(Happy Ending AU, character epilogue for Quackity. Warnings generally for his memory and mental health are both kinda fucked and fluctuate from day to day. Scene two is a bad day. Also he married Wilbur because I mean why not. He just doesn't always remember that they married... Tilin and Bobby are also back and has multiple pronouns because fuck it happy ending au give everyone their kids back)
(Three days in the life of Quackity)
Quackity wakes up, and it is a good day. He knows who he is and where he is, even if he is alone. It's harder to remember his husband - Wilbur is on tour, he knows that he knows that - but he does and, as agreed, finds his wedding ring and puts it on. Wilbur wears his always. Quackity only wears his when he remembers their marriage, a signifier to let people know what to say.
He remembers Tilin, too, and where his son is - Roier is watching her, because wilbur is away and more often than not Quackity forgets simple things like feeding her, or that they exist. Everyone says it isn't his fault, that the Federation broke his brain.
Still feels like it, though.
He wants to see him, though, so he turns to the closet. The drawers are labelled with childish drawings of their contents, and Quackity pays it no heed as he finds what he needs. His favourite jacket is hardest to find, having been slung over a chair not put away, but he gets it eventually.
So he heads downstairs, finds the front door, and-
There's a checklist on the back of the door. He squints at it - a picture of clothes (he did that), a toothbrush (he doesn't want to, so he'll ignore it), and a sandwich.
Oh, breakfast. Right.
He turns back around, and finds the door to the kitchen. Inside he looks at the cupboards, each labelled with a photograph of its contents; he finds a bowl, and a spoon, and cereal. The fridge is a little overwhelming so he eats it dry, then doubles back to the door.
This time the only thing he cannot mentally tick off - either completed or knowingly ignored - is his keys. He grabs them from beside the door, and heads out.
Baghera is out in her garden. He waves and she waves back. Remembering which house is Roier's is a little harder, but there are not too many to try.
The first door he tries nobody answers. At the second is Roier, Bobby on his hip and the sound of Cellbit chasing Tilin and Richarlyson in the background.
"Hola," he yawns.
"Hola," Quackity replies. "Is Tilin here...?"
His kid must have heard him, because no sooner has he said the words than his little girl comes skidding around the corneer. He reaches out to him, and the child jumps right into his arms. Quackity holds them tight and swings him around, and wishes he could still learn things - like sign language to tall to his son, or at least how to read the books provided. People were always willing to read them for him, but it was never quite the same.
"Kids have the day off today," Cellbit appears with a freshly wrangled Richarlyson. "Did you want to come to the park with us?"
"Park?" He asks Tilin.
She nods, and so he nods too. He's a little thankful for it - he can't quite remember who else reads Spanish and would be willing to stay with the both of them.
Bobby waves around his sword, and Richarlyson pulls out a football. Tilin just hugs Quackity, and he grins.
"We should race!" He calls, already running off. "Come along!"
It's sunny, and they're laughing, and Quackity can almost forget that bad days exisf like this.
---
Quackity wakes up, and it is a bad day. His hands shake and his vision blurrs, and he does not know where he is. The walls are papered and his bed is comfortable and he knows without knowing that this place is not his.
Did they take him again? There's nothing white here, but that doesn't mean anything any more either. He scrambles off the bed, and darts about. Where to hude, where to hide, where to hide...
He hears footsteps on the staircase, and dives under the bed.
There's a knock on the door, then a pause, and then "Quackity? Are you up to seeing Tilin today? She wanted to show you her artwork."
"Who?" Quackity cough, and clears his throat. "Who are you?"
"It's Bad; Roier didn't want to leave the children alone, and Dapper is wih Ramon today."
"I..." the man says it like it means something. Quackity's head pulses, and he grips his hair tight. Little bloody pearls find their way to his nails, and still he cannot work it out. "I... What are you?!"
"... I see," Bad still does not come in. "I'll make you some breakfast! You can come and go as you like, just take a sword if you leave town."
None of the words make much sense; Quackity presses himself harder against the wall, and can do little more then hiss.
Stil, somehow, it scares the person away. He hears footsteps leave - and come back ten minutes later - and then leave again.
It's hours later when Quackoty dares test the door. It is, to his surprise, open. There's a plate of food, a glass of juice, and a jug of water infront of it. Nothing about it makes sense but... Quackity checks the coridoor - four doors, including this room, neatly carpetted and walls a nice dark green. Stairs leading down, nothing there.
Its confusing and Quackity hates it. Still he grabs everything and brings it back into his room.
He wants to escape, but the space is too big, too confusing; he eats instead, gathering strength for later.
Other people come by that day, never remembered and forgotten as soon as they are gone. Some try to talk - Quackity will not, fear in his throat - others just deliver more food.
He's confused, and he's stressed, and he's scared, and he doesn't understand anything. This isn't his home - he doesn't think he has a home, the only thing he remembers is drowning in a deep, dark abyss...
So he takes the offerings, but stays under the bed, waiting for the torture to start once again.
He falls asleep still waiting for the pain to come.
---
Quackity wakes up, and decides it must be a good day. There's a man in his bed - Wilbur, his lover - hogging the blankets and snoring. Quackity isn't quite sure where he is, but it's warm, and it's comfortable, so it must be okay.
And Wilbur is here! He cannot quiite remember why that is such good news, but he snuggles against his boyfriend anyway.
Wilbur groans, not really awake, but loops an arm over him. Quackity wriggles about too, getting comfortable and clinging to wilbur's shirt.
He might not be entirely sure what is going on, how he got here, or even who he is. But the room is warm and Wilbur is sleeping peacefully in his bed; it's a good day, and everything must have turned out okay in the end.
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