. "I swear, if you're not gone by the time I count three, I'm gonna—"
A yelp catches in his throat when a crossbow, fully loaded, is thrust at him. His eyes dart to the wielder; Gosalyn's face is set in a hard stare.
Her hands tremble.
"Tell her." Gosalyn inches the crossbow closer, the tip touching Negaduck's bill. "Now."
Quiverwing shoots forward. "No, Gos—"
Negaduck holds up his hand. "It's okay, kid." He stares down his beak at the redheaded crossbow wielder. Not once, even briefly, do her eyes ever waiver. The villain groans.
"I rebuilt it," he finally relinquishes, "I got the plans from the morons at SHUSH. I modified the plans so that instead of manipulating objects, it manipulates dimensions. It can bring someone here or send them elsewhere."
Gosalyn's heart pangs. Ignoring her stinging eyes, she demands, "Why?"
Negaduck turns his gaze away.
"Because I had someone stolen from me."
A beat of silence ensues, followed by a soft gasp from Quiverwing.
"Me. Your version of me. You have a Gosalyn."
"Had." Guilt creeps into Negaduck's eyes. "I activated the machine and tried setting it to my universe. It couldn't find it, nor would it be stable long enough to search for it. So, I set it to find Gosalyn instead—and it did." He slowly inhales. "But it wasn't mine."
All breath rushes from Gosalyn. Her heart hammers against her ribcage.
"I-it was… you," she whispers, "W-we're here because of you."
His head is pounding like never before, more than the only time he was wasted in college.
(Though most of the headache came from being yelled at by his mother over the phone for a good hour.)
Still, at least he can tick 'being hit by a plane' off the bucket list now.
"Y'know, DW, he does look a lot like you."
'DW'? Drake has only ever known one person to use that nickname.
"What? He looks nothing like me! I'm way more charming, and I have more style."
"Uh, whatever you say, DW."
A pair of solid hands gently assist Drake into a sitting position.
"Easy there, buddy. I got ya."
Drake cracks open his eyes to discover who the (oddly familiar, comforting, yet new) voice belongs to.
And then, his heart stops beating.
"You okay there, buddy?"
Launchpad.
"... W-what?" Realising that he's staring, Drake's face glows like the sun's surface. "Oh, yeah, yeah, I'm- I'm great. Great as you can be after being hit by a plane."
"Fine, yes—we're both surprisingly okay after being hit by the Thunderquack. Can we please focus on what's important here?"
Drake's stomach drops.
Gosalyn.
He had almost forgotten about her.
He's the worst father ever. He doesn't deserve to have a kid. He should be publicly shamed in the streets. He should never know happiness again.
… Then again, he was almost turned into a street pizza, so he—probably—isn't the worst father ever.
"I am truly sorry I lost your daughter again," Drake speaks, his voice cracking, "And I accept the full responsibility for it."
"Good! It is all your fault!" Darkwing's face softens. "Okay, it's not all your fault. My daughter doesn't let anyone stop her when she gets an idea stuck in her head. My gut tells me that she's gone to find Negaduck. You feel the same, don't you?"
Swallowing, Drake nods. "Y-yeah. If I know my daughter, she'll also want to go after him."
Both masked mallards fall into silence while Launchpad shifts his gaze between the two, clearly confused. However, a moment later, he smiles and places a hand on each of their shoulders. Darkwing blushes.
"We'll find her, DW."
Gosalyn experiences a surge of conflicting emotions: anger, surprise, and relief. The last one creates a pit deep in her stomach. Why is she relieved? Is it because her problem coincidentally happens also to be her solution? Or is it because if Negaduck has his own Gosalyn, that could mean…
… there's a sliver of good in him?
Gosalyn shakes her head. Having a child doesn't make a person good, especially if that person held a knife to someone else's throat.
She'll never forgive Negaduck—Gosalyn has never been sure of anything. All she wants from him is his help returning her and her dad home.
As Gosalyn tries to gather her thoughts, Quiverwing locks eyes with Negaduck.
"Tell me everything. Please."
"Hmph." Negaduck doesn't shift. "Your stupid father. He got himself thrown into my universe—the Negaverse. He took it upon himself to 'save' it. Tch." Negaduck looks away. "And he just had to get… her involved. I…"
The more he talks, the more Negaduck starts to shake. His fists curl by his sides.
"I… I locked her away with the rest of the losers she helped."
"You know," Gosalyn starts, her tiny voice echoing in the ample space, "for someone going to all this effort for their kid, it sure sounds like you had given up on her."
Negaduck shoots her a look so deadly she should be halfway to the afterlife already.
"Don't give me that look," Gosalyn scolds, "You're blaming Darkwing, but he didn't make you lock her away. That's all on you."
Like a lit fuse, Negaduck explodes.
