Of course, he'd been in quite a good mood for some time now. He wasn't sure exactly how long; or maybe he did know exactly how long. What did that matter? He was happy and that was all there was to it.

In fact, everyone here was happy. They all agreed that this was genuinely a happy place. No complaints there, not from anyone.

And there were quite a lot of people here. All kinds of creatures, from those of his own St. Canard to that race he referred to jokingly as the "hideous, beakless mutants"; the humans. But at the moment, Darkwing was speaking to a duck like himself. They were having quite a heated debate, as a matter of fact.

"But don't you see that by grounding Gosalyn, you only increased her curiosity?" Elizabeth was demanding.

Darkwing was loving this. He was loving this! There was nothing like a good debate to get the heart beating; well, so to speak . . . "But, Elizabeth, I was only thinking about her safety!"

"You should have trusted her!"

"But the next time I did let her come with me on a case, and she ended up with----well, I already told you about that, so let's just say she wasn't allowed anywhere near the power tools for a month!"

"Hard to argue with that . . ." Elizabeth mused, smiling at the thought of what had happened with those power tools.

"Exactly," said Darkwing, trying not to look smug. "Looks like I win this round!"

"Hey, hey, hey," she protested, "No keeping score!"

"Sorry," Darkwing apologized.

"It sure is interesting to see how all these different people went about raising children." The duck, her red hair shining, looked thoughtful.

"Hey, all it takes is a bit of courage, understanding, and luck," said Darkwing with a smile. "Did I ever tell you about the time with the coffee table, her vegetable oil, and my CD player?"

"No, but . . ." Elizabeth paused because Darkwing's attention had been drawn elsewhere. "Mr. Mallard?"

Darkwing was looking across the way to where a man, a human of all creatures, was standing by himself. He was leaning against the edge of a rather high, white, pearl wall, looking across in silence.

The human was a recent addition to their group, the duck remembered. It had only been----

"Darkwing?" Elizabeth demanded, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"What? . . . Oh, sorry, Elizabeth," Darkwing apologized, looking back at her. "Look, I gotta go do something. I'll catch ya later, okay?"

"Sure thing," she sighed. "I wanted to check in on Julieanne soon anyway; she's getting married today, you know!"

"Yeah," grinned Darkwing. "Tell her I said Good Luck . . . well, you know."

"Okay," smiled Elizabeth, heading towards the stairs.

"I'll see you later, Mrs. Bowen," waved Darkwing, then headed towards the wall.

The wall was about ten feet high. The man was looking across into the light in such deep concentration that he jumped when Darkwing stopped beneath him and cleared his throat. "Excuse me," the human said politely, looking back down at Darkwing, his voice a pleasant baritone.

"No problem-o," Darkwing assured him, feeling a squeeze of affection for good ol' Launchpad as he spoke. The duck looked up and studied the man surreptitiously; tall (everyone was taller than Darkwing, even now), with deep brown hair and bright blue eyes behind clear-framed glasses that he every so often pulled farther up his face by raising his eyebrows in a quick movement. It was a neat, earthly gesture and Darkwing grinned. He obviously enjoyed wearing glasses, to still have them now. He had a moustache and a rather noticeable blue baseball cap on, along with a soft purple shirt and a simple pair of blue jeans. My kind of clothes, thought Darkwing to himself----although of course the crimefighter was in full costume.

Darkwing gently pushed off the ground and rose up several feet to the wall until he could rest his hands against the top. Neither of them had spoken for several moments, but since Darkwing had been the one to barge over, he felt the need to speak first. "You new around here? I don't think I've seen you that often before."

"What? . . . Oh, yeah, I just got here a few days ago, I guess . . ." the man turned his attention back to whatever it was he was looking at on the other side of the wall.

Darkwing shrugged. He wasn't very talkative, but still, he looked like he could use someone to talk to. "Any family or friends move up here with you?"

"Well, not with me, but yeah, my parents are around here, and a bunch of other relatives and a few friends yet. It's just like old times," and for the first time, he grinned.

Darkwing smiled to himself at the man's apparent enjoyment of seeing all of the "Old Bunch" again. "Well, yeah, my parents are here too, but not many friends. One or two. It's okay."

"Yeah, I was kinda the early person for this," the man explained a bit sheepishly.

