Hero Dawn:Prelude
Darkwing Duck and all related characters are copyright Disney and are used without permission, but with sincere love and affection. All original characters are copyright Carrie Schaefer, as are the stories, and if you take them without permission she will send the National Guard after you! Any questions?

January 12, 1945

Rose Van Duck struggled to balance her large stack of books without looking like a complete fool in front of the head librarian and local tyrant Gertrude Quackly. She had heard that she was Trudy to her friends, but Rose couldn’t visualize anyone calling the stern gray haired woman a name as light-hearted as Trudy. Next to the young librarian, Erin Duckraith carried her similarly huge pile with grace and confidence, showing her two years of experience with heavy loads at the Duckburg Public Library. Erin cast Rose a sympathetic look, but walked on, knowing that if she moved to assist her in the least bit, Gertrude would tar and de-feather them both. Rose glared balefully at her retreating figure and hesitantly placed her foot on the first step of the red carpeted stairs that led up into the second floor of the large library. As soon as she had escaped Gertrude’s range of vision, Rose dropped the reference books with a muffled thud. Rose grimaced. My first day and I’m exhausted already, she thought. I can’t believe I thought this would be glamorous, working. She sank down onto the reading bench and closed her large blue eyes. Just a quick rest, she thought drowsily. Then I’ll be fine.

Jonathan Mallard stared down at the young woman asleep on the bench, unsure of what to do. He hated to wake her up, because not only did she look like she hadn’t slept in weeks, but she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. As if sensing his presence, the librarian stirred awake.

“Oh!” Rose blurted, seeing the handsome mallard that stood before her, a curiously soft expression on his face. “I’m, I’m sorry. This is my first day here and........” she trailed off, blushing slightly as the implications of his look sunk in. “I’m sorry,” she finished lamely, brushing her cream colored uniform free of imaginary dust. Jonathan blinked and offered her his hand.

“Don’t worry about it, Miss.......”

“Van Duck.” Rose smiled and took his hand. “Rose Van Duck.” He helped her up and the two of them almost unwillingly stared into the other’s blue eyes. “Well, thank you, but I really have to get these upstairs before Miss Quackly finds they’re gone. I hope I wasn’t asleep too long.” Jonathan smiled wryly.

“Gertrude Quackly? The library dictator?” Rose ruefully nodded.

“That’s the one. Had a run-in with her lately?” Jonathan rolled his eyes. Rose laughed softly, dropping her eyes down to study the heavy carpet.

“Yes, that’s her. Um......I really don’t mean to seem rude, but I have to get these upstairs.” she said matter of factly, picking up the discarded books.

“Please,” he said,” allow me. I’m not in such terror of Trudy Quackly that I can’t carry a load for a lovely young lady.” This time Rose’s blush was more prominent.

“Thank you, Mr........”

“Jonathan Mallard.”

“Mallard.” Rose finished. “I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome. And please, call me Jonathan.” Rose’s blush deepened.

“Thank you, Jonathan. Please call me Rose.” At the top of the stairs, Rose took the books from him, smiling sincerely.

“You’ve helped me more than you know,” she said teasingly, noticing the weight in her arms had strangely lessened. Jonathan rubbed the back of his neck.

“Uh, Miss Van Duck.”

“Rose.” she said firmly.

“Rose, um, I have tickets for the symphony on Friday. Would you care to join me?” Rose shifted the books to her right arm.

“I’d love to. Can you pick me up here at six? I assume it starts at the usual time. I can change here.” Jonathan nodded, wondering what he was getting himself into.

January 19, 1945

Rose stood before the small mirror in the ladies room, wondering if she should wear a pin or hope Jonathan was bringing a corsage. Corsage, she decided, looping her heirloom pearls around her neck. Erin entered the room, eyebrows lifting as she noticed the white silk dress Rose was wearing.

“Rose Van Duck? Is this the same girl that wore a dirty smock to her cousin’s wedding?”

“One small stain does not a dirty smock make, Erin,” Rose tolerantly answered. “And, if you must know, I’m going to the symphony with Jonathan, er, Mr. Mallard.” Erin smirked slightly. “AND get that look off your face, Erin Elizabeth Duckraith!” Rose lifted her velvet wrap over shoulders and stalked out the door, leaving Erin to chuckle.

“Rose?” Jonathan Mallard held a small box awkwardly in his hands, watching her descend the library steps. Usually he didn’t get tongue-tied with girls, but Rose was exquisite in her white evening gown. Her heavy brown hair was pulled back with a pearled net, in lieu of the braid that she had sported the other day and the pearls around her neck had Jonathan struggling to keep his jaw from hitting the pavement.

“Good evening,” Rose said shyly. Jonathan was incredibly handsome in his tuxedo. Stop it, she ordered herself. Jonathan held a box wrapped in icy blue paper topped with a dark blue bow. He rakishly grinned at her.

“For you, m’lady.” Rose laughed, her tension draining as she did so. Something about him just seemed to put her at ease.....

