Flashbacks

The box was empty.
A tear plopped into the box. Another rolled down my beak and did the same. I was crying. I never cry. Well, very rarely. Why was I crying? I was crying because I had no past. Why did I have no past? Because I had no parents.
What was I talking about? Everyone has parents. You can’t get around them. Mine just didn’t or couldn’t care.
The tears were falling quicker and quicker. My stomach tried to twist it’s way out of my body.
I shoved the box back onto the shelf. I stared at it, willing it to fill with anything. I took it back down. Still empty.
I had come to the place where I had spent my childhood, looking for answers. Gos was at school, and LP was visiting friends in Duckberg. For this I was glad, as I certainly didn’t want the friends coming here. I thought now was a good time. I had to do this alone.
But there were no answers. The box slid from my fingers and clumped to the floor. I followed it’s example. I curled myself up and cried properly.
I cried for ages. All the pain, all the years, all the hope, flowing out of me all at the same time, like a river in the spring. I rocked back and forth with the river.
I think I heard the door creak as someone came to find me, but they left. I had snuck in, putting my Darkwing skills to the test. But I couldn’t be Darkwing just then. I was glad that Drake was crying, but Darkwing never cries. If he cries, it’s Drake showing through. Darkwing doesn’t let things hurt him. Drake can’t stop them.
I wondered why the person hadn’t forced me out. I composed myself, and stood up and put the box back. I toyed with the idea of trying to cover it with dust, incase someone came in here looking for the box I had held. I put it back. Just to snoop, I took down another box. The dust on it made me sneeze. Hold the phone! Why hadn’t the dust on MY box made me sneeze? I put the other box back, and compared it with my own. Mine had a lot less dust on it. I took my box back. Had there been something in it that someone else had taken? I examined the box carefully. There was thin layer of dust at the bottom, there had not been anything there for a long time. I sniffed the outside of the box. Funny.
Launchpad wears rather distinctive deodorant, and it was all over this box, as well as my own. Was LP the one who had looked? Nah, why would LP want anything like that? He wouldn’t even think of looking here for a start.
I filed the knowledge in my head, and went to pick Gos up from school.

I picked Gosalyn up from school, and took her to a soccer match. The St Canard Guardians vs The Duckberg Demons. I wasn’t really watching the match. I like the way Gosalyn is always active, but the games tend to blur, and I had things on my mind. Coming back, Gos talked non-stop about the game. I responded with uh-huh, ohhhhh and I know that, I was there.
“DAD!”
Gosalyn’s load voice broke into my thoughts.
“Huh? What?” I stumbled.
She folded her arms. “You haven’t been LISTENING!”
“Of course I have, you were talking about your game.” I bluffed.
Gosalyn shook her head. “DAD, that was ages ago. I was talking about the smell in the girls toilets, and you said ‘I know that, I was there.’!”
I winced. “I’m sorry honey, I have a lot on my mind right now.”
She bounced up and down in her seatbelt. “Keen gear, a case?”
“Something like that.” I agreed.
“I wanna know about it.” she whined.
I parked the car. “No, if I tell you about it” I got out and closed my door. “you’ll follow me” I opened her door and lifted her out “and I don’t want my little girl getting hurt.”
She wiggled in my arms. “DAD I’m a BIG girl!”
I put her on the ground and looked down at her.
“OK, OK. But I’m not little!” she looked upset. I remembered being told by the other orphanage kids that I was too small to play.
“Fine, I don’t want my medium-size girl getting hurt either.”
She looked very annoyed. I ignored her and walked into the house.
Gosalyn clenched her fists. “You bug me SOOO much! Why can’t you treat me like a person and not a baby! And DON’T tell me that real people clean their room. I’m sick of hearing about my room!”
I was startled, but I didn’t want to show it.
“Young PERSON, go to your sleeping quarters! NOW!” I said sarcastically.
She looked like she was going to attempt to deck me, and I thought that even Gosalyn must have more sense than that. But she didn’t. She screamed and started trying to kick and punch me. I leaped over her onto the steps, grabbed her hands, and held them behind her back. She continued to struggle and yelled “I HATE YOU! I HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE YOU!” I almost let her go. Our arguments had never gotten this bad before. She suddenly stopped wiggling, slumped and started to cry. I let her go. She spun around and clung to me, pushing her face into my vest. I picked her up and walked into the lounge room. I grabbed a tissue, sat on the lounge had put her on my lap. I gave her the tissue, and she took it and blew.
“What happened today, sweetie?”I softly said in a rare moment of sensitivity.
“They all laughed at me.” she sniffed. “They said I was too small to do anything. The whole class laughed. It’s so unfair! I can’t help it if I haven’t grown. It never used to bother me.”
I hugged her. “Gos, 12 is a tough age. I remember when I was 12...” the memories came flooding back.
“What?” Her curiosity returned.
“Never mind. But you gotta be tough. Look at me, I’m short and I can beat crooks more than twice my size! You could have bashed those kids. Did you?
“No. I’m sick of having to do that.”
“That’s good. Fighting isn’t ALWAYS the answer.”
Gosalyn laughed. “I’m sorry Dad. It’s just, then you said I was small, and something snapped, and I just wanted to kick SOMETHING, and you were there and...” Gosalyn almost cried again, but composed herself. “Anyway, I didn’t mean what I said.”
“You aren’t so small Gos. You’ll grow. I’m glad you didn’t mean what you said. You scared me.” I admitted.
“Oh Dad. You KNOW I love you.”
“Well, I love you too. I didn’t mean it in an insulting sense. You see, since I love you so much, I want to protect you from everything I possibly can. Do you understand?” I tried to explain my feelings, but couldn’t.
“Yeah, but I still don’t like it.”Gosalyn grumbled. I kissed her and put her on the floor.
“Go on. Go do something to cheer up. Homework can wait just this once.”
“Wow, keen gear! Thanks Dad!” She ran to the door. She stopped, turned back and said “Dad, what were you gonna say about when you were 12?”
I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to think about back then. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”
Gosalyn looked at me for a second, then ran outside. I watched her as the front door slammed. Always running somewhere. I drifted back into the past.

