. . . "Please Don't Let The Fire Die" continued . . .

Sighing heavily, I steeled myself against crying again and pushed into the Pond, making my way to the elevator and down to the main level. I came into the computer room, where a weary sight met my eyes.

Duke was sitting on the platform before Drake One, dressed in his battle gear. He was leaning back into the chair, arms folded across his chest, right foot hooked over the left. At first I thought he had his good eye shut, but as I got closer I realized that he was merely looking down at something along the floor. He looked thoughtful----and sad.

I swallowed hard as I got closer and caught sight of his throat. Most of the wounds from our . . . encounter last week had healed by now, but two large marks remained: one long slash along the base of the entire front of his throat, and another thin gash running along the left side of his throat, starting at the base of his beak and running to his collarbone, that actually crossed over the first mark. Now, to see those unhealed crimson lacerations made something in my stomach twist.

I had every intension of simply walking past him but I was getting tired of the denial. So, with a sigh, I stepped up silently to the top of the computer platform.

He spoke even though I had stopped several feet away from him. “Hey, Wildwing.”

“Hey,” I returned gruffly. Darn him, I thought, he probably heard me coming all the way back at the elevator. I never had a chance to just sneak by him anyway.

Silence.

“So,” he said at last, “Any sign of Dragaunus while ya were out?”

Thank goodness he was keeping the conversation to business. “No----but then, I wasn’t really looking for him.”

“I know.” His voice was sad.  

Silence.

“Drake One pick up any unusual signs?” It was the only thing I could think of to say.

“Nah, it’s quiet out there t’night,” Duke replied softly.

“Yes.”

Silence.

And then . . .

“Wildwing----”

Darn it all. I knew his attitude had been too good to last.

“----How long d’ ya think we can keep this up?” Duke sat up then and looked at me hard.

“Keep what up?” I growled. “If you’re asking how long I can stay mad, you ought to know then that I can keep angry pretty long. Ask Nosedive about the time that Canard accidentally broke my radio pl----”

“I’m serious here, Wildwing!” exclaimed Duke, pushing away from the chair and stepping towards me.

“So am I!” I snapped. “If you’re looking for me to give you an easy way out of this, I can’t do that for you!  This isn’t just some broken radio, Duke; we’re talking about my life here!  My life and my brother’s!”

“I know t’at,” he said sharply. “But playin’ at denial ain’t gonna get us anywhere, either. T’at was my mistake all this time. We need ta deal with this, and really do somethin’ about what you found out as opposed ta pretending t’at nothin’ happened. Because it’s startin’ ta tear away at the rest a’ the team, too. This won’t work.”

“Maybe you should have thought of that before you back-stabbed your teammates, Duke!” I shouted.

There was deep pain in his face, but he still didn’t turn away. “Ya have to know t’at I never meant ta----”

“Oh, *I* see, you never *meant* to; well, then, that’s just fine, then!  Forget I ever said anything!  It’s all fine now!” I turned away from him, my anger crushing through me.

Duke stepped towards me, putting a hand to my shoulder, which I roughly shrugged off. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the pain in his face, but I ignored it. “That’s not what I’m saying. I just----”

“I know what you’re saying,” I snapped. “And *I* am saying that you can’t fix this, Duke!  You should have told me about this a long time ago!”

Duke lowered his head for a moment, but then turned back up to face me. Face me, I found myself thinking. Even when he is so definetly not in control of this situation, he still will face me head-on. He's not running away from this, even though that's the *only* thing he could control here. I think there was a time when I could have admired that.

“I know I shoulda told ya, Wildwing,” he said after a long moment. “There were a lot a’ things I should have done. But all I can do now, is try and tell ya now what ya need ta know----”

“Stop it!  You don’t care,” I hissed. “Though I apologize if my anger is inconveniencing you. So sorry to be cutting into your plans.”

For the first time, I saw a flash of anger go through Duke’s good eye. “How can you say t’at?  How can ya say, after all this time, t’at I don’t care?  Of course I do!”

“Funny thing to hear from a traitor,” I sneered at him. “Guess I was wrong----you really have reformed yourself. How could I ever have doubted a liar?”

“Enough!” Duke roared, taking such a threatening step forward that I drew back a pace before I could stop myself. Anger, or maybe frustration, was in his posture. “Wildwing, this is going too far!  I----”

Without even thinking, I lunged forward and struck out at Duke’s face full-force. The blow knocked him back and sent him crashing into Drake One’s panelling, a cry escaping his lips as his head came in contact with one of the sharp corners. He fell against the side of the computer, stunned.

I was as shocked as Duke by what I had done, but I hid the jolt and stepped towards him menacingly. He sagged against the wall with a weariness that went beyond physical feelings. But I ignored that.

“Don’t you ever,” I hissed, “Say anything to suggest that I am overreacting about this. Ever.”

Duke finally drug himself up, wincing. After a moment he drew his hand away from his left temple, his fingertips slick with blood, to reveal a thin cut slashed on his face, near his forehead down to his cheek, that missed his good eye by inches.

“I know the truth now, Duke,” and my voice was rising steadily. “Because I know who you are and what you’ve done!”

“Ya do know now, don’t ya?” he said softly. “I guess I should ‘ave seen it, too. But I was tryin’ not ta look, Wildwing.”

I said nothing. I wasn’t even sure what he was talking about. The silence drug on.

And when at last he spoke, it was so quiet I almost couldn’t hear him.

“Maybe I should leave.”

“What?” I hissed, my voice tinged in disbelief in spite of myself.

“Leave. I’m gonna leave,” he repeated. “It’s the only way . . . now.”

I opened my mouth, thought better of it, and then finally said, “You know something, Duke?  I think that’s a good idea.”

“I’ve been thinkin’ about it for awhile now,” he said softly. “And I think t’at it’s best for all of us. I should have left sooner----maybe I should never ‘ave joined this team at all. Wildwing, I’m sorry.”

I heard the tremor of misery and grief in his tone and I knew very well what he was truly apologizing for. But I said nothing, because I couldn’t accept that apology.

He looked up for a moment, then carefully removed his comm from his wrist and laid it gently on Drake One’s panelling. No mistaking that action.

“Go,” I shot gruffly, my eyes burning. “There’s no other way, is there?”

“No,” he said softly.

“Fine,” I hissed.

Duke bowed his head and raised one hand to his chest. I turned away as the golden light enveloped his form, brightening to a glow too intense to see through. When the power had dimmed, Duke was standing before me dressed once again in his cat-burglar overcoat.

I knew that, if he really was going to go on his own now, there was no way he’d get rid of something as useful as his battle gear. This was merely his way of telling me that he was out of my life for good.

He looked at me carefully.

“Tell the team . . . that there’s no need ta worry about me,” he said finally.

“Fine,” I answered after a moment.

“Permission ta take one of the Duck Cycles.”

 “Fi----Permission granted. Where will you go?” I asked abruptly.

“Don’t worry about t’at,” said Duke. “There’s no need ta worry about me.”

“I----” and I realized I had nothing else to say, and so I said nothing.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice quiet. “Tell them I’m sorry. But I’ve destroyed so much already. I won’t be responsible for the destruction of this team, too. It means too much ta me. I’m sorry.”

He looked at me once last time, and then, without another word, he walked from the platform and was gone.

I looked after him for a long moment, then sat slowly in the chair before Drake One, doing nothing but stare blankly at the sensors on Drake One. Within ten minutes, I saw what I had been waiting for----a DuckCycle was being activated. Duke was obviously on his way. He cut off the transmitter almost immediately; but it had been enough to show me what I wanted to know.

That he was gone. From the Pond, from the team, from my life.

Without waiting another moment, I turned away from the screen and went directly to my bunk, to lay on the mattress and stare at the ceiling, thinking nothing. And, at last, I drifted off into an uneasy, uncertain sleep. I’d break out of my denial in the morning.

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

 Morning came too soon.

I groaned and peered blearily at the clock by the side of my bed. 9 am. Well. That was sleeping in for me. I hadn’t really meant to sleep this late . . . but I was so tired, and my head was pounding . . .

Might as well get up.

I groaned, pulling myself up to a sitting position, and looked around the room, feeling unmotivated. I finally managed to drag myself to my bathroom and wash up a bit, trying futilely to become more alert. Then I slumped back into my room, and looked cross-eyed at the contents of my closet. I finally pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. About as low-key as one can get.

I didn’t feel like doing anything else but.

