Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Donald grumbled as he wrung his shirt out and stepped inside the mansion through the kitchen door. Scrooge followed shortly after, shaking the rain off.

“Ah’m glad ye decided to stay the night in the mansion, lad.” Scrooge said.

“Whatever,” Donald rolled his eyes, trying to wipe away the water on the floor with his foot. “It’s just because it’s storming out.” 

And boy was it storming. It had been raining pretty heavily for almost an hour now, and the wind was beginning to pick up. The sailor in Donald was certain that lightning and thunder would start any minute now.

“Aye, that it is,” Scrooge chuckled. “Welp, anyways, Ah’ll have Duckworth set ye up in Della’s room. If ye could let her know, that’d be great.”

“What! Why am I bunking with Della? Don’t you have any guest bedrooms available?”

“Oh, quit yer whining!” Scrooge smacked Donald on the head. “Della’s bedroom has plenty o’ space fer the both of ye!”

“Still,” Donald groused, rubbing the back of his head. “What about the spare bedrooms? There where plenty when I was a kid, and I’m pretty sure that the mansion hasn’t gotten any smaller since then.” If anything, it had gotten bigger.

“Oh, donnae be so wasteful, lad! Ah’m sure ye can stand one night bunking with yer sister again! Ye were perfectly fine with it when ye were kids.” Actually, as far as Donald remembered, he hadn’t been ‘perfectly fine’ with it, even when he was younger, but that was besides the point. 

This was why he hated sleeping in the mansion (well, one of the reasons). His uncle, ever the miser, would always force him to sleep in the same room as someone else. And Donald had grown to like having his own space, thank you very much!

As his uncle went off to fetch Duckworth, Donald decided that he should try to find his sister sooner rather than later. He could hear sounds coming from the living room. As he went to investigate, he saw Beakly dusting in the hall. “Hey Mrs. Beakly, do you know where Della is?”

“Hello Donald, good to see that you haven’t been caught out in the storm.” Mrs. Beakly replied. “As for your sisters whereabouts, I’m afraid I haven’t got a clue. The kids might know, however. They’re in the living room right now.”

“Yeah, I thought I heard ‘em earlier. Thanks anyways, Beakly.”

“Anytime, Donald.” Mrs. Beakly said as she went turned back to her dusting.

Donald wandered into the living room just in time to hear Louie groan in anguish as a character on the TV screen went flying off the stage. “Oh come on, I had you there!”

“Hah!” Dewey laughed smugly, brushing his shoulder with his fist. “Never count the Dew-spicable Dewey Duck out of a fight!”

“Whatever,” Louie grumbled, shoving Dewey’s shoulder. “And stop with the stupid Dew-whatever stuff, it’s getting old.”

“I think it’s great!” Piped up Webby from her spot on the couch, her hand in a bowl of popcorn.

“Of course you would, you think everything we do is great.”

“Not true!” Webby countered. “I don’t like it when you Pull A Louie.”

“Ooooh, Burn!” Dewey cackled.

“She got you there” Huey added.

“What is this, gang up on Louie hour!?” Cried Louie, outraged. “What even is ‘pulling a Louie’, anyway? And why did you say it like it’s capitalized?”

“Hey kiddos,” Donald interrupted, making his prescience known before things could get too out of hand.

“Hey Uncle Donald!” Dewey and Webby said simultaneously.

“Save me from these jerks, Uncle Donald!” Louie moaned, turning from the screen to complain to his uncle.

“Do you need anything, Uncle Donald?” Asked Huey.

“Yeah, kiddo.” Donald said, then he turned to the screen as it displayed a win screen. “What game are you playing?” He asked, momentarily forgetting his original reason for entering the room.

“Super Smash Birds Ultimate!” Dewey replied eagerly, bouncing up in his seat. “It’s a game where you fight each other to death!”

“Astute,” Louie mumbled.

“You get to choose who you fight as from a list of characters that appear in other Birdtendo games.” Huey helpfully supplied.

“Huh. Y’know, I think Dells and I used to play something similar when we were in our teens.” Donald said, watching the screen as Dewey and Louie began picking from a rather large roster of fighters. “Lots more characters than I remember, though.”

“Well yeah,” Louie said. “It’s a remake, see? And every time Birdtendo comes out with a new Super Smash Birds, they add new characters. Of course, despite that, Dewey will only ever play the broken characters.”

“So says the Cloud main.” Dewey griped back.

Louie glared at Dewey as he picked Cloud.

“Anyways,” Donald interrupted, getting back on track. “I wanted to ask if any of you know where your mother is.”

“Uhh, I don’t know. Why?” Dewey said distractedly as he and Louie began round two.

“I need to tell her that I’m sleeping in her room tonight.”

“Wait, are you moving back into the mansion!?” Webby asked, her full attention now on him and not on the game.

“Uh, no. No, I’m just staying for the night, it’s really storming out.” The kids all paused for a second to listen to the sound of rain hitting to roof of the mansion. “But yeah, only staying the night, and Scrooge decided to put me in Della’s room, so I need to tell her about it. I also need to ask where her room is, now that I think about it.”

“What, she didn’t set up in your old room?” Dewey asked.

“No, you guys are sleeping in there.”

“Oh yeah, we are, aren’t we?”

Huey pondered for a second. “Hmm, last I recall, Mom said that she was heading out front of a second.”

“Really?” Donald asked, confused. “It’s raining pretty heavily.”

“That’s what she told us.” Huey shrugged.

“Hmm,” Donald mused. “Alright, guess I’ll check. Thanks kiddos.”

The kids murmured words of acknowledgment as Donald walked away, their attention already back to the game.

Della probably wasn’t outside anymore. As far as Donald knew, she had disliked rain (and storms, for that matter) her entire life. But hey, maybe he’d find somebody else who knew where she went.

He hoped he would find her soon. The longer he went without hearing or seeing her, the harder it was to quell the fears that something had happened. He knew it was stupid, but his anxiety would just kept pushing his worst fears to the surface: the idea that some monster had kidnapped her, that she had been accidentally transported back into space, that she had run away-

No. He hated it when he thought that one. She wasn’t going to run away. She wouldn’t do that.

But she had once. She had once, so what if she did so again?

No, no, that was wrong. She hadn’t run away, she’d gotten trapped. She didn’t run away. She didn’t run away. She didn’t run away. (He would keep telling himself that until he believed it.)

...Yeah, he should probably talk to his therapist about that before it got worse. For now though, he’d settle for finding Della.

All the way to the front doors -which, to be fair, wasn’t that far- Donald didn’t come across anyone else, which was kind of a shame. He wasn’t sure where she could be, maybe further into the mansion? But Donald wasn’t really comfortable with exploring the rest of the mansion for her. It’s not that he didn’t know it’s layout, Donald didn’t think he could ever forget that, but it was anyone’s guess as to which rooms were cursed or had any cursed objects in them at the moment. (Huh, could that have been why Scrooge didn’t want him to sleep in any of the guest bedrooms? Nah.)

Donald huffed. He supposed he could check outside, just in case. Maybe she’d taken refuge in the garage? Yeah, that sounded about right. ‘And if not,’ Donald thought as he opened the front door, ‘I could always ask Launchpad if he’s seen-‘

...Welp, he found Della.

She was standing right out front. Absolutely soaked. Just staring up into the rain as it came down in spades.

“What are you doing!?” Donald yelled over the wind at her. “It’s storming out!”

He saw her mouth move, but couldn’t make out any of the words over the wind. “What? I can’t hear you! Speak up!”

Della turned around at that, her eyes full of a broken wonder-like nostalgia, rain streaming down her cheeks. “It’s raining, Donnie!” She laughed. “It’s actually raining!”

Donald stared at her like she was missing a few screws (a rather familiar stare). “Yeah, I can see that! Now get inside!”

“Aw come on Donnie, just a few more minutes!”

“Wh- no!” Donald sputtered. “It’s storming! You’ll catch a cold!” Thunder boomed overhead. “And you’ll get struck by lightning!”

“But-“ Della looked conflicted, glancing back up into the storm clouds.

Donald sighed, aggravated. “We can go jumping in puddles after it calms down, would you like that?”

He saw Della’s eyes light up as he said that. “Can we?!” She asked eagerly.

Donald blinked. He’d been being sarcastic, he didn’t actually think that his sister would react so positively to the idea. “Um. Okay, sure. But not if you get a cold, so get inside!”

“All right, all right, hold yer horses, I’m coming, I’m coming.” Della skipped inside, shaking herself off when and getting water all over Donald. 

“Whoops, sorry.” She commented, not looking sorry at all.

“Whatever.” Donald groused as he rung out his shirt for the second time in an hour. “What were you even doing out there? In that? I thought you hated rain.”

“Yeah, well, It doesn’t rain on the moon, y’know?”

“...oh.”

“Heh, yeah. ‘Oh’.” Della paused. “I just. I haven’t felt it in so long, y’know? So when I saw it was raining, I said to myself ‘man, it sure has been a while since you’ve seen rain, right?’ And then I couldn’t stop myself from wondering about what it felt like, or what it tasted like, and then I was all like ‘well gee, Della, it’s right there, why don’t you just go find out yourself?’ And then I got all excited -like, can’t think straight excited, you know the type- and so I just. Went out.” She petered off. “Heh. I guess I lost track of time, huh?”

“It’s fine,” Donald reassured her. “Just change out of your wet clothes or you’ll catch hypothermia.”

“Pfft,” Della laughed. “You’ve turned into such a mother, Donnie.” Her focus drifted off to a stray string on her jacket that she’d been playing with. She frowned slightly picking at it a bit harder. “Why’d you come searching for me anyway?”

“Oh yeah. I decided not to sleep on the houseboat tonight -they don’t say it, but the boys always get worried about it when it storms- so Scrooge set me up to bunk in your room and said to tell you about it.”

Della scoffed, “Seriously? Old McMoneybags has dozen’s of spare bedrooms, and he couldn’t give you one?”

“That’s what I said!” Donald exclaimed.

Della and Donald looked at each other then, and they were probably both rather tired, because that was all it took to get them breaking down into giggles. The kids walked in while they were still going and asked what was wrong, to which Della responded with a breathless “McMoneybags!” Which sent her and Donald back into the depths of wheezy giggling.

The kids all leveled one long unimpressed look at each other and just said “grown-ups.”

Chapter Text

Della sighed: she was totally stumped. In her defense, her entire family was stumped too, but still.

“Oh come on lass, donnae give up now! The treasure’s just in the next room, Ah’m sure of it!” Uncle Scrooge said, tapping his cane on the ground of the puzzle room that the group (Donald, Della, Scrooge, and the kids) was in.

“I’m not giving up!” Della exclaimed, like that would be the most horrific thing she could ever do in the whole world. “I just, Y’know, need to approach this from a different angle. Yeah, that’s it!” Della bounded back to the door the group had entered through in order to get a good look at the entire chamber.

“Alright,” Della began, thinking out loud, “we’re trapped in a hexagonal room. There are two big doors; one we just went through, and another directly opposite that we’re pretty sure-“

“-ye mean we’re absolutely certain.” Scrooge interrupted.

Della glared at him. “...right. And a big door that we’re “absolutely certain” leads to the treasure room, above which lies a row of tiles with symbols on ‘em, with four tiles missing.”

“The symbols are actually the alchemical symbols of the four elements, each symbol representing the elemental catastrophe taking place in it’s mosaic respectively.” Huey supplied.

“Yep!” Della ruffled his head affectionately. “Also the word symbol no longer means anything to me anymore. Anyways! On either side of that door -ooh, let’s it the treasure door!- Okay-okay, on either side of the treasure door are two statues each, all kinda weirdly humanoid in shape.”

“-And they will, let’s be real here, probably come alive at some point and attack us.” Louie added.

“Well- ...okay yeah, probably.” Della acquiesced. “But I’m sure we’ll be outta here before that happens!” Della grinned at her child.

Said child raised an unbelieving eyebrow at her.

“...Shut up.” Della turned away from Louie and back to the room. “Right, where was I?”

“You just finished describing the treasure door wall!” Dewey shouted out helpfully. “The treasure door’s wall. The treasure’s door wall?” He corrected(?) himself, which wasn’t really as helpful.

“Thanks Kiddo! And I think you had it right the first time.” Della said. “Alright. The other four walls in the room all have mosaics on them, -one mosaic for each wall- and they’re all depicting different catastrophes brought about by the four elements. Finally, right before entering the chamber, Webby read an inscription on the wall that was supposedly a hint left by the ancient guardians of this place. Webby?”

“Four elementals trapped in stone,/ Their elements ordered to lock their home./ Even patterns against all odd,/ A tile misplaced awakens its god./ In proper order safely seal these four,/ Or best one of each to open the door.” Webby recited.

“...the ancient language of this temple rhymes perfectly when translated into english?” Huey questioned.

“Eh,” Webby moved her hand in a so-so gesture. “I might have taken some creative liberties. Why, do you think it’s bad?”

“It was wonderful Webby!” Della was quick to assure her.

“But if it’s a wordplay hint, there’s a good chance that the whole rhyme is useless when translated.” Huey said.

Huh. Huey had a point. “Let’s just say it won’t matter, huh?” Della said, projecting confidence she didn’t necessarily feel. She turned back to the treasure door, humming. “Hmm. We found four tiles scattered about the temple, right?” She asked.

“Yep, got ‘em right here.” Scrooge said, holding up four tiles.

“Awesome. And each of the tiles has a symbol that corresponds with one of the four elements, like the treasure door wall, yeah?”

“Okay, is ‘treasure door wall’ seriously making anyone else think of ‘man door hand hook car door’?” Dewey interrupted.

The kids all gave sounds of agreement, and Della stared back at them with a look of confusion bordering on fear. “....Man door hook door what???”

As Huey took in a deep breath that signified the beginning of a long and confusing explanation, Donald cut in, rubbing his temples. “Don’t worry about it, it’s just a meme.” He stated.

Della’s expression remained unchanged (if anything, it shifted more towards fear). “A what? A Meem? Is that some sorta ghost or spirit or something?”

Dewey gasped in horror. “Mom! You don’t know what memes are!? How!?”

Della sputtered, trying to come up with an excuse. Louie stepped forward, snapping his finger. “Hey, confusing puzzle room that we are currently trapped in, hello-o? Anybody wanna focus on that, maybe?”

“Right-right-right, okay-okay-okay, getting back on track.” Della shook her head, as if to clear it. “Okay. The symbols on the tiles are like the ones on the treasure door wall, right?”

“Aye lass, they are.” Scrooge said.

“Hmmmmmm,” Della rubbed her chin, thinking. “Aha!” She snapped, “I think I got it! Give me the tiles Uncle Scrooge!”

“Alright, go for it.” Scrooge said as Della snatched the tiles from his grasp.

“I think we’re supposed to place the tiles on the mosaics! Each symbol seals it’s respective element, right? So, if the tiles with the correct elemental symbols are placed at the right mosaics, the elements will be sealed and the door will totally open!” Della confidently went to each mosaic and placed the tile with the correct symbol on each of them.

First was the mosaic of a tsunami taking out a costal town. In front of it she placed a tile with a downward facing triangle, the symbol for water.

Second was the mosaic of a wildfire destroying a forest. She placed an upward facing triangle in front of that one, the symbol for fire.

Third, the mosaic of a hurricane wrecking havoc in a city. In front of that one she placed an upward facing triangle with a line through it, the symbol for air.

Finally, she placed a downward facing triangle with a line through it -the symbol for earth- in front of the mosaic of an avalanche taking out a group of explorers. She quickly rushed back to the center of the room, looking expectantly towards the treasure door.

One second.

Five seconds.

Ten seconds.

The door didn’t open. “Fuck.” Della sighed. She was sure that would work! Did she misplace one of the symbols? No, they were all at there collective walls. Maybe she had to place the symbols in the mosaics? But there wasn’t anywhere for the tiles to slot in!

“Della!” Donald quacked, sounding scandalized for no reason.

“What.”

“Language!”

“What?” Della turned toward her family, all of whom were looking at her with a range emotions on their faces, from affronted to gleeful. “What do you mean, language? I didn’t swear.”

“Yes you did! You literally just said the f-word!”

Della took a second to think back. Yeah, she totally said fuck. Whoops. “Shit, sorry. Fuck I mean- Shit!-Fuck-goddammit-sorry! Fuck! Fuck!!” She placed her head in her hands. 

“Della!!” Donald said her name, sounding even more scandalized.

“SORRY!!! Sorry! fu-sorry. Just. Sorry.” Della breathed, finally catching her mouth. She chanced a glance back up at her family. Donald looked horrified, Scrooge looked mildly disappointed, and the kids all looked like Christmas had come early.

“I can’t believe you! Just swearing, like it’s nothing, right in front of the kids!” Donald shouted, barely comprehensible.

“Oh come on Donnie, I managed to hold out for five months! Five months! I think I deserve some credit!”

“That doesn’t matter! You. Swore. In front of the children.”

“Scrooge does so all the time!”

“‘Curse me kilts’ and ‘Bless me bagpipes’ hardly count as swears.” Donald scoffed.

“Language.” Scrooge’s reprimand went completely unnoticed.

“Oh, so you’ve never cussed in front of the boys, huh? Cuz if I recall correctly, you’re the sailor of the family, not me.”

“I-” Donald’s eyes flitted away for a second, “Of course I haven’t!”

Della narrowed her eyes, not believing her brother. “You totally cussed up a storm when they were babies, didn’t you?”

Donald huffed. “Maybe. Look, it doesn’t matter, I stopped before they could understand them!”

“...their first words were swears, weren’t they.”

Donald quacked in surprise. “What? No! They weren’t!” He quickly stated, still looking shifty.

“Ah. So only one of them then?” Della asked.

Donald’s lack of a response was all the answer she needed.

“...Louie?” She guessed.

“How did- but that’s- look,” He flapped wildly. “It doesn’t matter, it wasn’t anything bad!”

“Woah, I’ve cussed before?” Louie asked. “Cool.”

“Uh huh.” Della leveled a skeptical look at her brother. “You hypocrite.”

“Does this mean we can swear now!?” Dewey asked, bouncing on his toes.

“NO.” Donald said forcefully, before Della had a chance to say anything.

“Um, guys?” Huey said.

“Really Donnie? You’re gonna be a wuss about this?”

“I don’t want to hear that type of language from them, and you shouldn’t either!”

“Guys.” Webby said, a bit more forcefully than Huey.

“Fer the record, Ah think it’s fine.” Scrooge said.

“No one asked you!” Donald replied.

“Guys!” Dewey yelled, still not getting a response.

“Whoever said I wanted to hear them swear!? Just cuz I can’t fucking help it doesn’t mean I’m oh so eager to let them swear out their asses!”

“Watch the language, Della!”

“Hey assholes!” Louie swore.

“Language!!” All three adults yelled, finally turning to look at him.

“Wonderful.” Louie said. “Now that we have your attention...” he pointed towards the statues on the wall, which, unfortunately, were no longer statues. They had become warriors, each with a glowing elemental weapon. “Called it, by the way.”