"I know!" he roars, his voice booming, "I know I fucked up. You think I don't know how much I fucked up?! That it's not all I think about every single fucking second of the fucking day?"
He begins to pace, his cape flapping behind him.
"I have to live with this stupid fucking bullshit for the rest of my miserable life because of what I did to her. It kills me, and now, I can't do a damn thing about it."
Negaduck collapses to his knees, thumping his fists against the floor.
Gosalyn watches him with conflict stirring within her. With a pang, she realises that, no matter what, Negaduck or Darkwing, Drake Mallard will always come first.
Right now, at this moment, the man in front of her is not Negaduck but Drake Mallard—and he misses his daughter.
Gosalyn closes the distance between them.
"What was she like?"
Negaduck slowly raises his head.
"W-what?"
Quiverwing chimes in, "Your Gosalyn. Tell us about her. She's my opposite, right?"
For a moment, Negaduck stares blankly into space.
"Sweet. She's sickenly sweet. Like a little princess. Loves wearing dresses, and her room is so pink, you need sunglasses." Sitting up, he chuckles. "But you should never let your guard down. She looks innocent, but she's the biggest little shit I've ever known. She shoves her beak where she shouldn't, mainly if I told her not to." He gives a roll of his eyes. "And the fucking cleaning and reading."
Gosalyn quirks an eyebrow, "That's a bad thing?"
"It is when she wants to stay up all night to read 'one more chapter'." Shaking his head, Negaduck scoffs. "The amount of times I caught her doing that. It didn't matter how often I grounded her or took her books away; I would always discover her lying in bed, reading a book."
"Why didn't you just take her flashlight away, doofus?" Quiverwing teases.
Negaduck's beak falls.
"She slept with a nightlight. Terrified of the dark. She was scared that…"
"Scared that what?" Gosalyn softly presses.
Negaduck grunts. "It doesn't matter. Not now." His gaze sweeps over the broken machine. "Nothing about her matters anymore."
Gosalyn observes him as his expression steadily contorts. A snarl can be heard rumbling in his throat.
Making both girls jump, Negaduck bursts to his feet with a roar and kicks the nearest part of the shattered machine. Then he turns towards the warehouse entrance, intending to leave.
A hand shoots into his. Reflexively, he snatches his hand away; however, it pauses his sudden departure. He glances over his shoulder, and his beak turns down.
Gosalyn knows he is expecting Quiverwing to be standing there instead of her—not least with sympathy in her eyes.
"Listen. I know. I know what it's like to lose someone like that. In that way." Her eyes shine. "I'm probably never gonna find them, and even if I did, they're—"
The word stops in her throat. She closes her eyes and takes in a deep breath. She holds it, and slowly, she releases it. Her eyes open.
"... Dead. He's dead now. But Gosalyn isn't, and I will help you find your daughter. I can never forgive you for what you did. But I am going to help you."
Negaduck scowls. "Who said I wanted it?"
Quiverwing groans loudly.
"It's frustrating how stubborn you and Dad are. Don't be an idiot." She grabs his other hand. Negaduck flinches, yet he does not push her away, nor does he wrap his fingers around hers.
Quiverwing opens her mouth, but another voice bellows in the warehouse.
"Get away from them, Negaduck!"
Darkwing.
The father rushes in, brandishing his gas gun. Quiverwing shields Negaduck, holding out her arms. Darkwing's eyes bulge.
"Gos- Quiverwing, what are you doing?!"
A large duck dressed in a pilot's uniform appears behind Darkwing. Quiverwing's expression softens, though she doesn't budge. Gosalyn understands why instantly—it's Launchpad. She doesn't have to be told to know it's him.
"Get over here this instant!" Darkwing orders.
Launchpad rests a hand on Darkwing's shoulders.
"DW, maybe you should—"
And then, as Gosalyn wonders if her dad is there, there's another shout.
"NEGADUCK!"
Seemingly from nowhere, her dad tackles Negaduck, pinning him to the ground.
"You're gonna—" Her dad yelps as Negaduck grabs him and hurls him across the warehouse. Gosalyn hurries to check on him. Once she's satisfied that he's okay, she turns to Negaduck.
"Hey! That was totally uncalled for!"
Negaduck growls. "I don't like being touched." He glances in Darkwing's direction who hastily pulls Quiverwing behind him.
"Dad!" Quiverwing squeals. "Calm down."
"Gos- Quiverwing! I'm not—"
"Dad." Quiverwing levels her father with a look. "If anyone knows who you are, it's Negaduck."
"She's got a point, DW," Launchpad adds.
"She does not!" Darkwing lifts his daughter into his arms. "And I want you close, young lady. This is the second night in a row that you've snuck out!"
Quiverwing shakes her head. She glances at Negaduck, who is eyeing up all possible exit routes.
Gosalyn helps her dad to his feet.
"Just what are you two doing here?" her dad demands. "Do you have any idea how worried I was when I found you gone?"
