Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was a night much like any other in the maximum security Saint Canard Penitentiary. Taurus Bulba had been here for months now, locked away after all the mess in the laboratory. If not for the intervention of one stupid little brat and that insufferable Darkwing Duck… if not for that, he may have succeeded. The Ramrod may have changed the world. But none of that mattered now. He’d been arrested, given a quick trial, and been carted off to prison. Now he simply spent his days fuming, reading, and planning. He wouldn’t be in here forever, and then he would have his revenge.

Of course, the more he thought about it, that felt as if it would take far too much time. Give it twenty years and it wasn’t likely that the meddlesome vigilante would even be working at that point. He didn’t expect to be getting out on parole, either- he had committed a “heinous” crime, after all.

Be that as it may, all he had now was time. Time to brood, to plan, to put together how exactly he would manage all of this. And that was exactly as his night was going, had been going, for ages since his conviction. And as he turned the page on his current book, it was exactly how he thought it was going to continue.

It was then that a sudden loud, ringing sound broke his concentration. The sound of the alarm going off in the Saint Canard Penitentiary wasn’t something one heard every day, after all... and as far as he could recall - considering this prison’s reputation, putting some of the fancier ones in bigger cities like Duckburg to shame - it had never had a single jailbreak. Set on this lonely rock out in the middle of the bay, so cut off from the rest of the world…

And yet he could hear the alarms clear as a bell. The ruckus was coupled with the sound of fighting and shouting, followed by a pair of explosions. Whatever this was, it couldn’t be an inside job. Brow furrowed, he pushed himself to his feet, moving towards the bars of his cell to try to get a better look.

At first, he couldn’t really make anything out. There was no sign of anyone else down the hall, though other inmates were yelling and trying to get the attention of whoever the mystery assailant happened to be. Two more explosions followed, causing smoke to billow from the adjacent corridor. The attacker was heading this way, and they clearly had a purpose in mind.

Smoke continued to pour into the cell block, thinning slowly as it dissipated out the barred windows, until a figure slowly became visible. They were clearly a duck, similar stature and build of that wretched Darkwing Duck… even their attire seemed similar, from what he could make out. But that didn’t make any sense- Darkwing Duck was a foolish meddler who only wished to do “good,” whatever that meant. He had intended to do “good” as well, but those plans had been dashed. All the same, he clenched his fists and scowled, waiting… but the person who appeared from the smoke was not who he expected.

The stranger did look a great deal like the one who had foiled all of his hard work, but he wore yellow and black instead, a strange look in his eyes that lent him a strange, unsettled air… as if ready to fly off the handle at the slightest provocation. Bulba frowned, but he didn’t let down his guard, particularly when the stranger strode right up to his cell and gave a wicked half grin, lazily tilting his head to the side as the bull spoke. “And who the devil are you supposed to be?”

“Is that really important, Bulba? I know you. You probably know me. For now… call me Negaduck.” Bulba did not look impressed, but the stranger calling himself Negaduck didn’t seem bothered, tapping the bars lightly with his knuckles. “You and I have very similar goals, you know. We both were thwarted by that imposter in Darkwing Duck pajamas. But you see, that’s why I’m here. He took everything from me. He clearly messed up all your little plans. While you have been enjoying a relaxing little vacation behind bars, however, I've been keeping myself busy with observing him and the company he keeps. He likes to think he's so perfect, but even the shiniest apples have soft spots: that little girl you failed to axe, and some muscle bound meathead he calls his partner. You don’t get to that twiggy little wreck by going after him, Bulby. You hit for the heart.”

Bulba’s eyes narrowed, just slightly, and he snorted as he cocked his head to the side, keeping his full attention on the odd duck examining the bars. “I am aware of the girl and the idiot. I fail to see how they fit into striking at his heart-”

His expression soured further as Negaduck began cackling, taking something from a belt at his waist to start smearing it on the bars, snickering now and then as if indulging in his own private joke. “Because he cares about them, friend. He would be willing to die for those two tire fires, so- one moment.” Abruptly, he took several steps back, taking a matchbox from his belt after he’d finished coating the bars almost all the way to the floor. “I would stand back if I were you.”

As he was backing up, it only took Bulba a moment to realize exactly what was happening. Immediately, he dove for the back of the cell, taking cover behind the shoddy bed just as the mad duck lit a match and casually tossed it against the bars. Fortunately, the result was less explosive than he had anticipated, but they still fizzled and sparked wildly, igniting anything cloth they touched in the process as they melted away the metal bars to cooling slag. A few moments more and Bulba, irate, stepped out, straightening his prison uniform as he moved into the corridor to stare down at his would-be accomplice.

“Well. Unorthodox, but effective. Though I can’t help but wonder...” His tone was firm, and though he was tempted to yell, he wasn’t going to blow him off so readily. This Negaduck had broken him out of prison, and dawdling would just mean that they would both end up captured. Letting out a long, low sigh, he glared around at the other cells, where other prisoners were yelling to try to call in their attention. “What do you have against Darkwing Duck? Or are you some sort of… obsessed fan of his, dreaming about becoming some sort of nemesis?”

“Oh, Bulby, you don’t know the half of it. I wasn’t kidding when I said he took everything from me.” Clearly thrilled by the fact that Bulba hadn’t thrown him off, Negaduck may not have relaxed, but he did settle somewhat, wagging his finger as he grinned up at the bull. “But that’s neither here nor there, either way.” It was as if he hadn’t just broken into a prison and melted down the bars of a cell, offering a hand in a sly sort of manner that reminded Bulba very much of a wild fox. “So, chum… let’s talk revenge on Darkwing Duck.”

It wouldn’t be until later that morning when one Darkwing Duck would hear of the jailbreak, of course. But he had his reasons- standing anxiously near Gosalyn as she finished tugging on her hoodie, fidgeting anxiously. She’d been his ward for a few months at this point, and Drake Mallard was honestly more fond of the girl than he expected to be. He had never thought of himself as father material- honestly, maybe he wasn’t. But he was still doing his best to do right by her while he continued searching for a way to find her grandfather and bring him home.

Today, in fact, he would be welcoming Fenton into his hideout so they could put their heads together a bit more effectively. But that wasn’t a problem for now. Now’s problem was that it was the first day of school. Gosalyn, he had a feeling, was equally as nervous as he was. She’d told him that she’d never been in a “real” school. Her actual parents had died before she was school aged, and when she’d been old enough to enroll, her grandfather had seen it fit to homeschool her instead. It kept her nearby, and safe. He had apparently been something of a fusser.

Not that Drake was much better. Just look at him now. What was he, some kind of helicopter parent?

“So! First day at school.” He did his best to sound as cheerful and encouraging as possible, puffed up a little bit as he patted her shoulder. “You’re gonna have a great time. I went to St. Canard Middle as a kid myself. I think some of my teachers are still there!”

Gosalyn gave him a withering look at that, making a face before looking out the door. There was a clear note of dread in her tone and expression, despite her sarcastic reply. “Are they made of fossils?”

Wincing, Drake’s grin faltered as he rubbed the back of his head with one hand. “Ouch. That’s hitting a little below the belt, huh, Gos? I guess that would seem like a long time ago to you, though, huh?”

At first, she didn’t reply. But in the end she heaved a sigh, looking down at the floor before her gaze shifted back up at him. “Do I really have to go? I mean… I was doing just fine on my own. I read books.” A pause. “Sometimes.”

Drake’s brow knitted for a moment, but he did let his smile soften to something more sincere, crouching down to her level for a moment. “Hey, I know this is the last thing you wanna do. But for this whole “I’m your legal guardian and you’re my ward” thing to work with the state, I gotta make sure you’re in school or we’re both in big trouble. If the city steps in, it’ll be a lot harder to work on finding your grandpa.”

“But why can’t I just homeschool? Then we could stay at the hideout and I could do schoolwork and help at the same time.”

It was a tempting thought, one he’d actually entertained himself more than a few times. But he knew how clever Gosalyn was when she put her mind to it, and something told him that Fenton - downy-heart that he was - would end up doing more of her actual schoolwork than she did. Besides, he did still have to work. Commercials weren’t the work he’d hoped to have with his background in the arts, but they paid the bills, and the city recognized it enough as a job for him to foster Gosalyn for the time being.

Sighing heavily, he tilted his head, flicking the end of her bill gently. “Because I still have to go to work, and you need someone who got a degree from somewhere that isn’t Jullimallard to teach you. I’ll make sure LP picks you up after school and he’ll bring you straight to the hideout. You can go over what Fenton and I find when you get there, deal?”

While Gosalyn didn’t look entirely convinced at first, she sighed and bumped her fist against his when he held it out for that purpose, starting past him towards the door. “You didn’t really go to Jullimallard.”

“Why would I lie about going to Jullimallard?” He made a face at her when she stuck her tongue out at him, but it gave way to a laugh a moment later. “Have a good first day, Gos. See you at the tower later.”

She didn’t respond except for to wave at him, heading out the door to make her way down to the bus stop. For a moment or two, at least, Drake was left standing alone in the apartment he had barely even spent any time in before Gosalyn had come into his life. It had always felt too empty, and at the time he’d gotten it, he’d been neck deep in working on the cancelled Darkwing Duck movie anyway. It still felt almost too big for him, even with Gosalyn there.

Honestly, he still spent so little time here. If they were here, it was usually because something had happened and they needed serious rest. Most of their time over the summer had been spent all but living out of the hideout, making video calls to Fenton as the desperate search for Thaddeus Waddlemeyer continued.

Frowning, he grabbed his keys and his wallet, shoving the wallet in his breast pocket as he made his way to the door. First, it was a taxi to the pier, where he was doing work in a commercial. Once shooting wrapped up, it was straight to the bridge tower, and he wasn’t even a little bit surprised to find Launchpad and a somewhat rattled looking Fenton waiting for him.

“Here I thought you’d be used to LP’s driving by now,” Drake teased, tossing his things on a cluttered table before heading over towards the computer.

The tan feathered duck made a somewhat distressed sound, straightening his shirt. “Yes, well… it’s always an adventure? I suppose you could say- that’s not even why I’m here, Drake, and you know it.”

Launchpad, to his merit, hardly seemed phased at the rag on his own driving skill, waving a hand as Fenton was marching over to the computer, his bill growing red across the top. “Awh, Double-D’s just messin’ with ya, Fenton. He’s a pretty good jokester.”

Drake just grinned, but that expression didn’t last long, melting into one far more serious as he slid into his usual seat at the computer with Fenton dragging a chair over to sit next to him. “Joking aside… I’m starting to think we’re never going to find that footage. I’ve combed every inch of security footing from the week Professor Waddlemeyer disappeared, and there’s always just that chunk of missing data.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, Drake- you’re doing your best, and Gosalyn appreciates that. What’s important is that we keep trying! We’ll keep scouring every inch of the internet, every dark corner of the deep web! Somehow, one way or another, we’ll find information on Professor Waddlemeyer.”

From nearby, Launchpad made a sound that honestly came off as thoughtful, and both of the two smaller ducks turned to look at him, puzzled, as he spoke. “...but what if you don’t? I know we all want to find Gosalyn’s grandpa. But maybe there’s nothing to find.”

The silence that fell over the room was tense and unsettled, and Drake glanced at the floor as he clenched his fists on top of the keyboard, expression growing grim. “I can’t let myself believe that. What reason would Bulba have to lie about zapping Professor Waddlemeyer into another dimension? No, there’s got to be something. And we won’t rest until we figure out what- what?”

His pause was brought on by Fenton grabbing hold of his sleeve and tugging, directing his attention back up at the computer screen, and immediately his eyes grew wide. His companion had been pulling up a search, and a breaking news article directed at Saint Canard residents had immediately caught hold. A jailbreak at the Saint Canard Maximum Security penitentiary.

This wasn’t good at all.

Across town, a very different scene was playing out. In the remains of an old factory near the wharf, Negaduck had put together a fairly competent base of operations. It needed some more high tech gear, of course, but for now, it was suitable enough. What interested him more was why they had come here instead of getting straight to business. But his companion was interested in taking his time, tossing off his cape and ragged wide brimmed hat before undoing his mask and turning to give Bulba a deeply scrutinizing look.

It took a moment, but abruptly, Bulba realized where he had seen that face before… and it was not the Darkwing that now prowed the streets of Saint Canard. “Jim Starling. The television actor. I thought you were dead.”

“The rumors of my death were greatly exaggerated. And fine by me. I don’t go by that name anymore- my fame, my glory, all of it was taken from me when that talentless upstart hack took up the mantle.” His bill was curled into a snarl, bristling slightly as he glanced over towards a window, as if speaking of the vigilante would cause him to appear. “When he stole the role, my role, he took everything from me. Even sabotaged a set so that some witless fan would be in danger and I would be forced to save him. Of course, it did let me fake my own death… and now, now I finally have everything I need to get my revenge.”