The ducks sighed. “Wait, this could be good!” Webby supplied helpfully. “‘Best one of each to open the door’, right? So defeating these elemental warriors might be exactly what we need to do to progress!”

“Eh, worth a try,” Scrooge shrugged.

“I mean, it’s not like we have much of a choice,” Dewey said.

“We could always run,” Louie tried, sizing up the elemental guardians and not liking his odds.

“Well, we’re trapped in here, so we really couldn’t.” Huey countered.

“Not with that attitude we can’t.” Louie said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

As they got into combat stances, Della sidled up to Donald. “Hey,” she whispered.

“What?” Donald asked, looking wary.

“His first word was totally cunt, wasn’t it?”

“Della!!”

She smirked. “Called it.”

Chapter Text

Della welded together two pieces of metal, the flame from her blowtorch the only light in her room. If you asked her what she was building, she would have told you that it was a secret. In truth, she honestly had no idea. She’d started this project...earlier, (mainly just to give her hands something to do for a bit,) and had been hoping that it would come together after a bit of tinkering.

Well...hm. Maybe it had? Della stopped wielding for a second and was immediately plunged into total darkness. She fumbled around for a few seconds for the lava lamp Lena had gotten her, and a soft blue glow slowly overtook the room as she turned it on.

Having succeeded in her task, Della turned her attention back to the doohickey she had in her hand. So far, it was some sort of piston-thingy encased in metal, which was activated by pressure applied to a button she had cleverly made out of the side of her trash can (she didn’t need a trash can, that’s what her room floor was for!). 

She pressed the button a few times, watching the piston shoot up and slowly reset. It was mesmerizing, in its own way. Maybe it could be a hypnotizing doo-dad? Nah, it wasn’t really hypnotic enough, plus it was too cumbersome. Yeah, Gyro would probably have a conniption fit if she tried to turn it into a hypnotizer.

...Y’know, maybe that reason alone would be enough reason to turn it into a hypnotizer. She’d have to think more about it in the morning. Speaking of which, what time was it, anyways? Della was sure she had a clock around her room somewhere.

She turned from her desk to search for wherever that stupid thing had gotten off to when her room was suddenly flooded with light. “Dells, are you gonna-“

“Hssss!” Della shielded her eyes from the light and turned away rapidly, falling off her chair in the process. “Oof!”

“...Did you just hiss at me?” Donald asked, befuddled.

“No, I was hissing at the light.” Della defended her actions, brushing herself off as she stood up.

“...Is that supposed to be better?”

Della stuck her tongue out at Donald, still wincing at the hallway light. “Why are you barging into my room? I’m kind of in the middle of something.” She asked, ignoring Donald’s question.

“I wanted to know if you were going to join us for breakfast.”

“...I mean, I probably will, why?” Della asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

“Because breakfast started about eight minutes ago.”

“What?! Why would you start breakfast now? It’s-“ Della looked for her clock for a second longer before turning to Donald “It’s, uhhh. What time is it?”

“Ten o’clock.” Donald supplied.

“Woah, jeez, it’s ten already?” Last she’d checked, it had been about midnight. Della gave a peek outside her blackout curtains, and sure enough, it was real bright out. She winced and drew the curtains back quickly. “Huh. Who knew?”

“You going to join us or not?” Donald asked.

Della looked back towards her unfinished project. “...probably not, no. I’m working on something right now, and if I pause it I’ll probably never get back to it, Y’know?” She asked. “Plus, I ain’t really that hungry right now.” She added as an afterthought.

Donald studied her for a moment before responding. “Okay,” He frowned, “but I don’t think I’ve seen you eat for a little while now. You sure you’re not hungry?”

Della glared at her brother, getting annoyed by his attempts at mothering her. “Of course you haven’t seen me eat anything recently, you’ve been asleep for twelve hours.”

Donald leveled her an equally unimpressed look. “You know what I mean. Did you actually eat anything yesterday?”

Della gave it some thought for a second. She totally had! ...or maybe that had been two days ago? “Of course I did,” She answered anyway.

Donald stared at her for a moment before responding “Alright,” He said finally, “but you’re sure you aren’t hungry?”

“Donald. Chill.”

“Alright, alright, fine.” Donald acquiesced as he backed out of the room, leaving the door open.

Della grumbled as she stalked over to the door. “And close the door next time, ya big palooka!” She yelled as she shut the door, plunging her room back into the comforting blue glow of her lava lamp. Della flopped back onto her chair and swiveled towards her workbench: she had a hypno-gizmo to make!

———0———

“Legends of LegendQuest!” The voices of Della and Huey rang out from the TV room as they shouted identical cries of excitement, both eagerly gripping their controllers as the game finished loading. The excitement died down a little as they appeared in the spot they had been last: Huey’s farm. Well, what remained of it, at least.

“Yeesh, that beholder really did a number on this place, huh?” Della rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly. She felt a little guilty: the beholder had really only attacked the farm because of her, which meant that she was kinda responsible for destroying something one of her kids loved. 

Della shook her head. Enough with the pity talk (pity thoughts?). What happened happened, and there wasn’t anything she could do to change that. All she could do was make the aftermath better.

Huey sighed. “Yeah, it really did.” He went into the middle of the garden and sifted his hand through some of the dust.

Della looked at her son with pity in her eyes. “A moment of silence, perhaps?” She suggested.

Together they stood, taking in the charred remains of Huey’s farm, in silence. At least, until they were interrupted by the growl of a stomach.

“Uh, heh. I guess the sight of a farm makes one hungry?” Della tried to defend the noise that her stomach made.

“Do you want to grab something to eat?” Huey asked.

“Nah, we’re playing a game right now.”

Huey looked at her with suspicion. “Did you eat breakfast?”

“Uh,” Della faltered, “I had a glass of milk?” She tried.

“...That hardly counts as a breakfast, mom.” 

“Oh, sure it counts! It’s just-wait. Why am I defending myself? I’m your mom, you’re not supposed to worry about whether or not I ate, it’s supposed to be the other way around! So what about you, huh? Did you eat breakfast Huey?”

“Yeah, we had pancakes.”

“Aw shoot, now I want pancakes.” Della grumbled.

“We might have some leftover, if you want any.”

Della gave it some thought. Pancakes sounded nice, but she was in the middle of a game at the moment. “...Eh, I’ll wait until we’re done playing.” Her stomach growled, letting her know its displeasure. She ignored it.

“Are you sure?” Huey looked concerned. “We could always play a bit later.”

“And be forced to wait for it to load again? No way. I mean, I love Legends of LegendQuest, but it’s load times are just -whew!” Della made a winded expression at that. “Besides, I wanted to show you some of the more adventurous parts of this game, now that your farms been destroyed-er, I mean, uh- ...sorry.” She finished lamely.

Huey huffed. “It’s fine. I guess we can play, but you’ll eat something right after we’re done, right?”

Yeeeeeesh, Hue, alright!” Dell acquiesced. “Jeez, it’s like my mother’s back from the grave!” She said as she pulled Huey in for a noogie. Huey laughed and quickly detangled himself from her arms, righting his cap when he got away. 

After that brief escapade, they got right into playing, barely taking any time at all before becoming fully immersed in the game.

———

“Whew!” Della exhaled, touching the save point and depositing the xp she’d earned that day. It had been a pretty eventful digital adventure, all things considered. She’d forgotten that Huey had leveled up a bunch last time, and was now this uber-powerful godling of a character. (Though to be fair, Huey had forgotten as well.) As such, they’d been thrown at enemies far tougher than either of them had expected, and they’d been left scrambling for a foothold. Of course -what with Huey being a godling, after all- once they’d gotten their bearings, they’d absolutely wiped the floor with everything they came across. They had even managed to get some treasure at the end, which was always a nice treat.

“This is great!” Huey exclaimed, beaming. “The loot I got is more than enough to repair my farm!”

“Aw, Huey, the adventure was fun too, right?” Della tried. “I mean, come on, that hydra boss was totally epic!”

Huey held his mother’s gaze for a few seconds before smiling sheepishly “Yeah, okay, the adventuring was fun too.” He admitted.

“Alright! I knew I’d get ya hooked!” Della gave Huey a celebratory hug.

“Okay, okay,” Huey laughed, detangling himself from her hug. He stretched, looking at his watch. “This was great, but I think we should be done. We’ve been playing for a while.”

“Have we?” Della looked at the clock above the TV, but couldn’t really register what time it was. It wasn’t that she couldn’t read the clock (though that was kind of difficult, she always found digital easier than analog), but her brain just couldn’t seem to comprehend the passage of time. 

How fun.

“Yeah, about 3 hours by now.” Huey’s voice brought her back to the present (Whenever that was).

“Huh, well how about that.” Della said, refocusing on the here and now. “Alright, guess you’re right. Farewell, Legends of LegendQuest, until next time.”

“Until next time,” Huey said as he jumped off the couch. Della stood up as well, stumbling a little as she went lightheaded. “Are you okay?” He asked.

“Yeah, just stood up to fast,” Della waved him off as the feeling passed.

As she went to leave, Huey called out to her. “Remember, you said you’d eat something!”

Della managed to repress the groan that threatened to come out of her beak, but just barely. Instead, she rolled her eyes and shot Huey a bemused glare. “Alright, kiddo. Now stop worrying about me! Go bother your brothers or something.”

Huey grinned at her as he went off upstairs, presumably to do exactly as she said. Della, in turn, went to the kitchen. She wasn’t really feeling very hungry anymore, but she should probably still eat something, right? She remembered that she had wanted pancakes, but now they didn’t sound as appealing; she wanted something quick that she didn’t have to make.

Hmm. What else could she have? Della rummaged around the pantry for a hot second, looking for something that wouldn’t take too long. She groaned in despair when her search failed to reveal any chips or crackers, the well known pinnacle of good -yet quick- food.

Maybe she could have some cheese? Della opened the fridge, but the only cheese she could find was the shredded kind. Hmm. She wasn’t feeling that desperate. So that was a no on cheese then. 

Della turned around, scanning the countertop for something. Maybe a banana? Della didn’t really feel like a banana, though. Which made sense, seeing as how she was a duck, not a fruit. She giggled to herself. Anyways, all the bananas had brown spots on them, which meant that they were too gross to eat. Sure, Donald might call her a baby for not eating one, but Donald wasn’t here, was he?

Della looked around, opening the fridge again before heading back to the pantry. They had bread, maybe she could have toast? But that would require toasting the bread, and buttering the toast, and putting seasonings on the toast (because just buttered toast was kinda boring), and that just felt like too much work.

Della sighed. They had nothing! Mrs. Beakley really needed to go shopping soon. Unfortunately, that wouldn’t help with eating right now. 

She went back to the fridge. 

They had milk, she could have cereal.

...Eh. Even cereal seemed like too much work. (Wow, lazy much? Della thought.)

In the end, Della grabbed a cup and poured herself a glass of milk. At least it was better than nothing, right?

————0————

Della stretched her arms as she surveyed the woodland area she had landed the Cloudslayer in. The trees were pretty tall, she was lucky to have found such a nice landing area. She took a deep breath in, held it for a few seconds, and let it out; she would never get tired of doing that. And the forest air? Perfection. All in all, this was a pretty nice set of woods, at least for her track record. A solid 8 out of 10, if you asked her.

She did a quick headcount as her family spilled out of the plane behind her. Her kids, her brother, and her uncle walked out, taking in their surroundings as she did (Launchpad, her co-pilot/apprentice, was staying inside the plane). “Okay, so; recap?” Louie requested.

Huey shot him a deadpan look that seriously reminded Della of the looks Donald would give her when she said something he found particularly stupid. “I gave you the whole rundown on the way over. How could you possibly need a recap.” He said with a tired tone that spoke of many times like this.

Louie held his hands up defensively. “Hey, I never said I needed one! I just thought it might be helpful for the people who didn’t listen!”

Huey’s deadpan glare didn’t waver. “And by ‘people who didn’t listen’, you mean you, don’t you?”

“...Okay in my defense,” Louie said, “You have a really boring voice.”

“Louie,” Donald began warningly.

“What? It’s true!” Louie looked to Dewey. “Did you pick up anything he said?”

“Yeah, no, I kinda spaced out after the whole ‘eightieth descendant’ thing, and didn’t really make an effort to space back in.” Dewey scratched his head. “He’s kind of right dude, you talked for like, the whole plane ride. It’s kinda difficult to pay attention for that long.”

Huey sighed and hung his head. “Aw, don’t listen to them Huey!” Della jumped in to try and cheer her kid up. “You did a great job!”

Huey looked at her with an already defeated look on his face. “You don’t remember anything either, do you.” It was more of a statement than a question.

Della grimaced as her (admittedly not very well thought out) plan crumbled around her. “In my defense, I was flying the plane?” She tried.

“Don’t worry Huey, I remember what you said.” Webby chimed in.

“Thank you, Webby.” Huey said. “At least someone here listens to me.”

“Alright, cool, could we get that recap now please?” Louie asked. “And just like, the CliffsNotes version this time, if you could.”

Huey let out a long-suffering sigh. “You want CliffsNotes? Fine. This forest has a magical rose-like gem that we’re going and retrieving. Happy?”

“Yes!” Louie said. “See? You got the point across all in one breath! Now isn’t that much more efficient?”

“But you don’t even know what the forest is called!” Huey exclaimed, anger clear on his face. “Or the rose! You don’t know how to get the rose, how to navigate the forest, or what an eightieth descendant has to do with any of it!”

“Yeah, and I’m sure I’ll figure that all out as we go along.” Louie rolled his eyes.

As Huey stepped forward to strangle Louie, Scrooge stepped in. “Alright lad, settle down, donnae kill someone ye might need later.”

Louie looked offended. “Is that all I am to you?”

Scrooge ignored him. “Now, how about we get going already? I donnae think we want to stick around for too long.”

Huey sighed. “Yeah, you’re right. Wouldn’t want the Booglebondo to find us like this.”

“Wait, the what?” Louie asked.

Huey gave him a smug look. “If you’d been paying attention, you’d already know.”

Louie narrowed his eyes. “You’re bluffing. You’re just trying to scare me with some fake monster.”

Huey got right into Louie’s face. “Maybe I am. But I guess you’ll never know, will you?” With that, Huey walked past him, whistling.

Louie looked concerned. “He was just bluffing, right?”

Webby and Scrooge walked past, and Della just shrugged. “I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a Booglebondo before.”

“You don’t think you’ve heard of one? What does that mean?”

“It means we’ve faced a lot of monsters before, and not all of them conveniently shout their name.” Donald supplied as he followed after them, Dewey in tow. Louie sighed in defeat and followed.

Della wasn’t worried. She was pretty sure there wasn’t such a thing as a Booglebondo, and even if their was? Her family could definitely take care of it. 

She followed after her family, taking in the forest as she did so. She really had forgotten what it was like, to walk through trees, little rays of sunlight breaking through the canopy to say hello occasionally. It was absolutely beautiful. 

As she was taking in a particularly spectacular sunray, she felt a lightheaded feeling start creeping up on her. She stopped and shook her head, dismissing it quickly. “Geh. Stop it.” She muttered.

“What?” Donald asked.

“Huh?” Della replied eloquently.

“Did you say something?”

“No, I was just talking to myself.” Della said. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen stuff like this, y’know?

Donald hummed in response as Della caught up with everyone else. “Really? I kinda figured that you’d gone on a few adventures with the kids while I was gone.”

“Well yeah,” Della replied, “but I mean, I was a little busy looking at my kids to take in the scenery.”

“Fair enough.”

“Yeah. Though we didn’t really go on some of the adventures I’d wanted to go on, cuz apparently they’d already gone on them!”

“Really? Where were you hoping to take them?” Donald asked.

“Well, Atlantis, for one.” Della said.

“Oh yeah, Atlantis! That was their first adventure, y’know?”

“They told me! Well, I think they did. Honestly, they were all talking at the same time, it was kinda difficult to keep up.”

“Yeah, they get like that sometimes.” Donald chuckled. “Honestly, it reminds me of their first class field trip. It’d been to the zoo, if I recall, and when they got back they would not stop talking! Seriously, it wa s  l i k e                                t     h 
            e  y ‘

                      d     b

                              e

                                 e

                                  n

————0————

One foot in front of the other. An endless march in a grey, skyless desert, searching for something that does not exist. Movement without cause, existence without sustenance. The taste of blood and black licorice, mixed together, spurs the movement forward.

One foot in front of the other.

One foot. In front. Of the other.

————0————

The first thing Della realized was that she was lying down. The second thing she realized was that her eyes were closed. When had she closed her eyes? She opened them.

Ouch ow-ow-ow-ow, nope-nope-nope, bright-white-room, lots-of-light, nope. Della quickly closed her eyes. After a few seconds, she decided to brave the light, and carefully took her time squinting and blinking to adjust. 

It was a... a hospital room? How did she get here? When has that happened? Suddenly, Della gasped and flew upright, startling someone who was resting on her bed, but that wasn’t important. What was important were the legs that were covered up by the sheet. She threw the sheet back, fearing the worst, before sighing in relief when she saw that she still had her legs, both the metal and organic one. 

As she did so, Della noticed an IV tube stuck in her arm. She went to rip it out before her hand was rapped by a cane. “Knock it off lass! Ye know damn well that that’s supposed tae stay in there!”

“Uncle Scrooge! What happened? Is everyone okay? Was it the Booglebondo? Where are my kids?” Della asked, getting increasingly agitated as she asked each question.

“Everyone’s fine lass!” Scrooge raised his hand. “Calm down.”

“What about the Booglebondo?”

“There is no such thing as a Booglebondo, Della.” Scrooge sighed.

“Hah! I knew it!” Della pumped her (non-IV’d) fist in the air. “Then what happened? Why am I in a hospital bed?”

“Actually, lass, that’s somethin’ Ah wanted tae ask you.” Scrooge got up from his chair next to her bed and started pacing. “According to Donald, ye just fainted.”

“Just fainted? Right out of the blue, like an edgy 8-year-old playing make-believe?” She asked. Scrooge nodded his head and Della groaned. “Well, that’s perfect.”

“Aye. Well, we rushed ye to the hospital, and do ye want tae know what the doctor said the cause was?”

Della hesitated. “By the sound of your voice, I don’t really think I do.”

Scrooge pressed on anyway. “She said it was malnutrition. She said it was because ye hadn’t been eatin’ enough. Now tell me lass,” Scrooge said, “when did ye last eat?”

“Um.” Della shifted under the gaze her uncle was trapping her in. “What day is it?”

“Della, ye cannae be serious.” Scrooge said, seemingly taking that as enough of an answer.

“I don’t know!” Della exclaimed. “It was like, a day ago! ...Or maybe two. ...Or maybe a week?”

If Della didn’t know any better, she’d say that Scrooge looked almost scared. “Della!!” He cried out. “Why?”

“I don’t know, I-I guess I just don’t really think about it much, and then I just -I don’t know- do something else?” Della defended. “I don’t really think about it.”