May 23, 1946

“Rose?” Jonathan Mallard paused at the gate that led to Rose’s small flower garden where she had promised to meet him yesterday. The climbing roses that framed the small white gate had been a gift from him for her last birthday. Rose walked over to him, clutching her English wool shawl against her.

“Since when do you announce your presence?” Rose smiled and pulled Jonathan through the gate.”Hello, darling.” Jonathan swallowed hard and fumbled in his pocket for the black jewelry box that had been sitting in his dresser drawer for the past month. Tonight, he promised himself. But it can wait until after dinner, right?

Rose Van Duck could barely suppress her excitement as Jonathan averted his eyes and dug into his pocket for the bulge that had intrigued her all evening. If that wasn’t an engagement ring, she’d eat her new hat. And it was about time he coughed up a ring , too. But I’ll settle for a diamond pendant, she told herself, as to avoid unnecessary disappointment. She needn't have bothered. Jonathan finally pulled the box out of his pocket and knelt before her.

“Rose Van Duck, will you marry me?” Rose smiled inwardly. Looks like my hat is safe, she thought, as she leaned in to kiss Jonathan.

October 7, 1947

“And do you, Jonathan, take Rose to be your lawful wedded wife.........” The ceremony passed in a blur for both the bride and groom. All they were aware of was the long, passionate kiss that the bridesmaid smirked at. Rose tossed her bouquet in the air, not bothering to aim it toward her unmarried best friend. It landed in the hands of one Gertrude Quackly. Rose turned toward her husband, an amazed look on her face as Gertrude kissed the man next to her. Jonathan shrugged. She was a Trudy after all, Rose thought, gathering her skirts to climb into the car. The flower girl’s patent leather shoes dangled on the trunk, courtesy of the ring boy.

April 8, 1949

“Mr. Mallard?” Jonathan Mallard nervously looked up the slender young nurse that stood before him. They could at least have gotten her a professional, he thought angrily. After all, the doctor did advise Rose to take extra caution because her mother died from childbirth. If Rose-

“How is she?” he curtly asked, hands twisting in agitation. The petite woman smiled reassuringly at him.

“In perfect health, with a perfect delivery. Congratulations.” With that, she opened the door to the small room and gestured to the hospital bed. “See for yourself.” Rose lay back on the pillows, a small duckling in her arms. There was a shock of dark hair on the baby’s head, and the child slept contentedly in her mother’s arms. Rose smiled up at him, a wondrous expression of peace on her face. Jonathan noticed the pink blanket in which the infant was wrapped. Rose saw his gaze travel to it and reached up to him.

“Jonathan, meet Grace Mallard. Isn’t she beautiful?” Jonathan stared at his baby, an expression of awe on his face. Rose took his outstretched hand and lay her damp head against him. “God’s in his heaven, all’s right with the world.”

“That may be a cliche,”Jonathan said softly,”but it certainly is true.”

August 15, 1951

Two year Gracie Mallard watched her father help her mother and new sister into the house, her bill in a small O. She tiptoed past the piano and ran up the stairs to her parents’ room. Rose saw a small curly head appear at her doorway and waved to her oldest daughter to come in.Jonathan took Gracie by the hand and led her to the bed where Rose smiled at them both.

“Come see your sister Darcy,” Jonathan said softly, holding Grace up to where she could see the tiny baby that Rose rocked gently.

“Thee’s pretty, Daddy,” Gracie said, sucking on her pinky finger.

“Isn’t she?” Jonathan said proudly, setting Grace down. The girl nodded solemnly.

“Yeth.” Grace said firmly. “Yeth, thee ith.” Rose Mallard thought she would never hear another sound as sweet as Gracie’s childhood lisp.

November 9, 1953

“Rose?” Jonathan frowned at a piece of paper he held in his hands. “Can you come in here a minute, please?” Rose appeared at the doorway in a flour-covered apron, forehead slightly creased at her husband’s anxious tone.

“Is something wrong?” Jonathan silently showed her the letter.

“I’ve been transferred to St. Canard.” Rose sank onto the bed, unmindful of apron she wore. She glanced at the photograph of the two of them in front of the Duckburg Library.

“Oh, Jonathan,” she said helplessly. “To leave now.........” Jonathan stroked her cheek. “It’s not like St. Canard is bad, but I’ve heard so many stories of the crime rate. And Darcy and Gracie... Grace will start school soon, and Darcy is so shy.... Is there any hope of him changing his mind?” Jonathan closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead in agitation.

“None. I’ve pleaded with him until I’m blue in the face. Don’t worry, Rose. I’ll find us a nice house in a safe neighborhood. Everything will be fine.” Rose sighed and embraced him.

“I know,” she said, her voice muffled against his shirt. “I know.”

March 8, 1955

Nothing would ever be fine again. Jonathan slammed his fist against the wall of the hospital. Some miracles of modern medicine. The doctors had encouraged Rose to give birth in a hospital for all of her children because of her family’s history of trouble with childbirth. Both Grace and Darcy had been fine, but little Drake.......Jonathan sobbed into his wife’s pillow. The cry of his newborn son sounded next to him, but Jonathan could not force himself to go and pick up the child. Go, he told himself mentally. Rose wouldn’t want this. And you are not giving the boy to Alice to raise. It’s not his fault that, that this happened. He’s going to be raised just like Grace and Darcy. Only Rose won’t be there. Everything will be fine. But he could not go and comfort Drake. Because nothing would ever be fine again. Rose was dead.

