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Winter had settled in Saint Canard— a cold one, as usual. Something had seemed worse with this one, though. Perhaps a weather villain in Duckburg was causing this strange, piercing cold weather, and they just happened to have enough power to affect the next-door city?
Who cared? The cause of the cold was only secondary to its effects to Bushroot.
The bone-chilling temperatures made him feel weak. He could hardly care for Spike and his other leafy companions, let alone care for his own needs. It was exhausting. He couldn’t even stand near the windows of his greenhouse.
So how did he end up sitting on the cold, hard pavement of the Audubon Bay Bridge, leaning against one of the support beams?
Bushroot honestly couldn’t even remember even a morsel of how he ended up here. Vague and hazy memories swirled his mind– recollections of Negaduck, a scheme to distract Darkwing, and a few bombs, loud ones, at that. Perhaps one of Quackerjacks exploded and Bushroot was far too weak to get away? Did he land on the bridge from the chaotic kurfuffle? Or were they already fighting there? Did the rest of the Fearsome Five assume he was dead and leave him behind?
Every thought raised more questions than answers.
God, it was so cold. Bushroot could hardly move. The only thing he felt was the frost creeping over his body. Bushroot struggled to keep his eyes open, his vision blurred and his eyelids heavy. He swore he could feel water beginning to well out of them.
Soon enough, it started to get dark. His eyelids were growing heavier with frost and fatigue, threatening to seal the mutant's fate.
Before his eyes and mind had begun to blank, a familiar, slightly annoying, voice had reached him. It sounded somewhat mocking at first but then began to dive into panic. Someone was calling his name. He then felt a thin cloth wrap around him.
It was then that his eyes closed.
“But Honker! You don’t get it!” A voice muffled through the wall. A little girl's voice, to be exact. It was followed by a boy’s, but he had been speaking quietly.
That is what Bushroot woke up to.
He groaned, slowly sitting up. The first thing he noticed was the blanket he had been covered with, then the couch and pillow he was lying on. There was a sunlamp above him and a heater in front of him.
Where was he? Certainly, he wasn’t in jail. He knew the jails didn’t care about the criminal's comfort. It was also apparent he wasn’t in a new fearsome five base. For one, if Negaduck was there, he’d tell the other 3 of the group to ‘Leave Bushbrain alone’ and ‘It’s not our job to care for his weaknesses.’ If he wasn’t there, then it’d probably make sense why this was set up like whoever did this wanted to save Bushroot.
The only issue was the garage door in front of him. Sure, the rest of the group wasn't the brightest when it came to hideouts, but he knew for sure they wouldn’t get a hideout that had a garage the size of an average house garage. If it was a warehouse or a storage unit, it wouldn’t be so small.
And the young children who just walked in confirmed his thoughts. He definitely wasn’t with his friends.
“Listen, Honk, helping out with his dumb decisions is the only way he’ll forget about our homework,” The young girl had told the boy. Bushroot sat up, staring at them as they held a bag of fertilizer. The young boy's brow furrowed. He opened his mouth to speak but froze in silence once he noticed the villain staring at them.
“Honker?” The girl looked forward, noticing the villain. “Ohh, uhm!” She dropped her side of the fertilizer bag, causing the boy holding the other side to fall forward onto it. She ran to the door, “Da- I mean–” she coughed, “Darkwing! Uh, Bushroots awake!” She slammed the door before Bushroot could get a look into the next room, leaning against it.
Bushroot tilted his head, unable to put his thoughts into words. He looked around the room once again, before finally speaking. “Where am I?”
The little girl helped the boy up, shoving the fertilizer to the side of the couch as she spoke, “Uhm- uh, well… a plant nursery?”
“Gosalyn, uhm, I think it’s best if you’d just let Mr. Darkwing explain…”
Darkwing? Okay, so Darkwing was involved. Bushroot tried to process his thoughts. Why would Darkwing take him into a garage and not jail? Did these kids have something to do with it? Who were they, anyway? Darkwing didn’t seem like the type of duck to endanger children, honestly. Maybe they’re relatives of his? Relatives of that pilot he’s always around? Perhaps he’s babysitting? Nothing made sense.
The little girl ran over to the boy, grabbed his arm, and ran to the door, “Ok, done with that, now let’s run before Darkwing realizes we haven’t done any work.” She opened the door, pulling her friend. “‘Scuse us, Darkwing!” She ran past the grown mallard as she exited the room.
