He kept running. His muscles ached and his lungs screamed for air with each raspy breath he took, yet he kept running. Drake usually found comfort in running, ever since he began working out and conditioning himself. Yet today, he just wanted to escape all that had fallen on him in the last 24 hours.
It was evident that Herb was guilty after the evidence picked up during the house and proper search. Everything had Herb's fingerprints on it, and what didn't belonged to Herb personally. Drake also knew that every cop in that house would have sent Herb barreling straight into the pits of hell. Guilty as charged. Throw away the key.
The sun was just brightening the city's morning and St. Canard was a bustling metropolis oncemore. Ten miles was already behind him as Drake pounded on, sweat pouring onto his face. Although he was extremely tired, his current physical state was the last thing on his mind.

The rest of the evidence confiscated from the home was rudimentary: traces of blood in evident places and Herb Muddlefoot's fingerprints everywhere. Yet what was found in the living room proved to create question. A large, uneaten pizza and two softdrinks were on the coffee table in front of the couch, and the television was blaring. Drake hadn't bothered to turn the television down when he had run in the night before, his only intention being to secure Gosalyn's safety. Yet now that he had time to think, he realized that the t.v. was deafeningly loud. It was almost as if they had a cozy evening at home planned. He had also run across two plane tickets stuffed in the cookie jar in the kitchen, a place Herb felt Binkie would never go (and judging by her figure, she never indulged in cookies) and he frequented. The two plane tickets had her name and his; two first-class seats to Jamaica. Apparently, it had been a late surprise for their Anniversary.
Would Herb honestly plan an intimate vacation when he would just in turn murder his wife? A shrewed thinker might plan such an outing to deter anyone from suspecting him of murder, but Herb....Drake just couldn't believe that he was endowed with such capricious cranial energy.
After what seemed like only a few seconds, Drake rounded the corner of the street and sprinted down Avian way. The wave of nausea from the investigation had subsided, yet the guilt and remorse he witheld was almost as gut-wrenching. He could not recall ever getting sick on a crime scene before, and what had greeted him at the shattered home on Avian way was piffle compared to some of the other atrocities he'd encountered in his life. Of course, he considered, he was never faced with seeing his next door neighbor practically gutted in front of his eyes.

Drake slowed himself when he reached the front door of his home, only then realizing how fatigued he was. Every muscle ached as he struggled to catch his breath. His breath came in raspy sweeps, his abdominal muscles screaming for liberation from his gulps of air.

"Dad." The voice startled him and he nearly went into cardiac arrest.
"Gos," he breathed, placing a hand on her shoulder as he stumbled into the foyer of their home. She grabbed his arms, a concerned look sweeping across her worn face.
"Dad, you okay?"
"Yeah...just...went...for..a..jog.." he managed between exhausted pants.
"Were you jogging or outrunning a cheetah?" She waited for him to catch his breath enough to stand up. Once he stood upright, he shook himself and sighed.
"You're not going to school..are you?" he asked curiously as she followed him into the kitchen.
"No," she decided. "I guess not."
"You should take a couple days off, Gos. I've already called the school."
Gosalyn nodded lugubriously as she collapsed in the booth of their breakfast table, her head falling into her hands. Drake studied her a moment, unsure of the problem.
"Are you okay? You usually don't show your face before noon."
Gosalyn sighed. "It's Honker. I heard him crying all night. I mean, I want to help him, but what can I do?"
Drake sighed pityingly as he took a seat next to her. She seemed haggard and sleep-deprived. He put his hand gently on the back of her neck.
"There's not much you can do, kiddo. The poor guy's been through so much.." Drake then added. "More than any fifteen year-old should have to endure."
Gosalyn nodded as she snuggled beside him. He wrapped his arms gently around her, cradeling her.
"You've seemed to have had better nights yourself." He speculated.
"Yeah, I didn't sleep, either. I tried to go help Honk, but when I knocked on the door, he just went silent." Gosalyn closed her eyes, exhausted.
"It's been a long night."
Drake nodded, assenting. He looked down at this daughter, who was attempting to rest against his sweat-soaked shoulder. "Gosalyn, are you sure you didn't see anything that happened last night?"
Gosalyn groaned a little as she shook her head. "No, all I saw was what you saw when you came in."
"No shadowey figures lurking outside? No unsettling noises of any kind?"
"Dad, quit interrogating me, alright? I'm sure I'll be getting plenty of that by the time this is over." She abruptly jumped up as she said this and pushed past him, heading for the kitchen door.
"Gos, wait-" Drake pleaded as he stood to his feet. "I'm sorry, sweetie. I know you've gone through a lot. I just want this solved. I'm worried that there's a murderer out there, with the potential to come back."
Gosalyn didn't reply for a moment, but leaned against the door frame in her Led Zeppelin tee-shirt and shorts, rubbing her eyes.
"Okay, all I know is that we were listening to music really loud. We didn't hear the screams until the song went off. Then we heard her scream and when we got downstairs and to the kitchen, Mr. Herb was over Mrs. Binkie with his hands on her neck..." her voice began to falter a little as she continued. "....and blood's gushing out of every part of her, and Honker's just standing there, choking on his own breath as his mother dies in front of his eyes." Tears began to run down her face as Drake went to her and took her in his arms.
"Shh, it's okay, it's okay.." he cooed as she clung to him, whimpering.
"I just feel so bad for him, dad. I mean, I know I lost my birth parents and grandpa in a similar way, but I can't really relate, because I don't know what it's like losing someone I care about more than anything." She squeezed him to almost to the point of knocking his breath out, and it was then that he realized she was referring to him. He smiled at her, his feeling for her was mutual.
"Gos, you don't know how scared I was when I heard those screams. If something ever happened to you-" the thought of his daughter being in the same predicament as Binkie sent a pain searing through his heart like a hot arrow piercing raw flesh. He suddenly realized how much empathy he shared for Herb. Did Herb really love Binkie as much as Drake loves his daughter? No, Drake thought wearily. No one is capable of loving someone more than he loved Gos. It was one of the few things that can be labeled impossible in this world.