The Pond was quiet as I went through the halls, trying to decide what to do now. I realized that I should probably get some breakfast but my stomach, on top of everything else, felt queasy, and the thought of trying to choke down some of Nosedive’s sugar-additive cereal or maybe dry toast did not agree with me even in theory. I headed for the main level, choosing instead to find out where everybody was.

Mallory was nowhere in sight but Nosedive, of all unexpected things, was sitting up at Drake One, in a position not unlike the one I had encountered Duke in the night before. I swallowed hard.

“Hey, ‘Dive,” I said softly as I walked up behind him.

“Hey,” he answered absently as he tapped at the keyboard.

“Video game?” I asked finally, not knowing what else to say.

“No.”

“Ah.”

After a pause, I heard him say quietly, not looking up, “It’s a tracking-device program.”

“A tracking device?” I asked, surprised. “Why would you----Nosedive! What are you doing, exactly?”

A sort of guilty smile came over Nosedive’s face as he finally looked at me. “Tracking Duke.”

“What?”

“I thought you might get a little worked-up about this,” he grinned.

I refused to get sidetracked off the issue. “How can you be tracking Duke?” I demanded. “He left his comm behind, and he shut down the transmitter on that DuckCycle almost first thing when he got it. What’s left to track?”

“Tanya----”

“I should have known,” I muttered.

Nosedive gave me an odd look. “----Tanya put trackers in all the comms and stuff, you know that . . .”

“Yes . . .”

“But she slipped a few emergency trackers inside some of the less obvious places.”

“Like?” My eyes were glowing, I could feel it, and I wasn’t even wearing the Mask.

Another guilty smile from my brother. “Ah . . . l-like Duke’s utility belt?”

“ERUGH!” I yelled, whirling in frustration. Duke leaving the team was supposed to have gotten him out of my life, not encouraged him back into it  “Why didn’t I know about this?”

“Tanya didn’t want to tell you, Bro.” Seeing the anger mounting in my face he hastily continued, “In case something went wrong, you know?  She wanted to have some sort of back-up. She told me that I should tell you if there was ever an emergency and we needed to track the others somehow; but other than that, to keep it a secret, so it would be there if we need it. I mean, can’t you just see Duke if Tanya told him that she had dared to touch his belt and put a tracking chip into it?  He would have totally flipped out, man!  You know how he gets about his gear and stuff.”

“How did she manage to get it in without him knowing?” I demanded gruffly.

“I don’t know----she, ah, she never told me that part,” grinned Nosedive.

I paused to let the information digest in. I considered asking him where the other tracking devices were, but I had the feeling that would only end in a fight. So instead, I went for the other, more pressing, touchy question.

“Why are you tracking him?”

“Because . . . I’m worried about him,” he answered simply.

“Why?” I demanded sharply.

Nosedive suddenly turned himself around in the  seat to face me head-on. “I heard you two last night. I was hiding behind Drake One. I saw what happened, and I . . . I wanted to help him, Bro.” He looked apprehensive, waiting to see how angry this was going to make me; but he did not break away from my gaze.

“Duke L’Orange resigned himself from this team. He isn’t a part of us anymore. And he is no longer our responsibility.” My voice sounded so harsh I wasn’t even sure if it was me.

“Duke didn’t ‘resign’, you threw him out!” shouted Nosedive, so unexpectedly that I flinched. “You threw him out, Wildwing!”

“No I didn’t!” I growled back. “Duke left of his own free will. You saw what happened, ‘Dive!  You were here!”

“I saw that you were so upset about whatever stupid argument you guys have been having that Duke chose to leave the only friends he has on the entire planet and wander around for the rest of his life.” Nosedive had grown steadily quieter as his words went on. “He has nowhere to go, Bro----no one to go to. I don’t know what you guys were arguing about it, but . . . it couldn’t have been worth all this, could it?”

“I . . . I don’t think I can answer that,” I said quietly.

Nosedive looked away.

“Look,” I exhaled at last, “I----Where is he right now?”

I could see Nosedive considering whether or not to answer me. He finally managed, “He’s on the outskirts of town. At an old warehouse.”

“Abandoned?”

“ . . . Yeah.”

“How long as he been there?”

“He rode around awhile last night, but he was at the warehouse by four-thirty this morning.”

How long have you been at Drake One, Baby Bro?  “All right,” I said out loud. “You can keep an eye on him. Tell me if anything unusual happens there.”

“All right,” Nosedive replied hesitantly. “Hey, where are you going?”

I turned back to look at him from the edge of the platform. “I think I’m going back to bed.”

My brother smiled faintly and resumed his keyboard clicking.

I trudged my way back to my bunk and to the bed, stretching out on top of the unmade pile of sheets. I was too tired to even rearrange them. Instead, I simply reached over to the nearby chair and draped a wraparound over myself.

Looking wearily at the ceiling, I wondered why I had told Nosedive to tell me if anything strange happened to Duke. I wasn’t even sure what my definition of “strange” was. After all, the tracker only registered where the utility belt was----if something happened to Duke (not likely) or if he left his belt behind (even more so), no one would be able to tell. And yet . . .

I had drifted into an uneasy sleep before the thought could be completed.

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

The day passed slowly----well, not for me so much I coasted in and out of a dazed sleep, not quite dreaming, not quite awake. In fact, when Mallory’s shouting finally woke me late that afternoon, the only real improvement over my mood was that my headache was gone. But I was still tired, still weary, still nauseous, and I had a funny taste in my mouth. This was not helping me to feel any more optimistic about life and our current situation in general.

But Mallory was still shouting . . . and running . . . and suddenly she was pounding on the key panel outside my room. I hadn’t bothered to lock the door and the metal slid open. A panting Mallory dashed inside, going over to the bunk and half-dragging me onto the floor.

“Mal----wait----” My legs tangled in the overwrap and I nearly fell off the side of the bed.

“Sorry . . . but . . . Duke, c-come quick . . .” Mallory’s strength never failed to amaze me, and now she was pulling me off and up from the floor, the overwrap falling to my feet. She pulled me out of the room, as I tried to figure out, in my sleep-induced daze, what the feathers seemed to be going on.

We dashed to the main level and joined Nosedive at Drake One. I noticed that both of them were in battle gear. I shifted uncomfortably in my sweats and tried to focus on the screen.

Both of them had begun talking at once, and I finally held up a hand. “WAIT!”

They instantly quieted.

“All right,” I said then. “Now, what is going on?”

“It’s Duke,” breathed Mallory, looking at the screen.

Figures. Of course it is. Cosmic payback and all that. “What about him?”

Nosedive tapped at the keys frantically and began talking in a shaky voice. “Okay, look: this energy pattern right here, this is the transmitter waves from the tracker chip in Duke’s belt, all right?”

“Yeah,” I said gruffly, watching the golden ripples stem from a point towards the corner of the screen----Duke must still be at that warehouse on Anaheim’s outskirts. “So?”

“Well . . . this,” and the screen suddenly shifted so that red ripples were emitting from a point almost on top of the golden point, “Is teleportation energy.”

I was struck by a dumbfounded silence. It was finally broken by Mallory, her voice trembling slightly.

“Dragaunus’s goons found Duke.”

“. . . No . . .”

Without another word, I clenched a fist to my chest and transformed in a swathe of golden light to battle gear. When the gleam had receded, I looked back up at Nosedive and Mallory----and made a split-second decision.

“This is my fault,” I told them. “I’m going for him alone.”

“What?” Mallory practically yelled.

“NO way, Bro, you can’t do this by yourself!” Nosedive cried at the same time.

“This is no one’s fault but my own,” I said, looking at them keenly. “And I’m the only one who should risk themselves to fix it. I can do this. Stay here. If I’m not back when Grin and Tanya get here, you can come after us. But not before then.

I heaved a heavy breath. “I’m going to go get Duke back.”

“ ‘Wing!  Don’t do this!” Nosedive called after me, a strange note in his voice. “You shouldn’t do this alone!”

I turned back and placed my hand on his shoulder. “I gotta, ‘Dive. I owe it to Duke. But this is for me and him to settle. I don’t know what’s going on----but my first responsibility as leader is to protect the safety of this team. And I refuse to jeopardize all of you for a mistake I made.”

“But----” Nosedive could see my point, but it wasn’t making it much easier on him.

I suddenly grabbed him in a hug. “I’ll be back, ‘Dive. I promise. Okay?”

“Yeah,” he sniffled, drawing back. “And you better bring the Duke-meister, okay?”

“I will,” I replied gravely.

“Wildwing----” Mallory began.

“Yes, Mallory?”

“You and Duke watch your backs, all right?  And you let us know if you need us.”

“I promise.”