The crimefighter extended his hand. "Duck, Darkwing Duck, otherwise known as Drake Mallard. Crimefighter, Defender of Justice, and Professional Writer."

The man took his hand and shook. "Just call me Otto. I've always liked that nickname."

Darkwing frowned in something akin to the thought of "Oh, o-kayyy . . ." but didn't say anything except for, "Well, nice to meet you, Otto."

"Same here. I'm a writer too, by the way; and something of a crimefighter myself, I guess. I mean, now I am. I wasn't always one. Well, I always wrote stories for myself and stuff, but I never was a professional writer, and even though I wanted to, I certainly didn't----"

"Yeah. Me too."

"Yeah." Otto turned back to the fence and leaned on it with his elbows. "Well, at least when it comes to publishing a book. You were a crimefighter down there. I know who you are."

Darkwing had been about to adopt a similar pose against the wall but straightened in surprise. "You do?"

"Oh sure," said Otto, a hint of a mischievous smile in his eyes. "My daughter really loved you when she was younger. She watched your show all the time. You have a T.V. show, you know . . ."

"Trust me, I know all about it," sighed Darkwing.

"Yes, well, anyway . . ." Otto continued. "She must have been, oh, nine or so then. She just loved it. Darkwing, Darkwing, Darkwing. Thought about it all the time. She kept it a closet-obsession for awhile----I guess you could call it."

"Didn't everyone," Darkwing sighed again.

"She stopped watching it after a while," and Darkwing nodded to that statement as Otto continued, "But now she really loves it again. She gets a kick out of it. Not that she really has many episodes to watch or anything, but she just is really into it. I think it helps her keep her sense of humor." A flicker of something flashed in his eyes.

Darkwing smiled a bittersweet smile. "Yeah. I know what you mean. My daughter is the same way. I mean, she doesn't have the cartoon or anything in our universe but she likes to write about all our old adventures. She could never publish them, of course, because it would give away out secret identities. But she likes to write them anyway."

"It seems to be a genetic trait," Otto sighed, then looked stricken. "Oh, I'm sorry! I forgot your daughter is adopted. I didn't mean anything by it . . ."

"Don't worry about it," said Darkwing with a wave of his hand. "It doesn't matter. Genetics has to do with a lot more than genes, you know."

Otto grinned again. "Yeah, I do."

There was a companionable silence as Otto continued to look across the way. Darkwing folded his arms on top of the stone and looked at the swirling whiteness. "Mind if I? . . ."

"What? Oh, no, I'm sorry, of course," said Otto, snapping his fingers.

The milky swirls of pearl glimmered and began to flicker, then suddenly parted to reveal to Darkwing's perspective the sight of a teenage girl with long, dark blonde hair and the same blue eyes as Otto's. A pair of glasses were on her nose, and she wrinkled her face and eyebrows in the same gesture to pull them higher on her face.

Darkwing peered across at her, looking at the same time, of course, slightly downward to see the scene before them . She was sitting in a chair, writing furiously in a notebook, checking things against the textbook in her lap. He noticed the room was adorned with parrots and dragons, pictures and posters covering every available surface. Her bed was next to her, with a bureau and vanity table close by. A roll-top desk was in the corner. The entire scene, from his perspective, was surrounded in the frosty mist.

The duck snapped his own fingers, and the mist touched over the scene lightly. When it had receded once more to the edge, the girl had become a duck with long dragon wings swept up against her as she sat perched in the chair. A parrot and small silver dragoness were lounging close by on the bed, apparently arguing, even though at the moment Darkwing had chosen not to hear them.

"They yours?" the crimefighter finally asked.

"Yeah," said Otto, affectionate and smiling but with a shadow in his eyes.

Darkwing understood the shadow and decided not to dive right into the matter just yet. Even now, the guy didn't look like the type to be a "sharing of feelings" sort of person.

Instead Darkwing turned back and watched the scene. The dragoness and parrot trailed off in their arguments at last, apparently growing silent as they watched the girl, even as they averted their eyes. The young duck had paused in her writings, as if deep in thought. At last she pulled out a sketchbook from the pile of books on the floor.

She flipped through the pages until she found a loose piece of paper and pulled it out. It was a printed black-and-white picture of----

Darkwing leaned closer, focusing his eyes on the picture. He swallowed as he took in the printed-out drawing.