They stood in the kitchen doorway, both teary-eyed and hugging. Eventually they both realized that their weaknesses were exposed and they composed themselves.
"Wow, dad-" Gosalyn smiled as she wiped her face on her shirt. "I've hardly ever seen you this sensitive."
Drake also wiped his eyes and cleared his throat. "Well, as anomalous as my attitude may be, I must find the answer to so many relevant questions pertaining to the effective closure of this case."
Gosalyn looked at him, jaw agape. He smiled and re-stated his sentence. "Anything else you may have seen or heard?"
Gosalyn thought for a moment and shrugged. "Not really. But I do want to ask you for a favor."
Drake was curious. "And what may that be?"
"Will you go talk with Honker? He needs someone to talk to, despertly." She watched as her father looked dubious.
"Please?" She pleaded.
"Gos, why do you think he'd talk to me over you? You two have been practically joined at the hip since you met." He walked over and got a glass of water from the kitchen sink, only to engulf it almost as quickly as it hit the glass.
"He looks up to you, though-" Gosalyn whimpered as she grabbed his arm. "Pppplllleeeeaaaasssseee???"
It took only a mere glance at her patented pouty-beak for him to falter. "All right! All right. I just don't know what good it'll do, but I'll do it."
Elated, Gosalyn hugged him fiercly and kissed him on the cheek. "Thanks, dad."
"No problem."
She released him and turned to walk out of the kitchen, unconciously running her fingers through her short, red hair. "Oh, and one more thing?" she asked as he was in step to depart from the kitchen.
"What now?"
"Take a shower, pop. You smell like a gym sock." She grinned as she walked out of the room. He looked down at his sweat-drenched body and sighed.

