Chapter Text
For Duck, the decision is instant. The portal to Sylvain doesn’t even come into the picture. He’s got a family on Earth, a cat to feed, bills to pay… His whole life was made there, in Kepler. It’s where he learned to walk, and ride a bike. It’s where he went to school. It’s where he smoked pot in empty parking lots past midnight. It’s where he had his first kiss. It’s where he met Minerva—hell, it’s where this whole destiny business started.
Kepler is home. He couldn’t be anywhere else. Even as Aubrey and Thacker bid him goodbye and travel through the opposite portal to Sylvain, he’s never been more sure of anything in his life.
But as he takes his first steps towards the portal, he’s surprised to spot Minerva, out of the corner of his eye, mirroring his every movement. He pauses, looking at her left shoulder blankly, his thoughts buffering like a worn-out computer. “...Minerva,” he starts, and for a while, her name is the only word that comes, rolling naturally off of his tongue.
She waits politely for him to speak, and when he doesn’t, she cocks her head to one side and smiles. “Yes, Wayne Newton?” Her eyes are still bright, and Duck feels as if there’s something she’s just not getting. Or maybe there’s something she gets that he doesn’t.
“...You know it’s over, right?”
She nods solemnly—no, proudly, smiling wider now than ever. “Yes. Our quest—your destiny! Our journey to bring peace to not just two entangled worlds, but the entire universe! All of it is complete. I am well aware of this.”
“Yeah, so…,” he’s not sure how to break this gently, “so you know you’re not, like… obligated. To look over me anymore. Right?”
“Duck Newton!” she cries, so taken aback that she forgets to use his proper name. “I am not by your side out of obligation, dear friend. I may have once saw you as my star pupil, my loyal—or, I suppose, not-so-loyal—apprentice, but now…,” her smile goes warm, “I see you as… well, just as I have said. A dear friend.”
That earns half a smile out of him, and instinctively he ducks his head down to cover it, tipping the brim of his hat down low. “Right. I get that. I just mean… you’ve gotta have your own stuff y’wanna do, don’cha?”
She considers this for a long moment, humming loud enough to echo throughout the empty, broken-down chamber they stand in. “I suppose so! But as it stands, I simply cannot imagine continuing my journey anywhere else but on Earth.” She meets his eyes, but not without caution. “Whether or not you are by my side is your decision, Wayne Newton. But I for one know I would feel much safer in a world with you as one of its many inhabitants.”
He clicks his tongue. “Yeah. I suppose that’s fair. You… you got me there, I guess.” He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Well, fuck it, then. I guess you’re coming with me. For the time being,” he hastily adds, not wanting to make a promise he can’t keep.
He steps towards the portal to Kepler once more, and she follows, right by his side. Something like panic strikes him—a fear of change, a sense of ending—and he reaches for a blade he no longer has. His hand meets Minerva’s instead, and he holds it tight as they step out of the cold, metal room and back into the world they know.
The apartment feels empty without anyone in it.
Without Beacon and his constant quips, as obnoxious as he may have been. Without his muffled drawls coming out of cabinets Duck hastily stuffed him in, without arguments from opposite ends of the apartment. He was Duck’s first roommate, months before the others came into the picture. He says he doesn’t miss him, but he puts up a little placard in the closet next to his bedroom as a sort of memorial. “Rest well Beacon, chosen sword and general piece of shit.” No one will ever have to see it, after all. It’ll be Duck’s little secret.
Without Aubrey’s laughter and mirth, as temporary as her stay was. Without her spirit and life in Duck’s home, without the constant ramblings of a kid who was still so excited about the world around her, not worn out by the weight of it like Duck was. Something about having her around made Duck feel hopeful again. Like she was restoring the life in him just as she did with their Sylvan friends.
Without Leo’s quick wit and steadiness, even if he never lived in Duck’s home at all. Without the sound of shuffling on the opposite side of the wall, reminding him that there was life outside of his apartment. Without that fatherly gleam in his eye, without that protective nature that Duck came to love him for. He’s happy where he is now, Duck knows it; he took pride in his purpose and Indrid gave him a new one, another chosen destiny as West Virginia’s resident seer. But with Mrs. Pearson as his only remaining neighbor, the apartment complex feels desolate.
