(AN: This is my first piece of Darkwing Duck fanfiction, written because my mind needed a break from all the Powerpuff Girls romance I've been writing lately. Just an idea I've had for awhile and finally wrote down. My knowledge of DWD is not as extensive as other fandoms, and I'd appreciate critique. :)

Darkwing Duck and all related characters belong to Disney… although I guess I can claim ownership of Erica.)

O.o.O

"Pitch me another fast one, Honker."

Honker Muddlefoot obediently picked up the baseball, but slowly, holding it almost nervously in his hand rather than pitching it to his friend Gosalyn Mallard. "Gosalyn, I think you've—"

"I said pitch it!" cried Gosalyn, her eyes narrowing dangerously, as she held her bat in a menacing manner. "Pitch it! I'm not finished yet. Pitch it!"

"Gosalyn…" Honker pointed to the position of the sun, dully burning in the western sky. "Judging by the position of the sun, I would guess that the current time is 7:46. I promised my mother I'd be home for dinner sixteen minutes ago."

"Aw, come on!" sighed Gosalyn. "I'm just asking for one more. That won't take too much time. Besides, you're already late."

Honker looked down at the baseball in his hands, then back to Gosalyn. He gulped at the way her limbs were shaking with barely contained nerves and energy, energy from rage, rage that Honker feared she might let out on a living person if she didn't smack that baseball.

"Okay, one more," he finally sighed, bringing his hand back for the pitch. "But then we need to go home."

The pitch was a curveball, one with unusual speed considering that Honker—who had never been very athletic, especially not to the degree of Gosalyn—had been the pitcher. But with a crack of the bat, Gosalyn sent the ball flying, as if it were pushed along by her yell of rage.

"I DON'T WANT TO GO HOME!"

O.o.O

Gosalyn was just as late as Honker was, but she didn't even need to slip in the door quietly. Erica was screaming again. That baby was always crying about something. Morgana was pacing up and down the living room with Erica in her arms, making soothing sounds to her, and she hadn't even noticed Gosalyn come in.

Morgana Macawber had married Drake Mallard just last year, when Gosalyn was eleven. What an awkward day for her. Oh sure, she had been happy for her father… or at least she had tried. And she had always liked Morgana. The two had long had a close relationship. But Gosalyn had never thought of her as a mother or a motherly figure.

She wanted to be mad at Morgana, but she couldn't be. Morgana had simply fallen in love and gotten married, like many people in love do. She never acted like the evil stepmother stereotype… she was still Morgana. "I don't expect you to call me anything but Morgana," she had said to Gosalyn when the girl had mused that thinking of her as "Mom" would be hard to get used to. She kept involved in Gosalyn's sports, helped her with schoolwork, but tended to leave the disciplinary actions to Drake. Really, if you could chose anyone to be your stepmother, Morgana had to be near the top of the list.

Gosalyn didn't want to be mad at her father, but all she could think anymore was how he had ruined the perfect life they had. Well, okay, it wasn't perfect. When your father is an undercover crimefighter in a city that seems to hate him, it's hard to ever feel completely at ease. In fact, life could be tough sometimes. But Gosalyn had always known that life would have been tougher without her father, the only person to truly understand her after all of her biological family had died. They had had a special bond, the two of them, father and daughter, and Gosalyn had foolishly believed that nothing could ever change that.

But Morgana had. And now Erica had too.

"Do you need any help with her?" Gosalyn asked Morgana. Morgana snapped her head and let out a little cry of surprise.

"Gosalyn! You scared me!"

"Sorry," shrugged Gosalyn. "Anyway—" she had to raise her voice because Erica, due to her mother's sudden movement of shock, had started to cry louder— "is there anything I can do to help get her quiet?"

"I don't know what she's crying about," sighed Morgana. "I just fed her, she doesn't need a diaper change, I've been cuddling her for ten minutes— I've even tried a few spells on her, but those just made it worse! I just don't know. I don't know what you can do to help, either. I think I'd probably just try to handle this on my own…"

"That's alright," said Gosalyn, inwardly thankful. She hadn't wanted to try and figure out what was wrong with her snot-nosed baby sister anyway. Aaw, Erica, stop crying. You're not the one who's had everything she knew uprooted—again.

Gosalyn wasn't sure if she could take much more of this.

She hardly remembered her biological parents. She had been so young when they died. It was more scents—the smell of coffee reminded her of her father, although she couldn't remember why. And peppermints brought to mind a vague picture of her mother—perhaps she had often used peppermints? Gosalyn didn't know.

She could remember her grandfather, the stories he told her, the security, the love. But then that lifestyle had been torn up underneath her too. She had been orphaned twice at the mere age of nine years old. Most people wanting to adopt an orphan wanted a baby, one they could mold to their liking. Definitely not a feisty nine-year-old who psychologists predicted would be "troubled" for the rest of her life.

But Darkwing Duck had saved her, and Gosalyn fully believed that this time was for real. The third time was the charm. Perhaps it hadn't been a conventional solution—which would you chose, a mother and father with steady, normal jobs; or a single father whose job is one of the most dangerous and unrewarding there is?

But they had each other, and Gosalyn knew in her heart that she had saved him from a life of loneliness just as much as he had saved her. She had finally found someone who could give her adventure and stability at the same time; finally someone to provide both a lifetime of action and a lifetime of love. He was everything to her, just like she was everything to him.