It was a picture of him and Gosalyn. Darkwing was holding Gosalyn in his arms, half-wrapped in his cape, and she was hugging him back, with a gesture of sweet innocence. Both father and daughter had their eyes shut as they embraced, a look of love and happiness on both of their faces.

Tears began to fill the girl's eyes. She continued to grasp tightly to her pencil with one hand, not speaking, just staring at the picture with bright eyes.

Darkwing snuck a glance over at Otto. He was leaning across the stones watching her, sighing in something like frustration.

"I love it," said Otto at last after a long moment. "I love it here so much. But I just wish there was something I could do to----"

"But you have done something, haven't you?"

"I've given signs when I can," Otto explained, not looking away. "And visited. But it's hard. Sometimes I think it's not enough."

Darkwing looked at the scene of the teenage duck, clutching a picture of him and his own daughter tightly to her. The mallard sighed.

"I know what you mean," he finally said, causing Otto to tear his eyes from the view to look over at Darkwing. The crimefighter folded his arms over the top of the low wall again and rested his head on top. "There are times when Gosalyn waits until Launchpad's asleep and then she'll take one of the chairs to the Tower----they're still there for when she becomes a crimefighter. She'll go out to the window and stand on the ledge and just stare out over the Bay and start to cry."

Darkwing clenched his fists, a shadow of his famous crime-fighting expression in his eyes. "And there isn't always anything I can do. Just watch. Sometimes I'll go down to her and hold her and tell her everything is going to be okay and she'll see me soon and I'll be with her until then. Sometimes I almost feel like she can hear me."

"Can they?" asked Otto. "I'm new at this."

Darkwing broke out of his reverie. "Just how long have you been here?"

Otto shrugged. "I don't know; a few hours, maybe? . . . Or days . . . Time here is, you know----"

"Yeah," said Darkwing, thinking in exasperation at how weird it was to try and keep things straight here. Not that it mattered too much.

"Well, it's been almost a year now for her down there," said Otto, gesturing to where the girl was sliding the picture back into the sketchbook and turning back to her notes with a sigh. "So, you know . . ."

"Okay," said Darkwing, thinking. "Well, it's been about seven years for me. Or, for them. Gosalyn's 16 now."

"She was nine, huh?" asked Otto, looking down at Darkwing in understanding.

"Yeah," sighed Darkwing. "But, I mean, she's doing okay with it. It was rough for her; it still is, in fact. But she's got Launchpad watching out for her, and Morgana," another smile played at the edges of Darkwing's bill, "and Morgana's helping her out, too. Morgue's been really great."

"They are great, aren't they?" smiled Otto affectionately, apparently thinking about his wife.

"Yeah, Morgue is something else," agreed Darkwing. "They're all strong people. Launchpad took it pretty hard, but he's doing okay now. He still talks to me all the time, and so do Gosalyn and Morgana. They're pretty cute."

"Same here," grinned Otto.

"And you know, even the," Darkwing shuttered as he spoke the dreaded name, "even the Muddlefoots have been helping Gos out."

Otto grinned. "Your neighbors, right?"

"Unfortunately," Darkwing growled.

"I just miss everybody," sighed Otto, causing Darkwing to stop thinking with grudging affection about his next-door neighbors and turn to regard the man. He continued, "Well, I don't miss them, but they miss me. I can't seem to convince them that I'm right here!"

"Keep in mind you have the advantage of perspective over them," said Darkwing, gesturing at the mist before them.

"True," Otto admitted. "I just wish----"

"Me too," said Darkwing at last, and suddenly a look of gentle sadness was on the duck's face. Otto raised an eyebrow in surprise at the force of expression that came tumbling out through the crimefighter's words. "I wish I could convince Morgana and Launchpad and Gosalyn----oh, Gosalyn!----that I'm still here, that I'm with them. I'll never leave them. That I'm just on another plane, a happy one. A joyful one. And I'm still out there fighting evil, more than ever."

A tear slid down Darkwing's face; he was not aware of it. "And it's hard to convince them, because Time is still out there for them, and Space, and Reality, and all the other restraints against Joy that the world has. But you know what? Sometimes, sometimes I can break through. Sometimes it's through a moment of laughter, or a warm wind I send up, or a shooting star that catches Gosalyn's eye when she's at the Tower. And sometimes it's not even that. Sometimes I just lean down when she's sad and whisper in her ear, 'I love you, Sweetie!' Or give her a hug by the Bay. Or I'll wait until she's asleep, and I'll whisper her lullaby to her in her dreams."

