Work Text:
Duck recognises the song instantly, of course he does. It’s been the backdrop of everything he’s never wanted for the passed two decades.
Hearing it again, covered by intermittent static, breaks his heart.
He hasn’t thought of Minerva much since the incident.
Well, no, of course he has thought of her, of losing his powers, being vulnerable again, all that is impossible to not think about. But, he hasn’t thought about Minerva on a personal level.
He hasn’t thought about how lonely she must be, alone on a cold, dead world. He hasn’t thought about the fact she may actually be dead. Sure, she said she would survive but there are so many things that are impossible to predict.
He feels guilty, for having been so self-centered he hadn’t even considered that Minerva might truly be dead before being faced with a direct reminder of her.
The song also brings something soothing.
Duck had never realised it, but he’s intimately familiar with this melody now. Though he’d never paid much attention to it, there was a lot more to focus on when Minerva was around after all, he knows every note, every beat of the song like the back of his hand.
Duck wonders briefly if, despite his total lack of any musical talent besides the trombone, he could recreate it.
Just as he’s about to write down a note to remember to ask Ned if he still has the guitar he’d used on his show once, there’s a loud sound outside.
And as Duck runs to the nearest window to see what happened.
As he sees what’s happened outside, any thoughts about Minerva’s song vanish.