Where Have You Been, Duck?
When Duck disappeared, it took the Rogues a few days to realize something was wrong.
At first it didn’t seem unusual. Duck was independent and careful, the kind of person who could vanish for a while if something required their attention. Gotham demanded that kind of caution from anyone trying to survive in it, especially someone walking the line between hero and villain the way Duck did. A day without hearing from them wasn’t strange. Two days was a little odd. By the third day, however, the silence started to feel wrong.
Selina was the first one to notice.
She had been waiting on a rooftop near Park Row, half watching the city while a few stray cats circled her boots. Duck usually met her there when they had time, bringing cheap takeout or whatever street food they had managed to find. Sometimes they talked, sometimes they simply sat in comfortable silence while the cats prowled around them. It had become one of those quiet routines that neither of them had ever acknowledged out loud.
That night, though, the rooftop stayed empty.
Selina checked the time again, frowning as the minutes stretched into an hour. Duck wasn’t someone who simply forgot plans, and they certainly didn’t ignore messages. When she finally pulled out her phone and sent them a short text—You alive, kid?—she expected an answer within minutes.
At first she brushed it off. Duck was probably busy, or their phone had died, or they were working on something that required them to stay off the grid for a while. Still, the uneasy feeling in her chest refused to leave, and by the time she climbed down from the rooftop she had already sent two more messages.
Neither of them were answered.
The next night, somewhere across Gotham, Harley Quinn noticed something similar.
She had movie night set up in her apartment, complete with snacks piled on the coffee table and the hyenas sprawled across the floor like oversized pillows. Ivy had already claimed her usual spot on the couch, absentmindedly trimming one of the plants she’d brought with her. Normally Duck would have been there by now, squeezed into the corner of the couch with a blanket wrapped around their shoulders while Harley argued over which terrible movie they were going to watch.
Instead the seat stayed empty.
Harley checked the door again, expecting it to swing open at any moment. When another half hour passed without any sign of them, she frowned and pulled out her phone.
“Hey, Red,” she said, waving the screen at Ivy. “Duck text you today?”
Ivy barely glanced up from the plant in her hands. “No. Why?”
“They usually answer by now.”
Ivy paused at that, her expression tightening slightly before she reached for her own phone. A moment passed while she checked the screen.
“No messages,” she said quietly.
That was the moment the unease truly started to settle in.
By the fifth day, the entire Rogue network had noticed.
They gathered in the sewer tunnels Croc called home, the damp air thick with the smell of stone and running water. It wasn’t an official meeting, exactly. No one had called it. But one by one they had shown up anyway, drawn by the same quiet concern none of them wanted to admit out loud.
Croc leaned against the tunnel wall with his massive arms crossed, watching the others with a dark expression.
“The kid’s gone,” he finally said.
Selina immediately shook her head. “They’re not gone.”
“They ain’t checked in,” Croc replied, his voice low and gravelly. “Not once.”
That was the real problem.
Even when they were busy or laying low, they had a habit of sending small updates to the people they trusted. Sometimes it was just a quick message saying they were alive. Other times it was a joke, or a complaint about Gotham’s weather, or a picture of one of the stray animals they had found wandering the city streets.
Five days without a word from them was unheard of.
Harley paced back and forth across the tunnel floor, gripping her bat while she tried to think of explanations that didn’t end in disaster.
“Okay, so maybe their phone broke,” she suggested. “Or maybe they’re on one of those secret mission thingies.”
Riddler stood nearby with a tablet in his hands, rapidly scrolling through data streams and surveillance feeds.
“If that were the case,” he said slowly, “I would have found some trace of their device by now. It has not appeared anywhere in Gotham’s network for several days.”
Selina’s expression darkened.
“Unfortunately,” Riddler replied, “it very much is.”
The room fell quiet after that.
Over the next week, the Rogues searched for them in their own ways. Croc combed through the sewer tunnels Duck sometimes used when they needed to disappear quickly. Harley checked abandoned buildings and old hideouts they had visited together before. Riddler dug through surveillance systems while Freeze quietly monitored hospital databases across the city.
None of them found anything.
Which made the silence feel even worse.
Two weeks passed before Duck finally reappeared.
Selina was climbing through the window of her apartment when she realized someone was already inside. The lights were off, but a figure sat curled up on the couch in the dim glow of the city outside.
Her claws slipped from her gloves instantly.
“You picked the wrong apartment,” she said coldly.
The figure lifted their head slowly.
Their clothes were damp from the rain, their hair messy, and dark circles hung under their eyes like they hadn’t slept properly in days. They were wrapped in a blanket on the couch, staring at her with a tired expression that immediately erased the anger she’d been ready to unleash.
Selina crossed the room in three quick steps.
“Where the hell have you been?”
Duck rubbed the back of their neck awkwardly.
Selina stared at them for exactly two seconds before pulling them into a tight hug.
“You absolute idiot,” she muttered.
Duck wheezed quietly but didn’t pull away.
News of Duck’s return spread quickly after that. Harley arrived first, bursting through the door with enough force to rattle the walls before immediately throwing herself onto the couch.
They barely had time to react before she wrapped them in a crushing hug.
“You disappeared for two weeks!” Harley complained, gripping their shoulders as if making sure they were real. “Do you know how worried everyone was?”
Duck blinked in confusion.
Harley stared at them like the question itself was ridiculous.
“Of course we were worried!”
Ivy arrived a few minutes later, pausing in the doorway to examine Duck carefully before stepping closer.
“You look terrible,” she said bluntly.
“That seems to be the general consensus,” Duck replied tiredly.
And finally Croc had arrived.
He filled the doorway when he stepped inside, his large frame nearly blocking the hall. For a moment he simply stood there, staring at Duck like he needed to confirm they were really there.
Then he walked forward and wrapped them in a careful but firm hug.
“…Don’t do that again, kid,” he rumbled.
Duck winced slightly from the pressure but nodded anyway.
Later that night, after most of the Rogues had settled down, Selina finally demanded an explanation.
“So,” she said, crossing her arms as she leaned against the kitchen counter, “why did you vanish?”
Duck hesitated before answering.
“The Bats got close,” they admitted quietly.
“They started connecting things,” Duck continued, their voice softer now. “Patterns. Locations. If I stayed around here too long, they would’ve followed the trail right back to all of you.”
“I disappeared,” Duck corrected gently. “There’s a difference.”
Selina studied them for a moment before sighing.
Duck looked down at the mug in their hands.
“I didn’t want you involved.”
For a long moment, no one said anything.
Then Croc let out a quiet snort.
Duck looked up, surprised.
Harley flopped down beside them on the couch, bumping their shoulder.
“Next time you vanish for two weeks,” she said, “at least leave a note.”
Duck smiled faintly at that, exhaustion finally starting to catch up with them.
“…I’ll keep that in mind.”
For the first time in two weeks, they finally felt like they could breathe again.
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I promise I'm not dead so have this that I worked on for the past few days.
