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When Bushroot was younger, he had wanted to be a good person. That was back when he was young and naïve. Now he knew that there wasn't really such a thing as good people. Oh, there were absolutely terrible people, like Negaduck, but they seemed to be more the exception, not the rule.
In his experience, the vast majority of people were just people. They did good things, they did bad things. They were all flawed. What Bushroot thought was important was to just do one's best, and if they messed up, then just try to fix what you can and strive to do better tomorrow. That was what was important.
Bushroot had accepted that people were flawed, but he'd gotten to the point where he didn't want to interact with them very much. The flaws were just a little too much for him, and they far outweighed the good.
He didn't give up on society as a whole. Just most of them. He still liked to play games with Quackerjack when they saw each other. He liked to get together with Megavolt so they could bounce ideas and impossible scientific theories off of each other. He was even more than happy to lend a helping hand when Gosalyn or Drake came to him for help.
And of course, Bushroot lived with Liquidator, and had been for ten years. They had run away to try to make it on their own, because they were both sick of the manipulation and lies, and weren't as willing to forgive and forget as Megavolt and Quackerjack were.
Bushroot had been frustrated with Drake for a long time, and Liquidator's hurt and fury with the hero had exacerbated those feelings. In the past ten years, Bushroot had mellowed out. He could be civil with Drake now. Liquidator hadn't gotten there yet, but Bushroot had a plan in mind to help him in that front.
The two of them had a bit of a hard time in that first year, because they weren't used to being on their own. They had adjusted easily enough. It hadn't taken Bushroot long to find the greenhouse that he had owned as a villain. Since it was already his, he just reclaimed it, and made it their home, though they had to do some renovations.
Liquidator may not be able to sleep, but he still deserved a place to escape to, and a place to call his own. So they added a pool area. Liquidator could retreat there to unwind, and he even let Bushroot try to cultivate water plants in his pool.
Bushroot had spent a lot of time trying to fix up the greenhouse. Many of the plants that had been there before had either died or become overgrown. It took a lot of work and time to manage things. It was a good distraction though, and kept Bushroot from thinking about everything they'd been through with Negaduck.
When taking care of his plants could only get him so far, Bushroot found other distractions. He started to leave the greenhouse and just enjoy his freedom. That relief hadn't lasted very long. It was exciting to see more of the world, beyond just the backyard and the occasional park, but then he was reminded just why Drake had kept them in.
Bushroot wasn't normal. He looked weird. He grew differently than normal kids did. He wasn't just a duck, he was a plant. And it didn't take Bushroot long to realize that people and things that were different weren't easily accepted in society.
He'd tried to fit in. He played nice, and kept his temper, and behaved himself, but it wasn't enough. He was still singled out, and stared at, and blatantly ignored. Bushroot had tried to bear through it, but it was too much for him, and it made him want to just hide away from the world and stay among his plants.
He still tried to go out every once and awhile, because Quackerjack reminded him every time he saw him that isolation was really bad for people. So when he got together with Quackerjack, they went to the park, and his friend acted oddly enough to distract everyone from the fact that Bushroot was made of leaves and stems.
Quackerjack was weird, but Bushroot would give him credit where it was due. He knew what he was doing.
As much as he had a hard time with people, and he had more experience with the bad side of people, he still saw the good. Even in people who had hurt him. Drake earned Bushroot's forgiveness because he showed that he had changed. After a few years, Megavolt came to see them to invite them to a meeting. A sort of support group for mutants and beings with powers. There weren't a lot of them, but there were more than just the three of them.
Liquidator and Bushroot still went to those monthly meetings. Sometimes it was just them and Megavolt. Usually though a bunch of people from Duckburg, and even a few other St. Canard locals who just lived quiet lives, joined them. It was only after they'd gone to a few of these meetings did Megavolt let Bushroot know in confidence that this support group had been Drake's idea, with inspiration from Quackerjack.
That was when Bushroot let himself see Drake as a hero again. He knew how vain, arrogant, and flawed Drake could be. He liked to get credit for things he did. For him to do something that he never would have done before, to help people who were different, and not take credit for it, meant that he was doing this out of the goodness of his heart, without ulterior motives.
Seeing what Drake did, and knowing what Gosalyn, Megavolt, and even Quackerjack, were trying to do for their lives, Bushroot found himself wanting to do something similar. He had outgrown wanting to help people as a whole. He had been hurt by society too much to want to go out of his way to help them. That didn't mean that he couldn't help his friends though.
That was when a plan started to develop in his head. A way to finally fix a wrong that had been done a long time ago. And maybe it could repair a relationship.
