Visions
RATING: G
SUMMARY: Duçula has switched sides. Canard is dead. And Wildwing has to admit it.
WARNINGS: None
DISCLAIMER: I NO OWN. NO MONEY. NO SUE.
Nosedive shifted in his sleep, and Wildwing, sitting on the sofa in the boy's room, smiled softly. He looks so innocent, he thought. His eyelids grew heavy, and with a yawn, he stood, smiling at his sleeping brother and his wife. He opened the door quietly, and headed to his own room.
Reaching it, he lay down beside Mallory, and closing his eyes, fell into a dream.
Wildwing stood, laughing along with several other young ducks, all boys around his own age. He turned, and his jaw dropped to see behind him Canard, his usual self, smiling as if he'd never left to join the resistance, and things had never changed.
He spun, and all the world dissolved around them, and they again stood in the street they'd played hockey in together, to face this ghost from his past.
"Hello Wildwing." Canard's voice still sounded the same as the first time he'd met him. He felt an involuntary shudder run down his spine, and reminded himself that he was dreaming.
"Canard," He tried to sound rational. "You're dead." It sounded absurd the moment he said it, but his friend understood.
"I know, Wildwing. I just never got to really say goodbye." He reached his hand forward, and Wildwing grasped the hand of his old friend.
Wildwing felt tears come to his eyes. "I'm sorry, Canard."
"No." Canard shook his head. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left such a burden on you. I should've done something, I could've prepared you." Canard began to fade, and Wildwing reached desperately for him. "I'm sorry, orry, ry, y..."
Wildwing woke up, tears wetting his feathers. He silently rose, and soon stood on the roof of the Pond. The wind whipped his hair as he stood, wrapped in darkness and light, crying silently for those gone for all eternity, never to return.
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