May 15, 1963

Drakey Mallard lay back on his bed and thought about the strange visitors that had helped the daring young Darkwing Drakey defeat the dastardly desperados. Wow......he liked the sound of that. But there were a couple things that confused him. The little girl, Gosalyn, and her cryptic response to if he knew her. “Not yet, but someday you will.” What did that mean? And who was Darkwing Duck? Besides a really cool guy. His father came in and sat down on his bed.

“Drake, I’ve been meaning to talk with you about something.” Drakey turned to face him.

“What is it?” Jonathan looked into Drake’s familiar blue eyes, eyes that were so like his mother’s and swallowed the tears that threatened to follow. He physically could not tell him this without breaking down. So he wouldn’t. Alice needed to know he was going to raise his son himself.

“Nothing.” He patted his son’s shoulder and left the room. I promise, Rose, Jonathan silently told himself. I’ll take care of him myself, not Alice or Jill. But it was so hard. He could see more of Rose in Drake everyday- the way he talked, the way he shrank back from confrontations-and there was something Jonathan didn’t understand, some inner light Drake possessed, a fire inside of him that burned brightly. He didn’t understand Drake in the least bit, unlike Darcy and Grace. They were so easy to be with. But Drake, Drake had something that he didn’t understand, that the girls never had. Different. Yes, he’s different.

June 17, 1967

Grace Mallard smiled and took the roses from her father as she waved to her little sister.

“So how does it feel?” Jonathan shouted over the general chaos.

“How does what feel?” Jonathan playfully shoved her.

“Graduation, silly!” Grace giggled and beckoned to a nearby fellow graduate.

“Terrific!! And, Daddy, I want you to meet Gander Duckwell.” The young man extended his hand to Jonathan.

“Pleased to meet you, sir!” Jonathan smiled. He liked that “sir”.

August 7, 1969

Darcy Mallard tugged nervously at the hem of her bridesmaid’s gown. How did Grace talk her into this? Darcy’s brother Drake ducked out the back door to escape the noise and crush of people that defined Grace’s wedding. Lucky duck, Darcy thought at him. I wish I could disappear without anyone noticing me. Grace put an arm around her sister.

“Just wait till it’s your turn, Miss Mallard. After all, it’s only been two years since I graduated.” Darcy gently removed her arm and stood by the window to watch Drake stroll off by himself.

“I don’t think so, Grace. I’m just not the marrying type.”

“Nonsense. I think Dave Webfoot would be the perfect type for you.”Darcy inwardly sighed. It was going to be a very long day..........

June 19, 1973

Drake Mallard sighed, watching the graduation proceedings carry on. Next to him sat his sister Darcy, who looked terrified at the number of people that had come to this year’s ceremony.

“You know, Darcy, you didn’t really have to come. I’m fine by myself.” Darcy glared at her brother, but didn’t answer. She thought it wasn’t right, somehow, to let Drake come here all alone. The least their father could have done was come with him.

Drake Mallard could practically hear his sister’s disapproval, but ignored it. As son as this is over, I’m checking out a place for a hideout, he thought. After all, you can’t be a super hero without a top secret place filled with totally cool gadgets and weapons- oh boy! Calm down, Drake, he chided himself. First you’ve got to see Dad about the money, and you've got to pick up the cape from the dry cleaners.

“YOU WANT WHAT?” Drake uneasily shifted in his chair.

“Uh, my inheritance.” Jonathan Mallard glared at his son.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Drake. You want to waste your share of the money your mother left you on this, this silly, childish, WHIM?”

“It’s not silly! Dad, this is really important to me! Can’t you, just or once, think about what I want!”

“Don’t push me, Drake! I have put up with your ridiculous schemes for eighteen years, but this is enough!”

“Dad!” Drake angrily glared at his father. “Why do you even care? It’s not like you’ve bothered to learn about me!” Jonathan Mallard clenched his fists.

“FINE! Take the money! But don’t expect me to want to see you again.”

“The feeling’s mutual.” Drake snapped as he took the withdrawal slip Jonathan had signed.

“No, Drake, I’m serious. You take that money, and you will have just rejected your family.” Drake picked up a bag and stalked out of the room.

“Then goodbye, Jonathan.” Jonathan Mallard stared at Drake in disbelief as he climbed into the waiting taxi.

“Rose!” he whispered hoarsely. “Oh, Rose!”

August 30, 1973

Drake Mallard looked around at the abandoned factory, pleased. It wasn’t much of a hideout, but it was his. For an instant, his thoughts wandered back to his family, but he quickly banished the idea of going back there from his mind. They never cared, he thought glumly. But now I’m the terror that flaps! Drake Mallard is dead. St. Canard, meet Darkwing Duck!