Bushroot had started planning and doing research. He didn't have a lot of resources himself, but he found a system. He would sneak into a college library and spend a night looking for specific books that he wanted to study more. He would make a list of what he wanted, and hand it off to Liquidator. The dog would then sneak into the college bookstores and steal the requested books.
They had both been told that stealing wasn't ever good, but they had justified it to themselves. The way they saw it, colleges weren't fair about the whole business of textbooks. And it wasn't as though Bushroot kept the books. He would use Darkwing Duck's resources to make copies of every single page, of every single book. He would then take the books back to the colleges and sell them to needy students at heavily discounted prices.
Bushroot got the information he needed. Liquidator was able to do something useful with the training Negaduck had forced on him. And young students who already had enough things to worry about could save some money and maybe be able to afford a good meal or two. Everybody was happy. Well, except for the people in charge of selling the textbooks, but Bushroot couldn't care less about their feelings.
What Bushroot was trying to do, it took a lot of careful research. He had spent sleepless nights just trying to understand a single chapter.
After going through dozens of books, countless hours of work, and a lot of failed experimentation over the course of several years, he was confident that he had it. There was just one more test to try. Tests were always risky, and he didn't dare try this on anybody else. This was his idea. His creation. His risk to take.
Bushroot took a deep breath and took a drink of the serum he had created. It tasted gross, and he felt like he was going to be sick. He held it in and, despite what his every instinct was telling him, he swallowed it. The reaction was instantaneous, and surprisingly painless. Bushroot could feel his very molecules rearranging themselves. He felt dryer, and so much less aware of the temperature around him.
It was weird. He'd always been so sensitive to changes in temperature. Extreme heat or cold could so easily aggravate most plants, and Bushroot wasn't an exception. Very rarely did he just feel normal. He'd gotten so used to it, so now that he couldn't really feel anything, it felt so weird. Not unpleasant, but it would still take some getting used to.
Bushroot swallowed thickly and looked at his hands. Instead of seeing the green leaves of his hand, he saw pale, white, feathers.
"I-It worked." Bushroot smiled to himself and laughed. "It worked!" He wanted to show it off, but this was just the start of his testing. He still needed to make sure he knew it was safe and thorough. For all he knew, he had only partially changed.
Bushroot left the lab and found himself a mirror. One quick glance showed that his whole body was as feathery and normal as his hands were.
It was odd, to look at your reflection and see somebody that you've literally never seen before. He reached a hand up and touched the feathers on his head. They were so soft, and so short. That was something he really did miss about his plant form. He had spent years trying to figure out how to grow the different plant aspects of his body out in ways that he liked.
Naturally, he had a weird fluffy flower-like thing growing off the top of his head. It had taken him some experimentation, but he had been able to change just where the purple fluff was on his body. Lately he'd been wearing it around his neck, like a short scarf. For his head, he'd started growing vines out of his head, giving off the illusion of braids or dreadlocks. He'd just been experimenting with a new look, trying to figure out what he liked. It was only now that he didn't have the long vines did he realize how much he had liked them, and how much he missed them.
Bushroot stood there, staring at his reflection, for several minutes. It was weird. He liked that he looked normal, but he hated that he didn't feel like he was looking at himself at all. It felt like he was possessing the body of a complete stranger.
He liked the thought of being normal, but it would take some time to adjust to it.
Bushroot could have stood there all day, but he was pulled out of his pondering when he heard his phone ring. He jumped, startled out of his skin. He hadn't really wanted a phone, but Drake had insisted that he have one, just so he could keep in touch if something happened, or in the case of an emergency.
There were only a handful of people who called him, and even before Bushroot answered the phone he knew exactly who it was. He answered the call, and thought ahead to hold it away from his ears. Even still, the loud greeting on the other end was enough to make his ears ring.
"Bushy!" Quackerjack practically screeched. "Are you still coming?"
Bushroot sighed. He'd let himself get so distracted with his experiment and test that he had lost track of time. "Yeah, yeah, I'm coming. I'm just running a little late."
Quackerjack whined, and Bushroot could hear the pout in his voice. "Did you forget about me?"
"I didn't forget." Bushroot insisted. It had slipped his mind, but he'd remembered as soon as he had heard the phone call. "I'm on my way now." He gave his reflection one last look before he reached for the jacket that he wore when he went out. He usually wore a jacket to hide his plant traits just for a few minutes. In his day-to-day life though, he didn't wear anything, because he didn't need to.
That was just one more thing he would need to get used to. If he got weird looks as a plant, he would definitely get them if he walked around naked.