Bulba did not appear in the least bit impressed, frowning as his ears flicked slightly. “You aren’t the only one seeking revenge… Negaduck. What I’m more curious to know is what part I apparently play in whatever cockamamie scheme you’ve apparently cooked up.”

The former actor gave one hand a faint flick, tossing something in Bulba’s direction that he barely managed to catch before it fell. A flash drive. “This is all the answer you need, Bulby. Took me some digging, but I managed to find some… sensitive footage from your laboratory from the night Professor Waddlemeyer disappeared. Seems you’re keeping a pretty big secret.”

“What happened to Thaddeus is neither here nor there. If this is your attempt to blackmail me into helping you-”

Immediately, Negaduck’s hands went up, grin turning sly. “Blackmail? Perish the thought. No no, that’s hardly the plan here. Here’s what we’re going to do: I’ll leak this information to dear old Dorkwing personally, then make sure that flash drive gets into the hands of Waddlemeyer’s nosy brat. The girl will come to find you… and he’ll come to find the girl. We’ll, of course, be waiting for them both.”

It was a wild ploy… but a sound one. The girl would immediately come looking, especially if she’d heard about the jail break, and that fool Darkwing would inevitably follow. The opportunity would be ripe for the vengeance he craved, but at the same time, he couldn’t help but frown. “And what’s in this for you? You wanted revenge on Darkwing as well.”

“Mm, true, true. But I want to take everything away from him. Play it right, the girl thinks he knew dear old grandpappy bit the big one but chose to hide it from her. She gets mad, thinking he never wanted to help her in the first place, runs right to you for a stupid kid showdown, and there's that little problem handled. That meathead will come with him when he comes looking, too, and bam, kill the big guy. Take him away. Take everything away from that imposter and watch him topple like sandcastles in the ocean of my- I mean. Our! Vengeance!”

It was hard for Bulba to keep a straight face listening to him. He didn’t trust this duck as far as he could pick him up and drop him, but at least part of his plan seemed solid enough. In any case, he didn’t have to play along. Negaduck was really just a sad, washed up actor driven mad by someone else standing in his spotlight. Easy enough to take in a fight. He could have his vengeance and deal with this little… problem on the side after the fact. Folding his arms, he scowled for a moment before gesturing with the flash drive he was holding. “So how exactly was it that you came to have possession of this… sensitive footage?”

“Where would the fun be in just telling you that?” Negaduck was grinning, but the look on Bulba’s face made his expression instantly fall and he heaved a deep, rushing sigh as he spun on his heel, flinging his arms out to his sides. “Your old laboratory, obviously! You didn’t wipe those drives as well as you thought, but the police didn’t find everything. I’d like to remind you… I did do all my own stunts… and that includes detective work. I picked up the footage of you letting old Thaddy make friends with the business end of a kitchen knife… and then I decided to come find you myself. This little flash drive is the key, Bulby! With this, we tear them apart. And then we tear them apart.”

The emphasis on the words was not lost on Bulba, who snorted softly before holding out the flash drive, which Negaduck took without any hesitation. “You’ve put more thought into this than I expected for someone driven mad by his own replacement. But I must admit, this isn’t a terrible plan. How exactly do you expect to enact this?”

His eyes followed the flash drive as the actor flipped it lazily across his fingers, humming a soft tune to himself. “Easy enough. You go to your own lab- old moneybags McDuck hasn’t done anything with it since everything that happened there, so it’s untouched. It’s the first place that little brat will look after getting a look at this footage. Just make sure you don’t kill the kid, not yet. We need to make absolutely sure she’s alive so that we can use her as bait for the fake. After he shows up to play the hero, of course… well.”

“Then we make sure they’re never a problem again. Give me the flash drive.” Turning his head, he looked out the window, staring in the direction of the empty shell of his old lab - faint against the skyline on the other side of town - as a faint smile began to play on his face. Perhaps this wasn’t how he truly wanted things to play out, but he wasn’t the sort to look a gift opportunity in the mouth. “It’s time to… what is the phrase? Get dangerous?”

“It’s “let’s get dangerous.” Obviously.”

Bulba immediately rolled his eyes, grabbing the flash drive and striding towards the door. “Whatever. Let’s move.”

School wasn’t nearly as bad as Gosalyn had thought it would be. She had always been wary of other kids, being seen as something of an odd kid when coworkers of her grandfather’s and Bulba’s had brought their own kids to work for whatever reason or another. But overall she wasn’t met with as much hostility as she’d expected, and one boy - a young goose named Herbert Muddlefoot (“call me Honker,” he’d said to her) - had been very eager to show around a new student.

All in all, not the worst first day she could imagine. Near the end of the day, however, her mind started to shift to what was happening at the hideout without her there. She honestly just couldn’t figure out why they hadn’t found anything to help out. The McDucks, of course, had a lot of magical artifacts that could access other dimensions, but none of them were precise enough to do any real searching. Fenton had been a huge help, of course, using the plans from the Solego device to reverse engineer a more stable version of the Ramrod. He hadn’t finished yet, though he assured her every time that it was just a little longer, he just needed a little more time. It just felt like that was always the answer. More time.

Not that she could be angry with him. Her grandfather was a brilliant scientist, and even he couldn’t figure out a way to stabilize the portals. Expecting Fenton to do it in less than a quarter of the time he had worked on the Ramrod - even with Gandra’s help - was just unreasonable, even if she was impatient. At the same time, however, it had been months. A small part of her worried that she was going to wake up one day to learn there was nothing they could do, and off she would be shuffled to foster care again.

Why would Drake keep her after that, after all?

Her shoulders curled inward at that. She’d known Drake long enough to know he wasn’t that kind of person, hadn’t she? He had turned his life upside-down for her, springing for a larger apartment and buying furniture so she’d have a room of her own… even going as far as to take a few cooking classes so he could actually make more than just microwave meals. He’d even successfully made pancakes the past Sunday. Launchpad was spending more and more time here too, sleeping on the couch if he had to, helping out with Gosalyn - and Drake - in any way he could whenever he could. And all of it with the hero's same firm insistence that he was going to help her, he wasn’t going to abandon her. But that gnawing anxiety lingered in her gut of what if. What if that only extended to finding her grandpa. What happened after?

Before she knew it, the school day was done, and the ringing of the bell drove those thoughts out of her head. Her brow was still tightly knit when she walked outside, but as she headed towards the place she was supposed to wait for Launchpad, she swore she saw something- a flash of a dark cape disappearing down an alley. Had Drake seriously dropped by the school as Darkwing to make sure she was still here? What a dork. Rolling her eyes, she turned to instead head down the alley she’d seen the cape, glancing around as her little smirk slowly faded into an anxious frown.

“C’mon, DW, this is dumb. Don’t try to be funny, okay? I know you came to spy on me. See? I totally stayed at school the whole day.” No response, and her frown deepened. “...Darkwing? This isn’t funny, okay? Knock it off.”

She was answered by something behind the dumpster nearby tipping over, and her hands tightened on the straps of her backpack, shoulders tensing up slightly. The voice that spoke up after was familiar, somehow, but she couldn’t quite place how. “Miss Gosalyn Waddlemeyer, I presume?”

Her shoulders tensed even further as she stood up straight, eyes narrowing. “Who’s there?!”

“Let’s just say I’m… a friend. Someone with a vested interest in your well-being.” The figure who emerged, who she could now just see lurking in the shadows, had something of the silhouette she recognized when out and about with Darkwing, but his costume was visibly different. Older, somehow, with a ragged brim on the wide hat and a tattered cape. The coloring was off, too… a sickly yellow and a deep black that almost blended with the shadows around him. “You’re looking for your grandfather, am I right? Had any luck?”

Gosalyn’s face soured, and she took a couple of steps back, closer to the exit to the alley. To the safety of daylight, out of the uncomfortable cover of this shady alleyway. “What’s it to you? I don’t even know you. And why are you dressed like that?”

She swore she saw his eye twitch, just slightly, something in his posture and tone shifting to something dark and malicious. “I’m an interested party, kid. That’s all you need to know.” It was then that he held out something. It looked like a flash drive, but she was wary of moving forward. “Go on, take it. Old Darkwing’s had access to this for a while. Seems strange to me that he’d keep it a secret. Can’t possibly imagine why…”

A few more moments of hesitation passed, but in the end, desperation to find her grandfather won out over caution. A small hand shot out, snatching the flash drive before she took several steps back, her brow furrowing deeply as the stranger’s bill curled into a twisted grin, sending an unpleasant chill up her spine.

She knew she shouldn’t trust this guy. But this was the closest she’d gotten to any kind of information on her grandfather since she’d run into Drake. “...is that all?”

His posture relaxed, but only slightly, so quickly that Gosalyn got the uneasy sense that he was the sort to flip moods at a moment’s notice. “For now. You enjoy that information, short stack. I hate being the one to bring it to you, but… well. Can’t account for honesty in someone like that Darkwing Duck, can you?”

In the very next moment, he dropped something onto the ground, and the plume of acrid yellowish smoke that rose drove her into a coughing fit, staggering back to the entrance to the alleyway, rubbing anxiously at her eyes. Whoever he was, the stranger was gone, and she was left in the entrance to the alley holding tightly to a flash drive that she wasn’t even sure she trusted.

After a moment or two, she swung her backpack around to jam the drive into a zipper pocket before hauling it back onto her back and making her way towards the spot where she was supposed to meet up with Launchpad. Her mind was already made up to keep this encounter secret from Drake, at least for right now. She knew, deep down, that she shouldn’t believe this stranger when he told her that her guardian knew what this drive contained, but everything felt so uncertain right now.

Launchpad, though, was waiting right where Drake said he would, surrounded by a broken parking meter and at least one destroyed fire hydrant. It was probably for the best to just get in and get going before he broke anything else, and she settled herself in for the long, round-about, chaotic drive to the hideout entrance, glad for now - at least - for Launchpad’s immediate barrage of questions about her day.

The flash drive, at least for now, could wait.

The day had rolled on slowly at the bridge tower, and as the end of the school day drew close, all Drake could do was drop his head against the desk, groaning loudly. “Another dead end. This just doesn’t make any sense! I get it, Bulba didn’t want to be implicated in Waddlemeyer’s disappearance. But that doesn’t explain why there’s so much missing data.” His attention turned to the screen, displaying what Fenton saw within the GizmoCloud, where Gandra had joined them a couple of hours before. “We’re sure there were no other buildings that may have caught something? Anything?”

The Gandra on the screen shrugged, rubbing the back of her head as her free hand waved in front of her, pulling up virtual displays of security footage with several blacked out squares between. “Sorry, Drake. The top floor of that building is higher than most other buildings in Saint Canard, and unless someone was super dead set on spying? No dice. There’s just nothing there.”

“And rebuilding the Ramrod isn’t going any better.” Fenton sounded almost as frustrated as Drake felt. “Without any visuals on what happened in that lab the night Professor Waddlemeyer disappeared, I don’t know that we can actually recreate the environment required to find him.”

That got Drake to sit up straight, his fist slamming almost painfully down onto the desk. “Absolutely not. I’m not giving up on this, Fenton- I promised Gosalyn. I’m going to find her grandfather, somehow. Even if it kills me.”

Gandra turned to face Fenton’s gaze, giving her the appearance of looking directly at Drake from inside the virtual world, her beak twisted into a very irate frown. “Don’t joke about that. I think Gosalyn’s lost enough people in her life- and believe me, I know what that feels like for a little girl just looking for somewhere to feel safe in the world. But at some point… maybe it’s time to admit there’s just… nothing to find.” Her shoulders lifted, expression softening. “For all we know, Bulba killed him and just did this to cover his tracks-”

She trailed off there, but Drake hesitated in rebuking her statement, noticing how her expression shifted. Fenton had turned his gaze away from her as well, and he made a thoughtful sound. “Someone just uploaded a file to the network- it’s being sent directly as a private upload. How in the world-?”

“A private upload?” Drake tipped his head to the side, leaning forward slightly. “What kind?”

There was a pause, and it was Fenton who finally replied, sounding uneasy. “Seems it’s for Darkwing Duck. Specifically. I’ve got no idea how, but-”

“Play it.”

Gandra and Fenton shared a brief glance between them before the woman lifted her shoulders slightly, looking uneasy. “Are you sure? We don’t even know who this is from.”

Slowly, Drake shook his head, steeling his expression. “Right now I don’t want to leave any stone unturned. Maybe it’s spam, maybe it’s a trap… but who knows? It could be something useful.”

“You’re the boss on this one, Drake,” Fenton murmured, followed by a soft sigh. “Launching media.”