Scrooge sat back down in his chair, silent, not looking at her.

“...how did the rest of the adventure go?” Della asked lamely.

Scrooge scoffed. “We called it off after ye passed out.”

“Oh.” Della said, ashamed. “...Sorry.”

Scrooge looked at her incredulously. “Yer sorry? Yer sorry?! For an adventure?! Ah donnae give a shit about all that! Adventures can be rescheduled, hell, we can reschedule that one!” Scrooge was furious now, standing back up and pacing again. “What Ae give a shit about is that my d- my niece is starvin’ herself!”

“I’m not starving myself!” Della exclaimed. “At least, not intentionally!”

“Then why?” Scrooge asked, a defeated look on his face. “Why aren’t ye eatin’ anything?”

“I-” Della sighed. “I told you, I just kinda forget. It’s like- I spent ten years surviving on nothing but gum, I guess I forgot that food was a necessary part of survival and not just, I don’t know, something people did for fun.”

Scrooge deflated, sitting back down in his chair. It was silent of almost a minute before Scrooge looked back up at Della. “Alright. New rules: ye have tae join the family for breakfast an’ dinner, and if three people cannae confirm that ye had lunch, then you dinnae have lunch, got it? No more skipping meals.”

Della sighed. “Yes Uncle Scrooge.” She replied dutifully. “Well, I’m awake now, when can I get out of here?”

Scrooge smirked. “When that,” he pointed his cane to the IV, “Is empty.”

Della looked outraged at that. “Oh come on! You know IV’s take for-fucking-ever! That’s unfair!”

“Well ye should have thought about that before ye started skipping meals.”

Della grumbled. “Where are the others?” She asked.

“Well, the kids are gettin’ some snacks, they’ll be back soon, and Donald left a while ago.” Scrooge sighed. “I should go call him, tell him yer up. I’ll send the kids in.” Della gave him a thumbs-up as he left. 

So. She’d accidentally been starving herself. That... probably wasn’t great. At least now she probably wouldn’t do that anymore, what with the strict rules in place. Yeah, if she knew Mrs. Beakley, there was no way she’d ever get the chance to skip meals or eat in peace again.

Soon, Della’s door was opened and four kids came spilling forth onto her bed. “Hey kiddos-ooph!” She said as they all clambered up onto her stomach. “Hey, so. I’ve got a proposition for you: I’ll give you 20 bucks if you exchange that full IV bag with an empty one. Eh? What do ya think?”

Louie began reaching for the IV before Huey smacked his hand away rather forcefully. “Ow!” Louie cried out. “What the heck man?”

“Mom needs those nutrients, Louie!” Huey said.

“20 bucks, dude!”

Oh dear, Huey looked close to tears. “Hey, it’s alright Hue, I was just joking.”

“Well it was a crappy joke!” Huey’s voice broke and he shoved his face into her chest. Della immediately felt horrible for, like, everything.

“Hey hey hey, it’s alright Huey, it’s alright.” Della soothed, rubbing his head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. That was mean.” Huey just sniffled in response.

“Why haven’t you been eating anything?”  Dewey asked, positioning himself better on the bed (and on her lap).

Della sighed. “I didn’t mean  not to, I just forgot about it. Like, sure, I’d get hungry from time to time, but then something else would happen and I’d get distracted and then the hungry feeling would pass and I’d forget all about eating. But that’s gonna change! From now on, I always gotta eat breakfast and dinner with the whole family, and somebody’s gotta make sure I eat lunch as well.”

“Okay,” Dewey said, nodding. “That’s good.”

“Yeah! And don’t worry Della, I’ll make sure that you eat lunch!” Webby added (Della was pretty sure she didn’t mean to make it sound as ominous as it did, right?).

“Alright, cool, so if she’s gonna eat, can I empty the bag for twenty bucks now?” Louie asked.

Huey turned to glare at him. “So you’re just gonna act like you weren’t freaking out almost as badly as Donald on the plane ride back? And that you weren’t balling your eyes out on our way here?”

Louie punched his brother and pulled his hood over his face. “I thought we agreed not to talk about that!”

As her children bickered on her lap/hospital bed, Della smiled. She might not be as well adjusted to life on the ground as she’d hoped, but for her family? She’d get there, eventually.

Chapter Text

Fenton was having a good day. His side projects in the lab were coming along great, he’d only had to deal with one weather-based villain today, and the coffee machine was actually working! Heck, even Gyro was in a good mood, as far as Fenton could tell. 

His boss/co-worker/lab assistant/friend?/crush (nope-nope-nope not thinking about that, not at all No Siree Bob no thank you) had been humming a little tune to himself all day, and even seemed to have the ghost of a smile gracing his beak.
He was probably happy the coffee machine was working, if Fenton had to guess. He quickly thanked the coffee machine gods for letting it work, before turning back to his project (a new upgrade for the gizmosuit).

As soon as he did so, a small red light above the doorway to the lab pinged to life. It was an ingenious little invention they called the Sensor-System: it was a sensor that Gyro had installed, which let them know when someone in the elevator chose to go down to the underwater lab. Real helpful for letting them know to hide any visible pieces of the Gizmoduck armor, or helping them avoid any angry investors.

“Go check that out, would you?” Gyro ordered, barely looking up from his repairs to Lil’ Bulb. Man, he really was in a good mood today, wasn’t he? He’d even added a ‘would you’ to the end of his sentence!

“Yes sir Doctor Gearloose sir!” Fenton saluted, chucking the gizmosuit upgrade into one of his desk drawers before heading off to see who was coming to visit the lab. He could only hope it wasn’t one of the buzzards, they kind of sucked. At least Mr. McDuck generally enjoyed their inventions, no matter how bizarre. The buzzards were just—well, buzzkills. 

Fenton stopped at a metal wall with a small window that blocked the rest of the elevator from the rest of the hallway. The wall was actually another part of the Sensor-System: it would slide down from the ceiling when the elevator was sent, blocking entrance to the lab until a button on the lab side of things was pressed, which was real handy for angry investors. It tended to annoy Mr. McDuck, though.

After about a minute, Fenton heard the elevator arrive and saw someone step out. It wasn’t one of the buzzards (which was a relief), or Mr. McDuck, either. It was a strange looking woman wearing a bomber jacket, and aviator goggles on her forehead. She also had a metal leg, which immediately piqued Fenton’s interest. Had she made it? What types of metal did she use? How did she get the joint to move when she wanted it too? Were there any electronics? What about hidden functions, like a knife or rocket thruster? Fenton would totally have added a rocket thruster. 

The woman stepped up to the wall, giving it a bemused look. She caught Fenton’s eye and waved. She also looked like she was saying something, but the wall didn’t allow sound to pass through, so Fenton couldn’t hear her.

Fenton turned on the intercom system they had also implemented when they made the Sensor-System. “Hello ma’am, welcome to the Underwater Lab! Can I help you?

“Sup!” The woman replied. “Does a Gyro Gearloose work there?”

“Hmm, nope! Can’t say that he does. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever even heard the name Gyro Gearloose before!” Fenton said. Gyro had drilled it into his head since day one that, if anyone came down to the lab looking for him, Fenton was to play dumb and act like Gyro didn’t even exist.

The woman just raised an eyebrow. “He told you to say that, didn’t he?”

Ah. Shit. “Whaaaaaaaat? I have no idea what you’re talking about, hah-hah!” Fenton chuckled nervously. “Welp, if that’s all miss, I’m afraid I’m gonna have to ask you to leave. Have a nice day, goodbye!”

The mystery woman did not leave. Instead, she just chuckled. “Alright buddy, you can cut the shit now. I’m an old friend of Gyro’s, and I wanna give him something. So if you could just, y’know, get this gate thing outta the way, that’d be great. Thanks!” She grinned.

Fenton was very suspicious of this woman’s claims. Gyro didn’t have any friends! “Sorry ma’am, no can do. Can’t let just anyone into the lab, after all! I do hope you understand.”

The woman sighed. “Yeah, I was afraid you’d say that.” She then pulled a wrench out of her coat and began to do... something, to her side of the wall.

“Um, Ma’am? I’m, uh, I’m gonna have to ask you to stop!” Fenton said, his voice climbing a bit higher than he’d anticipated. This woman was seriously freaking Fenton out.

She grinned up at Fenton. “Nope,” She said in the most heartwarming tone possible. She then frowned at the wall, and threw her wrench away. “Oh, fuck it,” she said. He then heard the creaking and screeching of metal, and suddenly the wall was pushed up about halfway.

Fenton let out an undignified yelp as the woman ducked under the gap, wiping her hands as she did so. “Whew,” she exhaled, “that was heavier than I thought it would be! What did you build it out of, steel?”

“T-titanium,” Fenton answered on autopilot.

“Hm.” The woman nodded approvingly. “That’s a pretty good metal. I think. I’ll be perfectly honest, I’m not really an expert on metals.” She looked the wall up and down as if examining it. “Welp, I’m gonna go see Gyro now, talk to ya later!”

As the woman walked past him, Fenton’s instincts kicked his body into motion. “W-wait!” Fenton ran in front of the scary woman, arms outstretched. “I can’t let you do that! It’s against company policy, you see, and-”

The woman didn’t even spare him a second glance, she just picked him up like he weighed nothing and set him down behind her. “Come on buddy, don’t worry so much! It’s not like I’m gonna do anything bad! Now just sit sit right there and don’t move, okay?” She left without waiting for a response. 

Fenton just sat there, as she’d asked, his brain trying to catch up with everything he’d just seen. That woman had lifted a metal wall/doorway that had to weigh at least 600 pounds, and then manhandled him with a scary ease. She wasn’t human. She had to be some sort of cyborg or something.

“Who was it Fent- what the f-” He heard Gyro start before-

-POW! 

“THAT’S FOR BLACK FUCKING LICORICE YOU PRICK!!!!” He heard the woman scream before the sound of glass shattering shook him out of his stupor. Fenton rushed back to the lab, already dreading the worst.

The sight that awaited him at the lab was... jarring, to say the least. Gyro was on the floor in the fetal position, there was a fair amount of water on the floor as well, and Manny was standing at one of the windows, which had the emergency shutters drawn. The scary cyborg-lady was nowhere it sight.

Fenton was no longer having a good day.

————0————

Scrooge was having a good day. Said good day was ruined when his phone rang. He really hoped it wasn’t the buzzards. If it was one of them he’d just let it go to voicemail. One look at the number proved that it wasn’t the buzzards, though it might be worse.

It was the lab number, and the only time they ever called him was to let him know that one of their inventions had gone haywire, destroyed a bunch of stuff, and was heading his way. They never called him when it started going haywire, oh no, they just always had to try and fix it themselves. He answered the phone anyway.

“Mr. McDuck!” Sounded a very distressed employee of his. What was his name again? Caballero? Crackpot?

“Alright, what ‘wee misunderstood beastie’ is headin’ my way today, Crackhead?” Scrooge said, sounding utterly bored.

“I. It-it’s Crackshell,” Fenton mumbled.

“Right. So Crackegg, why are ye callin’ me?”

“I- well, sir, you see-“

“Oh fer heaven’s sake lad, quit yer mumblin’ and spit it out already!” Scrooge said impatiently.

“We had a break-in sir!”

Scrooge raised an eyebrow. “A break-in? Havnae had one of those in a while. Alright, what did Glomgold steal this time?”

“Oh, nothing was stolen, sir.” Fenton said. “And Glomgold wasn’t behind this either. At least, I don’t think he was.”

Scrooge sighed and rubbed his temples. “What happened then?” He asked simply.

“Well, you see sir, a strange woman came down to the lab and asked to see Gyro. I told her that he wasn’t in -because Gyro’s policy about strange people coming to see him is to pretend that he doesn’t exist- but she seemed to know I was lying. So she lifted the wall, went into the lab and assaulted Gyro, all while yelling something about black licorice? Then she bust out the window of the lab and swam for shore.”

Scrooge thumped his head on his desk: he could very easily guess who the assailant was. 

“I believe that she might be a cyborg, sir: she was extremely strong, she had a metal leg, and hated Gyro for some reason. I wanted to know if you thought I should give chase now, or if I should do so after I’ve cleaned up.” Fenton asked.

Scrooge sighed. “Just clean up fer now, donnae worry about it.”

“Okay, so chase after the killer cyborg-lady later then?”

“No, Ah mean donnae worry about it. Ah’ve got it handled.” Scrooge said a bit more forcefully.

“Oh! Of course sir. I’ll just, ah, make sure Gyro’s alright.”

“You go do that.”

“...Um, sir? I think he’s crying.”

Scrooge sighed again. He had a feeling he was going to be doing so a lot today. “Not my problem.” He hung up, took a moment to soak in what could very well be the last piece of bit and quiet he would get for the day, and dialed a new number. 

The phone rang... 

rang... 

rang... 

And went to voicemail. Scrooge could feel a headache coming on already. “Ye press the green button when ye want tae talk, lass. Ah’m goin’ tae call again now. Remember: green button.” He dialed the number again and this time the phone was picked up almost immediately. 

“I didn’t answer because I was a little busy swimming, Uncle Scrooge,” his niece replied. “You didn’t have to get all condescending about it.”

“Mm-hm,” Scrooge hummed, a slight smile crossing his face (despite everything). “So Ah hear ye visited Gyro today.”

“Oh yeah!” Della said excitedly. “It was fun! I went swimming for the first time in ages! I almost drowned!”

“How exciting.” Scrooge replied dryly. “Did ye make it back tae shore alright?”

“Yep! I’m waving at you right now! Can you see me?” 

Scrooge looked out his office window, and after a moment of scanning, saw a small white speck jumping up and down on the pier. “Aye, Ah can se ye.” He chuckled.

Della gasped suddenly. “Wait! I just went swimming and got my phone all wet! How is it still working?”

“It’s a waterproof phone Della, like the kids have. Ah got them fer adventures and such.” Never mind that Donald was the one who convinced him to splurge on such expensive things, stating that ‘communication with the kids’ was the most important thing to have happen. As if that had ever been a problem with the twins.

“Wait, it’s waterproof? Seriously?” Scrooge heard a swoosh and a splash a second later. He smacked his forehead. 

Scrooge took the time to check his watch: it wasn’t even noon yet and already he was tired. “Maybe next time donnae throw yer phone into the ocean tae check if it’s waterproof, aye?” He said after he was fairly certain she’d had enough time to get it back.

“Yeah yeah yeah, I thought about that as soon as it left my hand, alright?” Della returned snappishly.

Scrooge laughed at that. He truly had missed his niece’s mannerisms. Though Fenton (Fenton! That was his name! Still couldn’t remember his last name, though) probably didn’t find them as amusing. “Ye know, Ah think ye may have given Fenton a heart attack.”

“Fenton? Is he that hero-esque duck down in the labs as well? Real nice hair?”

“Aye, that’d be the one.”

“Huh. He seemed nice enough.” Della paused for a moment. “Hey, you know if he and Gyro are dating?”

“Ah donnae pry into my employees love lives, Della.”

“...Really? You don’t? You?” She asked suspiciously.

“Of course Ah don’t! Ah’m not some gossip bug, ye ken?” Scrooge was met with silence. “Donnae roll yer eyes at me, lass.”

“What? I totally wasn’t!”

“Mm-hm,” Scrooge hummed, unconvinced.

“....Okay, maybe I was, whatever!” Della acquiesced “You got lucky!”

Scrooge grinned. “Ah donnae believe in luck, lass.” More silence. “And pull yer tongue back in, you’ll catch flies.”

“How!? How do you always know!?” Della yelled.

Scrooge laughed. “You cannae pull a fast one on Scrooge McDuck, that’s why! It’s because Ah’m-“

“-tougher than the toughies, smarter than the smarties, yeah yeah yeah.” Della interrupted. “Like I haven’t heard that a million times.”

Scrooge snorted. “No respect for yer elders these days.”

“Oh, you can still move around just fine, you don’t count as an elder.”

Speaking of moving around, “How did ye get to The Money Bin anyways?” He asked.

“I stowed away in the trunk of the limo when you left for work this morning.”

“Wh—Della!” Scrooge sputtered. “Ye could have just ridden in the back with me!”

“Well sure, but then you’d ask why I want to join you! And then I’d have to tell you all about my plans, and then you’d give me The Look—y’know, the ‘I’m really disappointed in you’ look, and then I’d feel bad! Plus, I’ve got a ten year streak of not getting The Look and I really don’t want to break that now.”

Scrooge rolled his eyes. “Just because ye havenae seen The Look doesnae it hasn’t been given, lass.” He said.

“It totally does! In order for The Look -honestly any look, really- to be a look, you’ve gotta be looking at the person you’re giving the look to! Seriously Uncle Scrooge, this is common sense stuff!”

Scrooge let out a bemused sigh. He loved his niece, he really did, but she really didn’t think things through. How was she going to get home now? “Getting back on track, how were ye planning on getting home?” Scrooge asked.

Silence.

“...Della.” Scrooge admonished.

“Don’t give me that!” Della said. “It’s not like I got myself into an unsolvable situation! I’ll just ride with you when you go home.”

“The work day just started, Della. Ye sure ye want to wait that long? Ah could just send Launchpad tae get ye and take ye home now, if ye want.” Scrooge got a notification for an incoming call. He ignored it.

Della paused for a moment, considering. “Mmmm, nah. I’ll just wait in your office.”

Scrooge grinned. “Aw, like when ye were a wee little lass?”

Della groaned. “Is it too late to change my answer?”

Scrooge chuckled. The notification sounded again, and this time he looked at it. Again from the lab. He should probably take it. “Right, Ah’ve got another call comin’ in lass, Ah’ll call ye back.”

“Don’t bother,” Della said, “I’ll be up in the office in a jiffy. See you then!”

“See ye then.” Scrooge replied. He took a deep breath to prepare himself  for what was no doubt bad news of some kind, and accepted the call. “What do ye want now, Fenton?”

“Oh thank goodness, I finally reached you!” Fenton sounded relieved. “I’ve been trying for a few minutes now, but first I accidentally dialed a wrong number! Then I dialed again, but It didn’t go through, so I thought-”

“Lad.” Scrooge said. “If ye aren’t contacting me fer an immediate problem, I’m gonna deduct my next phone bill from yer pay, understand?”

“Right, sir! The thing is, Gyro threw up, and I think that he might have internal bleeding!” Fenton said, sounding, somehow, even more panicked that he had when he first called. 

Scrooge dropped the phone and put his head in his hands. It wasn’t even noon yet. It wasn’t even noon yet!

It was at that moment that Della bust in through his door.“She has arrived!” She announced to the world. Scrooge lifted his head to glare at her. “...okay, I just entered the room, how have I already earned the glare?”

“If Ae have tae pay out Gyro’s health insurance because ye ruptured his spleen, Ah’m not gonna be happy, Della.”

“Yo, I ruptured his spleen? That’s awesome!”

Scrooge’s glare intensified. 