*************************************

Freshly showered, cologned, and in a gray tee-shirt and loose jeans, Drake took a deep breath for good measure and knocked gently on the guest-bedroom door. He was left standing for a moment to speculate and somewhat marvel at how the wood-grain of the door diffused into every shape your mind could fathom. Yet after minutes left alone, Drake's eyes began to ache and he opened the door slightly.
What greeted his eyes was nothing but darkness, the kind that wraps itself around around you, smothering you. It suddenly came to him that there was a contingent chance that Honker may have, in the devastation of things, taken his own life.
"Honker!!" More alarm than intended erupted out of Drake's throat as he flipped on the bedroom light. Honker was lying on the bed, flashlight in hand. He squinted at him as the light flashed on, his eyes adjusting. He gave Drake a curious look and said nothing.
"Oh, you're all right." Drake sighed, greatly relieved.
"All right?" Honker quizzed, an eyebrow raised. Drake was still leaning against the door frame with a hand on his heart, enjoying the relief that was flooding vigorously throughout his body.
"I, uh, thought, um..." he cleared his throat. "Can I come in?"
Honker nodded and sat up as Drake walked over to the bed. The poor boy was in nothing but wrinkled tee-shirt and jeans, with an acne-studded face and glasses that looked as thick as the bottom of a shot glass. Tears stained his face, and Drake could feel that feeling of regret swelter up from the pits of his stomach.
Drake sat beside him, wondering idily how any conversation between the two could possibly alleviate the predominant pain and suffering that Honker must be experiencing.
"So, what are you doing? Just..sitting in the dark?"
Honker shook his head weakly. "Just looking and thinking."
Drake looked at him closely. "Looking?"
Honker nodded and a group of photographs appeared in his hand. Drake knew without a glance who they were of.
"Oh, pictures. You were looking at them with a flashlight?" Drake found the action very odd as Honker handed him the photographs.
"Well, the darkness is a fortress, sometimes. Many people find the dark unsettling and virulent, yet I find it a place of solace. You can relate?"
Drake swallowed hard and forced a smile. "Sure. Darkwing Duck thrives in the dark."
He began looking through the photographs in his hand to mask his concern for the boy. Honker also gazed at the pictures, and stopped him on one. Binkie was the main focus of the picture, yet her face wasn't towards the camera, but looking down admirably at a little boy's face. A boy with thick-lensed glasses.
"This is when I won my first award for a science project." Honker whispered, gazing at the picture. They both remained silent for a moment before Honker added, "She was always so proud of me. She always told me I obtained my intelligence from her side of the family. I guess she was the only one who realized what I achieved. Dad never took notice, and Tank just didn't care."
He studied the picture intensely. "Do you think my mother was pretty, Mr. Mallard?"
Drake was jolted by the boy's inquisition, and it took him a moment to reply. "Uh, yes, yes I do. Your mom was a very pretty woman. Very..feminine."
He continued sifting through the photographs, all mainly of Binkie with others standing arbitrarily by.
He ran across one that deserved a closer look, of Binkie and Herb, cheek to cheek. Both were smiling benevolently at the camera, their expressions both proclaiming a perpetual bond of love for one another. The next photograph held a similar pose, yet a now teenage Honker had preempted Herb and Binkie was giving him a hearty kiss on the cheek. Honker spoke up as they gazed at the picture.
"Such a great mom." He said, his voice cracking as his turmoil seemed to be unleashed by the unsullied look of his mother. She looked like the most contented person on the face of this earth, one who shrugged tragedy off with a smile and a batch of chocolate chip cookies.
Drake looked over to see Honker crying as he said, "I wish she would have known that having me would bring her demise." He erupted into full blown tears then, and Drake took him in his arms.
"Honker, kiddo, what makes you think that you're responsible for your mom's death?"
Honker wept into his shirt and muttered, "A couple hours before her death we had a fight, a...a..a..." he began to stutter uncontrollably and Drake struggled to calm him, rocking him gently. "Shh, it's okay. It's okay.." Drake cooed as Honker leaned on him, wracking in shakes.
It took Drake a moment to calm him down enough to continue, and when he did it took all he had to get the words out smoothly. "...and she told me I'd be the death of her. Me!"
Drake could feel Honker almost in a seizure as he wept against his chest.
"God, Honker." Drake muttered in bewilderment. Why would Binkie ever say a thing like that?
"Honker, listen to me. Your mother loved you more than anything on this earth, okay? She never stopped talking about you. You were her pride and joy, and if anything, you made her life fulfilled. Because without you, she would have nothing."
"B..but she was always worrying about me..always thinking about me rather than herself. If she'd been concerned with herself, then maybe..oh, just maybe-"
He couldn't finish his thoughts and returned to his destroyed mental state. Drake held him as tightly as he could, cooing to him as he did. "Honker, she couldn't have you and just worry about herself. She couldn't if she tried." But he stopped when all he was doing was causing Honker to weep harder. Eventually, Honker cried himself into a state of half-sleep, and Drake got him in bed and under the covers before Honker had a chance to wake up.
Feeling more exhausted than ever, Drake took the pictures only to momentarily gaze at the one of Herb and Binkie. 'Til death to us part.' He thought, suddenly becoming nauseous and finding relief only when the pictures were discarded in a drawer.