The video that played was not what he had expected… and one he had been dreading. Some part of him knew, deep down, that Bulba must have been lying. Why else would Gosalyn have had so much trouble finding her grandfather when she’d found Scrooge and the triplets so easily? Seeing it laid out before him, however, turned his stomach, and he had to steady himself for a moment. Maybe it had been Bulba’s intention, originally, to simply zap Waddlemeyer away, but the reality was far different.

The reality was a charging bull, sending an old man slamming hard into the wall. The reality was something that resembled regret. It was checking for a pulse, and it was blood, rage, and a camera going black.

It was the death of Professor Thaddeus Waddlemeyer, in one vicious blow from someone he had trusted as a friend. His breath caught and he slowly slumped back in his chair, eyes wide as his bill hung open for a moment. “Oh god. What am I going to tell Gosalyn? Launchpad’s already left to get her, and we’ve got… this. Bulba killed her grandfather- accident or not, he’s just… gone.”

“The truth.” Fenton’s tone was gentle, and it took Drake a moment to realize he’d disconnected from the cloud, reaching over to rest a hand on his friend’s arm. “Gosalyn’s a smart kid. This is… terrible, I’ll admit. But it’s not like she’ll be going through it alone. She’s got friends. She’s got you, and Launchpad. It’s not gonna be easy, but-”

It took everything for Drake to keep from bolting up, glancing towards the door, every movement of his frame indicating anxiety and unease with everything they were dealing with. “I can’t just- you don’t just tell someone something like that. I’ve got to be sympathetic, and I’ve got to make sure- I don’t want her to think I’m going to abandon her. I’ve come this far with her. She’s got to know that she’s safe here! I need to think. I’ve got to think of how to approach this; I can’t just… greet her at the door when she gets home all “Hey Gos, how was school? We found out today that your grandpa died!” Is there even an easy way to break this?”

Fenton glanced up at the screen, where Gandra appeared to be trying to find the source of the original message, and he let out a deep sigh, smoothing back his feathers with a frown. “I don’t think there is any easy way to tell someone this kind of thing. When my father died, Mamá just sat me down and… told me. You just have to be ready to support her. It’s not an easy pill to swallow. Believe me, I know.”

For a moment, Drake didn’t look at him, but at last he shook his head, moving his hands to type in a request for Gandra to - for now - keep the file locked. “I need to think this over. Obviously I need to tell her, but… I need to figure out how. That’s all.” He leaned back in his chair, then, all the energy seemingly drained out of him. “This is awful. I promised Gosalyn I’d help her find her grandfather, but it looks like all we’ve found is that he never made it through to begin with. This is terrible.”

At first, Fenton didn’t reply at first, placing the VR headset back on just long enough to have a brief conversation with Gandra before disconnecting from the server entirely. After that, however, he turned a surprisingly stern gaze on his friend. “Yeah, but hiding it from her isn’t going to do anyone any favors. You know that.”

“I know, I know. I really do. It’s just… I’m supposed to be the one protecting her now. I can’t protect her from this.”

“That’s kinda the whole thing with those kinds of things. My mom realized it. You do too. You know the right thing to do, Drake.”

The actor-turned-vigilante almost replied… maybe Fenton was right after all. But the door to the hideout was sliding open, and he was scrambling to his feet, putting all his years of education at Jullimallard and his experience as an actor to work as a winning smile crossed his face, spreading his arms wide as Gosalyn trudged in ahead of Launchpad. Though the pilot looked a bit puzzled himself, Drake ignored it to focus instead on the girl, tone and expression enthusiastic as could be. “There she is~! Hey there, Gos. How was your first day at school?”

“It was okay,” she replied, tone flat, even for her. “It’s whatever, y’know? I met some other kids, maybe made a friend. But I got a lot of homework, so…”

The relief Drake felt at not having to immediately go over the day’s discoveries was difficult to hide. But he managed to keep the feelings buried, letting his arms drop to his sides. “Oh! You sure? We can always take some time to go over the findings first-”

She cut him off with a shake of her head, heading over to the corner she’d set up for herself, complete with a laptop (a gift from Fenton and Gandra), a lot of pillows, and her headphones. “I’m good.”

He made no attempt to stop her, and nearby Fenton stood. “I’m gonna go ahead and head back to Duckburg then. Can’t take too many sick days without Dr. Gearloose getting… agitated.”

Drake at least was able to give a wave, but Fenton was out the door before Launchpad or Gosalyn could say anything, mumbling something about taking the bus on his way out.

His troubled expression must have drawn Launchpad’s attention, however, and Drake sighed as he felt the much bigger duck’s hand rest against his back, firm and reassuring. “Later, LP. I’m going to order a pizza.”

Gosalyn did not watch the video at first. She was tired, and while she didn’t have any actual homework, her brain just kept replaying the odd encounter from earlier over and over again. Why would someone dressed as some weird inverse of Drake just… give her a flash drive? How did he even know who he was? It all could be some sort of trick. She knew that. But another part of her, gnawing away in her belly, held on to the thought that maybe… just maybe there was something on that drive that answered all her questions.

At the same time, however, she couldn’t fathom Drake hiding something important from her. Typing away on her laptop, trying to look busy, she glanced over at where he was sitting on the couch next to Launchpad, fidgeting with his phone, neither of them speaking. The pilot was trying to provide at least something of a comforting presence, his hand resting on Drake’s shoulder, watching him in relative silence.

There were nights he was fidgety, but something seemed off tonight. Maybe she was just noticing now because of the meeting from earlier, but she couldn’t just leave it alone. Grabbing her backpack, she pulled out the flash drive, staring at the little device in her hand. For all she knew, this was a virus. A way for some freaky fan to track them down and do who knew what in the hideout. But this little drive also had a different sort of potential: it could hold all the answers to what had happened. To where Bulba had zapped away her grandfather, or whatever had happened in that lab late that night.

The night a couple of city officers had come to the small apartment she shared with her grandfather to report his disappearance… and take her into state custody.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she made a choice, letting out a shaky breath before looking again at the computer and pushing the drive into the slot. Getting the media to open was the easy part, but watching it wasn’t. She had to clasp her hands tightly over her bill as the footage played out, green eyes round and wet as tears sprung up unbidden. If the footage was edited, it was some sort of sick prank, but from what she could tell just from watching, it appeared to be genuine.

Again, her eyes turned to where Drake was sitting, watching him as he stood up, moving as if to grab something from the minifridge. A swell of fury rose in her chest. Had he actually hidden this from her? Did he know that her grandfather was really dead? Frowning as she choked back sobs, she shoved as many important items into her backpack as she could before throwing down her headphones and standing, small frame shaking as she lifted her voice, gaze hard as Drake turned to face her when she spoke. “Did you know?”

He stared at her for a moment, looking puzzled, turning fully as he gave her a quiet, concerned look. “Know what, Gos?”

“That Bulba killed my grandpa!” Her voice cracked as her voice rose to a near yell, and the way his posture and expression shifted told her everything she needed to know. “You did, didn’t you? How long did you know?! Were you just… just hiding it from me?! You had to know I’d figure it out eventually!”

Drake seemed completely taken aback by the revelation as well as her tone, slowly shaking his head as he took a step forward. “No! I mean- I did, find out I mean- I was just trying to figure out the best way to tell you-”

She shook her head hard, ponytail whipping with the force as she slung her backpack onto her shoulder. “I knew it! I knew I couldn’t trust you! That weirdo in the alley was right!”

“Wh- wait, weirdo in the alley? Gos-”

Her head whipped around again, fixing him with a hard, angry stare that seemed to freeze him in place. “You never really wanted to help me at all, did you? You just lied to “keep me out of trouble,” just like everyone else!”

Drake shook his head then, seeming to come back to himself as he took a couple more steps forward. “Gos, that wasn’t it at all-!”

She didn’t meet his gaze, trotting down the short stairway and shoving past him as she headed for the door. “I don’t wanna hear it, Drake. You can play hero all you want, but what kind of hero are you if you just keep these kinds of things from people?! I don’t wanna stay here. You can call the foster agency if you want. Whatever. I’m done.”

Gosalyn didn’t give either one of them time to reply, though as she rushed out the door, Launchpad was on his feet and moving to follow. “Gosalyn-!”

Drake’s hand was out in the next moment, pressing against Launchpad’s chest as he watched after Gosalyn, crestfallen. “Let her go, LP. We’ll find her later. Right now, she just… she just needs space. She’s survived on her own before.” Letting out a little sigh, he gave Launchpad’s chest a gentle pat as he noticed how his companion’s expression fell. “I should’ve just told her when she got home. Damn it.”

“Not your fault, DW,” came the quiet response. “You’re just tryin’ to protect her. She knows that. She’ll… she’ll come around.”

“Yeah.” Drake looked up at him, then back towards the door. “I’m sure she’ll be fine. We should go on patrol, though, just… just in case. Bulba breaking out of jail, some weirdo giving Gosalyn that footage, us receiving it… something isn’t right. And I’m going to get to the bottom of it.”

Chapter Text

It had been hours. Up and down Saint Canard’s city streets, patrolling, checking on Bulba’s old lab and scouring the piers. Gosalyn had been at this longer than either one of them, however, and she had melted away into the crowds probably the instant she’d left the tower. By the time the pair found their way to the roof of City Hall, dawn was casting a rosy light that shimmered against the glass skyscrapers as the fingers of light began stretching through the streets. They were clearly past the normal time for one of their patrols, and yet they had nothing to show for it. It left both Drake and Launchpad feeling a little lost as they perched up there together, side by side as they looked over the tide as it pulled back from the shoreline in Audubon Bay.

For once, Drake wasn’t even bothering to posture, and though his cape was billowing in the late summer breeze off the bay, he didn’t look the part of Saint Canard’s caped avenger in the slightest. He wasn’t even looking up at Launchpad as he pulled his hat off, smoothing back his feathers with a sigh. There was a certain tiredness visible in every movement, pulling at his eyes and the corners of his bill. “I should have told her. Fenton was right. The instant she got home, I should have sat her down… we should’ve talked. I know it wouldn’t have been easy, and maybe… maybe that’s what I was afraid of.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Double-D.” Launchpad’s tone was soft and sincere, one strong hand reaching out to grip his companion’s shoulder. “You were doing what you thought was right for Gosalyn. And we’ll find her, like you said. She’ll be okay.”

Normally, he would have found Launchpad’s grip comforting, but instead he pulled away, showing a touch of that wiry strength as he pushed back his much larger companion’s attempt at comfort. “Except it wasn’t right for Gosalyn. This is the one thing I promised her. I promised I’d help find her grandfather. I finally do that and I choke at the finish line.” He let out a deep sigh, leaning forward against the ledge. “And how do we know she’ll be okay, anyway? Bulba is out of prison and we don’t know where he is. He’ll be out for my head, and if he finds out that this information got out, he’ll be gunning for Gosalyn too. If anything happens to her, Launchpad, I can’t-”

He didn’t let himself finish, putting his hat back on with his head slowly lowering. Launchpad didn’t approach or speak at first, glancing out towards the bay with a torn, anxious look on his face. He knew he wasn’t particularly smart, or wise, but he also knew that family was incredibly important. Drake, Gosalyn… they were family. He hoped they were becoming his family. Families did fight, sometimes, but Drake’s worry was legitimate.

Gosalyn was in danger, especially with Bulba having escaped from prison, likely eager to take his vengeance on those he saw as having orchestrated his downfall. They only had so much time. “Well. Then we won’t let anything happen to her.” It seemed like the easiest answer. “We’ll find Bulba, and then we’ll find her, and she’ll be okay. Then I’ll talk to her. She listened to me once, right? I’m sure she’ll understand if I tell her you were only trying to help.”

“Maybe.” He didn’t move away this time when Launchpad’s hand found his shoulder, closing his eyes as the weight of it reminded him of just how tired he really was. His own hand lifted to cover his companion’s. “I didn’t have great parents. I wanted to do better than I had to deal with, for her. I just… I want to find her. I need to make sure she’s safe. She can still hate me after the fact, that’s fine. But Gosalyn’s safety is my first priority. I’d do anything to keep her safe, LP. I’d die if I had to.”

He felt Launchpad’s grip tighten slightly, more suddenly than he’d anticipated. “You won’t have to.” The words came out sounding like almost more of a reassurance to himself than to Drake. “We beat him once before, right? And that’s when he had a bunch of supervillains from another dimension! He’s just one guy. You won’t have to do anything… y’know, like that.”

All Drake could do was tighten his own grip on Launchpad’s hand, eyes closing for a moment as he focused on the warmth and the weight. He had been alone for so long before Launchpad and Gosalyn had come into his life that, sometimes, their support and camaraderie still managed to surprise him. Regardless, he welcomed it openly. Launchpad was as genuine as anyone could come, and if he believed that things would turn out all right in the shadow of all of this mess? Well, maybe he could believe it too.