Without Minerva. Without her overwhelming power and presence, even when doing something as simple as walking into a room. Without her delighted cry of, “Duck Newton!” as an everyday greeting. Without her guiding presence, her warmth, her caring, her heart. Without seeing her after he wakes up and before he goes to sleep. Without her as a constant, something in his life that he can count on. He knows she’s safe, knows Mama’s letting her stay in Amnesty Lodge until she can find her own place, but he feels strange not knowing what she’s up to. She kept him in the dark for years, and after finding out her deepest secrets, her fears, her hopes… it’s hard to mind his own business anymore.
But Christ, he’s had enough of that destiny bullshit for one lifetime, hasn’t he? He gave into it, he saved the world, he did what he set out to do. He’s dunzo. Having Minerva in his life would just be another tether to a story he’s no longer a part of. He doesn’t have to think about that anymore, so why should he require himself to?
She’s not his responsibility, just as he isn’t hers. That’s the end of it.
Except it’s not. It never is—it never can be in a town as small as Kepler. Duck can hardly avoid the unfortunate occasional encounter with Muffy and Winthrop on the street; there was no way he wasn’t gonna run into Minerva again.
He learns this the hard way when stocking up on groceries at the general store. The interior has hardly changed, but there’s a bit of flair to it now; a charm it didn’t have before, all due to the stalky, bespectacled man currently bagging up his items. Indrid has found himself at home here easily, and Duck’s gotta admit, he’s proud of the guy, even if they were never particularly close.
Indrid peers over the top of his glasses—these ones clear as water, showing off unnaturally warm brown eyes offset by deep crow’s feet—to look at Duck, a smile playing on his lips. “I take it you’re adjusting to ordinary life alright?”
Duck chuckles, leaning against the counter and nearly knocking over a candy display in the process. “Bud, ordinary life is what this body was made for.”
The bell above the door chimes, and Indrid raises his eyebrows as that ghost of a smile turns into a grin. “Well, some would beg to differ.”
Duck has only a half-second to wonder what that means before his ears are assaulted with a boisterous shout of, “WAYNE NEWTON!”
He turns his head and instantly catches sight of Minerva charging down the aisles towards him, followed by a bewildered Jake Coolice. Duck quickly fumbles with his wallet, taking out his money and shoving it into Indrid’s hands as quickly as he can manage, but still it does him no good. As soon as Minerva reaches him she sweeps him up in a bone-crushing hug, her arms squeezing around his waist and his face tucked against her neck. “H-hey…. ‘Nerva...,” he chokes out, hardly able to breathe in this state. It is both a greeting and a request to be put down.
She does not, and so he only half-registers words as Jake starts talking. “Sorry, Duck! You, uh. You know how she is.” He glances around, as if he’s not really sure what he’s supposed to do. “Uh, Minerva? You should maybe put him down? Because we’re in public and stuff?”
“Ah, yes!” she cries, dropping Duck as quickly as she’d lifted him. “I was simply so excited to see you, Wayne Newton, that I momentarily forgot your Earthen social cues. I apologize for this!” She glances briefly at Jake. “It is,” there’s a half pause, “my bad.”
Jake grins, wide and toothy. “I taught her that one.”
“Cool,” Duck wheezes, a little too busy trying to get air into his lungs to properly appreciate any of this. And to be honest, he doesn’t get what Minerva’s so jazzed about. Because—well, sure, he’s happy to see her and all, but aren’t they supposed to be done with this? Everything’s over, so… what’s the point, really? What happens next? What are they supposed to do?
Something taps his shoulder, and he turns his head to see Indrid’s spindly arm holding out a pile of coins for him. “Hate to break up the happy reunion, but here’s your change.”
“Oh, uh,” Duck takes the change, quickly depositing it into his pocket, “cool. Thanks.” He retrieves his bag of groceries from the counter before turning towards Minerva and Jake again. “Look, as much as I’d lo—” he coughs, choking on the word, “ love to stay and chat, I was kind of already on my way out, so?” He starts to side-step out of their view. “See ya…?”
Jake looks a little apprehensive—clearly he’s getting the gist of the situation, glancing between Duck and Minerva a few times before averting his eyes entirely—but Minerva simply smiles, taking Duck’s attempt at escape in total stride. “Yes! See you soon, Duck Newton! Preferably in the near future!”
Something in his chest reacts to that, his heart kicking into overdrive at the promise of a meeting in the future, a meeting that shouldn’t happen, but he doesn’t have time to question it. There are already so many questions in the air, questions Duck would rather not answer at all, so he just gives Minerva a tight-lipped smile and a nod before turning on his heel and booking it out of the general store.
He swallows, feeling like he’s just made a promise he can’t keep.