Without another word, I raced to the door, hearing Nosedive call me a final, “Be careful, Bro!” after me.

In moments, I was racing on one of the DuckCycles towards the old warehouse that was blipping on the Cycle’s tracking screen. It only took two minutes of riding for me to develop a suspicion as to where this was headed, and seven minutes of driving to confirm my suspicions.

When I pulled up quietly behind a nearby building, my target of interest was the same rotting factory where I had confronted Duke only a week before.

Great. Just wonderful. Exactly what I need----further reminder of what a schmuck I’ve been.

Shaking it out of my mind, I carefully swung over the side of the bike and dashed to the corner, peering out at the warehouse where I had been just a week before.

I knew that the building was old and rotting, but still fairly stable. What would Duke be doing here? . . .

No time for those kinds of questions now. There were more important issues at hand.

I raised my hands to the Mask and scanned through the building. Only one reading picked up----a form on the roof of the building, but on the side furthest from me, my view blocked by the overhang shed over the steps leading up to the top.

Duke. Alone.

Now what?

Well, just because Duke was alone now didn’t mean that the Saurians hadn’t been there twenty seconds ago. Drake One had never given an inaccurate reading----no reason to start suspecting incorrect data now. I exhaled deeply, then made my way cautiously forward.

Once inside, I turned immediately to my left, ignoring the warehouse itself, which was full of bits and pieces of rusting and rotting machinery. Instead, I pushed through the door, leading to several long flights of stairs, and made my way towards the top.

At the door leading to the outside of the roof, I hesitated a moment, then quickly activated the Mask again. Duke was still alone, in relatively the same position he had been in moments before. Well, there was no help for it now. Before I could rationalize away from it, I swung open the door and stepped silently out into the open.

Well, almost silently.

The door hadn’t even gotten halfway shut before he was coming towards me. “Who’s there?” I heard him demand harshly, and then he turned the corner and saw me.

It took a moment for my presence to register to him, and his face drained of all color as realization sunk in. When you’re covered in feathers, skin difference is hard to measure, but the blood had run from his face so completely there was no mistaking it. He looked . . . he looked almost horrified.

I didn’t know what to say, so I simply looked at him and said nothing.

“Wildwing . . .” he said at last. “No . . . what are ya doin’ here?”

Good question, I thought to myself wryly. Out loud,  I answered, “I-I . . . Nosedive has been tracking you, and when Drake One picked up teleportation energy, I . . . well, he was worried about you, and I said I’d go see what . . . happened . .  . because I didn’t want him to get hurt coming out here to find you . . .” Duke was looking increasingly distressed by the moment and my loss for words grew as he stared at me, definite fear in his gaze.

I had never seen such real fear in him before.

“Wildwing, ya hafta get out of here. Now.” Steel was edging in his voice.

“What?” I suddenly exclaimed. “After all this, and here, the two of us, now . . . and all you can say is, ‘Get out of here?’ Have you lost your mind?”

“No, but you’re gonna loose somethin’ more than t’at in a minute if ya don’t get outta here!” Duke finished harshly, half-shoving me back towards the door. I pulled away at him roughly.

“What are you doing?” I half-laughed, I was so struck by the irony of the situation. “I think we need to talk, Duke. Thinking that Dragaunus’s goons were after you, it really made me realize how much your friendsh----”

“Get out of here before it’s too late!” Duke yelled, still trying to propel me for the door. I picked his hand off of my arm and released him, still glaring.

“Come on, what’s going on?  What’s the hurry?” I demanded, yanking my arm from his grasp once again.

And suddenly, green glowing forms began to materialize a few feet in front of us. In recognizable shapes.

Siege. Wraith. The Chameleon.

Without waiting for another word, I leapt for the overhang shed, grasping Duke’s wrist and dragging him with me. We were out of sight behind it before they had finished teleporting.

“Come on!” I whispered to Duke, gesturing towards the door. “If we go quietly, I think we can----”

Duke turned to me, the red lines across his throat and over his eye gleaming crimson in the light of the late, overcast sky. “You have five minutes ta get outta here. Use the time well,” he hissed at me.

Then he simply walked past me and out in full view of the lizards. “Thought ya’d never get back!” I heard him say in a simpering tone as he walked closer.

And then I understood. All too well.

You back-stabbing murdering TRAITOR!! . . .

“Forgive us, Mr. L’Orange, but it is rather hard to summon fifty thousand dollars on command, even for Lord Dragaunus,” I heard Wraith answer smoothly.

Every fiber of my being screaming for revenge, I slid closer and finally peered around the side of the building, just enough to see what was going on. 

“The question,” Siege was leering, “Is whether or not YOU really got those access codes to the Pond like you promised.”

No . . .

“ ‘Eah, I got ‘em right here,” said Duke, pulling a slim, flat rectangular computer chip out from somewhere in his battle gear. “Nah-ah-ah, not so fast!” he shot, yanking the chip out of Siege’s reach. “Let’s see the cash first, all right?”

The Chameleon looked up at Duke with widened eyes. “Aww, isn’t our word good enough for you?”

“No,” Duke drawled, “It’s not. I’ve learned a lot about false loyalties in the past couple a’ days and I don’t trust anyone’s word. I wanna see the proof.”

You sell-out . . . you murdering, treacherous, sell-out . . .

Wraith sighed with obvious distress at the difficult trials he face in life, but he nodded to Siege. Siege grunted and pressed a button at his left wrist. A moment passed, and suddenly the Saurian Overlord himself materialized in front of them.

“Dragaunus,” Duke murmured, looking a bit shocked. A gleam of something, I wasn’t sure what, flickered through his gaze. Not fear, but . . . It was gone too quickly for me to determine what it was.

He replaced it with a cocky look of easy malice. “All right, so where’s the cash?”

“Right here, L’Orange,” Dragaunus said calmly, revealing a standard leather briefcase in one hand. He placed it on the ground, then nodded to Duke. “I trust everything is up to your . . . standards?”

“Ah, let’s just see about t’at, all right?” The older duck answered.

“As you wish,” the Warlord nodded. “Just . . . don’t try anything. I would be sorely disappointed if you went back on your deal.”

“No worries about t’at.”

Duke rubbed his hands together then, good eye gleaming, and went to one knee. He unlatched the case, murmuring appreciatively at the money. I swallowed hard; I could easily believe that there was fifty thousand dollars in that suitcase. Enough, I thought bitterly, to support Duke for quite a while.

“Mmm-mm-mm-mm-hmmm,” said Duke, his eye gleaming. “Yeah, this looks about right!” He put out a hand to riffle through the bills, but Siege slammed the case shut and hauled it out of his grasp.

“Hey!” Duke shouted, rising to his feet. He whirled to Dragaunus, glaring. “I thought we had a deal!”

“Not until you give us the chip!” snapped Siege. “Hand it over!”

Duke narrowed his good eye but reached back into his gear and pulled out the chip, his hand passing it towards Dragaunus.

“No!”

I wasn’t even thinking clearly about what I was going to do. It was just a reflex.

Hurtling out of my hiding place, I lunged at Duke, grasping at the chip in his hand even as I knocked the both of us to the ground. Both of us cried out as we hit the hard cement. My full weight still on him, I slammed our hands into the ground, cracking the chip in two. If that computer chip truly had the Pond’s access codes on it, then nothing else mattered-----

And then, suddenly, a hand grabbed me up by the throat, and I was hauled to my feet and face-to-face with Dragaunus.

Behind me, I could hear Duke give a wheezing gasp as my weight pulled off of him, and from the corner of my eye I could see him clasping one hand around his lower ribcage as he began to pull slowly to his feet. His eye was shut in pain; I knew that his ribs were still bruised and battered from----from our last encounter on this rooftop.

I didn’t care. Dragaunus, evidently, didn’t care either.

“Well, well, well, Wildwing himself,” the Overlord leered at me. His grip around my throat tightened, and before I could even begin to reach for my puck launcher, Siege had grasped my wrists behind me, yanked off my battle gloves, and bound my wrists together with a course rope. He tossed the puck launcher to Dragaunus, who had released me the instant my hands were tied, and then unlatched my chest armor, leaving me defenceless and exposed to whatever it was that Dragaunus might have planned for me. A feeling of genuine fright shot down my spine.

But he did not have the chip. The Pond was safe. The team was safe. Nosedive was safe.

Dragaunus leered over me, eyes narrowed, fury evident in every feature. Fury, and a certain sense of cold enjoyment.

So be it.