“You’re right. You always are, LP.” Giving his companion’s hand one more squeeze, he let his hand fall and straightened his hat, standing straight. “I’ll call the school and tell them Gos is having trouble adjusting. Then we can call Fenton and-”

His pause came as the communicator he kept, given to him by Fenton and connected to the GizmoCloud network, began buzzing against his side. Drake wasted no time pulling it out, almost fumbling once in his eagerness to check, hoping desperately that it may have been Gosalyn. But he shared a puzzled look with Launchpad when the number came up unlisted. After a few more buzzes, he let out a very soft sigh and pressed the key to answer, putting the phone on speaker.

The voice that came out was thick and gravelly, but something churned in the pit of Drake’s stomach hearing it. He had heard it somewhere before, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. “Hello, Darkwing Duck.”

Drake’s back straightened as his jaw went tight, eyes narrowing. The tone put him in the mind of a cobra spreading its hood. “Who is this?”

“Just an old friend,” the voice continued. “Seems you’ve lost something important. Terrible feeling, isn’t it?”

That awful churning feeling intensified. He remembered receiving the awful footage of Bulba murdering Thaddeus Waddlemeyer in a fit of rage… a piece of data sent from an unknown source. Suspicion immediately gripped him that the man behind this deviously familiar voice may have been the originator of the data. “You’re the one who gave Gosalyn the footage.”

He was answered by a low chuckle. “Ooh, more clever than you look, aren’t you? Yes, I gave that little dear that delightful little home video. But I understand you weren’t quite so generous with that same information. Pity. Maybe if you’d been a little more forthcoming with that information, poor sweet little Gosalyn wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”

Drake felt his heart leap into his throat at that, anger at how flippant this stranger was being and terror that Gosalyn may actually be hurt somewhere - or worse - warring in his mind. “What did you do to Gosalyn?!”

“Me?” The stranger sounded incredulous. “Why, I haven’t touched a feather on that silly little head. Of course, I could be lying- there’s no way for you to really know. I mean someone did break old Bulby out of prison. Of course… hurt doesn’t just mean a fist to the eye. Hurt can be breaking someone’s trust. Or taking away their whole life. You and I know that all too well. Don’t we, Drake?”

An immediate chill shot straight through Drake at hearing this stranger call him by his name, his true name. He shot a look up at Launchpad, who looked as shell shocked as he felt, and all at once, memory came flooding back. He did know this voice. He’d known it as the voice that inspired him in childhood, who had heartened him to come into who he truly was in his teens. The hero whose catchphrases and grit granted him determination through tough courses at Jullimallard, that led him to becoming a stuntman and then an actor.

The man whose persona led him to truly become Darkwing Duck.

“Jim.” Drake was near breathless. Jim Starling had died, saving Launchpad’s life after that awful fight in the film studio. But he knew the world was something far weirder, and people could survive the worst. If anyone could, it was his childhood hero. “Jim Starling. How- no. What happened? Jim, what happened to you?! Where is Gosalyn, what are you doing?!”

The low growl was suddenly replaced with a near shout, threat replaced with rage so quickly that it felt a bit like whiplash. “Jim Starling is dead! That’s all no thanks to you, of course. I’m Negaduck now. And why should I know where your scrawny little ward got off to? Maybe you should keep better track of the things you think are so important. After all, Drakey…” And all at once, that voice slid back to something just this side of sinister, cloying and poisonous. “You and I both know just how easy it is for one person to take away… everything.”

The line dropped in the next moment, and Drake and Launchpad were left standing shaken there on the roof of city hall. Launchpad’s hand was still tight on his shoulder, grip almost painful, but his voice was uncharacteristically soft. Shaken. “...DW? What do we do now?”

Drake took a moment to steady himself. Deep breath in, deep breath out. He was a hero, but he was also an actor. He’d been forcing himself to put on a mask his whole life, and now it was more important than ever. “Whatever happened to Jim, he’s clearly lost his mind. We can’t stop now, LP. We don’t have that luxury.” Carefully pulling Launchpad’s hand from his arm, he started back to the spot they’d scaled up. “We have to find Gosalyn. Before it’s too late.”

The night prior had not been kind to Gosalyn herself, as things went. She was used to this sort of thing, ever since her grandfather had first gone missing- though now that she knew the truth, her self reliance and determination to find answers felt like it was all she could ever do. But the longer she kept going the further from the hideout she went, she couldn’t help but think that this time it felt less like striking out on her own for answers. This time, it felt much more like running away.

Her fingers twitched against the straps of her backpack as she paused long enough to stare behind her, brow furrowed deeply. How long had Drake known the truth? That Bulba had killed her grandfather in an angry outburst, striking the life out of him with one powerful blow? Blinking away hot tears, she tore her eyes away from the outline of the Audubon Bridge tower against the dark, moonless sky. Even if it had only been a day, it was surely too long to keep such a thing from her. She had a right to know what happened to her family, and her family was now just… gone. She was all that was left, facing an unpleasant uncertainty: Bulba had escaped from prison, and he had never been actually tried for the true crime he had committed.

Accusing him of being behind the disappearance of Professor Thaddeus Waddlemeyer had never stuck. Endangering the city, misuse of corporate funds, embezzling… those were all there, but a disappearance? A murder, even if done on accident? He still needed to pay for those. She wasn’t entirely certain if she could do it alone, but she didn’t really have all that much of a choice. Gosalyn knew full well who she could and couldn’t rely on now, after all. There was the option of going to the McDucks, of course, but she wasn’t about to let people barely involved in her life deal with her problems. It’s how she’d gotten stuck with Drake and Launchpad, and look where that had gotten her.

Scrubbing her sleeve across her eyes, she turned to keep moving. Her first stop was to be the old lab. It was probably silly to think that Bulba would go back to the very place where he had met his defeat, but Gosalyn was sure it was the right place to start. She needed clues, if she could find any untouched by the press and police, and hints on where the murderous bull could’ve gone.

Of course, she waited. She knew that Drake would have the same idea if he went looking for her. Finding one of her safer hiding spots a few blocks from the empty, abandoned tower, she watched in silence as the Ratcatcher roared by, Darkwing Duck’s cape billowing behind him with Launchpad leaned forward in the sidecar. They clearly hadn’t waited long to set out in search of her, and something about that made her heart clench in her chest. It was hard to shake the feeling off, no matter how hard she tried, but for a few moments she sat with her eyes squeezed shut and tried not to think of the months she’d spent with them, how hard Drake had tried to be there, how hard he’d worked to find-...

Quickly, Gosalyn gave her head a hard shake, tightening her jaw. It was another hour before she let herself move again, hearing the distant roar of the Ratcatcher as it headed off to another destination. Once she was certain it was well out of earshot, she checked her backpack, assured herself her crossbow was still inside, and then made her way over into the building that had upended so much of her life.

The interior was eerie, as empty as it was. She was used to seeing Clovis moving things around the lab right through here, occasionally pausing to fix Gosalyn’s ponytail or shirt. She had a daughter at home, if she remembered right, close to her in age. There had been others, of course. Each room on each floor had a story from Gosalyn’s time living with her grandfather, all of the people who were in and out of her life like ghosts. So many of them had looked the other way, let her just be managed by the foster care agency after what happened to her grandfather.

Had they known the truth behind Bulba’s betrayal? Were they complicit in covering up her grandfather’s murder?

Her shoulders tensed at the thought. There really was no one else in the world she could trust, was there? It was just her, alone, just like she’d been after she lost her grandfather. Maybe that’s the way it should have stayed. The thought kept on repeating in her head as she slowly made her way into the spacious lab that had once housed the Ramrod, the last few words Taurus Bulba had spoken to her before she destroyed the device ringing in her ears.

“We can build a better reality; one with your grandpa in it!”

He’d been lying from the start. All the while acting like he was sorry, like he could somehow fix the little mistake he made. But the destroyed device in the middle of this room spoke more than he ever had. Destroying it, destroying the world… none of it would have made any difference. At the end of the day, her grandfather was dead, and the bull that had escaped justice for his crimes was the cause.

“Well well. Seems your errant guardian isn’t the only one who thought to come sniffing around here, Gosalyn.” The voice was as familiar as a song. It had played through her childhood, once treating her like his own family. It had all been a lie. “But I know all the little hidey holes in this lab better than even you, my dear. And how did I know you would come looking?”

Gosalyn’s feathers were all but standing on end, and she squinted into the darkness as her small hand sought out her backpack to drag out her crossbow, prepping it despite how she shook. “Because you’re a liar! Because you had to know I’d find out somehow about what you really did! Did you even feel bad for it?! Or was Grandpa dying just another bump in the road to your “perfect future”?!”

The silhouette of the bull loomed large against the faint light streaming in through the windows as he stepped from wherever he’d been hiding, staring down at Gosalyn with his hands folded behind his back. “Thaddeus was my friend, once. It gave me no pleasure to end his life, and it was truly an accident. But in the end, I feel that he would have only been a hindrance to me. That’s why I never bothered to kill you as well… bothersome though you might have been, it would have simply raised too many questions. Of course, looking back on all of this, I realize now that I made a grave mistake.” Slowly, he moved his hands in front of him, cracking his knuckles as he moved forward. “I truly am sorry, Gosalyn. You were always like a niece to me. Think of it this way: once I’ve gotten my revenge, I’ll be reuniting you with your grandfather.”

Immediately Gosalyn’s eyes widened, but she didn’t have time to retort, bolting to the side as fast as she could to avoid Bulba’s hand as it struck down towards her. As big as he was, it wouldn’t take much for him to do her serious harm or worse, but something seemed off. He wasn’t trying to hit her.

He was trying to grab her.

“What do you mean get your revenge?!” She scrambled back, just managing to doge as he lunged for her again, just missing her backpack. She couldn’t slow down enough to get a good shot. “I’m right here!”

This time, he paused, staring down at her for a moment before he threw his head back, barking out a deep, rumbling laugh. “Did you think you were the only one who wronged me? You’re smart enough to know who: but time is of the essence, so let’s make this as quick as possible, shall we?”

Gosalyn paused in lining up her first shot at that. Of course. Of course he would want to go after Darkwing; she’d been badgering him for months herself, but the caped crusader had been instrumental in his downfall, besting his summoned minions and keeping him from reaching Gosalyn when she destroyed the Ramrod’s core generator. And what better bait to draw out Saint Canard’s masked marauder than by using the girl he’d sworn to take care of as bait?

Well, Gosalyn Waddlemeyer wasn’t about to become bait to be used by some mad scientist with an axe to grind. As he started moving towards her again, she dared a shot with her crossbow, catching the bull in his right shoulder near the joint. Unfortunately, it didn’t serve to slow him down as much as she would have liked. Instead, Bulba reared back and let out an awful, roaring yell, full of rage and tinged with pain. Letting out a horrified sound, Gosalyn immediately moved to try to get out of the way, but she was caught by a backhand so hard that she saw stars.

“I know you came out here all by yourself, Gosalyn. Ran away from that fool caretaker of yours. He hid this from you, hm? Didn’t tell you that I’d killed your own grandfather?”

As he spoke, in the wake of the first blow, Gosalyn just staggered, backpack and crossbow slipping from her hands. She was blinking hard to try to clear her vision, dropping to her knees as she tried to keep herself together. “He… he shouldn’t have lied to me…!”

Again, Bulba laughed, using one foot to roll Gosalyn onto her side as she tried to scramble away. “Oh, he didn’t lie to you, my dear. Darkwing learned the same day that you did. Pity that you have such a temper, hm? You abandoned him, and now, you’ll help him die.” He grinned, watching as she staggered to her feet, rubbing her head. “You’ll get a chance to apologize to him, of course… just as soon as he joins you and Thaddeus in the afterlife!”

Gosalyn felt hot tears in her eyes, frustrated and angry and confused. But it was just then, as a rush of adrenaline left her feeling like she was going to be able to get back to her feet, that a second blow rolled her across the floor again with a yelp, and finally, the girl collapsed hard against the rough tiled floor. Bulba stood over her, reaching up to break off the end of the arrow that had embedded itself in his shoulder. Staring down at the unconscious girl, he did his best to ignore the footsteps approaching from behind him. “You know, Bulby, you were only supposed to catch the kid. Not knock the stuffing out of her.”

Bulba didn’t respond at first, walking over to reach down and lift Gosalyn by the back of her hoodie. “She’s alive. That’s all we need. Darkwing will come whether or not she’s running that loud little mouth of hers.”

