Repository: Darkwing Duck

Chapter 5: When Did I Start To Feel (More Than Rage?)

Negaduck sat in an uncomfortable chair in a stuffy hospital room, silently cursing the unconscious duck in the bed next to him. Both of them were dressed in stolen clothes, their costumes having been quickly thrown away by Negaduck before he'd rushed to St Canard Main.

Quackerjack just had to decide to follow him, didn't he? Always too curious for his own good, and look where it had gotten him; caught in an explosion he had zero business being anywhere near. And now Negaduck was going to have triple-check buildings before he blew them up in the future!

Well, he didn't have to, he supposed. He doubted the fool would make such a mistake a second time, he wasn't that insane after all. But... He might, or one of the others might, so Negaduck was going to have to triple-check from now on. That simple.

(When did it become that simple?)

Quackerjack groaned in his sleep, hands unconsciously twitching towards his bare head. Probably trying to cover it. Negaduck growled and stood up, pinning Quackerjack's wrists to keep him from jostling himself and his injuries, ignoring the resulting whine. After a moment, Quackerjack calmed down and Negaduck breathed out a harsh sigh, releasing his grip on the other.

Almost automatically, Negaduck moved his hand to the other's head, running his fingers through the half-charred feathers. Negaduck had never seen the toymaker without his cap on, but he was pretty sure he didn't normally let his headfeathers get this twisted and bent. No duck would.

He sat back down, idly pushing the feathers back into place as much as he could, trying not to think too hard about what he was doing. He didn't used to be very good at preening, not himself and certainly not others, as he hadn't particularly cared much about it. About anything.

Then his needy-ass sidekick and daughter came along, and he'd had to get better. At everything. At talking to others, at mending too-frilly dresses, at fighting without hurting his allies. Because, for the first time in his life, he had allies to worry about hurting.

He still wasn't very good at that bit. Having allies. Caring about them. Feeling guilty upset angry when they got hurt. Being a leader. It was hard enough with two fairly competent birds, more complicated when he really took over his St Canard, and now he had four utter morons to care worry about.

Quackerjack blearily cracked open an eye, flinching violently back when he registered the hand on his head, hissing in pain as he moved his injured body. Negaduck snapped at him to stay still, calling for a nurse. Quackerjack's eyes were blown wide in confused panic, but he listened, body going as immobile as the duck ever got when conscious.

His knobs might be morons, but at least they were (mostly) obedient morons.

The nurse checked Quackerjack's vitals and asked him a few questions that Quackerjack didn't answer, before leaving with a promise that a doctor would be there soon.

"N-negs?" Quackerjack asked shakily, the first words he'd spoken since waking up, eyeing the other's disguised form. "That you?"

"Unfortunately." Negaduck crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair nonchalantly, as if it wasn't digging into his spine.

"Where's my hat..?" Was the lunatic's next question, eyes darting around as if he'd find it tucked into a corner, arms twitching again but not quite moving up to his exposed head. "I want– I need my... Please."

"Had to dump it. Sorry." He said unapologetically. He hadn't heard Quackerjack this meek since... Well, ever. "What the cluck were you thinking, Chuckles? Following me after I specifically ordered you not to? You–" could've died "–obey me, got that?"

"Yes, Boss." Quackerjack nodded, looking away from him. His tone, his body language, his Ivia-damned aura was much too... Subdued. "I'm sorry."

Negaduck almost asked if he was alright. Almost. Instead, he nodded once sharply and let silence settle over them. Eventually the doctor came in and started asking questions, and Quackerjack once more completely refused to speak, leaving Negaduck to come up with enough lies to get them through this.

The doctor left with some gibberish about fractured this and take that daily and other nonsense Negaduck couldn't follow, the room immediately falling quiet again once he was gone.

Negaduck's fingers found their way back to Quackerjack's head, still trying to fix the tangled mess the explosion had caused. Quackerjack tensed, taking a minute to realize just what Negaduck was doing, but didn't pull away.

Negaduck ignored him, diligently working his way through feathers that were surprisingly soft besides the burned parts. Softer than any adult he'd ever met before had, in fact. Softer than Lynn's, and that was saying something.

Eventually Quackerjack relaxed. Not quite leaning into the touch, but not quite looking like he wanted to bolt away from it either. Accepting it. A more comfortable stretch of silent passed that way, lasting a little longer than the last.

"You took me to a hospital." Quackerjack eventually said, slowly and quietly, as if he was afraid of making such a statement. It was almost a question 

Negaduck shrugged, making a non-committal grunt. Acknowledging the sentence without really confirming it.

"...did you really dump our costumes?"

"Ivia, you really are obsessed with that damn hat, aren't you?" Negaduck groaned, not pausing in his careful preening. "Here I was thinking that Drainbrain just made that up."

"Sorry." Quackerjack whispered, still sounding not at all like himself. It was starting to freak Negaduck out. He didn't like it when the world didn't work the way he thought it did.

"Tell you what," Negaduck offered, already regretting it, "stop whining about it, and later I'll steal you a baseball cap or something from lost and found."

"Really?" Quackerjack asked hopefully, perking up and finally looking a little like his 'normal' self again.

"I just said so, didn't I?" Negaduck growled, despite knowing full well that his word was usually crap. Though... When was the last time he'd actually full-on lied to the Fearsome Freaks? He couldn't remember. He didn't really feel the need to with them, he supposed.

Huh. When the cluck had that happened?

"Negs?" Quackerjack asked.

"Yeah?" Negaduck responded.

"Thanks." Maybe it was for the promised hat. Maybe it was for fixing his feathers. Maybe it was for handling the nurse and doctor. Maybe it was for not leaving him to die from Negaduck's negligence his own stupidity. Maybe it was for all of it, or none. It didn't particularly matter.

Negaduck hummed, acknowledging it in any case. "Don't mention it." He ordered.

"Of course not." Quackerjack smirked, eyes slipping closed again as he succumbed to the exhaustion of his injuries.

Negaduck sat in an uncomfortable chair in a stuffy hospital room, silently staring at the unconscious duck in the bed next to him. He was wearing civilian clothes for the first time in many years, and had gone longer without properly threatening anyone than he had in many more. He was gently preening the idiot that had disobeyed him and nearly gotten blown up, not caring if someone walked in and saw him.

His brain finally registered that Quackerjack was going to be okay, his heart unclenching for the first time since he'd spotted that flash of purple and red between the flames. Because he'd been worried. Because he cared.

And maybe it didn't matter when it happened, because it was the truth now. It had been for... A while.