“-ly bad. For him. That would be a horrible thing.” Della fixed her statement. “Hold the phone, is that a Newton’s Cradle?” She dashed over to his desk, all previous actions forgotten, to play with the clacky little ball toy. 

Scrooge sighed. This was going to be a long day.

Chapter Text

Gyro placed a final Pep can on top of a pyramid of Pep cans, and quickly scurried back behind a blast shield. “Okay, test number 36 of the Gizmosuit’s cannon arm upgrade, commence. Intern, fire at will.” He said. “And please make sure you’re actually aiming at the cans this time.”

“Yes sir Doctor Gearloose!” Fenton responded. He lowered the arm cannon at the cans and made the neural connections necessary for it to fire. The sound of fans whirring signified large increase in energy output, and electricity built up at the tip of the cannon for almost a full second, before suddenly firing.

The force of the knock-back sent Fenton flying back into the floor, which smarted.

Fenton coughed. “Did I hit the cans this time?”

“Surprisingly, yes.” Gyro said, making notes on his clipboard. “The blast vaporized most of the metal where it hit, and the cans that weren’t touched by the blast itself were still displaced by the resulting shock-wave. Yes, I think this power level will work!”

“That’s wonderful Doctor Gearloose, but I feel like it’s a little counter-productive to have me blasted back by the force of it as well.”

“Hmm, yes, I suppose that could be a problem.” Gyro mused. “Couldn’t you just get stronger or something?”

“I- Doctor Gearloose.” Fenton picked himself of the floor and glared at Gyro. “That’s hardly a good solution.”

Gyro rolled his eyes. “Well then what would you suggest, Intern?”

Fenton pondered the question for a moment. “Hmm. If we added exhaust ports to the back it might reduce some of the buildup.”

“Maybe,” Gyro frowned. “But it would also reduce the power of the blast itself.”

“Not if we added an inlay of mono-carbonate to the inside, which would-”

“-Let the electronic charge continue charging even while it releases pressure out the exhaust!” Gyro finished for Fenton. “We could also reverse the anomithium charge-“

“-To allow for intake reduction!” Fenton added. “Which, in turn, would let us add another layer of silicous phosphate-”

“-Which would energize the charge-”

“-Almost ten time the expected amount! Such a build would allow for expert precision-”

“-And insane firepower-”

“-The likes of which the Gizmoduck suit has never seen before!”

“All while being more efficient with it’s power usage than the last cannon upgrade! It’s genius!” Gyro exclaimed. He dropped his clipboard and grabbed Fenton’s shoulders. Fenton could immediately feel heat rising along his body. “This could really work, Fenton!"

“Yeah!” Fenton agreed, “Yeah, it really could.” He felt himself get closer to Gyro, not dropping his gaze. He could see the flecks of green in Gyro’s hazel eyes. Huh, had Gyro always had such warm brown eyes? 

Fenton really wanted to kiss him.

He felt himself lean in further, closing his eyes, and-

“Hey, your cool-ass wall-door isn’t working anymo- oh, is now a bad time?” Both Fenton and Gyro screamed and leapt back from each other like they’d been burned.

Fenton turned around to see who had interrupted him and let out another scream: that cyborg woman from a few weeks ago had invaded their lab again! He dived behind his desk post-haste. “It’s the cyborg! She’s back!” He yelled.

Gyro quickly grabbed a taser off his desk and pointed at her, one arm wrapped protectively around his stomach. “BACK, YOU FOUL SHE-DEVIL!!!” He screeched. “STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!!!!”

The woman simply looked unimpressed. “Seriously Gy? You should know by now that I ain’t afraid of a little shock.”

Gyro looked at the taser like he was just now realizing what he was holding, and tossed it aside. The strong-as-fuck lady flashed Fenton look. “This guy, am I right?”

Thankfully, Fenton was spared from trying to respond when he heard a cocking sound come from Gyro’s direction. “I reiterate: DON’T YOU MOVE A FUCKING STEP CLOSER YOU BITCH!!!”

“Gyro, whaaathAT IS A GUN! That is an actual gun, Gyro!” Fenton exclaimed, watching as his boss pointed a fucking gun at the cyborg. How had he even gotten that in?

If possible, the woman managed to look even less impressed. “Do it, pussy. You won’t.” She put her hands in her pockets and stared down the barrel without flinching.

“Oooookay, how about we just calm down and lower our weapons, huh Gyro?” Fenton tried. “Probably not a good idea to try and shoot a cyborg, right?”

“Oh please, she’s not a cyborg.” Gyro scoffed, still keeping his weapon trained on her. “She’s a McDuck.” He spat, with venom coating his words.

“I- wh- That’s even worse, Gyro!” Fenton panicked. “I really don’t think it’s a good idea to shoot one of our bosses relatives!”

“Yeah Gy, listen to Fenton, put the gun down. I just wanna talk.”

“Oh, like you ‘just wanted to talk’ last time?” Gyro said.

“Hey, I just thought of some new stuff I wanted to say.” The apparently-not-a-cyborg-woman raised her hands into the air.

“Oh really?” Gyro drawled. “Well that’s what happens when you leave so quickly; you leave things unsaid.”

“Ooh, that sounded like it had a double meaning.” She sneered.

The McDuck scanned the lab, frowning after a moment. “Just checking, there was a horse with Scrooge’s head last time I was here, right? I wasn’t just seeing things?”

Gyro responded with “No, there’s no such thing, you must be absolutely crazy.”

At the same time that Fenton said “Oh, do you mean Manny?”

“Yeah, sure, Manny!” The girl immediately zeroed in on Fenton. “See, I knew I wasn’t seeing things! Where is he?”

“Oh, well, it’s Upgrade Day today, which is the day that Gyro and I test out new upgrades for the Gizm-uh,” He stuttered. “For fun! It can get pretty messy, so Manny and Lil Bulb usually take the day off.”

Gyro placed the gun back down on his desk. “If you aren’t here to cause violence, why are you here?” He asked the McDuck.

“As I said, now that everyone’s calmed down, I wanna talk to you about some stuff. Specifically;” The woman rummaged through her coat pockets and pulled out a stick of gum. “This shit.”

Gyro let out an exasperated sigh. “Are you still on about this? Black licorice is a perfectly good flavor.”

“You shut your whore mouth Gearloose!” The woman exploded, waving the stick of gum at him. “Ten fucking years of this shit! You couldn’t have made any other flavors??”

“Why would I, when black licorice is clearly the best one?”

The woman looked incensed at that. Fenton slowly stood up and tried to get their attention. “Okay, what is going on here? Who are you?” He asked the woman, “Why are you talking about black licorice? What does Gyro have to do with any of this?”

Gyro sighed. “Okay.” He rubbed his temples. “Fenton, this is Della Duck, she’s Mr. McDuck’s niece. Della, this is Fenton, my intern-slash-co-worker.

“So, Della got lost in space about ten years ago. She’s only alive today because of Oxy-Chew -an invention that I made- which was a gum that gave you oxygen and nutrients when you chewed it. And now that she’s -unfortunately- made it back home, she sees to complain about the invention which saved her life.”

Della laughed bitterly. “Yeah, okay, this fucker is leaving out some pretty important shit. What he isn’t telling you is that he had the bright idea of flavoring the gum! Which, if you weren’t Gyro Gearloose, wouldn’t be a bad idea. Unfortunately, this sad sack of shit is Gyro Gearloose, and he chose to make the gum taste like black. Fucking. Licorice.” If looks could kill, Gyro would be dead on the spot from the look that Della was giving him.

As it stood, Fenton felt like this whole thing was a bit of an overreaction. “I don’t mean to be rude,” He started, “but is that really that bad? I mean, once the gum lost it’s flavor, it’d be fine, right?”

“Oh you’d think!” Della said. “You’d think, but no! No, this fucker, this motherfucker, made the flavor last eternally! And he made the flavor black licorice! And that was the only thing I had to eat for ten fucking years!”

“Oh.” Fenton blinked. “Okay, yeah, no, that’s pretty fucked up.”

“Thank you!” Della yelled in relief. “Finally, somebody actually gets it!”

“Oh please,” Gyro scoffed. “You would’ve hated any flavor after ten years.”

“Well not if you’d made more than one flavor!”

“You wouldn’t ever need more than one! The gum sticks will last for over a decade!”

“Then just make them flavorless!”

Gyro rolled his eyes. He grabbed a small gizmo off his desk and began fiddling with it. “Is this all you’ve come here for? To insult my tastes?”

“Oh no, that’s not all.” Della said. “But on the subject of insulting; the instruction manual.”

“What about it?” Gyro asked.

“Did you have to make it insult me every three sentences? Like, seriously: one of the only things keeping me connected with humanity, and it’s filled to the brim with personal insults against me!”

“You’re exaggerating!” Gyro defended. “It wasn’t ‘every three sentences’! I mean, sure, maybe I put in a few side jabs, but not that many!”

“Oh yes that many! Every other sentence called me specifically an idiot, or stupid, or somehow intoned that I’m not all there in the head!”

“Really?” Gyro placed the gizmo down and made a ‘give it’ gesture with his hand. “Then let’s see it: show me where it says these things."

Della took on a slightly abashed look. “Well, I mean I would, but, uh, I don’t, exactly, have it. Anymore.”

Fenton could feel the temperature in the room drop. “What. Do you mean. You don’t have it anymore?” Gyro asked coldly.

“Well I had to give it to Lunaris so that the moonlanders could make their own ships.”

Gyro took off his glasses and rubbed his beak. “Why would you give it to Lunaris?” He demanded.

“He was kind to me!” Della defended. “How was I supposed to know that he was a xenophobic bigot who just wanted something from me?”

“Well Della, here’s a bit of advice,” Gyro began. “If someone is ever kind to you? Well then, they just want something.” 

Della winced and looked down at her feet. Fenton wasn’t a genius (well, he kind of was, but that wasn’t the point), but it felt like that had crossed a line.

He held his breath as he waited for Della’s response. She lifted her head, a fire blazing in her eyes, and pointed an accusing finger at Gyro. 

“Okay motherfucker, that’s it!” Della said. “I challenge you to a Screwloose!”

Gyro was silent for almost a full minute before letting out a chuckle. Said chuckle soon turned into a laugh, which became a guffaw, which turned into full blown maniacal laughter after a moment. “Really, Della? You really want this?” He said, wiping a tear from his eye. “I’ve spent the last ten years building and creating, while all you’ve been doing is vacationing on the moon! You can’t beat me!”

Della smirked, but the smirk seemed... wrong, somehow. It wasn’t smug, it was almost... angry. Cold. It made Fenton nervous seeing it from the sidelines, he had no idea how Gyro could handle it head-on. 

“Sounds to me like you’re scared, Doctor Gearloose.” Della got right up into Gyro’s face. “What’s wrong, afraid you’ll lose? Or better yet, afraid you’ll have a repeat of Dr. Akita and 2-BO?”

Fenton didn’t know what either of those names meant, but it was clear that Gyro did. His face dropped from a smug, condescending smile, to cold anger. “72 hours.” He said, with a deadly calm.

“Good. Who’ll judge?” Della asked, with the same false calm.

“Fenton, obviously.”

“Oh, bullshit!” Della exploded, the cool facade dropping in an instant. “We’re not gonna have your fucking boyfriend be the only judge for this thing!”

“Fenton isn’t my boyfr- Fenton? Where’d you go?” Gyro looked around, but Fenton was nowhere to be found.

“It doesn’t matter where he went, cuz he’s not gonna fucking judge!”

“Why not? You’ve had your family judge before!”

“That’s different!” Della yelled. As the two of them argued, they didn’t notice Fenton slink away to the elevator. He was gonna need a lot more help if he wanted to make sure those two didn’t kill each other, and now he knew exactly who to ask.

———0———

“Mr. McDuck! Mr. McDuck!” Fenton pounded on the door of the McDuck Manor. “I need your help, Mr. McDuck! Mr. McDuck!”

Right when he raised his fist for another round, the manor door creaked open. 

“Fenton?” The thick Scottish brogue of Scrooge McDuck sounded out. “What in blazes are ye doing here?”

Fenton exhaled in relief. “Oh thank goodness you’re here sir!” He scooped Scrooge up into a tight hug.

“Curse me kilts lad! Get off of me!” Scrooge yelled.

“Oh!” Fenton quickly dropped Scrooge. “Of course sir, I’m so sorry sir, I didn’t mean to! I was just afraid that you might be out on an adventure and weren’t going to be here which would have been a problem so I guess I was just relieved and wanted to show that but I know that was a breach of privacy -I mean I didn’t at the time but I do now- so I’m so so sorry-”

“Fer heaven’s sake, take a breath lad!” Scrooge cut off Fenton’s rambling. Fenton took a deep breath, and then a couple more, as Scrooge righted his hat. “Right, well, If ye’ve calmed down now,” Scrooge started, “Would ye mind telling me why ye’ve seen fit tae bother me on my day off?” 

Fenton took a deep breath and began to explain. “Okay sir. As you may already know, today is the day that Gyro and I usually put aside for making upgrades for the,” Fenton looked around nervously, “The you-know-what.” He whispered conspiratorially.

“The Gizmoduck armor?” Scrooge asked.

“I-” Fenton sighed into the air. “Yes, the Gizmoduck armor. That’s what I meant when I said the you-know-what, because you know about the Gizmoduck armor, and I know you know about the Gizmoduck armor, and you know that I know about the Gizmoduck armor, and I know-”

“Lad.”

“Right, getting back on track!” Fenton coughed. “Yes, so: Gyro and I were busy putting the finishing touches on the Gizmo-cannon-”

“Ye mean the one still stuck on yer arm?” Scrooge interrupted, pointing at his right arm.

Fenton hadn’t even realized that he still had it on. He guessed that he didn’t really remember taking it off, though. “Yes, the one still stuck on my arm.

“Anyways, we were putting the final touches on the Gizmo-cannon, when who should show up again but Della Duck!”

Scrooge groaned. “Of fer pity’s sake, Ah thought she had gotten her anger out last time!”

“Yes well, apparently she had a bit she wanted to say than just a punch to the stomach.” Fenton said. “She did claim to only want to talk this time, so Gyro didn’t do anything rash. Thankfully. So they started arguing about Oxy-Chew and the owner’s manual for the Spear of Selene, and then Gyro said something which I think might have crossed a line, because Della got real quiet and challenged him to something called a Screwloose?”

As Fenton said the word Screwloose, he saw Scrooge’s eyes light up. The Scottish Bajillionare began howling with laughter. Scrooge stumbled inside as he laughed, and Fenton, unsure of what was happening, followed.

“I was hoping, sir, as the boss of one of them and the uncle of the other, you could put a stop to this?” Scrooge just kept laughing. “Or at least, maybe you tell me what a Screwloose is?” He asked weakly.

“A Screwloose! Bless me bagpipes, they havnae had one o’ those in ages!” Scrooge wiped a tear from his eye. He spotted Donald reading a book in the living room and motioned to him. “Donnie me lad! You’ll never guess what’s happening!”

Donald didn’t look up from the book. “Someone’s one fire?” He asked.

“Better! Della an’ Gyro are doin’ a Screwloose!”

Donald snorted. “Really? Took ‘em long enough.”

“A Screwloose!” Scrooge began to chuckle again.

“Okay, what is a Screwloose?” Fenton asked, seriously lost by this point.

“Oh, it’s nothing too serious lad, just a harmless game the two of them like tae play some times.”

“...Really?” Fenton was unsure about how ‘not serious’ this was. He had been in the room when Della had challenged Gyro, and it hadn’t seemed like it was just fun and games. Then again, the McDuck’s could be kind of dramatic about that kind of thing. Then again again, they also had a rather... special idea of what constituted as ‘harmless’.

“Really!” Scrooge said. Seeing that Fenton was still unconvinced, he rolled his eyes and began to explain. “Lad, it’s nothing tae be worried about. It’s just a wee competition the about ‘who’s the better inventor’, or something like that.”

“What?” Fenton’s eyes went wide. “It’s an inventing competition?”

“Aye, that’s what Ah just said.”

“I- Do they have any rules? Limits? Things they can or cannot do?” He asked.

“Ah mean, they usually have a time limit,” Scrooge scratched his chin. “And I don’t think they can build something they’ve already built, but that might just be personal preference. Oh, and they pick a judge to say which invention is the best. Honestly, Ah’ve judged my fair share of Screwlooses, and Ah still donnae know what the criteria are fer a good invention: Ah usually just flip a coin tae decide who wins.”

“But is there anything besides that?” Fenton was growing increasingly desperate.

“Does is matter?” Scrooge asked.

“Of course it matters!” Fenton snapped. “This is Gyro we’re talking about! He makes terrifying, chaotic inventions when given strict guidelines!”

Scrooge raised his eyebrow. “Ah fail to see the problem.”

“Think of what he’ll make without them!” Fenton all but screamed. He grabbed Scrooge’s coat and shook him. “You have to get them to stop! Call it off!”

Scrooge slapped Fenton off and huffed at him. “Now why would Ah do that? A Screwloose is a perfectly good excuse fer the two of them tae release all their pent up energy. Honestly, lad, ye’re overreacting!”

Fenton sighed. Maybe he was? I mean, sure, Gyro would definitely make something bad, but it’s not like Della could be worse, right?

Speak of the devil, Della Duck slammed open the front door. “Alright!” She yelled. “I’m going to need 300 pounds of steel, A shit ton of copper wiring, a bunch of acid, 16 grams of sugar, a bucketful of gunpowder, and something to make sparks!” She stormed through the mansion like a typhoon. “Oh, hey Fenton!” She said brightly, before immediately returning to being like a storm. 

Oh no, she might be worse.

Scrooge simply smiled at his niece. “Ah hear ye had a nice talk with Gyro today,” He said.

“Yeah, it was wonderful,” Della spat. “I need to get to work, I’m going my room!”

“Alright lass, just remember that dinner is in 10 minutes!” Scrooge called. 

“Whatever!” Della called back. Fenton saw Scrooge’s gaze harden and trap Della where she was. Della stopped, sighed, and turned around. “Come on, Uncle Scrooge! It’s a Screwloose!” She stated, as if he was particularly dense.

“Ah donnae care if it’s the end of the world,” Scrooge retorted. “Ye promised that ye wouldnae skip any more meals.”

“Okay, but this is different, Uncle Scrooge!” Della stomped her metal leg. “I’ve only got 72 hours! Meals aren’t important enough to waste time on!”

Scrooge’s face dropped from a glare to something worse; a Look that Fenton thought only his M’ma could pull off. Della, for her part, looked immediately abashed.

“Oh come on Unca Scrooge,” She whined. “Not ‘The Look’.”

“Ye promised, lass.” Scrooge said.

“But it’s a Screwloose!”

“As ye’ve said.”

“Couldn’t we just, I don’t know, bend the rules a little?” Della tried.

Scrooge simply continued to give her ‘The Look’.

Della let out an aggravated, yet defeated, sigh. “Fine! Fine, I’ll eat.” She grumbled. “But you’d better make sure that Gyro eats too! If I have to waste valuable time on meals, so does he!” She yelled.