“It is quieter now. But this girl’s not the only part of the puzzle and you know it. If you want Darkwing, you need this precious little monster.” Negaduck was grinning as he stopped near the pair, peering up at where the girl was dangling unconscious in Bulba’s grip. She looked much more like just a normal little girl like this, harmless to them, and perfect for his ultimate scheme. “If you really want to draw him out, there’s a few places that kid could be. He’s following my script, so he’s either on the wharfs, in the warehouse district, or hiding out on the Audubon Bay Bridge somehow. But if you ask me, I’d draw him out on the bridge. What better end than him having to watch his little found family plummeting into the bay? The drama’s as much fun as the reward.”

For a moment, Bulba stared at him, but then his attention turned to the girl as well. Finally, he held out his hand expectantly, allowing the now grinning Negaduck to slide a phone into his palm. “Fine. We set up the meeting for tomorrow night. This will end, one way or the other.”

Night was falling on Saint Canard as an exhausted pair of heroes made their way to the bridge tower. They hadn’t found a thing, and Drake had decided the longer the day had waned on that they were going to need extra help. He would call Fenton as soon as they arrived back in the hideout. If he and some of their allies could pick up the search, Drake and Launchpad could catch showers and a few scant hours of sleep before resuming themselves.

It was frustrating and sickening just how empty and quiet the hideout felt without Gosalyn moving about. She was young and rambunctious, so things were rarely quiet with her around. Drake had gotten so used to it that to be without it haunted him. He stood quietly in the door for a moment, hat in his hands, until he felt Launchpad’s hand on his back gently moving him forward. “Can’t find Gos if you just stand there, bud. You gotta call Fenton. I’ll get a shower first, then you can grab one and we can both get some sleep.”

“You’re wiser than people think sometimes, LP.” Drake’s tone was fond in his exhaustion, smiling faintly up at his companion. “Go on; I’ll make the call.”

He missed the firm, gentle pressure of Launchpad’s hand against his back as soon as it was gone, but he did let himself breathe, moving over towards the computer, powering up WANDA as he sank into the chair. Taped there to the monitor frame was a single picture. Launchpad, beaming, holding Drake on one arm and Gosalyn on the other. They were all laughing, happy… a family.

It was something Drake hadn’t had in a long time. He hadn’t spoken to his parents in more than a decade and had no plans to, not after everything that had happened, but Launchpad and Gosalyn had positioned themselves so firmly in his life that it hurt to have either of them not present. Dragging off his mask, he dragged his hand down his face and over his bill before putting his head down on the desk, closing his eyes tightly. The thought of losing this, losing his family… how had it managed to cut so deeply after just a few months?

When Drake opened his eyes again, he was surprised to find himself on the couch, covered in a blanket with his head resting on a pillow. Had he fallen asleep at his desk? He could hear Launchpad talking nearby, and for a moment he tried to figure out if the whole thing had been some sort of awful dream. But no matter how he strained, he could not hear Gosalyn’s laughter or one of her games playing, and it sounded like Launchpad was on the phone with someone. Mr. McDuck perhaps?

Groaning, he pushed himself up, smoothing back his ruffled feathers with a grimace. Every part of him was aching from his top to his tail feathers, but determination pushed him onward, swinging his legs off the side of the couch. He was still wearing his Darkwing gear, and he desperately needed a shower and a change. Blinking blearily, he barely noticed when Launchpad’s call ended and the pilot wandered back over to check on him. “You fell asleep at the computer, so I brought you over here to catch some sleep. It’s been a few hours.”

“I wish you’d woken me up. I needed to call Fenton.” He scrubbed at his eyes with a palm, letting out a soft breath when he felt Launchpad lift his free hand to press a warm mug into it. “You’re way too good to me.”

Launchpad was smiling, worried though he still looked, when Drake finally looked up at him. “It’s all good! I called Dewey, and he’s gonna call Fenton and some other friends too. We’ll find Gos in no time; you’ll see. Drink that coffee and then go get a shower and we’ll get back to looking, okay?”

Though anxiety still churned in his stomach, Drake did nod, taking a sip of the coffee Launchpad had handed him, eyes falling closed. He’d said it himself earlier that they couldn’t search without rest, and they needed help, and Launchpad had clearly listened. So for the moment he just sipped his coffee in silence as the burly pilot settled next to him, providing silent comfort and company, support for the companion that had become part of his family too.

Halfway through the cup, the phone at his side began to buzz again, and this time he showed no shock when the number again came up as unregistered. He answered the call as he let his voice sink as low as he could manage. “Negaduck.”

“Hardly.” Bulba’s voice did catch him off-guard, but Drake couldn’t reply, as the bull was already speaking again. “I have something important to you, Darkwing. Meet me on the top of the central tower of the Audubon Bay Bridge at midnight tonight… or I throw little Gosalyn straight into the bay.”

Drake was immediately furious, and it was all he could do to keep from throwing the cup of coffee hard across the room. “You monster! If you touch a feather on Gosalyn’s head-”

He could hear Bulba chuckling, churning his anger on ever further. “Don’t you worry, my dear caliginous champion. I won’t harm the girl… if you agree to the meeting. Remember, Darkwing Duck: midnight tonight. Not a minute later.”

When the line dropped, the coffee was not spilled, but Drake did stand to pitch the phone as hard as he could across the room, swearing loudly before he sat down the cup and started to pace. “Bulba has her. We need to find her, but if we try to track them down early, he could hurt her!”

Launchpad was standing now too, and from the way his brow was furrowed, there was anger there too. Though tempered more than Drake’s, he was on the same wavelength. “Are we gonna go after them?”

“We don’t have a choice, LP. I’m gonna gear up. We have a meeting to get to.”

The remainder of the day was slow and anxious, but Darkwing and Launchpad arrived minutes before midnight on the top of the next tower over, refusing to risk arriving late. They had taken care to be unseen leaving the hideout, and on their arrival they found Bulba standing there over Gosalyn, who was angrily trying to wiggle out of the ropes binding her, shouting in Spanish up at the bull that had caught her. “Foul mouth on this one, Darkwing. I don’t think you’ve done a good job disciplining her.”

“Gosalyn is a fine kid. I’m here, Bulba. I’m who you wanted. Let her go.”

Bulba just laughed, reaching down to grab the rope binding Gosalyn, lifting her up off the ground. She was violently kicking at his arm, still trying to fight her way free. “You want her?” When he reared back, Drake’s heart sank straight into his gut. When the bull swung, throwing the girl towards the ledge, he swore it stopped beating. “Go get her!”

“Gosalyn!”

Drake had already started to move, but for once Launchpad was faster, managing to dive in front of the girl to cradle her up against his chest before rolling hard, landing on his back with his head just hanging over the edge, sending his hat fluttering down towards the bay below. A thick, ominous fog had rolled in as night fell, but the sea could still be heard below, and though Launchpad was laying panting heavily, he had Gosalyn clutched tightly to his chest, and he started laughing when he realized he’d been successful. “DW, I got her! Get Bulba!”

The words were barely even out of Launchpad’s mouth before Drake was moving, fully Darkwing now, holding himself low and moving fast. Bulba looked as if he’d been injured, red staining the right shoulder of his shirt, so he would have to focus there. His first blow hit Bulba’s right forearm, and he was rewarded with an angry, pained yell as the kick sent painful waves up through the bull’s injured shoulder.

Bulba’s next blow just missed him, whiffing past the top of his hat as the lean duck moved to sweep his feet out from under him. From this angle, he could see that Launchpad had gotten both he and Gosalyn to their feet, undoing the ropes holding the girl. The moment of distraction cost him, however. As he hopped back to his feet, Bulba caught him with a blow to his right side, radiating pain up through his arm and ribs as he rolled, pulling himself to his feet as he snarled up at his adversary. “It’s over, Bulba. We have proof of your crimes. You’re not just going back to prison- you’ll be going for life, for the murder of Thaddeus Waddlemeyer!”

“If I’m going down,” Bulba growled back at him. “You’re going down with me!”

He lunged again, and Darkwing just managed to duck aside, taking another blow to his already aching arm, but he took advantage of the proximity to land a solid punch into the area of the wound on Bulba’s shoulder, causing the bull to stagger back away from him. This gave Darkwing the opportunity he needed, and he carefully slid a small device out of his belt. Slapping it against Bulba’s chest, he quickly rushed to the side, clicking something in the same spot that abruptly sent waves of electricity rocking through the murderer’s body.

As he collapsed, Darkwing took a couple of steps back, but his pain was secondary to worry. Immediately he was at Launchpad and Gosalyn’s side, dropping to his knees as one hand shot out to check her for injuries, finally coming to rest with his palm against her cheek as he let out a deep, relieved sigh. “Thank goodness you’re okay. I was so worried.”

“I’ve got a headache, but I’ll be fine. What about you?! It looked like he broke your arm out there!”

Immediately the veneer of Darkwing melted away, leaving soft, awkward Drake Mallard in his wake, giving her a wide, cheeky grin. “It’ll take a lot more than that to stop Darkwing Duck, Gos. I’m just happy you weren’t hurt. What about you, LP? Still kicking?”

Launchpad just laughed, stretching his arms over his head. “Nah I’m good. I didn’t get hit any, so no damage done!”

That caused Drake to let out a breath he hadn’t known he had been holding, leaning forward to rest his head against Gosalyn’s as the hand that had been resting against her cheek found Launchpad’s chest instead, steadying himself in the presence of his family. He didn’t care if Gosalyn was still angry, or what would happen after this. Jim, Negaduck, whatever… he was distant in his mind, for now. Gosalyn and Launchpad were here, safe, alive. That’s all that mattered right now.

Perhaps, however, he should have paid more attention behind him. As he was lifting his head, hoping to just be able to settle this neatly, he just heard Gosalyn shout “Darkwing, behind you!”

In the next moment, the blow to his side knocked the wind out of him, sending him crashing into Launchpad hard enough to bowl them both over. Gosalyn scrambled back and away as Bulba loomed, cracking his neck as he bared his teeth, ready to continue the fight.

On any normal day, Gosalyn would have loved being up here. The bridge towers overlooking the bay gave an incredible view of Saint Canard, and on clear nights, you could almost see all the way to Duckburg. But tonight felt wrong, thick, swirling mists obscuring the churning waters below as cold wind whipped her hair around her face. The fight was too close, the edge of the bridge tower at the toes of her shoes. She could only turn from where she had been standing, staring down at the thick, cloying fog to stare at the battle going on behind her. Bulba had knocked Launchpad aside like he was nothing, striking another blow that caught Drake’s previously injured arm once again.

The fact that he was still fighting for her like this caused her chest to clench. She’d yelled at him, screamed, carried on until she was out of breath. The belief that he had kept her grandfather’s death hidden for so long, even if he’d only just learned himself, had hurt her so intensely. But he had risked everything to find her, to save her. He’d checked her for injuries, rested his head against hers like an anxious father should, relieved to have her there. Hale and whole.

Despite how irritable and pushy and loud and argumentative she could be, he still was trying so hard to protect her, his breathing labored from the blows he’d already taken. He had let her live in his home, and she’d repaid him by accusing him of covering up the murder of her grandfather and running away. Why did he have to be so stupidly loyal, anyway?

He deserved a better kid than she’d been. He would make a good dad. And he wanted her home. She wanted to be home, too.

Her attention was torn away from her thoughts by the sound of the fight growing uncomfortably close, and her wide green eyes shifted up to find the pair standing nearby. As Launchpad was starting to drag himself to his feet, Darkwing was gripping his right arm, flexing his fingers as if trying to determine how extensive the damage was, scowling up at the towering Taurus Bulba. “You’re- you’re not so tough, huh?”

“You are the most obnoxiously determined man I’ve ever had the displeasure of knowing, Darkwing Duck. It’s no wonder you get along with Waddlemeyer’s brat granddaughter.” The massive bull snorted, lip curling back in a sneer. “Lucky for you, she’ll be your guest when I send you to meet my dear old friend in death!”

Darkwing managed to just step out of the way of the blow, but it came too close. Anxious and scared enough, Gosalyn took a step back, trying to avoid Bulba as he overstepped, but with nowhere to go, she slipped. A shriek escaped the girl as she pitched, trying to catch her balance, but Bulba was right there as well, and he went over the side just before Gosalyn lost her footing and slid.

Not a single sound escaped Darkwing as he lunged for the girl, rushing forward to grab Gosalyn’s hand. He ended up laying on his stomach, gripping her wrist as she dangled below. He was already adjusting, laying with his side against the edge, arm flexing as he slowly started to lift. “I have you, Gos,” he reassured, voice ragged. It was the arm that had been injured, but he didn’t seem to care. “It’s okay, sweetheart, I have you. You’re gonna be okay.”

