One-Shot: Retribution (Darkwing Duck)
Author: patriciatepes
Fandoms: Darkwing Duck
Story Title: Retribution
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don't own Darkwing Duck or any related character. That all belongs to Disney. Making no money here.
Word Count: ~3300
Warnings: Canon Divergent AU
Characters/Pairings: Gosalyn Mallard/Quiverwing Quack, Negaduck, Morgana Macawber
Summary: An unwelcome visitor with a violent vendetta forces Gosalyn to rethink some things.
Author's Notes: Set within The Queen of St. Canard series. Set after "A Whim of Fate" and "Opportunity Knocks." I hope everyone enjoys this latest offering in this series!
Retribution
Gosalyn, fully dressed and masked as Quiverwing Quack, but with her red hair still hanging, heavy and damp, out of its usual ponytail, was tied back to her chair by a couple of nameless henchmen. But they must have been relatively trusted henchmen, since they were the same pair that always brought her bath, untied her, waited outside while Negaduck alone waited in the room-back turned to give her some illusion of modesty-and then came back and tied her back to the chair when she was done. After such, they would then take the soiled water away. This was the part they were at now.
Gosalyn had named the two, grimy ducks Joe and Moe in her head. After Joe and Moe had vacated the room, Negaduck approached her and tugged on her ropes, making sure they were nice and tight-but not so that they did her any physical damage. He also took this opportunity to make sure she had not found some sort of something to use as a weapon. This part of their little bathing ritual was becoming redundant. Gosalyn had long given up trying to find a weapon. It was clear that Negaduck had cleared the room of anything that could be useful to her.
"Satisfied?" Gosalyn asked as Negaduck stepped away from her.
She stared up at him, too exhausted to glare. He peered down at her, and if Gosalyn wasn't being driven totally insane by her captivity, she could have sworn she saw a mote of concern in his expression.
"I never thought I would ever say this, but… I think I miss your spirit," he commented.
He said it lightly, obviously expecting a laugh-even if it was an insincere one. She couldn't even muster that. She shook her head.
"How long have I been here?" she asked. "There's no calendar. You don't play the television for me. I can't tell by your, frankly erratic sleep schedule. Just… just tell me how long you've had me trapped in this damn room."
He blinked at her, crossing his arms. She could almost see the wheels in his diabolical mind turning, the gears grinding. Working out if there was any possible way she could use time itself as an advantage on him. She knew that look because, just once in a while, she had seen her father make the same face. It was rare for Darkwing, though, since he rarely thought something so inherently horrible. After all, who was so vicious as to steal time?
Negaduck, pure and simple. She was bone-tired. Sleeping tied upright to a chair was not so much sleep as just being so drained that you lose consciousness for a few hours. Of course, Negaduck had offered to share the bed with her a few times. He had even promised to keep his hands off her until she asked. Always, the same promise. It was the one positive thing about this whole experience. She didn't know much about his so-called declaration of love, but he had held true to his word. He hadn't laid a finger on her in any way that could be deemed inappropriate.
"A month."
She blinked, feeling like she had been slapped. "What?"
"You've been here a month. Give or take a day."
Her mouth and throat felt suddenly desert-dry. Her chest heaved, and it felt like her lungs would not expand to hold the precious oxygen her body so needed. Her eyes stung, ready to spill tears that weren't there. A month. She had been Negaduck's prisoner for a month. What had been going on with her team, her friends, her family? Had they been searching for her? Were they being safe about it, going in pairs-like she ought to have done?
Did they believe her dead?
"You're exhausted, Gosalyn," Negaduck said, yanking her thoughts back to the all too terrible present. "I can't trust you unbound, but I could tie you to the bed. Let you get some decent sleep."
"If you loved me, you'd let me go," she murmured.