I was running. The kids were trying to get me again. I ran and ran, on and on. Were they ever going to tire? Probably not. When you are cooped up all day, I guess you have to release energy somehow. Oh NO! I hadn’t been watching where I was going, and now I was up against the fence. I looked up at the wire. No way out. The kids surrounded me, even forcing me away from the fence. A tight circle of angry faces. Louse forced his way to the front.
“What do you say Drakey? You gonna tell on us?”
I stared. What to do? It was wrong. Stealing things!
“Yeah. I’m not scared of you.” Defiance.
“Why were you running then? Face it, you’re nothing but a tiny wimp. Always have, always will. A nothing. An itsy-bitsy, teeny-weeny, small, good for nothing Drakey. Who wears dumb hats.”
“I WON’T BE! You watch me! One day you’ll be sorry! And on that day I’ll be laughing. I’ll be laughing real hard.” I knew what was gonna happen. But I was beyond caring.
“I’ll be sorry. I don’t THINK so.” He lifted his fist. He swang towards my beak. I squinted my eyes shut and waited.

I sobbed into my hands. The same everyday, but getting worse somehow. While the others were getting taller and heavier, I was small and light. I got very good at taking pain and dodging things though. The one thing I have to thank those boys for. The day I snapped.

Being hit over and over. My beak stung from being twanged so many times. Feeling dizzy. Feeling angry. What gave them the right to hit me? Rage building up inside, like a fire. Burning from years ago. Rekindled, springing up. Roaring, striking out. Screaming, punching, kicking. Striking. The others falling back, astonished. Staring at me.
“Don’t ever touch me again! Never! You hear?” I screamed not knowing what I was saying. I looked at the fence behind me. My head screamed, my heart pounded, even my eyes seemed to beat. I yelled and I jumped over the fence. I ran off. I was never going back. Not ever. I swear.

Shaking. Memories of cold nights. Hungry days. Until finding the bridge tower door. Using my new found strength to try to stop other kids going through what I went through. Didn’t work, of course. But, boy, did it make me feel better.
I was looking down, unseeing, when suddenly I felt a hand on my back. I knew it was Launchpad, the hand was heavy.
“It was hard, wasn’t it?” Launchpad said softly. He knelt in front of me.
I tensed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes you do. I know what you were thinking about. What made you cry.”
“I’m NOT crying!” I wasn’t either. I had, but not now.
“You’r eyes are red, and I heard you.” Launchpad looked almost scared.
“I’m NOT! And you don’t know what I’m thinking! And I’ll never LET you know! So give up and go AWAY!” I yelled, losing my head completely. I pushed past him, and ran to the spinning chairs. I punched the statue, and jumped out the other end. I grabbed my Darkwing costume and the Ratcatcher. It was early, but I didn’t want to talk to anyone.

I sped along the streets of St Canard. I fumed inside at Launchpad. How dare he...he...OK so Launchpad hadn’t actually done anything, except stick his nose in. But he was only trying to help. But I didn’t need his help! I was handling myself just fine! I snorted. Yeah, just fine. That’s why I’m driving around St Canard, being angry at my only friend. But to tell him what happened. My past. My memories. I didn’t want to. It’s the only bit of me that isn’t divided into two separate lives. It’s special to me, even though I hate what had happened. I slammed my fist into my palm, nearly losing control of the bike. I’d go home and apologize to Launchpad. I’d see what happened. Maybe I’d tell, maybe I wouldn’t.