She didn’t respond at first, shaking her head as he brought her up level, slowly moving her onto the top of the tower. They could both hear Launchpad heading over, and Darwking was muttering something to him, asking him to grab Gosalyn before worrying about him. And as he did, a dark hand shot up from the side of the tower. Bulba had managed to grab hold of a crack in the stone, taking hold of the vigilante’s cape and yanking hard on it. “I will not be defeated!” he was panting, eyes wild in the dark of the night. “I will take you down with me-!”

Darkwing gave a choking sound, his grip slipping as he held Gosalyn up closer to Launchpad. “Take her! I’ll be okay! Just stay safe, keep her safe, I can’t-!”

His words cut off in a yell after that, as below him Bulba lost his grip… but not the grip on Darkwing’s cape. Launchpad had just managed to pull Gosalyn to safety when the caped crusader was pulled over the edge. Neither of them could hide back their horrified shouts as Bulba and Darkwing plummeted, with the former laughing madly as the latter tried desperately to get his cape-chute to function, before disappearing into the thick, swirling fog eight hundred feet below.

Gosalyn heard screaming, but she hadn’t even been aware it was her until she realized Launchpad had his arms around her, pinning her against his chest as she squirmed and tried to get to the ledge, to see if she could see Darkwing gliding safely up out of harm’s way. The pilot was shaking, more than she’d ever seen, and as her screams gave way to desperate sobbing, she realized that though she heard no sound, Launchpad’s shaking was jerky and stilted, trying his best to hide his own tears from the terrified girl in his arms.

There was no triumphant swoop through the mist. No daring last minute safe.

Darkwing Duck was gone.

McDuck Manor was mostly quiet as the last of Gosalyn’s things were moved into the room she would be sharing with Webby for the time being. The other girl’s usually infectious enthusiasm was dulled considerably by the circumstances that had brought Launchpad and Gosalyn back to Duckburg to begin with, though she was doing her best to keep up appearances, smiling and showing Gosalyn around once things had been settled. Huey, Dewey, and Louie joined them not long after the last things were brought in, and just outside the door, Mrs. Beakley could be heard just finishing up a conversation on the phone.

“Of course, Mrs. Cavanaugh. I will make sure we post updates with you promptly on Fridays at three. Hopefully Mr. Mallard will pull through from his injuries, but in the case that he doesn’t, Gosalyn will want for nothing here at the mansion.” A long pause. “Yes, of course, Mrs. Cavanaugh. Mr. McDuck is a far more agreeable man than you might think. Of course. Yes, thank you. Thank you again. Good bye, Mrs. Cavanaugh.”

Gosalyn did not look up during this, sitting on the bed they’d set up for her with her hands folded tightly in her lap. To her left, Dewey and Louie. Webby and Huey had taken up spots to her right. It didn’t take long, as soon as “Mr. Mallard” was spoken and Gosalyn visibly winced, for Webby to find the other girl’s hand and grip it tightly. “It’s gonna be okay, Gosalyn. You’ll see. Granny knows what she’s doing… and you can take all the time you need until you feel better.”

She got no response, and so Dewey decided to try his luck, puffing himself up slightly. “Webby’s right, Gos! You’re part of this family too. You and Launchpad. Everything’s gonna be all right!”

“No it’s not,” Gosalyn murmured in reply, her tone sharp. “Drake’s gone. He’s gone, and he’s not coming back. It’s nice of Mrs. B to try to cover up everything but he’s dead and it-” Her voice broke, tears welling up in her eyes. “And it’s all my fault.”

Huey frowned, looking at his brothers and cousin before leaning over to put one hand over Gosalyn’s. “It isn’t your fault. You were hurt and scared. I mean sure, it was an obvious trap, but-”

He was silenced by Webby elbowing him hard as Louie finally spoke up, arms crossed on his knees. “What Hubert is trying to say, Gos, is that you were a victim in all this. Someone manipulated you. That’s not your fault at all.”

“It certainly isn’t.” The heads of all five ducklings lifted at the words from the doorway, coming from Mrs. Beakley. Her expression was soft and kind, and she cleared her throat gently before gesturing towards the door. “Webbigail, boys. I would like a word with Gosalyn, please. I’ll just be a moment.”

Reluctant though they may have been, the kids were quick to comply. Webby took the longest, sliding a green and purple friendship bracelet onto Gosalyn’s wrist before patting her hand and darting out after the boys. Once they were cleared out, Mrs. Beakley gave a sigh, walking over to sit on the bed next to the despondent girl, gently resting a hand on her shoulder. “Gosalyn dear… look at me.” She waited patiently after that, and when those wet green eyes finally turned up towards her, the older duck gave a soft, sympathetic smile. “I know you’re heartbroken, and I know you feel as though you have some blame in all of this, but believe me when I say the children are not wrong. You are not to blame for what happened to Drake on the bridge.” Her hand shifted, moving to rest a bent finger under Gosalyn’s bill and tip her head up when she tried to look away. “He loved you very much. That’s why he was trying so hard to find you. You were his entire world, and I don’t doubt for an instant that were he here right now, he would say he would throw himself off a thousand bridges just to see you safe and alive. It isn’t easy, losing someone you love. And it never will be. But rest assured, my dear: you will always have a home and a family here. You and Launchpad both are always welcome, for as long as you need.”

She wasn’t surprised when Gosalyn hiccupped out a little sob, leaning forward to wrap her arms as much around the older woman as much as she could, pressing her face into her apron as she started to cry all over again. Mrs. Beakley let out a soft sigh, gently stroking Gosalyn’s hair as she glanced up towards the door, finding Launchpad standing with the kids to glance inside, expression overtaken by something she had never seen on his face before: deep, genuine sorrow.

The former spy had been through a great deal in her life, and lost a great number of friends. But this felt somehow deeper, hurting someone she had a strange fondness for and an innocent girl who didn’t deserve to suffer the losses she had at such a young age.

This was going to be a long, difficult road for all of them.

A few nights before, at nearly two in the morning in the wharf district of Saint Canard, a short, stocky kingfisher was walking along as quickly as she could to get to the clinic she ran, clutching her long white jacket marking her trade a little closer around her frame. She’d been making housecalls, seeing to some newly hatched eggs, and was eager to get back so she could collapse into a cot and get a few hours of sleep before morning came and the injuries among the city’s underbelly began to pour in. She may have even made it all the way had something down by the shoreline not caught her attention.

First was a flash of color, disappearing into the shadows under one of the piers, but more pressing was what that figure had left in its wake: a hint of white laying on the shore, waves slowly lapping at the legs she could just now see. Letting out a startled noise, the doctor hurried her way down the beach. Finding a body laying in the surf in the dark of night was never something someone wanted to endure, but she had seen worse in her long career. She only counted it as good fortune that the fog hadn’t obscured her vision of the water completely. It was as she grew closer that she finally could make out the figure laying still and silent in the sand. A young, white feathered duck, clearly badly beaten before however they wound up in the water, wearing dark purple. A dark mask was wrapped around their head.

Realization struck her in that moment, and her eyes grew wide behind her glasses as she gasped. “Oh my goodness… Darkwing Duck?!”

Chapter Text

The fight on the tower couldn’t have been more perfectly orchestrated if he’d planned it. It was exactly the sort of do-or-die scenario he would have put himself in, risking life and limb for someone he cared for, protecting the city of St. Canard while his own life was on the line. It was a script that very nearly played out in his own story, had he not been cancelled… and worse yet, if that no-account, talentless wannabe hadn’t showed up, it would have been the story of his rise back to stardom once again.

What he hadn’t expected was things going as wrong as they did. He had tried to find a spot where the fog was thin enough that he could see the fight with his binoculars, and though he’d found a good enough vantage point, he was infuriated to see that his young copycat had not followed the script as closely as he’d thought he would.

Instead, what Negaduck watched through his binoculars was the would-be Darkwing getting dragged off the tower after saving the little girl. Though Bulba had plunged into the churning water below, Drake Mallard had managed to get part of his cape-chute to function. It was not nearly soon enough to prevent the inevitable, but he did hit the water with a softer impact, one Negaduck realized he could have possibly survived.

This was maddening. He wasn’t supposed to lose! How was Negaduck supposed to have his ultimate showdown, striking down his false successor in a dazzling final blow, if he was felled by the second season red herring villain?!

Growling to himself, the former actor took to moving his small skiff instead, heading over to where he saw the young vigilante hit the water. He was in luck: the bull may have sunk, but the young duck was still on the surface, and after checking his pulse upon dragging him onto the boat, he was still alive… if only barely.

“How- how dare you?!” He didn’t care that the young actor, just barely breathing as he lay waterlogged on the floor of the skiff, wasn’t going to respond. He was already heading for a shadowy part under the pier, near a walkway he had seen some charity case doctor frequent. “You studied all my work? You idolized me, wanted to be me, and this is the sort of performance you deliver? Pathetic! Amateur! I set that fight up for you on a silver platter, but no! No, you had to attempt to die in some strange attempt to be noble! I rescued children from burning orphanages, but the little girl on the ledge you swoop in to catch after she falls! You don’t get yourself dragged off the ledge before then! What sort of second rate understudy are you even supposed to be?!”

There was still no response, even as he pulled the skiff up into the shadows, moving to drag the young duck out of the boat and over towards the shore, illuminated just barely by flickering street lights in need of repair. “And of course here you are, just letting me drag you along, not giving any kind of feedback.” He shifted his voice to a mocking impression of Drake’s higher register, bill curling, sarcasm dripping from every word. “Of course I don’t have any input, Mister Starling, sir! I’m unconscious!”

Once he had Drake dropped unceremoniously into the sand, he frowned down at him, hands resting on his hips. There was a fleeting moment, as Negaduck stood looking him over, that his expression very briefly softened. Drake wasn’t very old- late twenties, early thirties at the most. Almost young enough that he could’ve been Jim’s son… they even had similarities in their appearances, all the way down to a broad, distinct bill. And like this, he looked even younger, brow creased as his chest rose and fell, ragged and slow, with each breath he struggled to take.

There was no doubt that Drake would have died, had Negaduck not saved his life. Just like he would’ve done, like Darkwing would have done. And for a moment, Jim Starling felt something that wasn’t blind hatred. For just a moment, he almost felt remorse.

The moment, however, was fleeting, as the light click of a kingfisher’s clawed feet could be heard on the boardwalk heading in their direction. A darkness overtook Negaduck’s face; it was that doctor he’d seen walking this way before. Not wanting to risk being seen, he checked to make sure the would-be vigilante was visible in one of the poorly maintained, flickering street lights, then darted off beneath the pier to watch.

The woman was short and squared, likely military in her past if he had to wager a guess. She had seemed to notice him hurrying off into the shadows, but was more occupied by the body she spotted laying on the beach. Immediately, she was off in that direction, and he could barely resist growling when he heard her gasp out “Darkwing Duck.” But regardless of his feelings on that boy carrying his name around like a trophy, he needed him to survive. They were going to have their showdown… one way or the other.

As for the doctor, she didn’t have time to pay attention to whoever had darted into the shadows. She clearly had a patient, someone who desperately needed her help. There were footprints in the sand, so whoever it had been had clearly dragged him up here where he’d be more visible. It was a pity, then, that they’d fled… she had plenty of questions. Right now, however, there were far more pressing concerns. Kneeling in the sand, she gently rested her fingertips against the young hero’s throat, pressing gently. There was a pulse there, faint but present, and now that she was closer, she could see his chest rising and falling slowly. “Thank goodness. It would appear you’ve the devil’s luck.”

It took the doctor just about an hour to actually get the injured vigilante back to her clinic, partly after enlisting one of her usual clients who lived nearby to fetch the stretcher for her. She had heard something about a recent jailbreak, and she couldn’t help but wonder if this hadn’t had something to do with it. But how had St. Canard’s elusive hero wound up looking like he’d been hit by a truck, half laying in the surf?

She didn’t have time to worry about that right now. She needed to get him out of his soaked costume, get him dry, and then she would need to figure out the worst of his injuries.

This was not necessarily an abnormal night for Dr. Leslie Fisher. She ran this clinic to help people who wanted their care to remain… discrete. Criminals, people down on their luck… she had seen enough horrible things in her old career to know those people needed someone to turn to as well. A young superhero, however, hadn’t been someone she had anticipated treating. Considering the previous situation with Bulba, prior to the breakout, she couldn’t help but furrow her brow.

Turning her head, she looked over the young hero where he was laying, then set herself about her difficult task. If they were lucky… maybe he would live through the night.

A few days into Gosalyn and Launchpad’s stay at the McDuck mansion and not a whole lot had changed. Webby and the boys were doing their best to keep the pair’s spirits high, but it was clear there wasn’t much that could be done. Mrs. Beakley had tried her best to curb their expectations, but she knew how excitable they could be, so all she could do was try to keep things a little calmer when it was clear neither the pilot nor the girl were really up for being cheered.