“Sure, sure, Della.” Scrooge waved her off. “Now go help the kids get ready.”

“Yes Uncle Scrooge,” Della said dutifully. She trudged off, leaving Fenton with Scrooge again.

“Are you sure you won’t call it off?”

Scrooge sighed. “Lad, even if Ah wanted to, do ye really think Ah could?”

“I suppose not,” Fenton acquiesced.

“Honestly Fenton, what harm will they do?” Scrooge asked as he walked away. “It’s been ten years since the last one!”

Fenton watched him leave with a sort of pained acceptance on his face. “Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of.”

Chapter Text

“Will Randy complete the Blumingshire finish in time? Will the buyer be satisfied with the final product? Tune in next time to Automan Empire to find out!” The program ended and began to play ads for a second before Louie turned off the TV with a contented sigh.

“I really don’t get why you like this,” Webby remarked. “Like, I can already tell how the next episode is gonna turn out, and I’ve barely watched this show.”

“Ex-actly,” Louie shuffled around the couch for another can of Pep. “It’s predictable, and I just so happen to like predictable. It’s a nice change of pace from adventures.” He said with distaste

Huey frowned quizzically up at him from his JWG. “Aren’t you the one who always claims that ‘all our adventures are predictable’?”

“Well, yeah,” Louie scoffed. “But that’s a different kind of predictable.”

“Different how, exactly?” Huey quizzed him.

Louie sighed. “I don’t know man, It just is.” He said.

“Wow, Louie “Con Artist Extraordinaire” Duck at a loss for words?” Dewey chuckled. “Does anybody have a camera?”

“Oh shut up,” Louie threw his empty Pep can at Dewey’s head. 

Right when Dewey was about to retaliate, Mrs. Beakley popped her head into the room. “Alright, which one of you rug rats made off with the toaster?” She asked with her usual stern British attitude.

Huey blinked. “Why you asking us?” He asked. “What would any of us want with a toaster?”

“I have no earthly idea what any of you might want with it,” Mrs. Beakley began, “But I’ve come to assume that whenever an item gets ‘misplaced’, or something goes wrong, it somehow involves at least one of you four.”

“Wow, so kind of you Mrs. B,” Louie snarked.

Beakley turned her stern gaze onto Louie. “Am I to assume that you stole it then, Louie? Do you figure there’s some gold stashed away in it?”

Louie raised his hands in defense. “Hey man, I did no such thing and I resent the accusation. Regardless, by immediately accusing us,” He gestured to himself and the other kids, “You’ve just so happened to miss the most obvious suspect.”

Beakley raised an eyebrow and folded her arms. “Really?” She said, unbelieving. “Then why don’t you tell who you think is responsible? And before you start, it not ghosts. They know better.”

“Oh please, it’s never ghosts.” Louie took a sip of his Pep. “It’s Mom.”

“Mom?” Dewey asked. “Why would she need a toaster?”

Louie shrugged. “Heck if I know, but she’s building something, isn’t she? That Screwloose or whatever?”

Mrs. Beakley blinked. “Do you really believe that she would steal the toaster?”

“If I had to guess.”

“Do you think she’s also responsible for the fridge’s missing door handle?”

“Probably.”

“And the missing spark plugs on the stove?”

“I’d have to assume.”

“And why all the bananas are gone after one day?”

“Oh no, that one’s on me.” Dewey raised his hand. “I needed banana peels for a Dewey-Do-Nite skit.”

Mrs. Beakley looked at him with a slightly shocked expression. “So you ate 22 whole bananas?”

Dewey snorted. “What? No, I hate bananas. I just needed the peels.”

“Then what on earth did you do with the bananas?” Mrs. Beakley asked.

Before Dewey could answer, Della came blustering into the room like a woman on a mission.

“Hey Ma-woah,” Huey said, getting a good look at the haggard looking woman in front of him. “Are you okay? Did you sleep last night?”

“Sleep is for the weak.” Della replied. “Do any of you know where an 82-volt capacitor might be?”

“Ah, Della, just the woman I wanted to see.” Mrs. Beakley ignored her question. “Do happen to know where my toaster might be? And my spark plugs as well?”

Della stared at her (or more accurately, stared into space in her direction) for almost a second before responding. “Uh, Yeah.” She said simply, before dropping to the floor to continue her search.

Mrs. Beakley waited for her to elaborate. When it was clear that she wasn’t going to, Beakley sighed. “And where might they be, exactly?” She stressed.

“Oh!” Della shot up from under the couch. “Yeah, I’m kinda using them at the moment. Do you guys seriously not know where a 82-volt capacitor is?”

Beakley rubbed her temples in agitation. “By ‘using them’, I assume you mean ‘took them to pieces’ then?”

Della snapped and pointed finger guns at her all in one smooth motion. “Got it in one, Beakley.” She lifted the cushion Dewey was sitting on and scanned under it.

“Woah!” Dewey exclaimed.

“And I suppose I’m not going to get them back now, am I?” Mrs. Beakley soldiered on.

Della huffed distractedly and set the cushion back down. “Probably not. Do you think the TV has one?” She asked.

“You know, I could just buy you a capacitor. There’s no need to take so many things apart.” Mrs. Beakley tried.

Della scoffed. “Are you kidding Mrs. B? That’d take way too long!” She suddenly snapped her fingers. “Ah hah! I think I know what might have one!” And she rushed out of the living room.

“Told you,” Louie said.

———0———

Fenton closed the door to his ‘office’ (well, the bathroom, but still), and collapsed to the floor, a groan leaving his beak. He seriously needed a break from Gyro. He was a good friend, sure, but hoo-boy, did he make it difficult to like him when he got like this.

He got to his feet and made his way over to his cubicle. Sure, Gyro might be annoying right now, but he still needed to eat, so Fenton headed over to the mini-fridge he had installed a while ago to get some food. 

He sighed as he tried to decide what to feed Gyro. He had some Gizmoduck pies, but they were for bad guys, and Fenton wasn’t entirely sure Gyro was that far gone yet. The fajitas his M’ma made were still good, but he wanted to eat those. He did have some takeout, but as he pulled it out and sniffed it, he was brought to the sad truth that it had gone bad awhile ago.

As Fenton puzzled over whether or not it was morally ethical to feed a deranged mad scientist spoiled takeout, his monitor suddenly blared to life. “Hey Suit, where the fuck have you been?”

Fenton banished all thoughts of ethical debate quite quickly, by yeeting the takeout at the screen when it sounded out.

Gandra Dee’s face on his screen looked rather bemused by the turn of events. “...Did you just throw takeout at me?” She asked.

“Dr. Dee!” Fenton exclaimed. He hadn’t expected to see her, but he wasn’t too surprised. After the whole fiasco with Beaks, Gandra had taken up mercenary work to pay for her experimentation. She wasn’t too scrupulous about what type of work she did either, which led to the two of them tangling in battle a few times. Despite that, they’d somehow managed to keep a fairly amicable relationship going. 

...Well, it might have been more than just amicable, but Fenton wasn’t entirely certain. They might have flirted before? But maybe that was just Gandra being friendly and him misreading the situation? It fucked with Fenton’s head, so he tried not to think about it. Goodness knows he had enough on his plate as is.

“What are you doing here?” Fenton scrambled to make the bathroom look  nicer. “I mean, not here here, obviously, you aren’t allowed in the lab-”

“Bold of you to assume that would stop me,” Gandra interrupted.

“But why are you on my screen?” Fenton finished.

Gandra rolled her eyes and flicked her hand. Fenton’s screen showed a news report for a piece tech that had been stolen from Glomgold Industries. “Oh, mierda, you didn't-” Fenton began.

Gandra smirked and held up the piece of missing tech. “I did. It was like stealing candy from a baby, especially when Gizmoduck didn’t show up to stop me. Where do you think he was, Suit?”

Fenton groaned. “Oh, blathering blatherskite -dammnit!” He yelled as the Gizmosuit responded to the voice activation key and formed around him, busting the door to his office down in the process.

Gandra grinned. “Oh! There’s the elusive Gizmoduck! I was just talking about how you didn’t even try to stop me with my friend!

Fenton took of the helmet to glare at her.

Gandra gasped. “Suit! You’re Gizmoduck?” She exclaimed in mock disbelief.

Fenton began the long process of removing the armor. He really needed to come up with a quicker way of dismantling it. “Can we not do this song and dance today?” He glared at Gandra. “I’m really not in the mood.”

Gandra laughed, eyes full of mirth. It brought a blush to Fenton’s cheeks, which he promptly ignored. She was his friend, nothing more. 

(‘Like Gyro?’ His brain supplied. Fenton ignored that as well.)

“Alright, fine, Suit.” Gandra held up her hands. “But what happened? Why didn’t you try to stop me? I mean, I know it’s Glomgold, but still.”

“You sound like you want me to stop you."

“Nah,” Gandra replied breezily. “I just think I deserve a good look at any upgrades you’ve put on the suit. Y’know, as a treat.”

Fenton rolled his eyes and spread his arms. “Well, here you go then: your treat.”

Gandra snorted her cheeks gaining a dusting of red. “It’s not the same over a screen, dummy. You could’ve at least put up a token effort.”

Fenton rubbed the back of his head. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t respond to the distress call, I’ve had a busy couple of days.”

“Busy how? Or can you not tell me, because its ‘secret’?” She asked, putting quotation marks around the ‘secret’.

Fenton paused his as he removed the chest piece. How could he explain? “Do you know who Della Duck is?” He asked.

Gandra raised an eyebrow. “I think so, she’s McDuck’s niece, right? She was a big player in the moonvasion, if I recall.”

Fenton nodded. “Yep, that’s the one. Apparently, she and Gyro have history.”

“Ooh, sounds like it ain’t a good one.”

“Nope!” Fenton yelled. “So Gyro made this invention called Oxy-Chew, a gum which allows a person to subsist in a place without an atmosphere or nutrients.”

“Sounds helpful, why haven’t I seen that in stores?” Gandra asked.

“I- I don’t know, I didn’t ask.” Fenton replied. That felt a little strange to him too, now that she mentioned it. “Anyways, Della was lost on the moon with only that to eat for about a decade. Which would be fine on it’s own, but Gyro decided to make it black licorice flavored.”

Gandra winced at that. “Oof, that’s sounds bad.”

“Yeah. He’s also the one who wrote the owner’s manual for the rocket-ship Della took to the moon, and he allegedly put in some pretty insulting stuff. So Della came to the lab a few weeks ago to... confront him on it.”

“I take it that didn’t end well?”

“She broke our door, punched him in the gut, and dove out our window.”

Gandra pondered for a second. “Yeah, I don’t blame her.”

“I find it difficult to too. So that a few weeks ago, right? Well, yesterday, she came back to the lab.”

“Oh no,” Gandra put her hands up to her mouth, looking a bit to excited at the idea of someone getting hurt.

“Don’t worry, no one died. Yet.” Fenton muttered.

“What do you mean, ‘Yet’?”

“Okay, well, she said she wanted to ‘just talk’, right? Well, things got heated; Della apparently lost the owner’s manual, Gyro got pissed at that, and said something that was too far, which even I could tell. So Della got all quiet, then she challenged him to a Screwloose.”

Gandra cocked her head. “What? What on earth is a Screwloose?”

“I’m getting there,” Fenton replied. “So, everything’s silent for a beat, right? Then Gyro suddenly bursts out into laughter, like full-on, I-just-created-something-horrifying maniacal laughter.”

Fenton had fully forgotten about getting out of the suit, instead using his hands for emphasis. “So he brushes her off with a comment about how she’s a fool to challenge him-”

“Like an anime villain,” Gandra whispered, eyes wide.

“Exactly like an anime villain!” Fenton exclaimed. “And she responds by calling him scared and throwing names in his face! I don’t know what they meant, but Gyro definitely did, because he went from full on mania to a deadly anger like the flip of a switch.”

“Holy shit, what happened next?” Gandra asked, enthralled.

“Gyro accepted the challenge, and they set the date for the Screwloose in 72 hours from that mark.”

“Okay, what is a Screwloose? You haven’t told me yet.”

“Oh, that’s the best part! A Screwloose, my dear Gandra, is an inventing competition!”

Gandra’s blinked in disbelief. “Wait, seriously? With Gyro? What are the rules?”

Fenton laughed a slightly crazed laugh. “Fuck all! They’re non-existent!”

“What?”

“I know! As long as they can complete their invention by the due date, everything’s on the table!”

“Gyro’s going to be horrible,” Gandra whispered.

“Oh, and I’m willing to bet that Della will be just as bad!”

“What happens after the 72 hour mark? Do they fight?”

“Not exactly. They meet up in a neutral location and boast about who’s invention is better.”

Gandra’s eyes bugged out of her head. “They meet up? That sounds like a horrible idea.”

“Oh yeah, I said as much! But nobody listened!”

“Do you know where this meetup is supposed to take place?” Gandra asked.

“The docks, they decided this morning.”

“Awesome,” Gandra said. “So stay away from the docks for a while, got it.”

Fenton looked up at her, wounded. “What? You won’t help me with damage control?”

Gandra smirked and made the universal sign for money. Fenton groaned. 

“Oh come on!” He cried. “You know I don’t have the money to pay you!”

“Not my problem, Suit!” Gandra chuckled. “Couldn’t you get it on the company dime?”

Fenton scoffed. “Oh please, Scrooge thinks this is harmless, he won’t spare any money on you.”

Gandra opened her mouth, closed it, the opened it again. “Y’know, I don’t know why I expected anything different. I mean, this is the guy who thinks that death-traps are a good family bonding exercise.”

“Yeah,” Fenton replied. He felt good getting that off his chest. “Well, it’s been nice catching up, but I gotta go. I need to make sure Gyro actually eats something.”

Gandra’s grin turned slightly devious. “Aw, taking care of your boyfriend, are we?”

Fenton groaned, his cheeks turning red. She loved to call Gyro his boyfriend to throw him off. Another reason he wasn’t entirely sure if they were anything but friends. “He’s not my boyfriend,” He tried weakly.

“Yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself that, Suit.” Gandra waved him off.

Fenton smirked. “Always ‘Suit’ with you, do you even remember my name?”

Gandra grinned. “Of course I do, it’s Suit!”

Fenton rolled his eyes fondly. “Goodbye, Gandra Dee.”

“If things go poorly at the Screwloose, it may very well be goodbye!” Gandra laughed. “See ya later, Fenton.” She gave him a salute and blinked off of his screen.

Fenton sighed warmly. Talking with Gandra always lifted his spirits. He finished taking off the armor and (regretfully) grabbed the fajitas. He could always grab some more from a restaurant later (they wouldn’t taste as good as his M’ma’s though).

As he left the office, he grabbed out his phone and went to the texting app.

Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera: Alright sir, ready for the power to be turned off

Scrooge McDuck: Alright lad, you’ll have 5 minutes before the backup generator’s turn on, make sure Gyro eats in that time.

Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera: Don’t worry sir, I’m on it!

He put his phone away as the lights suddenly shut off, and Gyro screamed. 5 minutes to get Gyro to eat, should be easy, right?

———0———

Louie groaned. Why did he have to get Della down for dinner? Now Dewey would take his spot! It was totally unfair.

You know, this was probably because Beakley was annoyed with his “smart-mouthing” earlier. Honestly, It’s not like it was his fault she always blamed the kids first! ...Well, fine, maybe it was a little. Like, ten percent though, not that much! ...Okay, more like twenty-five percent. ...Fine, fifty percent! Happy!? Cause Louie sure wasn’t! Seriously, it’s not like he wanted to be such a nuisance to his family!

O-kay, that was a little dark. Dial it back, brain. He should probably get that checked out by a therapist or something. 

He shook those thoughts out of his head as he approached his mother’s door. He was pretty confident she was in there, considering the sheer amount of noise that was going on behind it. Seriously, it sounded like an entire construction crew was working in there!

He knocked on the door as he checked his phone. “Mom, dinner’s ready!” He waited for a few seconds, but the construction work soldiered on. He sighed. Of course it couldn’t be that simple.

He pounded on the door harder. “Ma! Dinner!” He shouted. And, of course, nothing happened. Ugh, he was gonna have to go in there, wasn’t he?

He sighed, went to turn the doorknob, and sighed even louder: of course she’d locked the door. Why wouldn’t she lock the door?

He looked longingly back down the hallway. Oh how he wanted to just leave. Why didn’t he? Honestly, what was the big deal if Della skipped one meal?

‘What if she’s dead,’ His mind supplied oh so helpfully as he turned to leave.

Louie put his face in his hands and groaned in exasperation. Why would she be dead? There was no reason that she’d be dead! In fact, the construction work should be proof of that!

‘She could’ve played the sound on her computer to cover up the noise of her killing herself,’ His mind whispered traitorously. ‘It’s a smart move, wouldn’t you do that?’

No. No, there was no reason for Mom to kill herself! His mind was just being stupid. Seriously, therapy. Not a bad idea.

‘You don’t know what went on in her head, maybe she was too disappointed in how you turned out to continue on.’

Now that wasn’t fair, Louie wasn’t that bad!

‘She didn’t want three sons.’

“She probably didn’t want any kids at all!” Louie yelled. Okay, seriously, like, fuck his brain. He had to check now, though.

Louie took his lock-picks out of his pocket and went to work on her door. It took a while, which was totally because Della had futzed with the lock, not because his hands were trembling, thank you very much! And even if they were, it was from the cold, not anything else!

He heard the click of the door unlocking and took a deep breath. It was now or never. 

He turned the doorknob and opened the door. “Mom?” He called softly, not looking into the room. “Are you in there?”

He suddenly saw a shape flying towards his face and quickly raised his arms to bat it away. He turned to look at the ...gas mask? That has been going for the kill. “Mask on!” His mother’s voice called out.

Louie sighed in relief exasperation at his mother. “Seriously Ma? A mask?” He asked as he started the complicated process of fastening the mask to his face. “What, are you making a virus or something?”

He saw his mother give pause. “Now there’s an idea...” Della mumbled.

“What was that?” Louie asked.

Della startled, as if just remembering that he was there. “Just joking kiddo! No, I’m just working with chemicals, you can never be to careful.” She turned back to her work (which looked really odd from Louie’s point of view), futzing with it for a second before turning her full attention toward Louie. “Anyways, what’s up kiddo? I’m kind of in the middle of something, so if you could be quick about it.”

“It’s dinnertime.”

Della let out a sigh and turned back around to her work. “Just give me like, 10 minutes, okay?”

Give the time-dyslexic woman 10 minutes? Like that was gonna happen. “Alright, fine,” Louie drawled, “I’ll just go tell Mrs. B you said that.”

He smirked as he saw his mother’s back still. “Beakley sent you?” Della ground out.

His smirk grew wider. Got her in one, and he didn’t even need to lie! “Yep, but I’m sure she’ll be perfectly happy to postpone dinner for -what did you say again, 10 minutes?”