Oh, Darkwing was there. Standing in the doorframe. He looked over at the kids, chuckling a bit. He then looked over at the couch where Bushroot was sitting. “Good afternoon, Bushroot.” He closed the door, pulling a spare lawn chair away from the wall and sitting across from the mutant.
“Darkwing Duck.” Bushroot leaned into the couch, backing away from the hero. He didn’t know what he was doing, but he was scared. He wouldn’t admit that, though.
They sat in silence, refusing to meet each other's gaze. That was until Bushroot caught himself staring at the mallard's outfit. He was still wearing his mask, hat, and cape, presumably to keep his identity a secret.
The rest of the outfit, though? God, it was hilarious. He dressed like a single father who just come back from a ten-hour road trip. That was the only way Bushroot could describe it. He chuckled a tad at the thought of Darkwing being a father.
Darkwing sighed, finally beginning to speak, “So.. you may be wondering where you are.”
Bushroot further leaned back into the couch this time more toward the sunlamp. He nodded. “And why I’m here?” His voice was tired and thin. God, he felt weak. Luckily, not as much as when he was on the bridge, but still.
Darkwing fiddled with the edge of his cape, “Well, I, uhm…” He thought for a moment, “You were almost dead, Bushroot.”
“What?”
“You were almost frozen. Look, I know you probably won't believe me, but I was scared,” Darkwing explained, his voice filled with genuine concern. “I found you lying against the bridge beams, and I was attempting to talk to you, maybe issue a few threats.” He mumbled the last part before exhaling, “I needed to apprehend you. You were the only one of the Fearsome Five left on the bridge, but you... You weren't responding, Reginald. You were cold. So cold.”
The voice that filled the air was once again silent. Darkwing seemed to be thinking of more to say. The garage does seem like a house garage, and the kids could be heavily linked with him. It was understandable that he’d be thinking so hard. Bushroot knew how his identity mattered to him.
Bushroot sighed, “So, you saved me?” He finally asked, a note of disbelief in his voice.
Darkwing nodded, still appearing a bit uncomfortable but adamant. “I was scared, Bushroot. I believe in justice, and leaving a man outside to freeze is not part of it.”
Bushroot couldn't argue with that. While he and Darkwing had often been on different sides, this act had left him partially speechless. “Alright, I see.” He fiddled with his leaves, “Thank you, Darkwing Duck.” Bushroot seemed slightly uneasy but soon spoke. “But why here? What's the deal with the garage and those… kids?"
“Oh uh, yeah, the kids, ahem…” Darkwing avoided eye contact, as he had been doing this whole time, “They're… here for a school thing, uh, like community service. I’m pals with the little girl's dad and he, uhm, wanted me to give her and her friend some… chores.” he seemed unsure.
Bushroot nodded, not wanting to pry anymore on the kids. He knew Darkwing was struggling with the topic. It was probably a lot more personal. “Now, the garage? Where… am I?”
Darkwing stayed silent, still refusing to meet the mutant's eyes.
“Darkwing?”
“It’s... a part of my hideout. Yeah.”
“You’re lying. It’s not hard to tell.”
Silence.
Bushroot sighed, “Alright, you don’t have to tell me.” He tried to stand, but his roots gave in. He was still weak.
Darkwing stood as Bushroot tried, grabbing his shoulders, “Be careful, I don’t know if you got damaged while I was taking you here.” He slowly pushed him back onto the couch, adjusting the sunlamp. “Now, where did she put the fertilizer…”
Bushroot pointed toward the other side of the couch, “I’m pretty sure the kids put it over there. I appreciate all this, Darkwing, but I really should be leaving.”
Darkwing held the bag, staring down at it. “Are you sure? It’s still… really cold. And you’re still weak! Are you completely sure?”
Bushroot nodded. Darkwing sighed.
The mallard put the fertilizer next to Bushroot, beginning to walk towards the door. “I’ll ask my sidekick to take you to your greenhouse. You will have to wear a blindfold for a while, though. This place is really… personal.”
Bushroot nodded, “I understand.”
Darkwing reached his hand to the doorknob but then looked back at Bushroot. REALLY looking at him,
“You have nice eyes, you know that, Reggie?”
Then the door creaked open and shut. The room was then filled with nothing but the sound of the heater and sunlamp. Bushroot could do nothing but stare at the door where Darkwing once stood. The compliment came out of nowhere. It was… strange. Out of place, even.
“Thank you.”