“I never expected to see you here,” Dragaunus hissed. He pushed me backwards, forcing me to step back, so at that I was backed up against the edge of the wall, acutely aware of the thirty-foot drop behind me. “You are going to pay dearly for destroying that chip. No matter. I’m sure your former teammate will be happy to help me find my way into your Headquarters some other way. In the meantime, it will be a privilege and a pleasure to dispose of you.” He laughed then, his hands poised at my shoulders to push me over the waist-high ledge.

“STOP!”

The Overlord turned to see Duke standing behind him, one arm still held at his ribs, his good eye glittering strength, his posture one of challenge.

Dragaunus took a step towards him, and I began to struggle against the bindings. My armor and pucklauncher were lying in a heap only several feet away. If I could just reach the launcher----

“I hope, for your sake, that you haven’t had a change of heart, L’Orange,” the Overlord growled, his tail lashing.

Duke managed to straighten to his usual full-standing posture, gently lowering his arm from his ribcage. After a moment, his face relaxed from the expression of pain, and a look of evil enjoyment came to his face. “Nothin’ like t’at,” he smiled slowly.

“Then what is it?” Dragaunus demanded.

Duke’s smile widened as he looked at me. “Let me kill ‘im.”

My heart nearly stopped. And yet, after that initial moment of shock, I was not surprised. Of course. I should have known.

Dragaunus stared at Duke for a moment, as startled as I initially was, then looked back at me----taking in my expression of sorrow, my head bowed in acceptance of defeat. And he started to laugh; a cruel, mocking laugh that cut at me.

The Overlord reached out and I visibly flinched from his proximity. Undaunted, he pulled DuCaine’s Mask from my face. I winced at the thin sliver of fiery pain that ran across and down my face and through my bill, one that always came when someone besides myself took the Mask off of me. I glared at him, furious, but said nothing.

“I don’t think you’ll be needing this any longer,” Dragaunus grinned, twirling it lightly on his fingertips. “Hopefully our ally here will be willing to use it for us.”

“Not yet,” Duke replied archly. “Ya can take it after he’s dead. But . . . leave it on while I kill him. For old times’ sake.” The cruel smile, like none I had ever seen on him before, was spreading across his face.

“Very well,” the Saurian sighed, replacing the Mask on my face and sending another pressure of pain lancing across my bill. “As you wish. Go ahead----enjoy yourself.” Dragaunus continued to laugh to himself as he stepped back, leaving the path between Duke and myself empty.

“I’m gonna enjoy this,” Duke hissed, his tone deep, as he stepped towards me. He stopped directly in front of me, still smiling.

“You murderous, treasonous back-stabber,” I whispered, my voice shaking with fury. “You’ve betrayed me, the team, your entire home----I want you to know that if my wrists weren’t tied right now, I’d strangle you with my bare hands. You deserve to die.”

“I know.” And his voice was still mocking, but as he looked at me hard, his face out of Dragaunus’s line of vision, a sudden look of tired pain fell across his face, making his words almost . . . sincere.

I looked at him closer, studying him, then spat directly into his face.

Duke wiped the back of his hand across his eyes and beak, clearing off the spittle, and he looked at me with an intense expression of something . . . unreadable. But I had no compassion left for him. He was betraying us all; and I could only hope that what I had done would help the team for that much longer. My heart ached.

He stepped towards me then, placing his hands at my back as if preparing to shove me from the wall. Then I suddenly felt the flat of a blade against my hands----and the ropes were cut free. I didn’t dare to move, but simply looked at him, my expression unchanging.

“Tuck up when ya hit the ground,” he hissed. “And run. I’m sorry.”

I looked at him closely----he was shaking slightly, and his good eye was glimmering with unshed, carefully controlled tears. And I didn’t understand what was going on.

“It’s time, Wildwing,” he hissed, but his expression was unchanging. I barely noticed Dragaunus leaning forward eagerly. “Time ta end all this. Time to pay back what you’ve down to me.”

He looked across at me, a single tear falling slowly down his face and onto the edge of his beak. “Goodbye, Wildwing,” he said, and his voice was so low I couldn’t tell if it was shaking or not.

And without any warning, he flung me over the edge.

I screamed on the way down, panicking, although some small reflex gave me enough warning to tuck my head forward into my chest. My arms, relieved of their bonds, flailed in alarm, but at the last moment I wrapped forward, praying, even though I knew there was nothing to save me now----

And landed, with an anguishing explosion, into a pile of heavy cardboard. It wasn’t a well-stacked pile and the moment I hit it, well, there wasn’t enough to keep me from going through and into the cement below. But it was enough to keep the blow from being quite full-force.

I’m alive . . .

I caught sight of Duke looking over the edge after me, and then his head withdrew the moment he saw me begin to move. I paused and looked up for a moment from my prone position, stunned and with pain shooting through my whole form, as I tried to figure out exactly what had just happened here.

Then I suddenly collected myself and pulled myself up, trying not to make too much noise least the Saurians hear me. I gasped and winced, looking down to see a shallow, long tear in my left arm, blood flowing down my forearm. I clutched at the wound, hissing against the fiery pain . . .

Duke knew those boxes were there. That was no accident. But why were they there? Why would he----

It came together all too quickly.

He wasn’t going to give them any access codes. It was a trap; a ruse. And he was going to escape. He was going to jump onto these boxes. And I, I don’t know why, but----

From high up on the roof, I suddenly heard yelling voices. No----

Shouted exclamations. Thuds and sudden steps. The hum of a firing lazer gun. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven . . . And then the shots stopped, a sudden metallic singing could be heard (Duke’s sabre!)----and the unmistakable sound of fighting. Even from high up on the roof, I could hear the sounds of fighting.

But who’s fighting who, exactly . . .

Or, more importantly, who had lost? . . .

Not even bothering to waste time scanning with the Mask, I drug myself up clumsily, hissing with the pain in my arm, and dove towards the building. I dashed inside, turning frantically to the steps. I began to dash up them two at a time; but I suddenly fell back with a cry. Looking back, I suddenly caught sight of the ragged gashes on the legs of my suit; obviously, I had gotten more injured than I initially realized. My inner thigh only seemed bruised on my right leg by the fall, but as I looked at the long tear along the cloth of my left leg, I saw blood slowly welling against the material.

But there was no time for that now. Gritting my teeth, in pain just as much as frustration, I grasped the railings with my right hand and began to haul myself as quickly as I could towards the top. The going was slow; the fiery agony in my left leg burned with every step, and the dull throbbing in the other thigh didn’t allow me to put full weight down. Even though my right arm was merely hanging against my side, every heartbeat sent a fresh pulse of sharp pain jabbing through the forearm towards the shoulder. But I had to hurry, because Duke was up there, and I didn’t know . . .

I determinedly continued to climb up the four flights of stairs, my chest heaving and lungs burning as I finally drug myself up at the top, panting frantically as I clung to the top of the banister.

I took a deep breath and pushed the door----and stopped halfway, confused. For something, I didn’t know what, was blocking the opening, and the door refused to open farther.

Gritting my teeth, I shoved forward and forced against the door, at last pushing it far enough that I could at least squeeze through. I stepped through with a mighty heave that took the last of my energy with it. Exhausted, I looked down to see the motionless form of Wraith lying at my feet and blocking the door. I couldn’t really see exactly where that lazer shot I had heard must have entered him; but it was obvious that he was dead.

Lying several feet away from him and each other were the still bodies of Siege and the Chameleon. And across the roofway from them was Duke----and Dragaunus.

Duke’s lazer gun was no where in sight. But his sabre was drawn and activated, and he was striking out at Dragaunus. The Saurian had no sword, but he had cornered Duke towards the edge of the roof with a foot-long, thick blade that even now he was blocking and thrusting at Duke with every opportunity.

The older duck was in bad shape. Tears and lacerations were slashed into his battle gear----slashes at his chest, his elbow, along his arms and legs and back. The utility packs on the band at his left shoulder were gone completely. I couldn’t figure out at first why he held his left arm at such a limp angle; and then I realized that it must be broken. The two scores on his throat and the slash above his eye almost glowed in the light of the slowly setting sun. His face was set with a mask of pain----and determination.

For despite all of this, he lashed out at Dragaunus still, battling him for all he was worth. Dragaunus, snarling, smoking, twisting with obvious discomfort at the lazer wound in his right shoulder, was blocking each of Duke’s steadily-weakening thrusts with one of his own. And I could see that the Overlord’s intention was not to stab Duke through----all he had to do was force him over the edge.

My battle gear and weapons were still lying in a heap by the edge----three feet away from the fight. There was no way I could keep the element of surprise if I went after that.

I hesitated a moment, and then . . .