Bushroot left the greenhouse and started jogging towards downtown. He knew that Quackerjack wouldn't mind waiting for him. The other boy knew how to entertain himself, but that was what Bushroot was worried about. Quackerjack could cause more than a bit of a stir when he was just trying to amuse himself, and Bushroot didn't want to show up to a scene.
Fifteen minutes later Bushroot was running up to the café that they'd arranged to meet at. He saw Quackerjack right away, sitting outside the café and nibbling on the cake that he had gotten while he waited. Quackerjack usually noticed them coming from a mile away. He had eyes like a hawk when it came to spotting people. Today however Quackerjack didn't give him a second glance until he was practically at the table.
Bushroot knew that he didn't look like himself, but knowing that one of his only friends didn't recognize him stung.
"H-hey, Quacky." Bushroot said as he took a seat at the table. Quackerjack just stared at him blankly for a long moment before he shook his head.
"Bushroot?" Quackerjack tilted his head at him. "Is that really you? Where're your…you know," He flapped his hands and wiggled his fingers. It wasn't the most clear indication of plants, but Bushroot understood what he meant.
"I've been working on a cure." Bushroot spread his arms out to show himself off. He smiled proudly. "What do you think?" He thought that Quackerjack would be happy for him. His friend just continued to stare at him. Bushroot's smile dimmed. "What's wrong?"
"A cure? For what?" Quackerjack asked. Bushroot gave him an incredulous look.
"For what? For this." Bushroot indicated to his whole self. "I don't have to be a freak anymore. I can be normal!"
Quackerjack rolled his eyes. "Being normal is overrated."
Bushroot felt anger build up in him. Usually he would express it by making some thorns grow out of nearby plants. It let him get his aggression out without really hurting anybody. He didn't have his connection to and power over plants right now, so his frustration just slipped out verbally.
"What would you know about being normal?" Bushroot growled. "You wouldn't know normal if it hit you over the head and rearranged your scrambled brain."
Quackerjack just stared at him, and Bushroot felt horror replace his fury. He brought shaking hands to his mouth. "I-I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I-I didn't mean that."
Quackerjack shrugged, and it was so hard to tell what was on his mind. "I don't mind. You're right. I'm not normal. I'll never be normal. The thing is, I don't want to be. My head's weird, and that's what makes me who I am. I wouldn't give up who I am just to fit in with the so-called normal people."
"But it's different for you." Bushroot sighed. "Our personality is in our mind. Changing your head fundamentally changes you. This is just a physical change."
"I don't know." Quackerjack sighed. He took a large bite of his cake to finish it off before he stood up. "Come on, let's get you your liquid grass."
Bushroot shook his head and followed Quackerjack inside the building. They went to the counter to order some drinks, as well as another dessert for Quackerjack. "It's called matcha, and you know it."
Quackerjack made a face at him. "Does it, or does it not, taste like grass?"
"I-I mean, it does, but-" Bushroot stammered, but Quackerjack just nodded firmly, having decided that he had won this discussion.
"Liquid grass." Quackerjack said. As though he had any right to judge Bushroot for his choice of drink. His choice was practically a milkshake with a shot of pure caffeine. Even Gosalyn, who liked treats as much as she had when she was a little kid, thought that Quackerjack's drink was a bit too much.
They went back outside to wait for their orders. Quackerjack pulled his chair around so he could sit next to Bushroot instead of across from him. "Is it really just physical though? I mean, you still have your powers?"
"I mean, no." Bushroot said. "But it's fine." He thought he kept his voice easy and natural, but the sympathetic look in Quackerjack's eyes told him that he wasn't as successful as he might want to be.
"It doesn't sound fine." Quackerjack said. He reached a hand up and grabbed onto his head feathers. He didn't pull them harshly like he had used to. Quackerjack hadn't done that kind of thing in a long time. He couldn't quite shake the habit of grabbing his feathers when he was upset. Bushroot felt bad for stressing him out like this.
"I'm okay." Bushroot assured him. "It's just going to take some getting used to."
"But why should you have to?" Quackerjack asked. "I didn't think there was anything wrong with you before. You're Bushroot. How are you supposed to be Bushroot if you don't have roots or bushes?"
"I'm just so tired of not fitting in anymore." Bushroot said. "I'm tired of people staring at me, and talking about me behind my back. I don't like feeling like I need to hide who I am just to walk out on the streets."
"That's everybody else's problem." Quackerjack said. He crossed his arms and kicked his legs. "Look, I've met a lot of people who don't feel like they fit in with society for one reason or another, and for a lot of them it's not because they do anything wrong. It's because they just aren't 'normal'. A lot of them tried to change to fit in with what people thought they should be, and many of them just ended up eating themselves."
"But this isn't hurting me." Bushroot said. "I feel fine."