She was always careful not to throw the L word around too much with him. The reactions were always unpredictable. Sometimes he looked as if it caused him physical pain to hear it, while other times he responded with an almost instantaneous rage. And then, occasionally, he reacted like a normal person should when confronted with the emotion. He acted like it was a gift. He would speak to her almost reverently. This time, he flinched. Then, taking just a half a step forward, he cupped her beak in his hand, forcing her to lock eyes with him.
"I know the cliché. And it's never worked for me. What I love… it never comes back."
Before she could respond, he let her go, whirled with a flourish of his black cape, and left the room. Gosalyn, shocked, could only stare after him. The idea that Negaduck loved her was unusual. The idea that Negaduck had loved anything ever was something worth studying. The idea that it had happened more than once was pure insanity.
Gosalyn was sure her brain had chewed over that one for at least an hour, if not longer, when the door's lock clicked. Confused, she watched as the knob turned. It was far too early for the Mallard Menace to have returned, and Gosalyn was sure he was the only one with the key to the room.
The door opened just wide enough to allow the new arrival to slide inside, which was saying something. The duck that entered was a huge slab of meat of a being, with arms so muscled that they seemed to be constantly held just slightly aloft from his body. He was tall too, at least a couple of heads taller than Negaduck, which made him about three heads taller than Gosalyn-were she standing. His feathers were a dusty brown, his beak short and stubby. His eyes, a dark hunter's green-almost to the point of being black, seemed to pinpoint onto her. Her bonds already had her seated rigidly in the chair, but if it was possible, she straightened more. Alarms rang in her very trained head. Something was off.
"What does his Lordship want?" she deadpanned, playing it cool.
The beefy duck approaching her snarled softly. It seemed that her instincts had been right about this encounter… though she had sorely wished that it had gone the opposite direction. She narrowed her masked gaze into a glare, curling her beak into a snarl of its own.
"What are you doing here? Who are you? Negaduck is very picky about who gets to come in here to gawp at the Quiverwing Quack. Answer me!"
She threw her body against their bonds, managing only a tiny thump-barely audible through the door of the room, she figured-of the chair against the floor. But something she had said seemed to have caught her unwanted and thoroughly unexpected visitor. He paused, the look of rage and disgust deepening on his features.
"You don't know me… but you knew Vinny."
His voice, predictably, was deep and reverberating. Gosalyn could practically feel his words as well as hear them. She stared up at him.
"Vinny?"
"Vinny the Viper," the newcomer snapped.
That did have the ring of familiarity to it. But, ever since the death of her father, every Tom, Dick, and Harry criminal was giving themselves names they figured to be cool or intimidating. She muttered the name, looking down as she let her brain rummage though itself. Vinny the Viper… Vinny the Viper. Suddenly, an image flashed before her mind's eye. Another duck, with white feathers, just as beefy as her visitor, fighting with a group of thugs against Quiverwing and her back-up one evening long ago. Vinny had tried to pop a shot off at Honker-dressed as the Arrow Kid-and to save him, Gosalyn had engaged in a one-on-one with Vinny. Vinny, who refused to stay down, lost the only way he saw it fit to lose. Quiverwing had killed him, to save her group. Now, she looked back to the slab looming over her.
"I remember," she murmured.
He was nodding. "Yeah. Yeah, you remember. Good for you. But Vinny's still dead. And you're the boss's bestest pet. Well, that ain't good enough for me."
To say that she was at a disadvantage was an understatement. She was still very securely tied to a chair, weaponless in a room that was deliberately kept weaponless, and this man had probably a hundred or more pounds on her. Not to mention he was pissed.
"I didn't enjoy killing him. He was trying to hurt my… my friends. He wouldn't stay down. I did what I had to do. I'm sorry it ended that way," she said, openly and honestly.
She never relished the few deaths she had been forced to cause. It was the only thing, she sometimes felt, that kept her separated from the villainous side of things. She knew that, even then, Darkwing would have never approved. Even in the terrible new world that had sprung from his death, he would be disappointed in her choices. She had wept for every death, both because she had caused it and because of her late father's disappointment.