Reaching up into a hidden pocket within my jumpsuit, I pulled out the silken-wrapped dagger, which I had kept with me all of this time. I had been clinging to this one bit of truth about my past; and now, it looked as though there was a reason for why I had carried it.

Please, this has caused so much pain . . . let it finally save someone now . . .

Flinging the blade from its wrappings, I snarled a cry and drove straight for Dragaunus, only hoping that I could make it the thirty feet across the roof in my current state, before it was too late . . .

I was nearly to them when Duke twisted his sabre at an odd angle that forced the Overlord’s wrist back. Dragaunus hissed as the blade was torn from his grasp and disappeared over the edge of the roof. Snarling, he suddenly turned to the side and lashed at Duke full-force with a blow from his tail. This was the last thing Duke expected----we had never seen Dragaunus do this----and he had no way to block the strike against his legs. Already exhausted, Duke took the blow to his legs full-force and collapsed under it, but managed to catch himself at an odd angle----so that instead of falling over the ledge, he merely dashed his side into it. He groaned and wrapped his good arm around himself, still crying out in pain.

Dragaunus turned just as I reached him. It was too late. I managed to slash out against his arm----I had been aiming for his heart----gashing a nick into the thick Saurian skin. But then the Overlord reached out one great hand to my throat, bending back against my wrist and forcing me to release the knife into his waiting hand.

“Well, well, well, so you’ve come back from the dead, Wildwing,” Dragaunus hissed. “I might have known now that you were alive.” I had never, ever, heard such vehement hatred from the Saurian. His eyes blazed into mine.

“My comrades dead, my only ally a ruined ship----and yet another double-crosser to contend myself with,” and he spared the fallen Duke a venomous glance. “I think it is only poetic justice that I do in the leader of the team that has caused my down-fall with the same blade that murdered his parents. Wouldn’t you agree?”

I gasped, even in his grip, and he leered at me, triumphant.

“Y-you know . . .” I breathed, shocked.

“Oh yes, I know all about it,” he laughed. “I had connections on Puckworld. And now, it’s quite fitting.”

I twisted at him furiously, his grip on my throat tightening. With a ragged breath I  spat into his face.

“Poetic justice indeed,” I wheezed, glaring at him still.

Dragaunus closed his eyes, then used a single motion to wipe tat his eyes and then backhand into my temple. I groaned at the shooting pain that shot through my head.

“Enough of you . . .” It was his only words, and then he brought back the dagger, eyes glowing real red, smoke shooting from his nostrils.

And roared, as Duke, barely upright, brought his sabre crashing down. It was a badly-aimed blow; he was too weak for precision. But it found a mark. Dragaunus released me and the dagger as Duke’s sabre slashed into his shoulder, deep red blood pouring from the wound.

I dared a glance to the side. My puck launcher was only several feet away from me now. If I could just reach it . . . I began to drag myself to my feet, my head pounding.

Duke raised his sabre to strike again but Dragaunus blocked out with the metal plates along his forearm and hooked the sabre hilt with one great hand. Still holding onto the sword, Dragaunus’s other hand shot out to grasp Duke’s left arm against his next swing and pulled upward, twisting against the bone. Duke screamed as the Overlord wrenched into his left arm, jerking it back at an impossible angle that would have caused him agony even if his arm hadn’t already been broken. Pulling the sabre aside, Dragaunus rammed his fist full-force into the duck’s already-bleeding temple, sending Duke crashing into the low wall only several feet away from me.

Dragaunus flung the sabre towards my other side, away from Duke, and stepped forward. I had only just been able to come to a standing position and reach out for the pucklauncher only inches away but it was too late----Dragaunus was on me. My hand shot out frantically for the dagger at our feet, but the Overlord had already swooped it up. Beside me, Duke coughed and gasped, his lungs rasping as he clung with his good hand at the wall behind him, trying to find a support.

I pushed against the wall, as if trying to escape over the edge, but Dragaunus reached out and grasped me by the throat of my jumpsuit. He yanked the cloth forward, pulling me off my feet completely, glaring into me, a faint trickle of blood falling from a cut on his forehead that I hadn’t noticed before. I struggled against his grasp, but from the fall to the ground, and now this blow to the head, I had no strength left. Exhausted, I looked up at him with tired, fiery eyes,  submitting to fate even as I challenged out to him.

He released his hold on me, but I remained upright, still looking at him head-on. There was no where to go, backed up against this wall-----with Dragaunus only feet in front of me, I had lost all options. But I would not back down.

“You’ve lost,” he screamed into me. “I hope you found your life worth-while.”

The blade came forward, the seven inches of cold iron directly headed for my heart. Even if I had been able to run now, there was no where to run to. I was trapped. Nosedive, I’m sorry----

There was no time to knock the dagger away. There was no time to reach out for a fallen sabre, to parry the thrust or stop the attacker. Nothing left.

Except.

Duke.

Duke, throwing himself up and forward, using the last of his strength in this one mighty heave, to cast himself in front of me, head turned, arms spread to ward off a possible glancing blow onto me.

No time to shove him back out of the way. The jagged-toothed dagger plunged forward----sinking directly into Duke’s chest.

Duke cried out in a howling keen that cut through the winds and the sky like a searing, dying fire. He fell back a pace, one hand pushed to his chest, his other broken arm flung back, his chest heaving, his good eye squeezed shut, his back arcing in an arch of flame and anguish.

Dragaunus stopped, his expression almost confused, with the dagger blade pushed halfway to the hilt into Duke’s chest, next to his heart. The Overlord paused for a moment, looking at the handle. And then Dragaunus smiled, and his hand pushed forward. Duke’s good eye wrenched open and he gasped hollowly as the knife sank further into his chest. And further, and further, as Dragaunus sent the dagger on the rest of its path into Duke. The Saurian leered, grinning madly, as he continued to drive the blade deeper and deeper; and every gasping wail that Duke cried in shattering anguish brought another smile to the Warlord’s lips; and every increasing length of metal that sank into the innermost recesses of Duke’s heart brought a gleam of sheer enjoyment to the Saurian’s eyes.

 The Overlord paused with the blade nearly complete in its journey, and he pulled forward just slightly on the handle, causing Duke to keel in a fiery gasp and look up at the Saurian in dying fire. Dragaunus leaned forward, so that his face was only an inch from Duke’s own. The older duck, fighting for breath in crying gasps, did not back away.

“You never changed,” Dragaunus hissed at him, “You sorry band of ducks never made a difference. I always knew you would come to this.”

“Yeah?” gasped Duke, choking----was it on salvia or blood?----and he suddenly bent his wrist back over Dragaunus’s, pushing into the Overlord’s hand and driving the dagger the last few lengths into his own heart, crying out in a hissing breath of agony as the blade stopped, buried to the hilt. He looked into Dragaunus’s eyes, his own hand still over the Saurian’s wrist.

“Y-you knew,” Duke breathed, “A-and so . . . did I.”

I could only gape in shock. For I knew that whatever had happened here, it was not about me, and it was hardly about Dragaunus----oh, Duke . . .

Dragaunus wrenched his hand out from under Duke’s, his eyes burning and disgusted. He stepped back, staring at the ex-thief with his hand clutched at the dagger hilt in his chest----and then the Saurian threw back his head in triumphant, roaring laughter.

And at last, the shock broke away just enough, and I felt adrenalin surge into me. I dived forward, my hand grasping the puck launcher only feet away. Putting one hand at Duke’s shoulder for support, I drew up my other arm and fired shot after shot at Dragaunus, screaming an unintentional cry of fury and pain.

He had activated his teleporter before the first puck ever reached him. He knew he had won for now, and there was no reason for him to stay and watch further defeat. To know of the defeat was all he wanted. His ringing laughter was left echoing through the winds even as he vanished.

I wanted to go after him; and as I couldn’t follow him, I at least wanted to launch myself at the spot Dragaunus had been standing at, so I could claw at the ground in rage and frustration, crying out for the revenge that had been denied me. But I couldn’t. Because Duke, groaning slightly, was collapsing backwards, the energy force draining from him in one great swell.

I dropped the puck launcher at my feet and caught him as he fell, swooping him up and carrying him past the scene of battle, away from the still bodies of the other Saurians, to an untouched spot near the far end of the roof. He cried out against every step I took, his hand still clutched at the hilt in his chest. When I reached the far end of the roof, I went to my knees and gently eased him to the ground, still cradling him in my arms.

“Duke, no . . .” the words came up my throat and were spoken before I could stop them.

His head fell against my side and his other hand, the one not clutching at the dagger hilt, slid forward. That arm was broken and he could scarcely move it; so I carefully took his hand in mine, gently holding his hand as he squeezed my own weakly.