*******************************

The interrogations lasted all afternoon as everyone involved was brought into separate rooms and asked all similar questions:
"What did you see?" (Stated everything)
"Were there disagreements between Herb and Binkie?" (No)
"Any sort of domestic violence?" (No)
"Any odd behavior within the family?" (No)
"Any sexual or domestic abuse?" ( Drake looked at the officer contentiously. "Are you kidding?" He replied. "I'm shocked Herb even knows what sex consists of!")
"Any infedelity?" (Another contentious look from Drake)
The rest was mainly about the athletic tape being borrowed and a collective pat on the back for apprehending and disarming Herb. Once Drake's interrogation was over, he changed, became Darkwing Duck, and returned to hear the results of the questioning.
"Well," a rather chubby officer began. "All were asked about the same things, and all answered about the same. Yet, something odd caught Detective Larry's eye about the older son."
"Tank?"
"Yes, Tank." The officer removed a powdered donut from a donut box and offered Darkwing one, who immediately declined. The officer shook his head at these crazy health nuts, and continued.
"Yes, well, the younger son-"
"Honker." Darkwing interjected.
"Yeah, and Mallard-"
"Drake."
"Okay. And his kid-"
"Gosalyn."
"Right, and that tall, sexy dame-"
"Morgana!" Darkwing snapped and looked at the officer in the 'don't-even-think-about-it' look that made the man nearly piss himself.
"Yes, er...Ms. McCawber, all looked so sad and blubbery as they answered that it nearly tore your heart out."
"Yeah, so what did you expect?" Darkwing growled, not enjoying the pudgy officer's disrespect towards Morgana.
"Well, we expected Tank to show some emotion-" the officer muttered, seizing another donut from the white cardboard box. Darkwing raised an eyebrow at him. "You mean he showed no intimation of being upset?"
The police officer merely shook his head, thoroughly enjoying the giant pastery he was currently consuming.
"Nope. Just mainly told us he walked in a little after everyone else. Saw his dad with his hands around Mrs. Muddlefoot's throat, screaming."
"He was there before Dr-Uh, Mr. Mallard came."
Darkwing stated more than questioned.
The cop's voracious appetite took first priority and caused his to lose focus. " Huh? Oh, yeah. Mallard and McCawber both said he was there when they showed. McCawber also said Tank looked quite peaceful, almost content. Kid's got major issues." The officer gave Darkwing a folder of files and papers per request by the chief of police, and turned to leave, allowing the masked avenger to be alone in his thoughts of what had occured. Why hadn't he noticed the severity of Tank's attitude? Well, anyone could be less vigilant when their first priority is to get their child out of immenent danger. Yet, why was Tank so non-chalant?
"Tank may be only a bystander, but this repulsive reprobate has something hidden from the rest of us. This definately deserves further investigation." Darkwing took the file containing Herb Muddlefoot's records and notes from the crime scene as well as the interrogations and locked them securely under his arm as he headed towards the exit.