Della groaned loudly and stood up. “Alright, alright, no need for drastic action, I’m coming!” She didn’t even bother taking off her mask as she stalked out her room. Louie followed after, smug as ever at being in control of the situation again. (Psh, what did he mean again? He’d always been in control!

‘No you weren’t’

Shut up brain.)

Louie took off his mask as he followed his mother into the dining room, where everybody else had gathered for dinner.

Scrooge opened his mouth to speak, but Della quickly cut him off. “Yeah yeah, I know what you’re gonna say: ‘So the troll comes out of her room’, or ‘Bless me bagpipes, she’s alive!’ Ha ha, absolutely hilarious Uncle Scrooge, where’s the food?”

Scrooge blinked. “Ah was gonna ask whether ye planned tae eat with that mask on or not.”

Della blinked, and quickly took of her mask and threw it to the ground. “Whatever, are we gonna eat soon or not? Time is money here Scrooge.”

Beakley entered, carrying a couple large pots and dishes. “Would you calm down?” She asked Della. “The food’s right here.” She set the food down on the table.

“Perfect!” Della quickly scrambled for the food, dumping a bit of everything on her plate before.

And. Well. Louie didn’t really know how to describe it, to be honest. It was like she turned into a vacuum cleaner or something, she practically unhinged her jaw and gobbled up everything in a single go. Honestly, Louie was surprised that the plate was still there.

“Mmm, that was delicious Mrs. B!” Della (who definitely could not have tasted that food with how fast she’d ate) said quickly. “Welp, if that’s everything, I’m gonna get back to it, see ya!” She flew back to her room before anyone could say anything more. A second later, the construction noise started back up.

Dewey stared at where Della had been sitting, glanced to his plate, looked back to the chair that was still moving a little, then back to his plate. “I haven’t even gotten served yet,” He whispered incredulously.

Mrs. Beakley sighed. “Would it be too much to make her come back down and eat slower this time?”

“Considering that she’s already got back to work?” Scrooge grumbled, “Ah donnae think she’ll be returning tae this table until breakfast.”

“She forgot her mask, is that bad?” Huey held up the gas mask that Della hadn’t picked back up.

Louie waved him off as he grabbed some grub. “Nah, I’m sure it’s fine.” He said, though he was finding it hard to believe.

———0———

So 5 minutes had been enough, but only barely. Even with the power off, Fenton had trouble pulling Gyro away from his work. He’d tried to hook Lil’ Bulb up to the ...thing-o, which Lil’ Bulb was understandably pissed about.

Gyro’s whole escapade with Lil’ Bulb had taken about 3 minutes away from the required time, but ultimately Fenton had managed to get him to eat. 

Didn’t manage to get him to drink, though.

Well, whatever. He’d managed to get him to eat, at least. 

Fenton shrugged on his coat with a sigh. It was late, and he was tired. “Alright, Doctor Gearloose, I’m heading out. See you tomorrow!” He called out.

He frowned when he didn’t get a response. He knew that he shouldn’t expect one, but Gyro usually at least complained about how he was leaving ‘so early’ (said ‘early’ was usually after 10:00).

He headed back into the lab proper, and saw the blur that was Gyro dashing around the lab, working on about 50 different gizmos that Fenton was too afraid of to question.

“Um, sir? It’s-” He checked his watch. “12:34 in the morning, are you going to head home any time soon?”

Gyro didn’t answer.

“Are you at least going to sleep?”

“Sleep is for the weak!” Gyro exclaimed. “And I’ve already lost enough time on food, thank you very much!”

“I-” Fenton sighed. “You know what? Fine. I’m not getting paid enough for this.” He turned and stalked out of the lab. He was only trying to help Gyro! Why did he have to make caring about him so difficult?

Whatever. He’d be fine, even without Fenton there. Lil’ Bulb could take care of him!

Fenton stopped. That probably wasn’t good, Lil’ Bulb would just be a bad influence.

Well, fine, if not Lil’ Bulb, then at least Manny would take care if him, right? He turned back to Manny’s work area. “Hey, Manny, will you-”

Manny interrupted him. ‘Heading home, sorry.’ He tapped out, not looking very sorry. He walked away and took elevator to the surface.

Fenton blinked. “How does he get a home? Is he getting paid?” He shook his head and cleared his thoughts.

Okay, so Manny wouldn’t take care of him, and Lil’ Bulb was a bad influence. Who did that leave?

...Him. Lovely.

Fenton groaned. No! He wasn’t going to deal with this. He stalked back to the elevator and took it to the surface. So Gyro wasn’t taking care of himself, so what? It’s not like that was his problem!

He walked out to the parking lot and got into his car. If Gyro wanted to hurt himself getting back at Della, Then fine! He’d let him!

He headed across the bridge and back into Duckburg. It wasn’t like he was killing Gyro! And he shouldn’t have to take care of everyone in his life like that, it wasn’t healthy!

Gyro would be fine!

He’d be fine!

He’d...

Fenton stopped his car. He’d get himself hurt, that’s what he’d do. And there’d be no one around to help him. He knew that Gyro could get like this, he’d neglect his own health in order to do things he felt were more important. And Fenton felt horrible about leaving him like that.

He turned his car around and went back to the Money Bin.

“Intern?” Gyro’s surprised voice greeted Fenton when he got back, taking off his coat. “What are you doing here? I thought you’d left?”

“Yeah, I thought I had too.” Fenton grumbled. “I wanted to make sure you weren’t going to hurt yourself.”

Gyro blinked, then scoffed. “I won’t hurt myself, I’m not and idiot!” He connected two large cables and screamed as they electrocuted them.

Fenton sighed. “Of course you won’t, sir.” He then went to make sure Gyro would be okay. It was going to be a long couple days.

———0———

Donald sighed as he curled up in his hammock, opening his book back up to the bookmark. Just a bit of light reading before bed.

After a little while, he got tired enough that he put his bookmark back in place and tried to go to sleep. As he closed his eyes, he felt himself begin to drift off.

Donald opened his eyes. It was dark, his internal clock felt like it was somewhere between 12:00 and 2:00 (though he didn’t entirely trust it again just yet, a few weeks on the moon would do that to an internal timer), but he was as awake as he’d be at 6:00. He wasn’t sure why.

He quickly realized why, however, when he heard his boat creak. 

Sure, the houseboat creaked all the time, it was an old vessel, but he knew which creaks were caused by the water rocking, and which were caused by footsteps.

And those were footstep creaks.

Donald silently got out of his hammock and slowly moved to his cabin door. He ducked down and opened the door an inch, peeping out. He saw four small shapes (each with lumps in their arms) shuffling about, trying to be quiet, but failing miserably. Donald sighed. He knew those four small shapes quite well.

He opened the door and flicked on the lights, blinking as he adjusted. He heard four distinct hisses of displeasure as he did so. “Good evening, kiddos.” He said, crossing his arms. “Would one of you like to tell me why you’re sneaking into my houseboat at 2:00 in the morning?”

“It’s Mom!” Louie complained, tightening his hold on his pillow.

Donald raised his eyebrow, concern rising with it. “What about Della? What happened?”

“She’s making a racket!” Huey whined.

“Seriously, it sounds like a whole construction crew is working in there!” Dewey added, draping himself in his blanket.

“It’s impossible to sleep.” Webby moaned, leaning on Huey in defeat.

Donald sighed in pity as he looked upon his four defeated kids. “Alright, I haven’t removed the beds from your room, though Huey’s has some stuff on it, so you guys’ll have to double up.”

The kids all grunted in agreement as they headed up to the bedroom, their sleeping materials dragging behind them as they went.

Donald heard a pair of spat-clothed feet hitting his deck as he watched the kids. “You can sleep on the couch,” He told his uncle.

Scrooge groaned, tired and disgruntled, but fell onto the couch anyways. 

Donald sighed. It was going to be a long few days.

Chapter Text

The con was going perfectly. Louie had managed to infiltrate the Galdwin Gala seamlessly, and everything was going to plan. Louie was schmoozing with the old money, a shark grin on his teeth as he spoke circles around the old men. Louie, however, had integrated himself into the band, and was charming the crowd with his perfect rendition of Pachelbel’s Cannon. Of course, Louie was sneaking around upstairs, stealthily heading for the crown jewels with no one in site. 

As for Louie? Well, he was taking a bit of time to relax on the dance floor, twirling around in the arms of a handsome beau. He deserved it. After all, he’d planned the whole thing!

The beau giggled at something Louie had said (he couldn’t remember, for some reason, but he was sure it was dashingly romantic). “Oh Louie, you’re so sharp!”

Louie smirked lazily. “Well, be careful not to cut yourself then.” He said smoothly.

The cute black bear gave an equally smooth smile. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry too much about that,” He twirled Louie around and whispered in his ear. “My fur protects me from cuts.”

Louie felt his face heat up, but kept his calm and collected look firmly set. His beau led him dancing circles around the forest (wait, hadn’t it just been a ballroom?) in complete silence, save the music emanating from the mushroom circle surrounding them.

The bear suddenly dipped Louie, and looked at him with a flirtatious smile. Louie opened his mouth to say something.

“FFFFFFWWWWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAA-”

Louie jerked awake and flailed about wildly. He felt his fist connect with something soft.

“Mmoooowwwwww” Dewey whined out a sound of pain as he immediately dropped back down to the bed, cradling the back of his head. “What the crap, dude!”

Webby suddenly shot up from the bed she and Huey were sharing, immediately dropping into a fighting stance. “You keep your hooves off Lena, you stupid sword-horse!” She slurred, still half-asleep.

“Mrrph, Webby?” Huey said, the sound muffled. “You’re on my face.”

That woke Webby up. “Oh, I’m so sorry Huey!” She lifted Huey up by the shoulders and began bodily checking him over. “Are you alright? Did I hurt you?”

"No, I’m fine!” Huey quickly detangled himself from Webby before she could get more rough. He looked over to Louie, before his eyes drifted down to Dewey, who was still clutching his head. “Um, is he okay?” Huey asked.

Louie waved him off. “Eh, he’ll be fine. So I assume that we all heard that noise?”

“If it sounded like a ‘ffwowoooaaa’, then yes.” Webby said.

“Cool, cool, what was that?”

“I don’t know, a wounded animal maybe?” Huey supplied.

“Wounded?” Louie scoffed. “With that noise, I’d be more inclined to say dying.”

“WAAAAAAAAAAAKE UP EVERYBODY!!! TODAY’S THE DAY!! IT’S TIME!” The kids all winced as one as Della’s loud voice echoed up to their room.

“As I said,” Louie remarked dryly. “Dying.”

Huey got out of his bed, groaning as he stretched. “Come on, she’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad?” Louie laughed incredulously. “Do you think she’s slept, like, at all the last three days? It’s a miracle she’s eaten!”

Huey sighed. “Well, hopefully today marks the end of that.”

“Yeah, hopefully.” Louie muttered under his breath. 

Dewey leapt out of the bed, previous head wound forgotten. “Well, come on, she called for everyone!” He rushed out the door, wobbling a little (Louie might’ve done some actual damage there, whoops), Webby following right after.

Louie sighed and slumped back into bed. He’d been having a real nice dream, too.

Huey looked at him sympathetically. “We might as well head down, Lou.”

“Yeah yeah,” Louie waved him off. “I’ll be down in a sec.”

Huey trotted off, leaving Louie alone with his thoughts for a moment. He was right, after today, they might be able to sleep in the mansion again. The houseboat was nice, but the mansion was a lot roomier. 

He sighed and followed after his brother. Might as well get today over with as soon as possible.

Louie shambled downstairs to a very disgruntled looking Donald, who was busy yelling at a very sleep-deprived-looking (yet worryingly alert) Della. “It is 6:30 in the morning on a Sunday! Why on earth are you playing around with a freaking airhorn???”

“Screw. Loose. Donnie.” Della spelled out for him, like he was particularly dense. “It’s today, and it’s all the way over at the docks!”

“6:30, Della!”

“I don’t care what time it is!” Della exclaimed. “Look, I gotta get there before Gyro, alright?”

“Why??” Donald asked, exasperated.

“Because if he gets there before me, he’s going to be insufferable!” She claimed.

“Okay, well why do you need us for that? Couldn’t you just let us sleep?”

“I need your car to get my gizmo over, and I don’t have a driver’s license yet! I’m still legally dead, y’know.” Yeah, they all knew. It was annoying

“Since when do you care about legal stuff?”

Della blinked, considering. “Oh. Y’know, that’s true. Alright, bye!” She turned and hurried out the houseboat.

Donald smacked his forehead and rushed after her. “Wait, no, I didn’t mean it like that! Della! Do not drive my car! Did you hear me? I’ll drive you, just hang on a second!”

The kids looked at where their two main caretakers had just rushed off to. “Welp, that happened.” Dewey said after a second.

They then heard a yawn and turned to face the couch as Scrooge sat up, blinking away sleepy dust. “What happened? Did Ae miss something?” He asked blearily.

“Uh, yeah. Mom blared an airhorn like, 5 feet from your face.” Huey said. “How did you miss that?”

Scrooge yawned. “Oh, raising those two helped me build up a resistance to the sound of airhorns.”

“So in other words, you’re going deaf?” Louie asked.

Scrooge shoot him a look. “Ae wouldnae expect ye tae understand.” He stretched and got off Donald’s couch, looking at his watch. “Welp, Ae suppose this means that the Screwloose is a bit starting early. But, seeing as how it’s Donald and Della in a car together, I’d say we still have time fer some breakfast. What say you, kids? Shall we go see if Beakley’s prepared anything?”

“Ooh, I hope she’s got pancakes!” Dewey rushed out the boat, the others in tow.

———0———

“Sir, are you absolutely certain you should be driving right now?” Fenton asked as he watched Gyro mess around with his car.

“Of course I’m certain!” Gyro responded with outrage. “It’s already 6:32, I’ll bet she’s already at the docks!”

Fenton blinked. “Sure, sir. Did you remember to put your invention in the back?”

Gyro scoffed. “‘Did you remember to bring your invention?’ Of course I did Cabrera, what do you take me for, an idiot?”

Fenton sighed as he watched Gyro struggle to adjust the mirrors on his car. “No, sir, you’re obviously a genius. I think the buttons for the mirrors are on the driver side door for that model.”

“Ah, thank you Intern.” Gyro replied, completely missing the sarcasm in Fenton’s statement. “Lil’ Bulb!” He called. 

Lil’ Bulb ran up Fenton’s shoulder and blinked their light to show that Gyro had their attention.

“You’re in charge while I’m gone.” Gyro backed out of the parking space. “If I don’t come back, assume that Della killed me in a fit of rage because she couldn’t handle losing, and get revenge.”

Lil’ Bulb saluted as Gyro sped off towards the docks.

Fenton rubbed his head. Well, one way or another, it all ended today. But he had more important things to worry about.

He had a phone call to make.

———0———

After breakfast, the kids and Scrooge got into the limo to travel to the docks. The kids fell asleep almost immediately when the limo started moving.

Well, almost all the kids.

Louie shoved Dewey’s drooling face away from his shoulder, at the same time that Launchpad made a particularly sharp left turn. Louie had absolutely no idea how his family could sleep through such crazy driving. 

He sighed.

Scrooge looked up from the newspaper he was reading. “Something eatin’ at ye lad?”

Louie fiddled with his seatbelt. “Yeah, Dewey keeps drooling on me. Do you think drool can transfer stupidity?”

Scrooge put down his newspaper and studied Louie’s face for a second. “Are ye sure that’s what ye’r stressed about?” He asked suspiciously.

Louie groaned. Of course Scrooge had to choose right now to be all insightful and everything.

Scrooge made a ‘come on’ gesture with his hand.

Louie turned and looked out the window. “...Aren’t you worried?” He asked after a moment.

Scrooge gave him a quizzical look. “Worried? About what?”

“About Mom! About the Screwloose!” Louie waved his hand around. “Aren’t you at least a little nervous about the whole thing?”

Scrooge scoffed. “Is that what ye’r worried about lad? It’ll be fine, Della an’ Gyro won’t do anything drastic,” He said.

Louie stared at him incredulously. “Seriously? ‘Won’t do anything drastic?’ The past few days haven’t put even a little bit of strain on that thought process?”

“Lad,” Scrooge put a hand on Louie’s shoulder. “It’ll be fine,” He stressed. “Ah know that Della an’ Gyro can get a little...”

“Insane?” Louie supplied.

“Enthusiastic,” Scrooge said instead. “But they’re harmless, really. There’s no need to worry.”

Louie exhaled. “Yeah, yeah, okay. Alright, I guess you have a point. I mean, what are they gonna do, shoot each other?” He snickered.

Silence.

Louie looked up at his uncle in steadily growing dread. “They’re not gonna shoot each other, right?” He demanded.

“No, no!” Scrooge hastily responded, looking away and twisting his cane. “Of course not, that’d be absurd!”

Louie could feel him lying about something. “Uncle Scrooge, have they shot each other?!” He exclaimed.

Scrooge’s silence was the only answer he needed.

Louie gaped at him. “You’ve gotta be kidding me!”

“Oh, it wasnae that bad, laddie!” Scrooge defended.

“Oh, so then it was with BB gun’s, right?”

“I- Well-,” Scrooge stuttered.

“They shot each other with actual guns?!” Louie exclaimed. “They’ve actively tried to kill each other, and we’re just letting them interact!?”

“Ye’r blowing things outta proportion, laddie!”

“‘Blowing things outta-’” Louie sputtered. “You aren’t taking this seriously enough!” He accused.

“They’re both still fine!” Scrooge defended. “Besides, that was a long time ago. I’m sure they’ve changed.”

“Yeah, they’ve probably gotten even fucking crazier!” Louie swore.

“Language!” Scrooge admonished.

Louie slumped back into his seat, beak agape. It felt like nobody was taking this seriously enough. He barely registered Dewey’s falling back onto his shoulder.

The limo screeched to a halt. “Righty-o, we’re here Mr. McDee!” Launchpad announced cheerfully.

“Wonderful!” Scrooge clapped his hands together, welcoming the distraction. “Kiddos! Wake up, we’re here!” The kids blearily came to, and Launchpad opened the limo doors.

The first sign Louie had that Mom and Gyro were already here was the yelling. He could hear their screeching already, and he couldn’t even see them yet.

As they made their way closer to the sounds of yelling, Louie could make them out. Della and Gyro were already at each other’s throats, screaming some insensible prattle about. Well, Louie couldn’t really make it out. He thought he caught something about dolphins, but that didn’t make sense.

Della had Donald’s wrist in a death grip while she engaged in her screaming match. He looked shell-shocked.

Behind them were two platforms with large tarps covering them. The inventions, if Louie had to guess. There was also a small table with a couple chairs set up.

“Della, lass! We’re here!” Scrooge called out.

Della looked over and immediately let go of Donald’s arm in order to raise her hands into the air. “Finally!” She exclaimed. “We’ve been ready for you guys for hours!”

Scrooge rolled his eyes. “Aye, well, it’s not my fault ye and Gyro decided tae come here early.”

As Della and Scrooge bickered, the kids sidled up to Donald, who had sat down and was grabbing at his wrist.