I didn’t know what to *do*, now. This was too fast. Too soon. I wasn’t even sure what had happened How *could* this have happened,  and how could I save him, now? . . .

His hand in my grasp was weakening, and suddenly, I realized with a burning clarity, that I couldn’t save him.

“I-I’m sorry, Wildwing . . .” Duke whispered suddenly, his back arching as he weakly pulled up in crushing torment. Tears of anguish were sliding down his cheek, and mingling with the blood flowing from the dagger in his heart. “I-I am so, so sorry . . .”

“Duke,” I whispered again, my own eyes filling with tears. “I----”

“I k-know,” he gasped.

“No,” I said softly. I had been about to say something unexpected. “Let me . . . let me pull the dagger out, Duke.”

“Ya don’t want ta do t’at,” he choked, twisting his back in another spasm.

“I know I can’t save you,” I whispered. “Just----just let me take out this blade. It stands for so much wrong, and you shouldn’t have to die with it . . .”

Duke paused to take in a breath, at last managing to speak. “I know,” he choked. “I-I spent . . . s-so much o-of my life . . . tryin’ ta deny this, a-and what this s-stands for . . . I d-denied it f-from myself. I don’t . . . I d-don’t deserve . . . ta be rid of t-this . . . now. I-it’s what . . . I d-deserve.”

“You don’t want to die with this in your heart,” I whispered.

“I-I have no choice,” he wheezed. “I-it’s in too deep ta ever . . . be taken out . . . not now. T-too late.”

“Maybe,” I said, and suddenly I reached up with my free hand and pulled DuCaine’s Mask from my face. The tears flowed freely, falling to Duke’s chest and mingling with the tears and blood already there. “Maybe it’s too late for a lot of things. But Duke----let me take this for you. Please.”

The older duck looked at me for a moment, and my heart twisted: for the glittering strength and light that had always shone in his gaze was dimming. There was little time left, and it was breaking my heart.

Duke pulled his hand back several inches at his chest. And I swallowed hard.

I grasped the hilt in my free hand, trying to control my shaking. Taking a deep, hard breath, I paused for a moment to get my bearings----and pulled the blade from Duke’s chest in one long, swift motion.

Duke gave a strangling cry unlike any other I had ever heard. His whole body arched up with the blade as it pulled free. A pulse of shattering fire seemed to pour through him with the movement; and yet there was nothing I could do.

His hand tightened weakly over my own in agony. I glanced for a moment at the dripping-red dagger before hurtling it from my, shaking in revulsion and fury and grief. I looked down after a moment to see his hand clutching at the feathers beneath the wound, which was already welling and pouring afresh with crimson blood.

“Arhh . . . Th-thank you,” he managed after several moments. He was beginning to shake slightly.

“I failed you,” I whispered suddenly. The tears flowed down my face. “I mistrusted you, and now----I failed you as a leader. I let you get hurt . . . . like this. It’s all because of me.”

Y---ya didn’t ‘let me’, Wildwing,” he rasped. “I chose this. It had ta be this way. I . . . I would rather t-think of t-this . . . as the final end . . . ta what h-happened . . . with your parents. I-I forfeit this . . . t-to their memory.”

“Why?” I whispered. “This isn’t the end that was meant to be----”

“B-but at least . . .” he gasped, “I’ll lose ta you . . . and n-not ta Dragaunus. Wildwing----I’m sorry, ‘Wing. I am so, so . . . s-sorry.”

His entire body was shuddering as he struggled against racks of agony he had no control over. I felt something change in my heart, and I knew that it was almost too late to tell him.

“Duke----”

His hand clenched against my shoulder. His chest heaved again, and he arched up, crying out.

“S-sorry, ‘Wing,” he gasped then, and a single tear shining of starlight fell down his face, over his beak, and dropped to my chest. “I-I had my chance f-for apologies a-and forgiveness. I h-had my chance . . . for explainin’. I . . . I d-don’t deserve it n-now. J-just . . . just d-don’t let the denial . . . get you too. Y-ya can try ta . . . pretend it d-didn’t happen . . . but t-the only thing . . . you’ll feel . . . is . . . is the fire.

“A-and the f-fire, Wildwing . . . is w-what it was all . . . a-about.”

And then his body sank back, his entire form fading and sagging into my arms.

And everything I had wanted to say . . . was gone.

He was gone.

And for the first time in so long, I realized just how much he had meant to me. A teammate, a mentor, and one of my best friends. And before I could forgive him something, he had given up his life for me. And now . . . it was too late.

And how I mourned for that. For myself. And for Duke.

Lowering my face into the clean feathers of his chest, I let the tears and intense weeping stream out as I shook and sobbed at what I had lost. At what Duke had lost for me.

And as I rocked his still body back and forth, holding him there in my arms, I could only think of the forgiveness I had felt for one moment----the forgiveness that I had not understood, but had felt nonetheless----and that had come too late to tell him.

That was truly a burning fire.

I don’t know how long I stayed up there, weeping and trembling as I gently cradled his still form. A sudden glint of light that flashed into my eye was what finally drew my attention. I looked up to see Duke’s sabre lying across the roof----the last beams of the setting sun had hit the hilt at a glinting angle that caused the sabre to almost seem to wink at me.

The weeping not letting up even a small amount, I softly lowered Duke to the ground, placing his hands gently over his chest. Then I reached over and picked up DuCaine’s Mask from where it was lying next to me.

I stood up slowly, looking down at the tired, pained, yet dignified face of Duke L’Orange. He was so motionless, a form that had once been so active and full of life that was now too still. I drew up, but did not try to stop crying. I carefully placed the Mask over my face.

When I had put DuCaine’s Mask on for the first time, back when we were fighting Dragaunus and I at last accepted my position as leader at the loss of Canard, there had been a fiery slash of pain across my entire face. It had not happened since that first time, not as long as I was the one to put the Mask on my own face. But this time, I felt again that lancing flame----and I knew just then how much I was grieving.

I crossed over to my battle gear and pulled on the chestpiece and battle gloves, latching them carefully in place. I hooked the puck launcher back into place at my side----and then my gaze fell on Duke’s sabre.

The hilt flashed with reddish-golden sunlight as I approached it closer. I bent down gingerly, looking at it with tear-streaming eyes.

It felt almost wrong to touch his sabre now----I had surely handled it before, but now, with its rightful owner gone . . . I felt guilty somehow, as if I was taking something that was not mine to take. But I knew that Duke would want us to have it, and I carefully reached over and picked it up in one hand.

I turned it back and forth in the dying rays of the sun, emotionlessly watching the way the light ran across the handle back and forth in a streaming pattern. Duke, I’m sorry . . . so sorry . . . I forgive you for everything . . . If only I could know what happened that day with my parents . . .

I felt a pulse of true sorrow run through me, like a tangible flame in my blood----

And quite suddenly, the flame glowed at the hilt’s opening and the fire blade flanged out, solidifying into the golden sword I had seen so often. Tiny slivers of bronze flame still ran along the blade.

There was a stunned moment of silence, as I looked at the sabre without thinking. And then a thought flashed through my mind.

How did I----

As soon as the moment of doubt entered my head, the blade glowed again, and the flame withdrew itself back into the hilt.

Standing up, I tucked the sabre hilt into the same pocket that had carried the dagger for so long. Never mind that now. For now, my thoughts were on the motionless form of the friend and teammate across the roof from me.

There was nothing else to do up here. With a final sigh, and with a feeling of tears still falling slowly down my face underneath DuCaine’s Mask, I stooped down to Duke and gathered him gently in my arms.

It was time to go.

I carried him across the roof, through the shed, down the long flights of stairs, out the door. I slowly crossed the emptiness of the rocky field the line of warehouses sat in----the DuckCycles could be brought back later. All I knew right now was that I needed to take Duke home.

The dying rays of the sun, just now beginning to fully set, illuminated my path as I bore his body back to our Headquarters, and the shock and grief that awaited the return. And as I felt his empty form in my arms, I could only cry softly to myself, willing this not to be so.

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

It was a long walk. A very long walk, clear across town. And to make matters harder, I was carrying Duke’s full weight in my arms.

But I hardly noticed any of that. It was a good thing I didn’t encounter anyone on the way back----I had the sense to stick to the back roads----so I didn’t have to worry about any people staring at a large duck carrying another large duck along the streets of Anaheim.