*********************************

Darkwing was barely able to make if off of the Ratcatcher before he noticed Gosalyn and Launchpad standing in the center of the tower, Lp oblivious to anything that had occured in the last 24 hours.
"Hey, Dw!" Launchpad waved as Darkwing slid down the ladder from the gargantuan cable holding the Ratcatcher. Darkwing smiled in a cheeful pretense, masking the dreadful news he was about to deliver. Binkie and Launchpad had always been close, both were very sweet and extremely easy to get along with. The two had hit it off when they first met, both sharing a common interest: Binkie loved to cook and Launchpad loved to eat. They were inseperable.
"Hey, Lp." Darkwing came up to shake his hand, only to be overcome by a fierce hug.
"Oh, I missed you guys so much!!" Launchpad cried as he picked both Darkwing and Gosalyn up in one sweep and squeezed them nearly to death.
"L..p...my..spine..." Darkwing coughed and Launchpad immediately set them on their feet.
"Uh, sorry Dw..Heh, heh."
Darkwing merely smiled as his lungs gasped for air.
"It's great to have you back, Launchpad!" Gosalyn said as she took the liberty to hug him. He returned the hug-gentler this time- and smiled. "Great to be back."
"How are things in Duckberg?" Darkwing asked as he leaned against the Thunderquack, a cold sweat breaking out over his body as Launchpad merrily told of his experiences over the span of the last couple of days. As he talked, Darkwing glanced over at Gosalyn, who also seemed to look quite pale, noting the inevitable and dreading it as much as he did.
"...and so, after Fenton fell through the skylight and we took him to the hospital for stitches, I bid them farewell and came back."
"Nice drive back?" Darkwing asked, enjoying Launchpad's satisfied complacency. Gosalyn shot Darkwing a glare, mentally prodding him to revelate the news and stop wasting time with small talk. He read this in her look and took a hard swallow.
"Oh, it's a pretty day, perfect weather. I was tempted to stop at a diner on the way over, but I just knew Binkie had something tastey cooked. She said she'd fix dinner for me when I came home, so I'll probably head over there next."
Darkwing smiled weakly as Launchpad picked up his suitcase. Gosalyn must have forced him here before he could have seen the barricade of police tape at the Muddlefoot's home.
"Oh, that's...nice." Darkwing stammered, a lump gathering in his throat and nearly choking him.
Launchpad smiled his innocent smile and began towards the spinning chairs. "So you guys coming to eat at the Muddlefoot's?"
Gosalyn's hair stood on end when she realized Launchpad was en route to go next door, and she jerked Darkwing by the cape.
"Tell him!" she hissed, and when Darkwing merely pulled the neckline of his teal turtle-neck away from his body, Gosalyn yelled, "Launchpad! We've got something to tell you."
Dread wracked Darkwing's body as he nodded in agreement, a look of guilt and utter repulsion in his eyes. "Yeah, pal. We've got something big to tell you."
Launchpad looked up at them, his expression of excitement furrowing into that of worry once he saw their morbid looks. Concerned, Launchpad dropped his bags and hurried up to them.
"Guys, what's the matter? Is ev- are you two-"
Darkwing calmed him by placing a hand on his arm.
"No, Lp. Gos and I are just fine."
"Honker..the Muddlefoot's?" Launchpad immediately yelped, going down the line of importance in his book.
"Well, Honker's physically okay....Launchpad. There was a murder in the neighborhood last night. Binkie was killed." Darkwing stated it as calm and civil as he could, hoping in vain to assuage Launchpad's subsequent emotions.
Yet all Launchpad did was gawk.
Gosalyn and Darkwing exchanged worried glances and the red-head took a step forward. "Launchpad, you okay?"
Launchpad's face became stoic, like a corpse that died after a fear-induced heart attack. He began to murmer something uncomprehending and collapsed into a chair.
"I think he's going into shock!" Gosalyn yelped as she and Darkwing rushed to his side. Launchpad shook himself of his daze and looked at them, tears threatening his eyes.
"I...I can't believe it." He murmered. "How'd she die?"
Darkwing swallowed hard. "Loss of blood. Someone cut her throat." He decided to leave out the entire object-rape scenario; Launchpad had more than enough on his plate, already.
Launchpad's face went into his hands as tears silently fell, spotting the gray floors of the tower.
'It still hasn't hit him.' Darkwing thought uneasily, and knew exactly what he had to do.

Darkwing brought Launchpad to the Muddlefoot's once charming suburban-type home, and explained everything that had happened, and even ran through what he himself had seen. Yet it didn't fully take effect on Launchpad until the coroner showed him Binkie's body. He only had to expose her face- with her beautiful blue eyes now glassy and lifeless-for Launchpad to completely break down. Darkwing allowed him a shoulder to cry on, and once he was able to collect his friend, sent him out to the Ratcatcher.
"Why did you show him all of this when you knew it would hurt him that badly?" Dr. Phil asked, more curious than concerned.
"Because," Darkwing sighed, returning the white sheet to it's rightful place over Binkie's head. "He wouldn't have been satisfied to have seen any less. He needed this."

Copywright Lesley Hall 3/28/04. Darkwing, Morgana, Launchpad, the Muddlefoots', and all other characters are copywright Disney and used without permission and for entertainment purposes and non-profit. PLEASE RESPOND!!!!!! I'm dying to hear what everyone thinks!!! The beginning lyrics are to Led Zeppelin's "What is and what should never be." Which, obviously, are not mine. I must share this with you: music is the key to all writing. Remember that.