She was, however, growing worried. Eventually it was going to become more difficult to keep up the ruse of an “accident” to Mrs. Cavanaugh, and she would have to state the honest truth: Mr. Drake Mallard, so excited and mindful of caring for the young girl he’d taken in, had died in a tragic… accident. A deep sigh escaped her and she took off her glasses, rubbing the top ridge of her bill as she felt a tension headache coming on.

At the very least, she still had a job to do, and she was standing near enough to one of the mansion’s many phones when it rang that she was able to simply step over, lifting it to her ear as she schooled her voice into something both professional and proper. “McDuck residence.”

“Agent 22.” Immediately, Mrs. Beakley’s demeanor changed. Whoever was calling knew her voice and knew who she was, or at least had been, and her initial reaction was to become apprehensive and nearly hostile. That was until the voice on the other line spoke again. “It’s been far too long, my dear. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten my voice already- I heard how you drew in that breath.”

The moment of apprehension was dashed in that moment, and a wave of relief crashed over the overstressed woman, who gave an almost shaky laugh as she finally allowed herself a smile. “Agent 83. How did you even get this number?”

“Oh please, Bebe, you know I keep track. Besides, your employer isn’t exactly the most low profile man in the world.” When Mrs. Beakley chuckled, so did the woman on the other line. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything, but I’ve some urgent business… and it’s business I need your help with.”

Initially, Mrs. Beakley had been overjoyed to hear the voice of someone she hadn’t seen in years. But it seemed her old friend was in some kind of trouble, and she couldn’t keep the concern from her voice when she finally spoke again. “What sort of business, then?”

There was a pause, some sort of sound from behind the woman on the other line, and then a soft sigh. “I have a patient at the clinic. I believe you may know him, if I remember the news from not long back well enough. Or at the very least, you know of him. I found Darkwing Duck some days ago, unconscious on the shoreline down by the wharfs… badly beaten and half drowned. It’s a miracle he was still alive. He’s all but delirious with a fever from infection right now, and I’m doing what I can, but… Bebe, there’s no way he can safely recover in the clinic. Obviously he can’t go to a proper hospital, but I need somewhere else to treat him. You’re the closest person I could find to ask.”

The revelation was almost too good to be true, and Mrs. Beakley glanced around before taking in and letting out a very deep breath. “Mr. McDuck would have no issue with bringing him to the mansion. Darkwing assisted us in… a recent situation, as well as the one you are likely aware of from St. Canard. Is he stable enough to move?”

“The fever aside, I’ve treated his other injuries. So long as he isn’t jostled badly, it shouldn’t be an issue. We just need to ensure that he’s kept warm and unbothered, somewhere I can keep his injuries tended, and where we can keep the area mostly sterile.”

“I’ve worked with you before, Leslie. You know I’ve no qualms at all with assisting in cleaning. Incidentally, we’ve… some of his family here. They’ve been terribly worried about him.” She turned to glance off down the hallway, her thoughts turning towards where Launchpad had been spending his time sitting with Gosalyn, providing quiet company, a second father she wasn’t even sure he knew he’d become. “I just need the address, and we’ll see you and Darkwing brought safely to Duckburg.”

After a pause, wherein Leslie gave a clearly relieved sigh, the address was given and - after the women exchanged pleasantries once more - the call was ended. For a moment, Mrs. Beakley just stood in silence, stunned at the fact that of all the people that could have found Darkwing washed up in the bay, it would have been a former SHUSH agent and someone she knew so well. It was a miracle, at that.

Not that she was going to look a gift horse in the mouth. If he was alive, then there was a chance to keep him that way. Turning quickly, she headed up the hallway at a quick clip, heels clacking against the tile. She needed to speak with Mr. McDuck, and then with Della, in order to arrange proper transport. A helicopter would be the easiest. Worst still… she would need to find a way to tell Gosalyn and Launchpad. She couldn’t go to Donald with this; no one would understand him. Della, of course, wouldn’t work. Not only did she lack subtlety, but she would be needed to pilot a helicopter to head out to St. Canard and bring Mr. Mallard and Leslie back to the mansion. That only left Duckworth and Mr. McDuck, the former of which she could see ahead, dusting some antiquities on one of the fine hall tables.

She loathed that man, but he did have a certain way about him, dead or not. “Duckworth? A moment of your time. I’m in need of a favor-”

The spirit glanced over at her, then coughed into his hand, abruptly floating upwards towards the ceiling. “Terribly sorry, Beakley, but it appears I’ve come down with a ghost cough. You shall have to deal with this on your own.”

As he was disappearing up into the ceiling, Mrs. Beakley scowled up at him, pointing in his direction and muttering a single, softly hissed “bitch” in his direction, which earned her a tutting. Furious, she huffed out a sigh and continued marching on down the hall. Mr. McDuck it was. At least she could trust him to be straightforward.

Of course, nothing ever went according to plan. Especially not with this family. As she and Della were preparing to leave following her talk with Scrooge, was the sound of small footsteps hurrying up towards them. It was Gosalyn, panting as she rushed over, expression anxious. “Wait!” she called out. “Wait, I want to come!”

What Mrs. Beakley hadn’t anticipated was Della moving forward to intercept, kneeling down as the girl skidded to a stop in front of her. Her hands reached out, smoothing down Gosalyn’s head to rest on her cheeks much in the same way she did with her own sons, tilting her head up so she could lock eyes with her. A comfort, and a promise. “Hey there, kiddo. I know you’re worried, but I promise we’re gonna bring your dad back here safe and sound. Mrs. B and I won’t be gone long at all. Once we have him back here, then he can get all the rest he needs. It’ll be no time at all, okay?”

Gosalyn’s expression was defiant as ever, but as Della sat there, her thumbs gently rubbing under the preteen girl’s cheekbones, she gave a sigh, nodding faintly. “...okay, fine.”

“There you go.” Della smiled, squeezing her cheeks gently before standing up straight and ruffling her hair. “We’ll be back before you know it, Gosalyn.”

And while her face remained as frustrated as ever, Gosalyn did stand back. Mrs. Beakley gave Della an appraising look before smiling faintly, sighing, and following her out to the plane.

Past that, for the most part, the transfer itself went as smoothly as it could’ve. It took a lot to keep Launchpad and Gosalyn out of the way as they transferred Drake into an unused room on the far side of the manor, but the deed was done, and duck and kingfisher stood side by side, gazing quietly into the room where Drake remained asleep, fitful but - at the very least - alive. “Four broken ribs. Cracked sternum. His right arm was broken in three places. Badly wrenched knee. I’m still amazed he didn’t break his back or his neck, but thank heavens for small miracles. The open wounds were likely from the rocks beneath the water there in the bay… and that’s likely where the infection was from. He’s in a terrible way, Bebe.”

For a moment, Mrs. Beakley said nothing, watching the duck in the bed with a frown. He was turning his head from side to side, breathing jerky, and a flush had found its way onto his bill, indicative of the fever coursing through him. “You’ve still done so much for him, Leslie. It’s beyond appreciated. He’s a good man… he’s done a lot of good things. I just hope he can pull through-” The feeling of something brushing past her skirt interrupted her, and she looked down just in time to see Gosalyn wiggling past, ducking under her hand when the older woman reached to pull her back. “Gosalyn-!”

“Drake!” Gosalyn wasn’t paying any attention now, scrambling up onto the side of the bed to sit there on her knees, looking over her guardian with wide green eyes, shoulders heaving as she reached out to touch his face softly. “You big dummy… why’d you have to go and get yourself hurt?!”

By the door, Leslie glanced up at Mrs. Beakley, then glanced back into the room. “Gosalyn, yes? Bentina- Mrs. Beakley told me about you. You’re his foster, aren’t you? I know you’re worried, but he really needs his rest.”

Immediately Gosalyn bristled, her hands curling in the blanket. “No! I’m not leaving him. He needs me. He needs me and he needs Launchpad!”

“...oh, Gosalyn.” Sighing softly, Mrs. Beakley moved forward, reaching over to put her hand on top of the girl’s head. “He has the both of you. You and Launchpad are his family… and he knows you’re with him. He’ll be staying in the mansion while he recovers, and you and Launchpad will be able to come in and see him whenever you like once the fever’s broken.”

Gosalyn just shook her head, ducking away from Mrs. Beakley’s attempt at comfort. “I already left him once and look what happened. No, I’m… I’m staying right here until he wakes up. I’ll even help, I’ll- I’ll get washcloths and cold water and medicine and I’ll even wash sheets and stuff, just don’t make me go, okay-?!”

Leslie frowned softly at that, giving her old friend a soft look, folding her hands in front of her. “...I don’t really see the harm in it, Bebe. And I could use the extra hands. I won’t let the child help with changing bandages or anything of the like, but having someone to fetch water and clean bedding...” She shrugged slightly. “There is something to be said about having family near. It can help with the healing process.”

“Oh, you were always the sentimental one, Leslie.” Mrs. Beakley sighed regardless, looking down at Gosalyn as she settled herself down to watch Drake closely, expression anxious. “All right, then. If you’re all right with it. But you will mind Dr. Fisher, Gosalyn.”

The girl just nodded without speaking, closing her eyes as she tried to settle down. He was home. Everything would be okay.

The days passed slowly, which was difficult for someone like Launchpad. He wasn’t usually what someone might call impatient, but this was Drake they were talking about. His (other) best friend, his hero… and he genuinely hoped for something more, though he hadn’t exactly been quite open about that yet. Unfortunately, not much had changed since Drake had been brought to the mansion. Though his fever wasn’t as high, the actor was still fighting off infection, and he remained unconscious through everything.

It was for the best, Dr. Fisher had told him as he’d sat down here for his afternoon vigil. The more rest he got, the more assured his recovery really was. But Launchpad had never acted on possibilities. He tried to focus on things he could determine up front, if it wasn’t related to something he enjoyed as much as he did Darkwing Duck. This had never happened to the fictional caped crusader, however. Jim’s Darkwing never got hurt unless it was an accident or for a joke. Real life was worse, and a whole lot scarier. Real life was stitches and broken bones, and an awful fever to accompany an awful infection. It had almost cost Drake his life.

Sighing heavily, he leaned back in the chair, watching as Drake breathed, brow furrowed even in the unwelcome sleep. There was nothing he could do but wait, and watch, and hope. Gosalyn at least had been ushered off to take a break from her own vigil, which gave him time to actually think. It wasn’t something he did often, true… he was more of an instinct kind of guy, and it was often too loud, with too many things happening in his immediate vicinity for him to focus on too much at once. But in the quiet, with nothing to listen to but Drake’s labored breathing, he felt like he was having the opposite problem.

His quiet vigil was only broken when he heard the door open, looking up to find his employer standing there. Scrooge had made himself scarce in this part of the mansion, a bit more eager to let things be handled by professionals. He was an adventurer, after all, not a doctor. But now he was standing there with an appraising expression, watching Launchpad thoughtfully, before walking over to hook a second chair with his cane, settling with a weary sigh next to the young pilot. “Well. How’s he doing, then?”

“He’s still got a fever, and he’s still asleep. So same as before, I guess.” He had started fidgeting. Normally he didn’t exactly have long conversations with the billionaire adventurer, but he wouldn’t try to make him leave, either. He always felt a little too slow to keep up with him. “Weird to see him like that. Drake’s always real… animated, I guess.”

Scrooge gave a slow nod in reply, turning his head to look Drake over. “Ah, he’s a strapping young lad; tough one like that, he’ll be out of that bed in no time. Don’t you worry your head any more than you have to.” When Launchpad said nothing in reply, the elder of the pair sighed heavily, folding his hands in his lap. “You’ve been spendin’ more and more time in Saint Canard these past few months, m’boy. All but moved in, as I can recount it. Startin’ to think you may want to stay over there full time.”

Though his tone was as casual as Scrooge McDuck could ever manage to be, Launchpad shot up straight at the mention, eyes going wide. “Oh geez, I’m really sorry, Mr. McDee- I didn’t mean to slack off, it’s just that sometimes Drake’s gotta have someone watching Gos during the day, and then I just get distracted and I end up staying the whole night because we make dinner or we go to a movie and Drake did just move into a bigger apartment so I could stay when I needed and-”

“Ach, lad, I wasn’t sayin’ that as a bad thing. They’re your family; it’s plain enough to anyone. I more bring it up because I wanted you to know…” He sighed again, this time with a sort of resignation Launchpad couldn’t quite wrap his head around. “If you want to stay with them, I’m not going to stop you. I plan to see to it that Dr. Fisher’s able to handle this accident-prone young man of yours when he needs it, though don’t you breathe a word of this to anyone. I put my money where it’s well spent, and that means taking care of my family.” Though it didn’t hurt, he supposed, that Leslie had been with S.H.U.S.H. previously. She could hold his feet to the fire as well as Bentina could. “You’re part of that, and now it seems Mr. Mallard and wee young Gosalyn are as well. You’ll always have a home here in Duckburg, Launchpad… but your heart’s clearly with them. And that’s where you ought to be.”