But I wouldn’t have cared anyway. Crying with a full-face mask is difficult to do, but I was managing just fine, and I wasn’t really thinking about anything anyway. The knowledge of death was hanging over me, with no way to get away from it, but I wasn’t giving any real words to my thoughts or feelings as I walked. Because if I did that, I knew I was just going to collapse with despair, and I had to get back. I had to tell the team.

I had to get Duke home.

Reaching the Pond at last, I pulled up to a weary halt, looking up at the building in much the same way I had done yesterday----was it only yesterday?----at the thought of having to confront Duke again. Now, there was nothing I would have given more to be able to confront him in any other way than this.

Leaning against the door, I pushed my way through and into our Headquarters.

I shoved my shoulder into the control panel, tapping in the code, feeling thankful that it was only a few buttons to press. I was reluctant to release his form for even a moment----I wasn’t sure if I would be able to gather him back up once I set him down.

The elevator made its way down to the top level, which, unfortunately, was only one floor down. It wasn’t enough time to think this through. If anyone was at Drake One----and considering how long I had been gone, they probably were----the screen would register two Ducks coming through the elevator shaft. What was I going to say to them?  How would I explain this?

The door slid open before I had any real answer.

Four anxious ducks were waiting for me. They must have seen the signal on the computer immediately and dashed over to the elevator to find out what was going on. Tanya and Grin were back from the trip----and Mallory and Nosedive must have told them what had happened. I wouldn’t be surprised if they had been arguing right now over whether or not to go out after Duke and me.

But all of that didn’t matter now, did it?

I stepped slowly into the room, too anguished to worry, too tired to think. There were no real answers for this anyway.

Nosedive had been saying something to Tanya as the door was sliding open, but he had turned along with the rest of the team instantly to regard me. And total shock, and horror, was on every waiting face.

I walked forward into the room, holding Duke’s body in my arms.

“Wildwing, what----Duke? . . .” Tanya said at last, her voice shaking.

I looked down at his face yet again. His arms were hanging limply away from him; his back arched and his head back in an expression of tired defeat. But the lined face, still and defiant, somehow had that remnant of flame that I knew so well in him.

“He’s dead,” I wept at last, my voice trembling with tears. “Duke is dead.”

“No! . . .” Nosedive whispered, his voice so full of shock and grief that it broke my heart all over again.

“I’m so sorry . . .” I cried softly.

Nosedive stepped forward, looking at Duke with an expression of disbelief. “No,” he murmured. “No, I don’t believe this is happening!” Tears were pouring down his face, his shoulders heaving. “How did this happen?” His voice was rising steadily.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered again shakily, because I couldn’t say anything else. I suddenly fell to my knees, unable to stand any longer, still cradling Duke.

Tanya came towards me, bending down, and gently put her hand at Duke’s throat. I saw her hand twitch as her fingers brushed against one of the unhealed lacerations, jumping away from the spot. She held her hand at one of the healed places on his throat for a long moment, then looked up at me, shocked.

“He’s gone,” she gasped, her voice barely audible. Tears began to slowly fall from her eyes. “No pulse. He’s gone.”

And suddenly she fell to her knees at his side, burying her face into one hand, the other hand gently resting at the side of Duke’s face. She began to weep, loud sobbing cries that echoed through the room.

The rest of the team stepped forward up to us. Mallory wrapped her arms hard around Tanya, and Tanya took her hand from her face to clutch Mallory to her in a large embrace----but Tanya did not remove her touch on Duke. I could hear Mallory whispering soothing noises to Tanya, but I could see the tears she was fighting so hard to control beginning to drop down her face.

Grin came up behind them both, great tears streaming from his eyes, as he knelt down and looked over at Duke, his face sadder than I had ever seen him before.

And Nosedive?  Nosedive came around to me, his face contorting, such a constant stream of tears pouring from his eyes that I wondered how he could see. He was gasping with sobs, as was I, and as he knelt down next to me, he suddenly threw one arm around me, his free hand gripping Duke’s shoulder, and all of us, as one, rocked back and forth, mourning, over the body of Duke L’Orange, our teammate and friend, unable to think, too able to feel, feeling trapped and lost at the loss of one of our own.

It was Mallory who finally spoke, without moving from her fierce hug for Tanya.

“What happened?” Her voice  was so strange I wasn’t even sure it was she who had spoken for a long moment.

“I found him . . . at the warehouse,” I said, my voice broken up by the shuttering sobs tearing through me. “He . . . had set a trap for Dragaunus . . . and I----”

The feeble control I had left finally slipped. “I did it!” I cried, shaking. “I distrusted him and distrusted him and I ruined him!  He was going to do away with the Saurians for good and escape----and I came along and got in the way. He died protecting me----he jumped right in front of me when Dragaunus,” my voice ripped through the name, making it a curse, “Was about to stab me. He gave his life to save mine----and all this time, I wouldn’t trust him!”

Tanya had dropped her glasses a long time ago so that the tears could flow more freely, and Nosedive was still crying so hard that I had my doubts that he had even heard me. Mallory had been trained long ago against crying, but I could see she was fighting to keep any kind of control over herself.

What had I done to this team?

Grin, a single tears coursing slowly down his check, came forward towards me. I went slowly to my feet to meet him, but I was barely staying upright----yet when he tried to pull Duke’s still form from my arms, I pulled away from him instinctively.

“Wildwing,” he said softly, a second tear following the first, “You have to let him go.”

“I did this . . .” I whispered. “I did this to him.”

He drew himself up and looked down at me steadily. “Duke chose this,” he said simply, and I shivered and stepped back, recognizing Duke’s own words to me only a short time ago. “He always chose his own path. In the end, this was the right one for him----and he made his decision.”

“I didn’t mean for this to . . .” my chest was heaving, the words coming out in gasps.

“We know that. Duke knows that,” added Grin. Even though he was crying so slowly, he looked so sad that it made me feel the guilt intensified.

 I looked down at the older duck’s drawn, pained, ever so determined expression.

Grin was right.

I looked up at him, my eyes crying sorrow and begging forgiveness even behind the Mask, and Grin reached forward and gently drew Duke’s body from my arms. Tanya stepped forward to gently lay a hand at the older duck’s heart, her shoulders shaking.

I fell to my knees as soon as the weight had been taken from my grasp, suddenly aware of the throbbing muscle ache of my tired legs, the burning in my left arm from carrying that burden for so long against an injury. Weariness shot through me, and with it came the true rush of my screaming grief. Pulling the Mask from my face, I buried my face into my hands, sobbing so hard I could barely breathe in-between each gasp.

I felt Nosedive wrap his arms around me, and I could hear his sobs even over my own. I pulled him into a fierce hug, rocking back and forth as the grief pulsed through me with each heartbeat. The two of us wept, and I could hear Tanya crying loudly, her voice muffled by Mallory’s shoulder as the younger duck wrapped her arms around her friend in comfort. Grin simply stayed there, holding Duke’s body before him, great tears trickling slowly off his beak to drop towards the floor as he cradled the ex-thief in his arms.

It was a long time before any of us could move from our frozen positions and begin to take care of necessary arrangements, but even as we did, the frozen grief in our hearts remained unchanging.

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

“Come in.”

It was later that next day, and no one was doing any better. Last night, Grin had finally carried Duke to the infirmary, to leave him there until we could actually manage enough coherency to figure out where to go from here. I had waited until everyone had left the room, pulled Duke’s sabre out from my chestplate, dropped it to the floor, and dashed out of the room, not even fully understanding myself why I needed to get rid of it. But I did.

We had all spent sleepless nights (at least, I had not gotten any sleep) in our respective bunks----and I had gotten up early the next morning to find everyone else walking around as if in a dream.

Tanya had announced over breakfast (or rather, over everyone pretending to eat breakfast without anyone actually eating anything) that she was going to get ready for Duke’s buria---that is, she was going to finish the finalities today. Even she knew that the statement made no sense, but no one cared.

After a lack of breakfast, Tanya went off to tend to Duke, Grin headed back to his bunk to meditate, Mallory left for a long walk, and Nosedive settled himself to sit on the couch in the main room with a comic book stuck open to page three before his face. But he wasn’t reading it----he simply kept the page there, alternately crying and staring. I looked up at him from across the room. I wanted to go over and help him, somehow.

But despite Grin’s words to me, the guilt still weighed too heavily in my heart, and at last I decided to see if Tanya needed any help. Not that I really knew anything to do in this situation----but I felt I owed her, and Duke himself, that much.

So now, I had knocked hesitantly on the door to the infirmary, and at Tanya’s flat command I slowly pushed open the door, dreading yet knowing what I would find.