Darkwing's eyes were shining. "It's not always the outwards signs that work best. Those are great, too, but it's when I sing her our lullaby that she really smiles the most and curls up in her sleep and keeps dreaming. Because that's when she truly knows that she will be able to keep dreaming, until I see her Tomorrow. Because this Place is truly Tomorrow."

Otto looked at him, not speaking. He looked back at the girl, and as Darkwing snapped his fingers, the picture faded and brightened and she was a human again. Otto watched silently, a single tear falling from his own eye, deep in thought.

He turned back to Darkwing at last. "Thanks, Drake," he said softly, clasping Darkwing's arm. "I think I can do something now."

Darkwing smiled. "Anytime, Otto," he said, returning the clasp. Then the duck left, because it looked like Otto needed to think. Besides, he wanted to check out a certain wedding taking place that day . . .

I climbed, puffing, to the top of the hill and smiled. It was a steep hill, but the walk was worth it.

In front of me was a long fence, stretching about the perimeter of the hill. An old graveyard was there, and the fence had been erected to keep out trespassers----or, as my father always used to say, to keep all those other people in. I smiled to think of it; he had always said it with such a straight face.

But the graveyard was not why I was here. As it so happened, the only graveyard I visited with any regularity was back the other way. I had hiked up here for a different reason.

I pressed my face against the bars, trying not to bump my beak against the metal, ignoring Iago's yammering as he hung precariously from one of my out-stretched wings. Sherith, perched on my other wing, was likewise ignoring him. I had to grin as I peered across at the magnificent view from the top of my vantagepoint.

Past the rows of streets of the house-filled suburbia was the great mountain range that surrounded the area. Through the breaks in the mountains I could glimpse the view of two cities close to our little town, themselves small in size, but still greater than my own. I could just glean a glimpse of them, but it was still a fantastic feeling.

I smiled at the view. I stood there, the wind rustling gently through my hair and wings, as I gazed at the view of the city, feeling for all the world like Darkwing Duck, surveying his city from the Tower. I could see many of the taller buildings and a few early lights glimmering from the hills. The sky behind it was a shimmering sunset of pink and purple.

Not one of us spoke as we surveyed the St. Canard-like scene. I felt so much like Darkwing that my heart ached. It was a beautiful moment----one that made me think of my father. I bet he'd love the view, I thought to myself. I wonder what kind of views he sees?

Quite suddenly, out of nowhere, the sweet lullaby I knew so well unexpectedly filled my heart and I hummed the tune as I looked with love at the city.

I smiled again, feeling a sudden swell of warmth and love, without truly knowing why. "I love you, Dad," I whispered, feeling Iago and Sherith press against me in affection and understanding.

Then I turned away to walk home. I had thing to do, after all; things to organize and plans to make, for college would be starting soon. But as I began the trek down the street, I suddenly had the feeling that everything was going to be okay.

"It does remind me of St. Canard, in a way," said Darkwing at last, a soft whiteness shining about him.

"It is a great view from here," agreed Otto, his voice giving off a strange after-effects echo. He was not taking his eyes from the cities tucked in the mountains. "I do think she's going to be okay."

"See, what did I tell you?" grinned Darkwing. "It's these little inspirations and feelings that tell them that you're still there."

"Okay, okay, so you were right this time," grumbled Otto, but he was smiling. "By the way, thank you."

Darkwing gave a wave of his hand. "Don't mention it, I'm glad I could help. Now, do you mind if we go check in on Gosalyn? The last I saw of her she was planning to do something drastic to get her room cleaned, possibly involving some sort of catapult contraption, and I need to keep my eye on her."

"No problem," Otto smiled. He took one last look at the sunset and city his daughter had once come to marvel at----and what she still came to see as a reminder to herself of what she still had.

"I'll be back later," he whispered towards the scene, and several blocks away an involuntary smile came to the girl's face, without her even knowing why.

"Okay," Otto said to Darkwing at last, and the duck grinned in understanding and snapped his fingers.

There was a flash of light, and they were gone.