"I know, Dad," Gosalyn says, "And I'm sorry. But you never would have let me come." She looks at Negaduck. "We came to ask for his help."
"What?!" both Darkwing and her dad exclaim. Negaduck doesn't seem impressed, either.
"You've probably already realised my dad and I are from another universe, just like you," Gosalyn tells Negaduck. She rests her hand on her dad's arm. "We're helping you with your problem, so I guess it'd be fair for you to help us with ours."
Negaduck gazes at her bandaged wrist, then over to Quiverwing.
"It'd be more than fair, considering it's your fault they're even here in the first place," she points out.
"I- I'm so lost…" Gosalyn's dad stammers.
"I'll explain it later, Dad," Gosalyn promises, smiling.
"Wait, wait, wait—did you just say you're helping Negaduck? Why would you help him?!" Darkwing exclaims.
"He's you," Quiverwing states, "Did you forget that?"
"It's not something I can forget," Darkwing mumbles, "That doesn't explain why you're helping him."
"Dad, he's trying to get back to his Gosalyn."
For once, Darkwing doesn't immediately respond. His expression hardens as he contemplates what his daughter has said.
"... No. That's not happening. Not now, not ever."
Quiverwing shoots him an incredulous look.
"What?!" she exclaims, "Why not?"
Darkwing frowns, "Because I said so! Come on, we're going straight home."
"But, Dad—"
"No buts." He marches towards the entrance.
"He doesn't want you to help because he's the reason I lost her. Aren't you, Darkwing? You decided to save a perfectly happy little girl."
Passing Quiverwing to Launchpad, Darkwing storms up to the villain.
"Happy?! You locked her up! That's not what I call father of the year material!"
"You should have minded your own business!"
"I was saving her! That is something that someone like you could never understand."
Negaduck grabs Darkwing by the jacket and snarls menacingly in his face.
"You… have… NO idea what the hell you're talking about, you jack—"
Launchpad pulls the two apart, calmly saying, "Hey. That's enough. This isn't helping anyone."
The two ducks glower at each other.
Launchpad kneels at Quiverwing's height. He gently places his hand on her shoulder before extending a hand to Gosalyn. She smiles and steps forward, pulling her dad along with her.
"Listen, I don't know what's going on, but I think you two have the best idea about what we're going to do."
"We're not going to do anything!" Darkwing protests. Launchpad quirks an eyebrow at him. Darkwing huffs and turns away.
"I'm not sure what the heck is going on here, anyway," Launchpad continues, "I'm not entirely convinced this isn't a crazy dream."
Quiverwing lightly punches his shoulder, laughing, "It's all real, ya big lug."
Launchpad grabs her hat and ruffles her hair.
"Good. Go ahead, kiddo. The floor's all yours."
"Thanks, Launchpad. Dad?" Darkwing makes a slight noise. "If you lost me, you'd do anything to get me back, wouldn't you?"
Darkwing spins so fast that he probably has whiplash.
"Of course, I would! What kind of a question is that?"
"Right—and that's true, no matter the universe, right?"
"Always!"
"Then… it's also true for Negaduck."
Darkwing bends to meet her eye level.
"Gosalyn, listen. This isn't as simple as that." He puts his hand atop her head. "You've got a big heart, kiddo, and I love that about you, but… this isn't something you should get involved in."
Quiverwing's beak turns down at the corner.
"Dad. Look at him."
With great reluctance, Darkwing does as his daughter requests.
Negaduck's head is lowered into his neck, his shoulder haunched. His eyes are as tight as his fists, arms tucked into his sides.
Darkwing envelops Quivering wholly in his arms. He holds her for a long moment, squeezing her before letting her go. He rises to his full height and fixes Negaduck with a fierce glare.
"Okay," he says, surprising everyone, "But on one condition. If we bring Gosalyn here—and that's a big if because it's entirely her choice—then she goes into my custody until I know you can properly care for her."
"Are you insane?! I'm not gonna agree to that!"
Quiverwing snorts. "He's offering you a lifeline, moron. Don't throw it away because your ego is larger than the universe."
"No!" Negaduck retorts. "I'm not—"
"It's that or nothing," Gosalyn reminds him. "Only one choice gets you Gosalyn."
"I… fine."
"Good!" Darkwing proclaims. "And I know exactly who can help us."
Her throat feels dry as she walks toward the small, rundown building. Half of its roof has caved in, there are holes where windows once stood, and the only door is hanging for its life on the last hinge.
Tangled and long red curls poke out from the hood of a torn black and red cape that drags on the floor behind her. Her two green eyes light up, and a smile spreads across her beak.
It's been almost a year, and here it is. She's finally found it. Standing before the small girl is the answer to her prayers, the HQ of PURE.
"I'm going to find you, Dad," she whispers, "I promise."