“How are you doing, uncle Donald?” Huey asked.

“I thimk she broke my wrist,” Donald seethed under his breath. He then perked up, as if just realizing that the kids were there. “I mean- I’m fine, kiddos!” He laughed and waved them off. (The wince when he did so threw off any thoughts that he might be okay, though.)

Della walked away from Scrooge, and he came up to the kids. “Alright lads, are ye ready tae see some interesting doohickies?” He asked.

The kids all responded eagerly, except for Louie, who shook his head vigorously.

Scrooge ignored him. “That’s the spirit, laddies! Seeing as how we’re a bit early, Della an’ Gyro are gonna have 30 minutes to see to some last minute tune ups. But after that, the Screwloose will commence!”

“Woo!” The kids shouted.

“Woo,” Louie weakly repeated.

———0———

It was time. The sun was high in the sky, the judges had arrived, and Della and Gyro had finished their final preparations.

Della walked to the middle between the two tarps. Gyro followed suit.

“May the best man win,” Gyro said, sticking out his hand.

Della grasped it with a sneer and pulled him closer. “Oh, eat shit and die, you fucking-”

“Ah-hem!” Scrooge clapped his hands together from the judges table. “No side comments, please!”

Gyro and Della gave each other one final withering glare before turning to Scrooge.

“Alright everyone, welcome to the first Screwloose in over 10 years!” Scrooge exclaimed. “Just so that everyone’s aware o’ the rules, Della an’ Gyro had 72 hours to build a brand new gizmo tae show us today. They’ll each have a turn tae tell us about what they made, and then we,” Scrooge gestured to himself, Donald, and Launchpad. “Will decide which one’s better.”

“Go Mom!” Dewey yelled from his seat. Della grinned at her child.

“The contestants may decide amongst themselves who goes first.” Scrooge motioned for them to decide.

Della looked at Gyro. “Rock Paper Scissors?”

Gyro nodded. “Rock Paper Scissors.”

Della threw scissors.

Gyro threw rock.

“Hah!” Gyro threw his hands in the air in victory. “Take that, you half-baked cyborg!”

Della growled at him. “You just won Rock Paper Scissors, not the whole damn event, dumbass.”

Scrooge cleared his throat forcefully. “Alright, alright, settle down. Gearloose, since ye won the toss up, ye get tae present first.”

“Yes, of course.” Gyro walked back over to his tarp. “Now, as I’m sure you all are aware, Duckburg is in the middle of a crisis.”

“It is?” Dewey whispered.

“Of course it is, Blue Nephew!” Gyro yelled. “Every day we face complete societal collapse, and do you know why?”

“Um, no?” Dewey responded. “I didn’t even know we were in danger.”

“That’s because we’re not.” Della cupped her hands around her beak. “He’s making shit up to sound more impressive.”

“Shut the f-” Gyro stopped himself and took a deep breath. “Anyways. Of course you didn’t realize, that’s because this is a silent destruction, one you don’t realize is there, even right in your house!”

“Boooooooo,” Della cried out. “Get to the good stuff already!”

Gyro’s eye twitched. “And what is that killer, I hear you ask? Well I’ll tell you: refrigerators.” Gyro finished his sentence with the most gravitas one could imagine possible.

Huey raised his hand. 

Gyro sighed. “Yes, Red Nephew?”

“You do know that isn’t his name, right?” Della said. Gyro ignored her.

“I’m sorry, I just don’t see how refrigerators will lead to societal desolation.” Huey said.

Gyro pinched his beak. “Of course you don’t. You see, Red Nephew, refrigerators are just horrible, really. All they do is keep food cold, and even then they don’t keep them that cold. And if you want your food to not be cold when you eat it, then you have to take it all the way over to the microwave.”

Louie groaned. “I know, right? It’s such a pain.”

Gyro motioned towards him emphatically. “Yes, exactly, Green Nephew! And that’s why I am proud to present-” Gyro dramatically tore the tarp away, revealing what appeared to be Fenton’s mini-fridge, absolutely covered in wiring and duct tape. “The Cold-to-Hot Food-inator 3000! Or the C.H.F.I, for short.”

“So, a microwave that looks suspiciously like a bomb?” Louie remarked dryly.

Gyro pressed onward, ignoring Louie. “This beauty will immediately freeze any food you store in it, and at the press of a button, will immediately heat it back up to optimal eating temperatures! ‘The quintessential gizmo for your kitchen!’” Gyro finished off with a bow. 

Della scoffed at the buffoonery he displayed.

The judges gave him a polite clapping. “You’re up next, Della.” Scrooge said.

“Gee, do you think you’ll be able to top that, Mrs. Dee?” Launchpad asked.

Della scoffed derisively. “Oh please, can I beat that lousy thing? Do you even have to ask? It looks like it barely survived the trip from the lab! Honestly, I could build a better invention in my sleep!” Della grinned. “Man, speaking of sleep, it’s just so great isn’t it?”

“Says the woman who hasn’t slept in three days,” Donald said.

Della laughed him off. “It’s so great, I often have trouble waking up! I’ve tried alarm clocks, but they’re just not enough! I can just hit the snooze and -well, snooze- up until I’m late for whatever I’m supposed to be doing that day. If only I had a bit more motivation to get up in the morning!”

Della tore the tarp off her invention, revealing a large cube with a clock on it, and two small slits in it’s side.

“Wow, a cube.” Gyro said in mock awe. “Your genius knows no bounds.”

Della flipped him off before gesturing to her invention. “Presenting: the Toast-Alarm, for all your waking up needs! This beautiful contraption functions like a normal alarm clock, to begin with, but when you press the snooze button-” 

Della pressed a button on the cube, and the onlookers heard a faint ‘click’.

“-bread is inserted into the toaster part! A couple minutes later, toast get’s shot out, already buttered and ready for consumption!”

A ‘ding’ sounded as a piece of perfectly buttered toast flew out of the contraption and into Della’s outstretched hand. She took a bite. “Mm mm mmm! ‘The perfect breakfast in bed, every time!’” She finished off with a bow as well.

The judges gave her a polite clapping as well, and Scrooge stepped up to say something, before he could, Gyro butted in.

“Oh, please!” Gyro scoffed. “Do you really think that trash heap is better than the C.H.F.I. 3000?”

“Yeah, duh!” Della said. “All you did was combine a mini-fridge with a microwave!”

Gyro tsked. “Oh Della, Della Della Della, did you really think I would stop there?” 

He turned back to the judges. “You see, the fridge problem is twofold: a refrigerator is just incredibly dull. Now, some companies -cough Waddle cough- have tried to fix this problem by making smart fridge. So I said, ‘why not take that a step further?’”Gyro pressed a button on the side of the C.H.F.I., and a screen with a smiley face blinked to life. “Introducing, the first truly smart fridge!”

“Hello, I am C.H.F.I,” The smiley face said. “It is my directive to make your fridge use a pleasant and all-encompassing experience.”

“This AI will control the temperature inside the C.H.F.I., and it can control the microwave part as well! Additionally, it can connect to the internet, make and receive calls, and even play a few games! I think we can all agree it’s a wonderful add-on.”

“Big whoop, you added a smiley face to your micro-fridge,” Della heckled, unimpressed.

Gyro turned to her. “I suppose you still believe your toaster combined with an alarm clock is superior?” He asked mockingly.

Della smirked. “Actually, yes, I do. See, I knew you were gonna pull some last minute trick out your ass, so I held onto some features. The Toast-Alarm also has a screen on it, but for a different reason.”

She pressed a button and one of the sides of the cube turned into a screen, which immediately began playing a scene from a movie. “It can play movies on it! Simply insert your disk/cassette/usb drive/whatever into one of the slots that toast comes out of, and voila! Movie!”

Gyro scoffed. “Is that all? Well, the C.H.F.I. can also predict the weather more accurately than any meteorologist!”

“I am predicting clear skies and dry weather for the rest of the month. Prepare for a drought, people!” C.H.F.I called out.

“That’s child’s play!” Della responded. “The Toast-Alarm has a space to store all your weapons! And I mean all your weapons, the space is extra-dimensional!”

“Extra-dimensional storage? That’s so last decade, Della! My invention can fold itself up into a smaller form for easier storage!”

“Well mine has a survival tracker built into it!”

“Well mine can compute pi to the 500th decimal!”

“Well mine has rocket thrusters!”

“Well mine can distill poison!”

“Well mine has an optional gun attachment!”

“Well mine is a fucking bomb!” Gyro opened the fridge door to a very sophisticated looking metal bomb, with a beeping timer right in the middle.

C.H.F.I’s screen went from a smiley face to a red frowny face. “Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill.” It repeated endlessly.

“Well mine’s a fucking bomb too!” Della slammed her hand on the side with the clock, which fell away to reveal a mess of wiring and metal. The clock stayed, becoming the bombs timer. “And it’s explosion would take out all of Duckburg!”

“Mine’s explosion would take out all of Duckburg and Saint Canard!” Gyro screeched. 

“Well the radiation on mine would turn everyone who died into a zombie hoard!”

“The radiation on mine would turn any survivors into horrific mutants!”

“Well my explosion looks like fireworks!” Della scoffed. How on earth did Gyro expect to win? She had the whole support of her family behind her! She spared a glance at her kids. They looked so excited!

Wait, that wasn’t right.

No, they looked...

They looked scared.

“Alright, that’s enough!” A voice cried out from above. Gizmoduck descended onto the scene, holding Lena in one of his arms. 

“Gizmoduck?!” Gyro exclaimed in surprise. “What on earth are you doing here?”

“I know that you built a bomb, Doctor Gearloose- wait, is that where my mini fridge went?" Gizmoduck shook his head. "I mean- as the protector of Duckburg, I can’t allow that. So, for the safety of the citizens of Duckburg, I, Gizmoduck, declare this Screwloose to be canceled!”

“What!? That’s absurd!” Gyro yelled. “Mr. McDuck, tell him he can’t do that! Fire him!”

Scrooge just kinda shrugged. “Ah mean, he’s doing what Ah’m paying him for, Ah cannae fault him fer that.”

Gyro opened his mouth to retort, but closed it, fuming.

Gizmoduck sighed. “Look, I’m sorry Doctor Gearloose, but I just can’t let this continue.”

“Gizmoduck, how are you going to dispose of the bombs? And why’s Lena here?” Huey asked, somewhat nervous looking.

“Oh, I can answer both those questions at once!” Gizmoduck said. “You see, I managed to piece together what Gyro was building while watching him. I knew I wouldn’t be able to dissuade him from building it, and I feared that Della might do something similar, so I knew I’d have to dispose of the bombs after they’d already been built. And that’s where Lena comes in.”

“Yep, you brought a teen to an active bomb site.” Lena remarked. “Real hero move, pal.”

“I- you- I told you the risks!” Fenton said. “You could’ve-”

Lena snickered. “Chill, man, I’m just messing with ya.”

“I- Oh. Okay then.” Fenton replied. “Um, anyways, where was I?”

“You’d just gotten to me, pal.”

“Right! Yes, so, the reason I brought Lena is so that she can transport the bombs to the Shadow Realm, where they won’t be able to harm any innocents if they go off.”

“And they can’t make things any worse in there, honestly.”

“Yes, well, regardless, I’ll be joining her to help deliver the bombs, and to protect her from anything that might set the bombs off prematurely.”

“Ooh, Ooh!” Webby shot up, vibrating excitedly. “Can I come with you guys?”

“Sure,” Lena said breezily.

“I- uh-” Fenton sputtered. “Ask your Uncle.”

Webby’s eyes lit up and she zipped over to Scrooge. “Uncle Scrooge! Can I can I can I!? Pretty please?” She begged.

Scrooge thought for a moment, and nodded. “So long as ye stay near Gizmoduck and Lena, sure.”

“Yippee!” Webby squealed and cartwheeled over to Lena. “Uncle Scrooge said yes!”

“Nice,” Lena said, holding her hand out for a high five. 

Webby instead grabbed her hand and held it. “Alright, I’m ready!”

“Oh, do we have to be touching to transport?” Fenton asked, hesitantly reaching for Lena's other hand.

Lena smirked at him. “Nope,” she said. Magic began to build up, surrounding Gizmoduck, Webby, and the bombs, before they all suddenly blinked out of existence, leaving faint shadows behind that quickly disappeared.

Louie let out a breath that he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “Welp, I guess that that’s the end of that.”

Gyro scoffed. What a perfectly horrible end to this fight. They didn’t even get a chance to see who won.

Who was he kidding, he’d obviously have won if the Screwloose had continued.

He turned to gloat to Della about this fact. “You’re lucky, if that’d continued you-” He stopped.

She wasn’t there.

Where was she? Gyro scanned the area, surprised that she’d slipped away in all that. Why on earth had she? It’s not like this was the first Screwloose to be busted by the law. 

He caught sight of her coat as she ducked into an alleyway. He looked around. Donald was busy fussing over the boys, Scrooge was on the phone, and Launchpad was caught up in his shoelaces.

Gyro was the only one who saw Della. And he was the only one free.

He sighed. It seemed like this whole thing wasn’t done just yet.

Chapter Text

Gyro grunted as he climbed up the fire escape. He had wasted his entire day trying to find Della, and it was now well after the sun had gone down. He really hoped she was up on the roof of the building he was climbing. Physical exercise was a bitch.

He grasped onto the top of the roof and pulled himself up. Gasping heavily, he scanned the rooftop for the asshole he was looking for. And lo and behold, there she was. Della was resting on the roof, her back towards him, staring out into the lights of the city. The familiarity of the scene was jarring.

The full breadth of everything that had happened in the last month hit him like a truck.

She was actually alive.

He hadn’t gotten her killed.

Gyro quickly shook those thoughts out if his head. He wasn’t here to be sentimental, he was here to gloat about his superior intellect.

“You’re lucky the Screwloose ended how it did,” Gyro clambered onto the rooftop. “The C.H.F.I. was much better than your little invention.”

Della was giving him the silent treatment. Typical. 

“What did you call it again? The Della-Has-Bad-Ideas Alarm?” He tried.

Still. Nothing.

Okay, this was getting annoying now. “I honestly shouldn’t even be surprised at this point, but from the way you challenged me, I had expected better from-”

“They were scared of me.”

“I-” Her response stopped Gyro in his tracks. “What?”

Della lifted her head to stare at the stars. “My kids.” She said softly. “I looked to them, and they were terrified. Of me.”

Gyro hesitated. It didn’t feel right to boast when she looked so sad.

Damn it.

Gyro sighed and walked up to her side. He reached into his vest and pulled out two beer bottles he’d gotten earlier. He handed one to her, which she accepted numbly.

She sighed heavily and looked back to the city. “And they were right to be! I mean, I built a damn bomb, like, 30 feet from where they were sleeping! I must be fucking insane.” She muttered, staring into the beer bottle. 

Gyro snorted. “Yes, well, I do believe that’s why we call it a Screwloose;” He remarked dryly, “ We’re both missing a couple screws.”

Della chuckled at that. “Yeah, yeah, that’s true enough, I guess.” She sighed and turned around, resting her shoulders back on the roof’s lip. She narrowed her eyes at Gyro. “And you would not have won, the Chif sucked.”

“It was called the C.H.F.I, not Chif,” Gyro corrected stubbornly. “If you’re going to insult it, at least do so with the correct name.”

“Seriously? Didn’t you just call the Toast-Alarm a ‘Della-Has-Bad-Ideas Alarm’?”

Gyro stared blankly at her. “I’m sorry, I just heard you say the same thing twice."

Della rolled her eyes at him. “Yeah, well, I’m sure that turning survivors into hideous monsters is such a selling point.”

“Oh, and zombies are better?”

“Duh!” Della began gesturing. “Who wouldn’t want to be a part of the zombie apocalypse?” 

Gyro raised his hand. Della smacked it down. “Oh, hush. You don’t get an opinion, you put a poison dispenser in your C.H.I.F.I, for some reason.”

Gyro sighed. Of course she couldn’t get the damn name right. “Better than an ‘optional gun attachment’. What does that even mean, anyways? You would’ve strapped a shotgun to the side, but ran out of time?”

“Whaaaaaat? No, of course not!” Della tried.

Gyro stared at her blankly.

Della huffed. “Well it’s not like it matters anyways, we both lost.” She stared down at her feet. “Put my family in danger for three whole days and I friggin lost.” She muttered bitterly.

Gyro could feel the mood shift. Great. “In technicality, we tied.”

“Oh what the fuck ever!” Della exploded. “So we tied, great. Wonderful. My whole family probably thinks I’m too dangerous to keep around, but hey! At least I didn’t lose!”

Gyro rolled his eyes at her theatrics. “Really? ‘Too dangerous to keep around’, that’s the best you could come up with? Your family thrives on danger!”

“Not when it comes to the kids!” Della shouted. “They could’ve died today. Fuck, they could’ve died at any point in the last three days, if I’d messed up even a little. 

“I put them in serious danger, and for what? Some stupid dick-measuring contest?” Della slumped down to a sit, staring despondently out into the middle distance. “That’s not worth it.”

Gyro frowned out towards the city, and took a large swig of his beer. He wasn’t good at dealing with feelings.

Not like she needed help with that anyways, she was Della Duck! She’d be fine, it wasn’t like this was anything to be worried about.

She just had a penchant for acting dramatic, it was fine.

It was fine.

Then, quietly, so quietly that Gyro was sure he hadn’t been supposed to hear it,

“I’m a terrible mother.”

“Bullshit.” Gyro spat out immediately. “My mother was terrible. She didn’t give a shit about me. You, however, fought for ten years on a harsh, unsurvivable landscape, all so that you could get back to kids you hadn’t even met yet. You’re already leagues better than a lot of mothers out there. So don’t you dare compare yourself to them. You’re doing yourself a disservice.” He glared at her, daring her to try him. Daring her to say otherwise.

Della looked up to him, tears in her eyes, like she hadn’t expected him to say that. She quickly wiped her eyes and turned her head. Gyro felt the moment pass.

Della stood back up and looked out towards the city again. He joined her.

“I’m sorry.”

Gyro whipped his head towards Della so fast he practically gave himself whiplash. “What? Did- did you just... apologize? To me?” He asked incredulously.

Della smiled ruefully. “It’s been a long ten years.”

She sighed and looked away. “I’m sorry that I used 2-BO and Doctor Akita against you. You told me about that in confidence, and I betrayed that. I’m sorry.”

Gyro shuffled uncomfortably. He wasn’t used to this, Della apologizing. She never did that. “Yes, well, it’s-it’s fine. I am partially responsible for why your exile lasted as long as it did. Your hatred for me is understandable.”

“But I don’t hate you!” Della said. She huffed, taking a moment to collect her words. “Okay, look, Gy. While I will never forgive you for making Oxy-Chew taste like black licorice -like, seriously, what the fuck- you still made Oxy-Chew. Without that, I never would have gotten the chance to fight, to live, to get back home.” Della looked up to the stars. “And I will never be able to repay you for that.”