I spun into the living room. It was about midnight, but LP was still up. Used to being up at this time, I thought. He looked up from the TV when I went in, then looked away quickly. I walked over.
“LP, I’m sorry for getting mad at you. Really, I am.” I said quietly. He looked at me quizzically for a second, then grinned and shrugged.
“S’OK. I should’ve left you alone.”
“No LP, definitely my fault this time. Don’t apologize.”
“OK, sorry. Opppps! Heh heh!” Launchpad laughed.
I’m lucky to have a friend like Launchpad. He mostly knows when to change the subject. 3.2.1.NOW!
“So, DW, catch any noteworthy crooks tonight?”
I knew he would. Good old Launchpad.
“Nope.” I considered telling him what was weighing so heavily on my mind, then decided not too.
“I’m going to bed LP. G’night.” He turned and looked at me for second.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked softly. I stiffened, then slumped. What the heck. I sat down next to Launchpad and stared at the carpet.
“What do you want to know?” I asked.
“Why’d you leave the orphanage?” he said.
“How did you...? Oh, forget it. I left because they always teased me.”
“Why?”
“I DON’T KNOW! They just did, OK?” I yelled. Why was I doing this? I stood up. “I’m going to bed.” Launchpad grabbed my arm.
“DW, you’ll feel better if you talk about it.” I shook him off.
“No Launchpad. Some things are better left unsaid.” I walked up the stairs and cried myself to sleep.

The next afternoon I was drinking my wake-up cup of coffee. Launchpad and Gosalyn weren’t home. It WAS a Saturday, maybe Launchpad had taken her out to a soccer match. She was a good kid, Gosalyn. It was rather ironic that she and me had the same childhood problems. Well, at least she’d always have me and Launchpad. At least for awhile longer. Crime-fighting is dangerous. Why, the crimefighter who lived in the tower when I got there, he died.

A man in a mask at the top of the tower when I went in. Named Mr Mystery. Always thought he had bad choice in names. I called him Mist. Mist looked after me and showed me his job. Vigilante work. I loved it! He made me his apprentice. He wasn’t very old, but he was dying, I knew. I think it was cancer, but he wouldn’t go to a hospital. Said he felt closed up in there. Besides, I think he liked keeping on doing what he loved more than living longer. I remember the night he died.

“Drive me out of St Canard, on the road to Duckberg. I want to show you something.” he grunted in his deep voice.
“Do you think that’s a good idea? I mean, you don’t look well, and I...”
“Drake, do as I say. I’m in charge here.”
“Oh, are you sure?”
“Drake.” He put an arm on my shoulder. “I know you mean well, but you have a very suffocating type of love. You want to deal with that. I’m positive. Go get the Ratcatcher. And put on your costume.”
“We’re going crimefighting? ALL RIGHT!” I ran off to get ready.
We stopped at a kind of lookout. I walked to the fence at the end of the cliff. There was a beautiful view of St Canard. I gasped.
“It’s so...so...”
He smiled. “I know. Drake, I need to talk to you.”
This didn’t sound good. “OK.” I sat next to him on the grass. He gazed at the stars for awhile.
“Drake, you’re very special. Never forget that.”
OK. I’m special. I nodded my head.
“Good. Drake, you’re going to be a much better crimefighter than I ever was. You just need to be careful not to obsess about it.”
I nodded again. What else could I do?
“You can have all my equipment, anything. You can also have my life savings.”
“Hey, what about YOU?” I protested.
“Shh. I’ll explain later. First things first, you need a name. I’ve given it careful thought. What do you say to Darkwing Duck?”
I rolled it on my tongue for a minute. Catchy!
“Great!”
He smiled. “Your costume is fine, but you need a mask.” He dug about for something in his pocket, and took out a purple piece of material. He tied it around my head. “Perfect. You look very forbidding.”
“Thanks. But where will you be?”
He sighed. “Drake...Darkwing, I’m going to die tonight.”
I gasped. “No way! You won’t die! You can’t! I won’t let you!” I was scared. The first person to ever like me, and they have to die?
“Darkwing, it’s my time. I feel it. And I want to die here, because this is my favorite place in the world. I want to think for awhile. Go sit in the Ratcatcher for awhile. OK?”
“You CAN’T! Myst, I..”
“Drake, please don’t. Let me die happy.”
I got up and walked to the Ratcatcher. I got in and started to cry.

He died that night, like he said he would. That scares me still. I don’t want to know when I’m going to die. Of course, the thing that scares me the most is that Gosalyn and Launchpad might have that fear too, but...well...I can’t explain it even to myself.
I COULDN’T tell Launchpad or Gosalyn, I wouldn’t be able to find the words.
Close the door, Drake.
It doesn’t matter anymore.

Story copyright Rachel Baker ‘98. Mr Mystery copyright Rachel Baker ‘98. All other characters property of Disney, and used without permission.

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