Duckshots!

The Things We Share! (DW & Nega)

Original Darkwing Duck
Darkwing & Negaduck
Implied Slash

A/N: This is how I imagine Negaduck reacted to losing Gosalyn to the Timetop.

He had destroyed half St. Canard. Normal DW would've stopped him by now but the caped crusader hadn't been seen in weeks and Negaduck was pissed.

Typically he would've been more than happy to take advantage of the opportunity but given the circumstances he was just pissed. He had searched and destroyed every build he thought the little twerp might be hiding in. This prime worlds Gosalyn had gone MIA a month now and the thought of never seeing his daughter again - even trying to stop him - had driven him to brink of insanity.

Finally the mayor decided to call in Gizmoduck to stop him. If he had taken even half a minute to devise a plan then he would be controlling the city by now but he was too furious to think straight. It didn't help that when he received the news he had just failed an attempt to return home.

At first he thought it might be a chase to reclaim this St. Carand for himself. A bright spot in his relieved bad day. The Capped Mallard wouldn't be in the way but when he heard why the hero had lost it. He took off on a rampage that was now well into its second week. That was probably why when the metal man showed up to fight him he took a full beating, barely escaping with his life. That had been his own doing though.

"Just stay down!" The robot man told him. His blood boiled.

"Don't tell me what to do!" He felt himself straight only to get blasted out a window. The glass sliced down his right side. He landed in ally.

"Negaduck, is it worth your life?" He heard the tin man say but he had already managed to pull himself into the sewer system half breathing.

Finally he made it back to the shell of a building he called home and passed on the floor for days. When he finally woke up there was a small pool of blood in the floor which angered him. Honestly though what didn't anger him?

He found himself destroying what remained of the apartment. He pulled the stuffing out of the sofa and box mattress that he slept on. He broke all the bottles of beer in the fridge, toppled over the stove, and splintered the wooden chairs against the wall. He tried to flip the table but nearly passed out from the pain and lack of energy.

Instead of tossing it he leaned on it and realized for the first time in weeks, that he was soaked in blood, sweat, and grim but still could settle down. He was steaming. How had Gsyomduck gotten the better of him? The throbbing in his muscles answered him. He hadn't slept or ate the whole time he was on his search and destroy mission.

As he laid there half propped on the table something, that had managed to stay on the table, rolled a little too close to his hand. He picked it up and recognized it to be the salt shaker that sat on the table even though it had been long since empty. He didn't care; he growled and threw as hard as he could at the wall and it ricocheted back at him, knocking him out.

When he finally woke back up, he had a killer headache. He remembered there had been a bottle of painkillers in the bathroom when he first moved in he thought he'd be having a really bad day before he pulled them out. He figured this counted and pulled himself to the bathroom.

When he got there he realized his outfit was completely red instead of yellow. He did care how he looked but he always wanted his suit to look new. So he peeled off his suit and laid in the filthy tub. His breath was staggered and the wound Gysmoduck had given him poured fresh blood down the drain. He figured he better wash it down. The shower that was rarely used sputtered to life.