"But you said you're not connected to plants anymore." Quackerjack frowned. "And you love plants. You like them more than people, and I don't think that's going to change just because you can fit in with a crowd."
Bushroot didn't want to admit it, but he already did miss his plants. He missed the way that they saw him. He may fit in now, but he wasn't anybody special. Nobody looked at him twice. The server who brought them their drinks didn't even look at him. It was like he wasn't even there, and Bushroot had the feeling that he would remain essentially invisible as long as he was normal.
It hurt that he could either be invisible, or he would be looked at with suspicion. If he worked at it, maybe it would change, but maybe it wouldn't. And Quackerjack might have a point. What if, by trying, he just hurt himself through letdowns and disappointments? He might come to hate people more than he already did.
"So you think I should just give up?" Bushroot asked. "You're the one that pushes me to come out."
"Well, yeah, but I didn't want you to change everything about yourself." Quackerjack took Bushroot's hands, which he noticed started to have a slightly green tinge to them. The serum was wearing off. It had lasted for about an hour. Not a bad starting point.
"You're great just the way you are, and if people can't see that, then they don't deserve the effort you put in to try to make yourself better, just to impress them." Quackerjack said. "For a second just forget about other people. Forget what anybody thinks about you. Would you want to be normal?"
Bushroot thought about the way that he finally felt good about how he looked. He thought about how much he missed the constant presence of plants. He missed the warmth of the sun, and the connection he should have with the entire world around him.
"No, I guess not." Bushroot said. Quackerjack gave him a small smile.
"I think this so-called cure can be useful, for some things." Quackerjack said. "But not to impress people. Use it for you. Not for them."
"The thing is, I didn't even make this for me." Bushroot said. "I was just testing it. I made it for Liquidator."
Quackerjack took a bite from his treat. "Since when does Liqui care about being normal?"
"Oh, he doesn't." Bushroot said. "I made it for another reason. I'm going to have to make some adjustments though. For what I'm doing it for, he's going to need it for more than just an hour at a time."
"As long as you're taking care of yourself." Quackerjack said. "That's really important, you know."
"I know." Bushroot frowned slightly. He felt like Quackerjack was psychoanalyzing him. It wasn't that uncommon a thing. Quackerjack loved playing mind games and figuring out how the brain worked. This seemed a little more extreme than usual though, and Bushroot didn't think it was just because he had taken such drastic action.
"Were you a student, or a subject this week?" Bushroot asked. Quackerjack beamed at him.
"Actually, it was a little bit of both." Quackerjack said. "I'd tell you all about it, but I'm supposed to be back at the hospital soon. I was just given a day pass."
Bushroot had to keep himself from frowning. He hadn't been happy when he'd heard that Quackerjack was being admitted into St. Canard's new psychiatric hospital. It had sounded too much like a prison to him, where the prisoners were either treated like children or pets to be taken care of and looked down on, or like lab rats.
Drake had assured him that he'd looked carefully into this place, and Megavolt had hacked into all of their systems to see if there was any shady business going on. It seemed clean, and though both Bushroot and Liquidator had their reservations, and they wouldn't hesitate to break their friend out at the slightest indication that he wasn't doing okay, he genuinely seemed to be doing better. Quackerjack was happy, and safe. So Bushroot let him have this, though he'd be keeping an eye on him. That was why he agreed to meet with him like this. So he could see for himself that Quackerjack was, indeed, okay.
Bushroot wasn't a hero, or a good guy, or anything like that, but he cared about his friends, and he was determined to take care of them. If that meant stepping out of his comfort zone every once and awhile, so be it.
"When are you being released?" Bushroot asked.
"A few weeks, I think." Quackerjack said. "But I guess it depends."
"Yeah, I guess so." Bushroot muttered. "Just…everything you just said to me about my cure, that goes for you too, okay?"
"Don't worry, I'm being careful." Quackerjack said, and because he didn't understand the concept of personal space, he leaned over and gave Bushroot a suffocatingly tight hug. "Say hi to Liqui for me."
"I will." Bushroot said. "Same time next week?"
"Bring Liqui with you." Quackerjack said. "It's been too long since I've seen the mutt." He finished off his treat, took his drink, and he skipped off deeper into the city.
Bushroot sighed and looked down at his hands. They looked completely leafy and, well, normal, now. He felt both disappointed and relieved. He wasn't going to fit in with other people, but soon he was going to be himself again. Maybe Quackerjack was right.
Bushroot would have to think about this more, but that could wait for a later date. Today, he had some tweaks to make with his serum. It needed to be just right. He could focus on himself when he knew that his friends were okay. After all, thinking about them was a lot easier than trying to think about himself.