Or at least, she had been everything to him.

Gosalyn had never really believed that her father's relationship was Morgana would ever actually get serious. It always seemed to be more light-hearted flirtation than anything. The lives of both Darkwing and Morgana were too full for serious romance. Besides, what did Darkwing need Morgana for? He had Gosalyn.

And yet here she was now, in competition with Morgana—now her stepmother—for her father's affections. It was a different kind of affection, true. But for two glorious years, Gosalyn had not had to share her father with anyone. Humph. Not true anymore. Now 537 Avian Way housed four, double its original inhabitants, and Gosalyn couldn't handle being pushed to the sidelines.

"Erica, how can I practice my catchphrases with you carrying on like that?"

Drake Mallard—Darkwing Duck, rather, as he was garbed up for his nightly patrol of the city—had seemingly swooped down the stairs and was peering fondly at his younger daughter, whose cries had subdued a bit upon seeing him. "Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked, unknowingly asking the same question Gosalyn had.

"No, no, I can handle it," Morgana said. "Besides, don't you have crime to bust?"

"Yes," said Darkwing dramatically, "the criminal element in this city never sleeps." He fondly ruffled the feathers on Erica's head. "Which doesn't mean you can get away with not sleeping either, young lady!"

"Hey Dad, can I come with you?" Gosalyn blurted out. "I've finished all my homework and I don't have anything else to do tonight."

"Not tonight, sweetie," said Darkwing. "You'd probably better help Morgana take care of your sister."

"But Dad… I need to talk to you," said Gosalyn, her face falling.

"We can't exactly have a heart-to-heart conversation when I'm defeating desperados, beating baddies, and catching criminals," said Darkwing. He reached over and ruffled Gosalyn's hair just as he had ruffled Erica's feathers.

"But this is important," she said sadly.

"I'm sorry, Gos, but it'll have to wait…"

Gosalyn turned her head away, feeling herself growing angry again.

"Tomorrow, I promise." He smiled at her. Gosalyn turned back and forced a smile in return.

And then, after giving Morgana a quick kiss, he was gone in a flash and spin of an easy chair.

"I'll be in my room," Gosalyn murmured, turning to the stairs and heading up them, without looking back to acknowledge Morgana's "Okay, I'll call you if I need you."

She hadn't meant to slam the door to her room, but slam it she did.

Stop being so selfish, she mentally berated herself. Dad's happy and that's all that should matter to you! Yeah. Except it was a slap in the face to realize that she seemed to have needed him more than he needed her, for he was willing to divide up her time with her with his wife and new daughter.

New daughter! Why did he need another one? Gosalyn pulled her pillow to her mouth and bit it to keep herself from screaming. Wasn't she more important to him than Erica? He had chosen her. He had made the choice to not only have a child, but to have her specifically.

And yet Erica was his own flesh and blood, his only true daughter.

No! I'm his daughter too—and I'm more like him than that crybaby ever could be! Gosalyn felt her pillow become dampened with tears.

"Oh, Dark, I don't think Gosalyn is very happy with Erica joining the family!"

Gosalyn had overheard Morgana say that to Drake just a week or two after Erica had been born. Standing frozen outside their bedroom door, she made no sounds as she heard her father reply, with a sort of helpless sigh, "Oh, you've noticed too?"

"Poor Gos!" Morgana sounded genuinely sorrowful, and Gosalyn realized that she somehow understood just what was happening to her, thus to her frustration making it unable to hate her. "This must be so upsetting for her—she's been used to just you and her, but with me and now Erica here, it must be driving her mad!"

"I wouldn't worry about her too much, Morg," said Drake. "You know my Gos. She's a firecracker! She'll bounce back—she's very strong-spirited."

"I'm worried all the same," sighed Morgana. "Don't you realize that I've come in and completely uprooted everything about her life?"

"She can handle it!" said Drake. "She's tough!"

"I know she's strong, but… oh, maybe I am too worried. I just don't want to make things difficult for her. I don't want her angry at me."

"She's not angry at you. Trust me, if she was angry at you, you'd know."

"What if… what if we had another child? I don't want Erica to be an only child."

"But she's not—she has Gosalyn."

"I know, but Gosalyn will be leaving school by the time Erica starts. I want Erica to have a sibling close in age, a playmate… but what if that alienates Gosalyn further?"

"Morgana," Drake said gently, "don't worry about Gos. It'll take some adjusting, and it won't happen right away, but I'm sure that soon she'll be grateful to have a mom and sister."

Gosalyn kicked the post of her bed, remembering that line of tripe her father had spewed out. She didn't need a mother or a sister, or a brother, or an uncle, or a third cousin, or whatever! She had her dad and that had been all she needed. She was happy when it was just the two of them. Why couldn't he see that? Why couldn't he see that Morgana and Erica were invading the happy life they had?

No, now YOU'RE the invader.

Erica had done nothing wrong rather than be born, which she couldn't help. She deserved to be with her biological mother and father. Her sister? Her sister was just an orphan who her father had taken in when he had been alone.

But Darkwing wasn't alone anymore… he had his own family now.

Maybe he really DOESN'T need me anymore.

Gosalyn closed her eyes, but that didn't stop the tears.