The man closed the distance between them, and his meaty fist rose in the air. She had a second to brace for impact before it connected, a loud crack echoing around the room. She felt something break, but she wasn't sure what it was. The chair wobbled, and her with it, but didn't topple. She shook her head.
"Don't do this," she said, spitting blood.
"This is for Vinny," he replied, landing another blow.
This one was an uppercut, knocking her head back. Her chair lost balance then and fell backwards. Her head collided with the floor, causing her to see stairs for a moment, and her whole body to be jarred violently. She had just enough clear thought in her head to attempt another struggle against her bonds. Her hope was that the blows and the fall had somehow loosened them, but after a second, she learned that this was not the case. They were as taunt as ever. Disgustingly, only one other option presented itself.
"Help!" she screeched at the top of her lungs. "Negaduck!"
The fist he had struck her with opened to land a resounding slap across her face. The inside of her cheek was cut against her teeth, and she could taste more blood filling her mouth. She spat it out, drawing in breath to try again to call for her captor. Her cry was cut off before it could begin as a boot connected with her ribs. She cried out, and the force of the kick took her and the chair over to the side. Tears stung her eyes. She struggled against the damn ropes, a reflex only at this point, as another kick connected with her. And another and another and another. She heard a snap, and pain racked her body. A broken rib… she had had one before. She knew this pain. Then, she felt the man's hand wind itself in her hair and was lifted-chair and all-off the ground. He held her at eye-level, and Gosalyn could see the rage in his eyes. She opened her beak, about to cry out again, but a fresh surge of pain stole her words. The man grinned at her, and she knew that this was it. This was the end. He was going to kill her, because she had taken his friend from him.
By some miracle, the door to the room opened. The man was shocked and turned, allowing Gosalyn to see that Negaduck was the one entering. Upon seeing the visitor in the room, as well as seeing Gosalyn in the state that she was assuredly in, he froze. He entered the room completely and slammed the door shut behind him with his foot. Then, he clasped his hands behind his back. Gosalyn had to admit, he made the position look menacing.
"Larry, what do we have here?"
Well, it was nice that she at least knew his name now. Larry's tongue nervously darted out and wetting his beak. There was a beat of silence, then Gosalyn-chair and all-was tossed aside as Larry reached behind his back to pull free a gun. Gosalyn landed a foot or so back, on her side once more, her view still containing the scene about to play out before her. Larry had freed his Gun, but Negaduck was faster-and his gun was bigger.
"Negaduck, don'-"
Gosalyn never got to finish her protest. Negaduck fired before Larry could even get his fat finger on the trigger of his own weapon. There was a splatter of blood, and Larry's body folded to the floor. Gosalyn figured the shot must have landed right in Larry's heart, but his back had been to her the entire time. Negaduck gave a shout, and Joe and Moe appeared. The Mallard Menace pointed at the now lifeless body of Larry the thug, and the two ran, lifted the body, and hauled it out the door, with Negaduck shutting it behind them.
He moved swiftly to Gosalyn, untying the ropes. She fell completely to the floor as exhaustion and fear overtook her. She didn't even protest when she felt Negaduck work his arms underneath her, lifting her up. In the next moment, they were both seated on the edge of the bed, with Gosalyn leaned right up against his side. The adrenaline of nearly being beaten to death, the fear of it, the guilt of being reminded of the lives she herself had taken, and the relief of being saved at the last minute overwhelmed her. She sobbed, leaning her head unconsciously into Negaduck's shoulder. He shushed her as she gripped his suit, her body wracked with both pain and tears.
"You're okay," he muttered. "You're all right."
"You s-s-saved me," she cried.
"I did. He's dead. Won't be coming by again," he said.
"S-s-shouldn't have k-k-killed him."
Negaduck gently moved her face until she stared up at him. "He hurt you. He got off too easy, if you ask me."