Tanya was sitting on a stool, wearing her battle gear. I felt a bit awkward in my old sweats from the day before, but I didn’t really care at the moment----and I knew she didn’t, either. 

Her hair was tangled slightly and her eyes were as red as everyone else’s. She had removed her glasses and was holding them in one hand, crying steadily. She was sitting at one of the infirmary beds, Duke’s body lying in front of her. His hands were lying at his side, his head gently back. The thin red lacerations across his throat gleamed lightly in the room’s dim lighting.

“Hey,” I said to her softly.

She paused to wipe at her eyes with the back of her wrist. “I-I couldn’t do it,” she whispered, weeping. “I started to take his battle gear off, so that I c-could . . . clean him up and stuff . . . a-and I just couldn’t do it . . .” She stared at some point off in the distance, eyes wide with tears.

“It’s okay, Tanya,” I said, coming up behind her and putting my hands gently on her shoulders. “You shouldn’t have to do this.”

“Well, s-someone has got to!” she cried. “I-it’s my responsibility!”

“If it’s anyone’s responsibility, make it mine, for getting him killed in the first place,” I said through clenched teeth. I suddenly wished I had the Mask to hide my face behind.

“Wildwing,” she started, turning to look at me. “It’s not your fault----”

I cut her off gently. “I know,” I said softly. “But right now, I *don’t* know. It’s just how I feel. I can’t help it.”

“It’s okay,” she said, brushing at a tear on her beak.

I looked down at Duke’s still form, staring at the way the light curved around his beak and face. I still couldn’t believe this had happened----even as I stared down at him.

“He has scars everywhere,” said Tanya suddenly.

“What do you mean?” I asked, my mind too shot to make sense of it all.

“Scars. T-they’re all over his body.” Her voice got slightly stronger. “Not just . . . not just the wounds from yesterday,” and she faltered for a moment but kept going. “But everywhere. I saw, when I-I was . . . you know, trying to do something before you came in. H-he’s got marks all over his body.”

I gently tapped at the chip in his bill, my heart twisting. “We know that he had quite a life.”

“But we don’t know,” said Tanya then, breathing in deeply. “We don’t know w-what his life was like. Not really. Who he was, who his family and friends were----you know, d-did he even have any family or friends?  We don’t know. And a-all we have to go on now, i-is these scars on him. W-we don’t know anything.”

“I know,” I whispered, my heart aching. “I know more than I want to.”

Tanya looked at me suddenly, and her face fell slightly. “I’m sorry, Wildwing,” she said quietly. “I didn’t mean to put that on you.”

“You didn’t, Tanya,” I answered gently.

“I know that something was going on between you two,” she continued. “A-and you know, maybe some of this is my fault. For not speaking up. For not----for not making you two confront what was happening.”

“This was not your fault,” I said forcefully.

“Maybe not completely, but----look. I know more about secrets than you realize, Wildwing, and I know how painful betrayal is. And maybe if all of us had done something to help Duke bear whatever secret it was that he had, none of this would have happened.”

I looked at her, confused. “Maybe he should have told us a lot of things, but----well, I think that now. Before, I would have said that his business is his own.” I felt a sudden panic well in me as I realized what I had almost let slip.

Tanya looked at me hard, eyes shining. “You don’t have to tell someone that you carry a secret to make it acceptable to yourself. Duke needed to admit it to himself. I----Forget it.”

I hadn’t meant to make her feel worse. “No----”

“No, you’re right,” she said softly. “I-it’s no one’s fault. Duke did something incredible for you----he gave his life for you. It was a gift. Use it accordingly . . . and we can all stop placing the blame on each other.”

The two of us looked back down at him, tears falling down our faces. And after a long moment, I suddenly looked up at her.

“We should cremate him.”

“What?” Tanya demanded, and I can’t say I blame her----my statement came from nowhere.

“Cremate. We’re going to cremate him.”

“I-I never thought about that,” she said, her voice almost shocked. “Why?”

“Because,” I said, “You won’t have to do this,” indicating Duke, “And . . . you’re right, Tanya, we don’t know much about his past. We don’t know much about any of each other’s pasts. But I respect that. This is just . . . this is just our way of showing that it’s okay, that we don’t need to try and unearth the things that he kept to himself. We respect those secrets; we respect all of our secrets. No more hiding in the ground, though----just accept him for who he is and let him go free from it all. He would like that, having his ashes thrown to the winds. The last great freedom.”

She looked at me closely for a moment, then nodded. “I’ll tell Phil,” she said softly. “He’ll know who we can go to for this.”

“Okay,” I whispered, and then my face melted into tears. Tanya reached over to me, and I wrapped her in a embrace, feeling the shattering flame of her anguish through my own.

If only the secrets were over. I understood Duke’s cryptic last words to me now. Duke had kept his mystery buried so deeply within his heart that he had not even acknowledged it to himself. I knew what had destroyed him was not his keeping the truth of my parents’ death from me . . . but keeping it from himself. It is hard to carry a burden of truth by yourself----but when you refuse to admit it even happened, it becomes too much for any one person.

And I didn’t know if I could do it. But perhaps I could, because perhaps I had admitted the truth to myself. I had been able to forgive Duke----maybe I could forgive myself. And accept that I would never know exactly what had happened to Mom and Dad . . . but that Duke was sorry for it.

Would it be enough?

Wasn’t that what counted?

Tanya suddenly sat up from me, and reached around to one of her pockets. “Here. You, ah, you . . . dropped this yesterday.”

She pulled up and handed me----Duke’s sabre.

“I didn’t drop it exactly,” I began, but Tanya held up one hand.

“I know,” she said simply. “But take it.”

I looked down at the golden hilt for a long moment, my eyes welling up yet again with tears. “I can’t,” I whispered at last, looking down at her.

“Why?” she asked. “Don’t you think Duke would want you to have it?”

“I don’t deserve it,” I hissed. “He died before I could forgive him, you know. He apologized to me, but he knew he wasn’t going to last long enough for me to get through to acceptance, and he cut me off before I even had to try. Too late, he said, and he was right. But he deserved forgiveness; he was wrong to say he didn’t. He deserved it and I didn’t give it to him!”

Wordlessly Tanya pulled me into another hug, and I cried deeply at the loss I finally admitted to myself----the loss of forgiveness. Even more painful to withhold from giving then it was to have it withheld from being received.

“Wildwing,” said Tanya at last, drawing back from me slightly to look into my eyes, “I think Duke knows that you forgave him. Whatever heaven he’s in now----he knows. He knew w-when . . . when he died. It would have been in your eyes.”

“How could you tell that?” I demanded softly.

“I can see it there now,” she said at last, and a half-smile quirked at the edge of her beak, the tears still flowing.

I looked at her for a long moment, then at the sabre in my hands. Remembering yesterday, I raised the hilt in my hand and looked at Duke’s body, feeling the pain, acceptance, and forgiveness welling in my heart. And as I let that feeling course through me like flame, and into my hands and my fingers, I squeezed the handle somehow, and suddenly a golden glow came from the opening and the sabre blade burst forward and solidified into the shining metal.

I looked back to see Tanya watching me in open-mouthed amazement. “H-how did you do that?” she whispered at last. “I’ve been trying to corner Duke ever since we met him to tell me how he does that, but I never seemed to get the chance----”

“It’s just a feeling,” I said, looking at the sabre with weary eyes. “When I think of what Duke did for me, and how he had a flame of purpose that saved him somehow in the end, I just----can put that flame into the sabre, and bring the blade out. Something in my hand. I know that’s a dumb explanation, but----”

“It’s not dumb,” Tanya said softly.

Surprised, I looked down at her, and saw her tired, understanding face. I thought at her for a long moment, then carefully nodded my head in agreement.

My eyes filling with tears that fell slowly down my face, I looked at Duke again and then shut my eyes, keeping the feeling of loss and love running through me. And brought it back from my hand, and I felt the hum of the sabre, and when I opened my eyes the blade had vanished.

“Keep his sabre, Wildwing,” said Tanya, her voice slightly muffled with tears. “You’re the only one who can use it.”

I gently reached out to Duke and laid a careful hand over his heart for one moment, my shoulders shaking. Then I looked back at Tanya, not removing my hand from Duke’s chest, and nodded my head. Confused, she held her hand out to me. I carefully placed my hand with the hilt into her’s, so that both of us were holding onto the sword’s handle.

“Here,” I said softly, keeping the sabre in her grasp; one hand in her's, the other over Duke's battered heart . “I’ll keep it, but it’s a part of us all now. A part of the team. Let’s keep it safe. Because I think it’s going to take all of us to keep the fire alive.”

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