Launchpad's brow creased at that, reaching out to anxiously adjust Drake's blankets, trying to find anything to do with his hands. "But… who'll drive you? Della's a great pilot and all but…"

The pilot's genuine concern was always refreshing, in Scrooge's eyes. With Launchpad, you always knew where you stood. "Oh I'll manage. I'll be sure to ask if I need you in the air, of course, but I'm not going to keep you from the people you clearly care about.'

The pilot watched him for a moment, then sniffed a bit, looking down at Drake, his hand curling around the hero’s, watching as his face shifted and seemed to relax somewhat. He even gave a soft sigh, turning his head to the side as he relaxed back into the pillows. As if Launchpad’s touch was enough to settle him somewhat. He normally would’ve swept up his employer into a hug on hearing such a thing from him, but not now. It didn’t feel right, and he really didn’t want to disturb Drake’s rest. So he just fixed him with the biggest smile he could instead. “Thanks Mr. McDee. I’m not gonna let them down.”

“I’ve known you for years now, lad,” Scrooge stated, smiling, tone matter of fact. “I know you never would.”

Things were… hazy. Drake could remember times in his life where his memory was foggy, mostly from his time doing stunt work and maybe a few times while acting as Darkwing, but this felt different somehow. His body felt too heavy, and his head pounded. Every now and then, some sound would seep through. He swore he heard Gosalyn, asking some question or another, but his mouth felt too dry to answer. Other times he could’ve sworn Launchpad was speaking to him, but he couldn’t find the strength to open his eyes and look up.

For some reason, he couldn’t seem to remember why he felt this way. Every sound felt like it was coming from deep underwater, and those times were interspersed with an awful, all encompassing inky blackness he couldn’t seem to pull back from. When the darkness did start to fade and he felt a little less heavy, he could hear other voices… one unfamiliar and that of Mr. McDuck, though he couldn’t exactly make out what they were saying. The second voice sounded incredulous, and there was a mention of “that is far too many zeroes,” but there was little else to it.

He wasn’t sure how long it was after that, but Drake finally managed to drag his eyes open with a soft groan, blinking towards the ceiling and squinting just slightly. The lights were dimmed, but it still felt far too bright. “...hngh… bwuh?”

“Ah, Mr. Mallard. So glad to see you’re finally awake.” It was the unfamiliar voice from before, and turning his head to one side he found a short, stocky kingfisher heading over to him, peering over her glasses before she moved to check the bandages he had littering his frame. “Your fever broke this morning, but I felt it best to let you wake up on your own. My name is Dr. Leslie Fisher; I’m a friend of Mrs. Beakley. How are you feeling?”

Drake had to consider that question for a moment, largely because it felt like his head was in a fog as thick as the mist that would settle over the Audubon Bay some nights. Eventually, he got his thoughts in order, frowning at how hoarse he sounded when he finally managed to speak. “Lousy. How long… how long was I out?”

Dr. Fisher frowned at that, grabbing his left wrist to check his pulse. His right, he noticed as she spoke, was covered from mid bicep to wrist in a cast. “Almost two weeks. You’ve been in and out of consciousness, between just the severity of your injuries and the fever from the infection. Do you remember what happened?”

He paused at that, playing over the events he could recall. Something had happened, but what had it been?

All at once, his eyes went wide, and he tried to wrestle himself into a sitting position despite how weak and weary he felt. “Gosalyn-! There was-... Bulba had Gosalyn… he took her to the bridge tower. I fought him, and then we fell...” He trailed off, groaning when Dr. Fisher immediately pushed him back down, gently as she could manage. “Is she all right? What… what about Launchpad? They’re both okay, right?”

“They are both all right, Mr. Mallard, but you’ll hurt yourself worse if you try to get up right now. You need time to recover, and you’ll have plenty of that.”

Drake’s brow furrowed and he groaned again, though this time more out of frustration. “But my job- I have to take care of Gosalyn.”

Dr. Fisher’s brow went up, and then she sighed and shook her head. “You can take time off to recover. It won’t hurt your wallet one tick, though I suppose it does behoove a superhero to have a sugar daddy with such deep pockets.”

Confusion was very clear on Drake’s face, so intensely that Dr. Fisher almost had to laugh at him. Moments passed, and then he lifted his free hand to rub his forehead. “Did… did I hit my head so hard I wound up in an alternate dimension where LP is loaded?”

Just outside the door, there was a small commotion, and the pair turned their heads as Louie’s voice triumphantly announced, “Hah! Told you he was dating Launchpad. Pay up, Dewford.”

“What?! He didn’t say that, Llewellyn!”

Dr. Fisher gave a heavy sigh as what sounded like a small squabble started to break out in the hall. “I’ll deal with this, and then send in your family, if you’re feeling up to it.”

Still flushed, Drake gave a nod, peering towards the door as the doctor headed out of it. Gosalyn and Launchpad were safe. No matter what had happened to him, that was the important thing. Letting his eyes fall closed, he tried to focus on anything other than Dr. Fisher berating the two squabbling boys or the pounding of his own head. He wasn’t even sure how long he’d been laying like that with his eyes closed until he felt a hand, warm and strong, close over his. Letting his eyes open again, he made a puzzled sound before glancing up to find Launchpad sitting there.

The pilot looked like he hadn’t really slept well in days, but he was smiling slightly, relief plain in his expression. The hall had fallen quiet, but the pair didn’t bother breaking it, at least not at first. It was Drake who did finally speak, turning his hand over to lace his fingers with the larger duck’s. “...hi.”

“Hi.” Launchpad’s smile grew even wider, and he gave Drake’s hand the gentlest squeeze he could. “You’re awake. And alive! I’m really glad to be able to see you as both those things.”

Drake couldn’t help but laugh softly at that, his fingers curling. “Yeah? Well. I’m glad to be seen. I was worried he’d hurt you.”

Grinning, Launchpad lifted his free hand to run back through his hair, glancing away for a minute. “Nah, I’m way harder to hurt than that. I got a lot of padding, or at least that’s what my sister says.” He fell silent after that, looking anywhere but at Drake. In the end, his eyes fell on the tattered remnants of the actor’s Darkwing gear, his brow abruptly creasing. “...do you think we’ve seen the last of Bulba?”

“I don’t know.” His grip tightened on Launchpad’s hand. “But I hope so. For Gosalyn’s sake, if nothing else. I can’t believe he- no. No, I can believe he killed Professor Waddlemeyer. It’s just… I hate that it had to turn out like this.” His head dropped back against the pillows. Why was he so tired? Hadn’t he slept enough? “And then there’s another problem rearing its head past all of this. Jim.”

Launchpad’s expression turned mournful at that as his other hand came round to clasp Drake’s between his, sighing softly. “...you don’t really think he’s gone bad, do you?”

Drake didn’t try to pull away, finding at least some comfort in Launchpad’s larger hands squeezing his. “I wish I knew. Something happened. I always thought I was doing right by him, you know? When I was a kid, I was just… I wasn’t what anyone wanted me to be. When I saw Jim as Darkwing on the screen, I knew that he was what I wanted to be. Not just Darkwing, but… deeper than that. He gave me the courage I needed to be me. To be Drake Mallard, despite what everyone else wanted for me or what they thought. I didn’t care what anyone else said. Jim was like a mirror looking back at who I really was.”

Launchpad didn’t interrupt, didn’t even speak until Drake paused, keeping his hands curled tightly around Drake’s. “You didn’t choose wrong. I like who you are. And I meant what I said, that day at the studio. I told you to do it for Jim. Maybe he’s alive as some weird supervillain bent on your destruction, but… you didn’t know that would happen. You’re still honoring his legacy, and his memory. What happened doesn’t change that.”

“Maybe.” Closing his eyes for a moment, he let himself collect his thoughts before his gaze shifted back up to Launchpad. “I don’t know what we can do for him, but… well, he’s the reason we’re here, isn’t he? Jim’s why I’m me. If it wasn’t for Jim, I… I wouldn’t have you.” There was that flush on his bill again. “We owe it to him to figure this out.”

Eyes wide, Launchpad stared at him for a moment. But then he ducked his head forward, laughing softly. “Yeah. Guess we do.” His smile faded, then, and he sighed, fixing Drake with a more serious look than the actor had ever seen on him. “But… you gotta stop doing this kind of thing. We’re a team, right? You and me, and Gosalyn too. If we’re gonna be a team- if we’re gonna be a family- then you can’t be dead.”

“Launchpad…” Drake watched him for a moment, then gave a soft laugh, tilting his head to one side. “All right. I’ll do my best not to die. I’ve still got to be the strict dad with Gos… can’t let you let her have ice cream for dinner and go to bed at midnight every night.”

The comment seemed to lessen that dour look on Launchpad’s face, and he leaned forward a bit to get a good look over his companion, eyes lingering on every bandage and stitch until they fell on Drake’s face. “It was that one time, Drake. But… yeah. Gos does need you. And… I do too.”

As far as first kisses went, it was an awkward one. Drake had not expected it to happen when he was laying in a bed after nearly dying falling off a bridge, but he didn’t resist it in the slightest, letting out a little sigh once Launchpad had closed the distance between them. He just wished he was able to lift both hands, but the one he was able to get up to grip his larger companion’s bicep was good enough. When the pilot pulled away, Drake was even more flushed than he had been before, laughing a little. “...well.”

“Well…? Was that okay?”

“Well I can’t really grade that… not off one. Maybe a second go?”

They didn’t have a chance this time, as all at once, the door swung open hard and Gosalyn very nearly fell inside, her face lit up as she beamed over at the pair. “Drake!” A few bounds and she was across the room, clamoring up onto the bed as Launchpad released the actor’s hand, glancing away as a blush crept across his bill. “You woke up!”

“I guess I did, kiddo. Are you okay? You weren’t hurt at all?”

She shook her head, moving so she could sit against Launchpad, eyes growing glassy. “No, I’m okay. I know it coulda been way worse, I just…” Her voice faltered and she sniffled hard, scrubbing her hand against her eyes. “I’m really sorry, Drake.”

Startled, Drake lifted his hand to rest on top of her head. He’d never felt more tired in his life, but he wouldn’t fall asleep yet, not until he could at least try to reassure her. “You have nothing to apologize for, Gos. All that matters to me is that you’re safe. I’d do anything to keep you safe. You and Launchpad both. I’m not Darkwing without you two.” He couldn’t resist the yawn that tore out of him after that, groaning softly as he rested back into the pillows, hand falling to rest beside him on the bed. “I’m sorry. I’m still… really tired, and I’m really sore.” Closing his eyes, Drake gave a quiet sigh, smiling as he felt Gosalyn put her hands on his, followed by one of Launchpad’s covering them both. “Just… one more thing, before I drift off again, okay?”

“Sure, of course. But don’t push it, okay?” He heard Gosalyn sniffle again. “You need to rest if you’re gonna get better.”

“She’s right, you know.” Launchpad’s voice was like a balm… Drake could’ve fallen asleep listening to him. “We want you to get better.”

Drake chuckled softly, fighting hard against the urge to drift off, surrounded by the family that had come to define so much of his life. “I know. But this is important. Gos, I know things are… hard right now. Things didn’t turn out the way any of us wanted. I promised, though, that I’d help you find your family. And I want you to know that if you want it? You have a home, a family, with us. With me and Launchpad. You don’t have to make up your mind right now, but if you’re okay with it, would you be okay with me- with us- adopting you-”

He didn’t get an answer, but the small gasp from Gosalyn caused him to force his eyes open again, watching her for a moment. She was staring down at him, her brow slowly furrowing, anxious. “...seriously? You mean it?”

“Why wouldn’t we?” Launchpad asked, puzzled. “You’re our family.”

Smiling tiredly, Drake turned his hand over under theirs, feeling Gosalyn immediately lock her fingers with his. “It’s like I said. We promised to help you find your family. You have one, with us, if you want it. But it’s up to you in the end.”

The girl seemed to consider that, but then she freed one of her hands, reaching up to put it over Drake’s eyes. “...yeah. I think I’m okay with that. I could do way worse for dads, y’know.”

Drake smiled a little more as he laughed softly, eyes closing completely as he heard Launchpad cheer. It was true, Jim was still out there… and he didn’t know whether or not Bulba had survived the fall. But for now? For now, he had his family. The rest, for now, could wait.