By God… did he really mean it? Did he really love her like that? Up until this point, she had honestly just assumed that the villain was confusing lust for love. But… that comment he had made before leaving her, and now this. With a blink, she realized they were still staring at one another. With another blink, she realized they were both seated on the one place in the room she had been avoiding like the plague-the bed. Negaduck's brow furrowed, and it looked like he was struggling internally with something. Then, slowly, he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to her beak. She made no move to encourage it.
But she didn't break it either. He ended it, eyeing her, and it looked like he was silently asking her a question. Gosalyn had a feeling she knew what it was. And the fact that she hadn't even felt the need to slap him yet frightened her. So, leaning slowly away, she motioned to her side.
"He-he broke a rib or two," she sniffled.
"Morgana can heal it," he said, his voice a little raspier than usual.
Gosalyn's body felt strange, almost like it wasn't quite her own. The blows she had taken to her head must have been worse than she thought, because suddenly all of this-the kiss, him, the bed-didn't seem too bad. She shook her head, trying to shake the thoughts out, and scrambled for anything else she could grasp.
"I thought you kept your door locked?" she asked.
Negaduck was leaning toward her again. Inside, it felt like all her vital organs were shaking and becoming liquid.
"He must've gotten the key somehow," he whispered.
He was close to her again. Another fraction of an inch or so and he could easily kiss her again.
"I thought you were kind of super careful with it?" she said, huffing out a laugh.
He chuckled with her, and Gosalyn knew she was going to have to make a decision on this situation soon. Then, her brain replayed her last sentence for her. Now, her brow furrowed.
"How could he have possibly gotten the key? You are careful with it. Because you don't want anyone else to find out who I really am."
He paused. Gosalyn searched his eyes.
"Must have dropped it," he said.
She shook her head. "You would never."
He leaned back, and the truth dawned upon other. She shoved at him, though he kept a tight hold on one of her arms. Also, she was pretty beaten up, so she really couldn't put up much of a fight.
"You're sick! Sick! You… you planned this! You wanted to orchestrate a situation where you could save me, so I'd want to… want to…"
She looked at the bed, horrified. She tried to yank her arm out of his hold, but she was too weak from the beating. Negaduck shook his head.
"You felt something. I know you did. You might not have known quite what it was… but you did feel something," he said.
"That wasn't real! None of this was!"
"Wasn't it? You were still beaten. He still could have killed you."
Gosalyn snarled. "This will never happen. Never."
Negaduck sighed. He stood, still maintaining the grip on her arm. He whistled, and again Joe and Moe appeared.
"Rope. And get Morgana up here. NOW!" he ordered. Once they were gone, he turned back to Gosalyn, adding, "I'm restraining you to the bed."
She paled. "No. I told you-"
He tightened his grip, digging his nails in, and she winced-which caused her more pain, due to the break and the state of her face. "I've told you, time and again. I won't until you are willing. But never forget that I am the ruler here. I want you comfortable, and I'm sure Morgana will agree that a bed will be better for you. I'll have her magic up the ropes, just to make sure."
Gosalyn shook her head. "You won't force me, but you'll orchestrate something like what happened here?"
He shrugged. "No different than orchestrating a first date. Besides, I'm not the one who killed Vinny, pissing off Larry."
Gosalyn blinked, taken aback. When the goons returned, both with rope and Morgana in tow, she made no move to struggle. Morgana magicked the ropes into a chain that connected Gosalyn's right ankle to the bottom right post of the bed. Then, she made quick work Gosalyn's wounds. She didn't speak to her, and Gosalyn was cold in return. At the end of it, the young woman watched as the witch handed Negaduck another key.
"That chain, no matter what she does, won't come off without that key. I've made sure of it."
"Fine work. Now get outta here. I'm tired."
Morgana bowed her head, spared Gosalyn a single look, then left. Gosalyn hugged the edge of her side of the bed as Negaduck plopped down on the opposite side. He put his back to her and was snoring in moments. Gosalyn stared in wonder at him. Then, her body, exhausted not only from her ordeal but from days of sleeping in a chair, betrayed her.
She slept like the dead.