Gyro felt a part of his chest warm at her words, the confirmation that she didn’t hate him. It made him feel loved.

He decided he hated it.

Gyro groaned. “Oh, why’d you have to go and make it all sentimental?”

Della sputtered indignantly. “Motherfucker, you’re the one who started it! Complementing my non-existent mother skills, what did you think was gonna happen?” Gyro rolled his eyes.

...Oh. Wonderful. He felt the need to apologize as well. Lovely.

Gyro sighed in annoyance. “Yes, well, you aren’t the only one who escalated when they should’ve backed down. I am willing to admit that I might have been wrong when I implied that people only hang around you because they want you to do something for them. I’m sure some people out their would be willing to hang out with you just because.”

Della blinked.

“And I suppose that I might have been a little... too liberal in my application of good-natured ribbings in the Spear’s instruction manual.” He tugged at his bowtie.

Della was quiet for a moment, then grew a large (and slightly predatory) grin. “Gyro Gearloose, are you trying to apologize? To me?” She leered.

“Yes, well,” Gyro looked up to the stars. They were quite pretty tonight. “...like you said; it was a long ten years.”

Della chuckled sadly. “Yeah, yeah it was.” 

After a moment, she nudged him. “...Well?”

“Well what?”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Gyro frowned, confused. “No, I don’t believe so.”

Della gave him a flat look. “Come on dude, the black licorice?”

Gyro threw his hands up in exasperation. “You just said you’d never forgive me for that!”

“Well yeah, but it’d still be nice to hear an apology for it!”

“Oh.” Gyro replied. He took a swig of his drink.

Della waited for a second. “...Well?”

“I’m not apologizing, black licorice is the best flavor. You’re just overreacting.” Gyro said, completely serious.

Della let out a large groan, but her eyes were filled with mirth. “Oh fucking hell, Gy! This is why we can’t have nice things!”

“Really? I thought that was because we just built bombs.”

Della flipped him off and took a swig of her drink.

And then immediately spit it back out. “Oh fuck me, gross!” She stuck out her tongue. “Blegh, I forgot how bad alcohol tastes.”

Gyro snorted. “Seriously?”

“Oh, come on, dude!” Della protested. “I’ve been on the moon for ten years, I haven’t exactly had any alcohol to drink!”

“So what, are you not going to drink it?”

Della pondered for a moment. “Nah, I don’t think I will. Never really liked drinking anyway. I mean, getting drunk was nice, but hangovers are a bitch, y’know?”

“Shame.” Gyro said. “You’re much more interesting when you’re drunk.”

“Wh-hey!” Della laughed. “Dick!” She punched his arm good-naturedly.

“Bitch,” Gyro replied, with no real bite to it.

Della chuckled again, before the two of them lapsed into companionable silence. Gyro breathed. It had been a while since he’d had a moment like this.

Suddenly, Della’s phone began to ring. She quickly pulled it out and looked at the caller. She gulped.

“It’s the kids contact,” She looked mildly sick.

Gyro rolled his eyes. She was definitely being dramatic about this. Her family was literally addicted to danger, there was no way they hated her.

She still hadn’t answered. Gyro reached over and pressed the ‘talk’ button for her.

“Gy! You little-” Della began, but quickly cut herself off when she heard talking from the phone. “Heya kiddos! What’d you- Uh huh- Yeah- No no no, I’m alright- Of course I ate! -No, I split a pizza with Gyro! -Oh what, do you not trust me?” Della glanced at Gyro. “Fine, I’ll give you to Gyro, hang on a second.”

Gyro shook his head emphatically as Della held the phone out towards him. Della simply shoved the phone forward further until he was forced to answer it.

“Damn it Della- Hello!” He quickly said into the phone as he grabbed it.

“Hello Gyro,” The voice of the Red Nephew sounded from the phone. “I was wondering if you could confirm something for me. You see, Mom claims that she just ate a pizza with you not too long ago. Is she telling the truth?”

Della glared daggers at Gyro, dragging her finger across her throat. Gyro gulped. “...Yes. She did eat a pizza.”

“Really.” The Red Nephew sounded dubious. “Then what toppings did she have?”

“...Well, she had cheese,” Gyro began. “Also olives... and pineapple. Like a heathen.”

“Oh come on, pineapple is good on pizza!” Della exclaimed.

“No it is no, it doesn’t belong there!” Gyro returned.

“It makes it taste sweet!”

“Exactly! Pizza shouldn’t taste sweet, it’s not a dessert!”

“Oh, pizza is totally a dessert! And I don’t wanna hear anything from you, Mr. ‘I think black licorice tastes good!’”

“Okay, that’s good, you can hand me back to Mom now,” Huey said.

“Gladly.” Gyro tossed the phone back to Della, who caught it deftly from mid-air.

“There, now do you believe me?- mhm- yeah- uh, about an hour, I’d say- okay- alright- alright, bye-bye honey!” Della turned off her phone and held it in her hands for a moment.

“See?” Gyro said. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Della frowned slightly. “Huey didn’t sound mad, at least. But I can never tell if somebody sounds mad, so that doesn’t really mean much.”

Gyro sighed. “So, we went out for pizza?” He asked after a moment.

Della rolled her eyes. “Oh, fuck off, it’s just one day, alright? If I told Huey I hadn’t eaten, he would’ve been all worried and forced me to eat, and I’m not hungry right now.”

Gyro snorted. “Same. I’ve had Fenton force me to eat three whole meals each day! I’ve had nine full meals in the last three days, I’m stuffed.”

“Yeah, right? Man, they are so pushy about eating.” Della pouted. After a moment, she sighed heavily. “This was stupid.” She said.

Gyro blinked. “...Lying about eating?”

“No -well, sure, but not the point- I mean the whole Screwloose. That was dumb.” Della picked at a thread on her jacket. “I mean, what were we thinking? We aren’t exactly kids anymore.”

Gyro looked back to the city. “...I suppose. Honestly, it was getting kinda old even before the Spear.”

Della sighed. “Yeah. I thought it’d relieve tension, but it’s only added to it.”

“Yeah.”

“...Do you think this should be the last one?” She asked.

“The last Screwloose?” Gyro mused, hand to his chin. “I guess things did get kind of out of hand.”

“Yeah, they really did. No more Screwlooses?” She stuck out her hand.

Gyro sighed. “No more Screwlooses.” He grabbed her hand and shook.

Della smirked. “The last Screwloose, a tie. Who’d’a thunk it?”

“Honestly, that’s probably the only reason we’re willing to end it.”

“Pshh, naw.” Della waved him off. “We’re grown ups, we could’ve totally walked away if we needed to!”

“Yes, you’re probably right.” Gyro said, just as seriously as her.

Della snickered. “Well, I told the kids I’d be home in a bit, so I should probably head back.” She said after a moment.

“Yes, I should probably get to the lab and relieve Lil’ Bulb of command.”

“Alright. See ye soon, Gy!” Della called as she headed down the fire escape.

Gyro smiled. “See you soon, Della.”

———0———

Della returned to the mansion to the sound of televised fighting. She made her way to the living room, where she found the kids playing Super Smash Birds.

“C’mon, die already!” Dewey shouted, moving his fighter moved to attack his opponent.

“Never!” Webby cried as her fighter countered Dewey’s strike, sending him flying.

As Dewey wailed in defeat, Della decided to cut in. “Hey, kiddos.” She called.

Their heads turned in sync to look at her (well that wasn’t creepy at all). “Oh, hey Mom!” Dewey called, game completely forgotten.

“You guys doing okay?” Della asked.

“Well, yeah, why wouldn’t we be?” Webby asked, looking actually confused at the question.

Louie narrowed his eyes. “...Is everything alright, Mom?”

“Uh. Look,” Della began nervously. “I just wanted to say that, the last few days? Yeah, that’s not happening again. Gyro and I talked, and we decided to stop doing Screwlooses. We’re too old for those types of things these days.”

“Oh. Cool.” Dewey said. “Does this mean we won’t be hearing all the noise at night?”

Della winced. “I- yeah, no, don’t worry, I’ll be quiet as a mouse from now on.”

“Alright. Hey, Hue, it’s your turn to die to Webby.” Dewey moved on.

Huey groaned. “Okay, but how is she so good? It’s not enough to be a beast at actual fighting, she’s gotta be unbeatable at video game fighting too?”

Webby grinned. “I’ve had plenty of practice over the years. You never know what skills you may need out in the field!”

“I highly doubt that playing video games is that necessary a skill.” Huey said as he picked up the controller.

Della was taken aback at how quickly they’d moved on. Well, all except Louie. He was still looking at her, studying. “Do you really mean it?” He asked. “No more Screwlooses?”

Della nodded her head firmly. “No more Screwlooses.”

Louie nodded in return, thinking. “Alright.” He finally said, before turning back to the game.

Della would take it.

Her kids didn’t hate her.

Fuck, they might even love her.

———0———

Fenton staggered back into the lab, exhausted. Traveling to the Shadow Realm with two atomic bombs was surprisingly taxing on a mortal form. He had no idea how Webby and Lena had managed to hold together so well. They claimed it was the Power of Friendship, which sounded fake, but he didn’t know enough about magic to call them out on it.

He’d forgotten his house keys in the lab, so he went to grab them. As he did so, he noticed something strange; a lump, on the couch. He slowly went to investigate, and found Doctor Gearloose, completely passed out.

He sighed. Gyro really needed better self-care habits. He gently grabbed the blanket slipping off Gyro and readjusted it. Satisfied with a job well done, he turned to leave.

“Thank you,” He heard a voice say. He whipped back around, and saw Gyro sitting up on the couch, blanket wrapped around him.

“O-oh, it fine, Doctor Gearloose! It was your blanket anyways!”

Gyro sighed. “No, not for that.” He looked... bashful? “I mean, thank you for putting up with me for the past few days. It was... helpful.”

“Oh!” Fenton blinked. He hadn’t expected Gyro to thank him for that! “Well, it wasn’t a problem, sir!”

Gyro snorted. “Please, Cabrera, I know I’m at least a handful and a half.”

“Well, maybe, but I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

Gyro coughed and looked away. “Yes, well, don’t you have somewhere to be, Cabrera?”

“Oh! Right, yes, I totally do! Goodby, Doctor Gearloose!” Fenton turned and began to walk away. 

He stopped and turned back around. “Y’know sir, if you ever need it, my home has a guest bedroom.”

Gyro blinked. “Okay? Why would that be necessary?”

Fenton balked. “Oh, no reason, it’s fine. I just thought- Well, since you’re alway sleeping here- I mean, it’s just that I’ve never seen you go home, so- I just wanted you to know that you don’t have to sleep here. My homes open.”

Gyro tilted his head. “Intern, are you calling me homeless?”

“Are you not, sir?” Fenton cringed.

“Wh- no! I just prefer to sleep here, it’s easier. My home is pretty much just for storage.”

“Well still,” Fenton said. “My offer stands.”

Gyro stared at him for a moment. He sighed heavily and stood up. “I suppose a bed would be a nice change of pace from the past few days.”

Fenton nodded. “Yes sir, I think it would. Follow me.”

Fenton led him back to the car, and by the time they hit the main road, Gyro was already asleep.

Chapter Text

Della glared at the device in her hands like it’d personally offended her. She’d forgotten to ask Donald to get strawberries from the store when he went, but that should be an easy fix! All she needed was to call him. On her phone. Which she could do easily, she had no problem with such an action. 

If only she could get the stupid device to turn on. She shook the black rectangle that her family insisted was ‘totally a phone’ (why they couldn’t stick with flip-phones was beyond Della) but it stayed dark. 

“Raaagh!” Della threw her phone onto her bed and flapped her arms in agitation. “Stupid fucking piece of worthless fucking shit! This is fucking bullshit!”

“Um,” Came a voice from the doorway. Della turned to see Huey staring at her.

“Oh, shit,” Slipped out of Della’s mouth. “Uh, I mean- Heya kiddo! How- um, how long you been standing there?”

“Long enough,” Huey answered. Great, Donald was not going to be happy about that. Huey walked over to the bed and picked up the Accursed Hell Brick. “Are you having trouble with your phone again?” He asked.

Della groaned. “Gee, what gave it away?”

“Well, the swearing definitely helped.”

“Course it did.” Della crossed her arms over her eyes, embarrassed. “And I know, I know, I should get it by now. Like, you guys gave me a seminar on the whole ‘smart’ phone problem last week, and I’ve just com-pletely forgotten it. Seriously, it’s all just fog there, y’know?.”

Huey frowned. “That... sounds like something that you should get checked out.”

“Meh,” Della waved him off. She was handling it fine, she didn’t need some ‘doctor’ (yuck) telling her that she was fucked in the head. Like, thanks chief, she already knew that.

Huey sighed and turned his attention back to her phone. “What are you having a problem with?” He asked.

Della mumbled.

“Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that,” Huey said.

“I’ve forgotten how to turn it on.” Della growled out in embarrassment.

“Oh, you need to push the button on the side of the phone for that.” 

“I tried that, but it didn’t work!”

Huey frowned and fiddled with the phone. “Ah, that’s probably because it isn’t charged,” He said after a moment. “Where’s your charger?”

Della gave a cursory glance around her room. “I, uh, I don’t know.” She said sheepishly. “I might’ve used it in a doohickey somewhere.”

“Don’t worry about it, we’ll just use mine.” Huey walked back to his room and Della followed. She dryly observed that the order of events were a little backwards; ducklings are supposed to follow their mothers, not the other way around. 

Eh, she was used to doing things a bit backwards.

Huey clambered up to his bed and fished out his charger. He plugged her phone in and hopped down. “Alright, give it about an hour and you should be good.” He said.

“Great, thanks kiddo.” Della replied, still feeling a little embarrassed about the whole thing. 

Huey noticed. “You do know that we don’t expect you to get all of this right away, right?” He asked.

Della sighed. “Sure, but like. This is so intuitive for everyone else, y’know? It’s like I’m the only one still trying to get the hang of this. Even Scrooge knows how to operate one of these ‘smart’ phones!”

Huey shrugged. “Well, it’s not like you’ve had an active relationship with growing technology for a while. Also, why do you keep stressing ‘smart’ so weirdly?”

“‘Cuz it’s not smart, it’s stupid.” Della grumbled.

Huey chuckled. “Well, if you ever need help understanding anything about phones, we’re all willing to lend a hand.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Huey nodded.

“Like, you’ll help me learn how to change my wallpaper?”

“Among other things,”

“How to get apps?”

“Even what apps you should get!”

Della fell silent for a second. “What about text lingo?”

Huey smiled sympathetically. “Do you not understand what we mean when we text you?” He guessed accurately.

“Well- I mean I-” Della sighed. “...No, I honestly have no idea what you guys are talking about most of the time.”

“Well don’t worry, I’ll help!” Huey bounced on the balls of his feet. “Do you have anything you’d like to know about off the top of your head?” He asked.

Della hummed. “I guess... what does ‘yolo’ mean?”

“Oh, that’s an easy one. It’s an acronym that stands for You Only Live Once.”

“Oh, okay,” Della said. “So is it like a warning or something?”

“No, it’s more like a dare, to be honest. It’s like saying ‘hey, you only get one chance at this, so why not experience everything you can?’”

“Oh!” Della replied. She thought for a moment. “Yeah, I like that. That’s cool.”

Huey smiled. “Yeah, I thought you’d like it. Anything else?” Della paused for a moment, thinking. The silence stretched on until it became kind of uncomfortable. “...Mom? You there?”

“Yeah, no, don’t worry.” Della replied immediately. “I got more questions, I know that, but for the life of me I cannot remember what they were.”

Huey smiled bemusedly. “Alright, well, don’t worry. When you remember a question, come find me.” He said. “Or Louie. Or Dewey. Or even Webby.” He added ad an afterthought. “We’d all be happy to help.”

Della rubbed his head affectionately. “Thanks, kiddo.”

“Not a problem!” Huey grinned, and left. Della sighed and left as well. Hopefully she’d remember some of those problems soon.

——0——

Louie was scrolling through Twitter when he heard the telltale ‘oof’ of his mother running into the side of the kitchen counter. “Hey Mom,” Louie looked up from his phone. “You miss where the counter was?”

“Yeah, yeah, I was distracted, sue me.” Della replied as she rubbed her side. She paused for a second and looked to Louie, scrutinizing him. “Hey, you got a sec?” She asked.

“That depends, you got five bucks?” Louie smirked.

Della gave him a stern look. “Louie.”

“Alright, alright, I was just joking, yeesh.” Louie backpedaled. “What do you need?”

Della fiddled with her phone. “Okay, so I figured out how to turn it on, but I still don’t know how to change my wallpaper.”

Louie frowned, then raised his eyebrows. “Wait, you just figured out how to turn your phone on? Seriously? We literally had a whole seminar just last week!”

Della looked annoyed with herself. “Yeah, I know that, I just kinda forgot for a little while. Huey said that you could help me with this.”

Louie sighed. “Of course he did. Alright, hand it over.” He set his phone down and made little grabby motions with his hand. Della handed him her phone. Louie unlocked it (she didn’t even have touch ID enabled, she was practically begging somebody to rifle through it) and began his lesson. “‘Kay, so do you have a picture that you want?”

“Huh?” His mom looked confused.

“...Mom, you need a picture to replace the wallpaper that you already have.” He said slowly. “Here, we’ll just one from your camera roll at random.” 

Louie frowned as he opened her camera roll. Well, it would be more accurate to say a lack of a camera roll.

“Do you seriously not have a single picture on your phone?” Louie asked.

“Uh, no?” Della frowned. “Why would I take pictures on my phone, a regular camera’s better."

Louie showed her the front facing camera, and she jumped back in shock. 

Well damn, it was like she was looking into a mirror! (Don’t think about that don’t think about that don’t think about that don’t think about that don’t think about that don’t think about that-) “Whoa!” She exclaimed, forcing her hands to stop shaking. “That’s seriously crisp! What the heck?”

“Yeah, phones are now better for pictures than most cameras.” Louie adjusted the phone so that he and Della were both in the shot. “Smile!” He snapped a picture, and began tapping away on her phone. “So when you’ve got a picture you want, you’ll wanna to open your settings -which is this little gear app right here- and scroll down until you see ‘wallpaper.’” Louie held the phone out so that she could see what he was doing. “When you see it, you’re gonna wanna click on it, and you’ll see up here it says ‘Choose New Wallpaper’. So you click on that, pick ‘photos’, and choose which photo you want as your wallpaper.” Louie tapped the photo he just took of them. “Now you’ll have a screen where you can move and rescale the photo until you’re happy, then you pick done, and we’ll go ahead and set this to both your home and lock screen.” Louie flipped her phone and handed it back to Della.

She smiled. “Thanks, kiddo,” She ruffled his hair.

Louie squirmed and whacked her off. “Ack, stop it.”

“Oh, uh, sorry.” Della couldn’t tell if he was actually uncomfortable with that or he was just posturing. She always found it difficult to tell with Louie, he was real good at being unreadable. She decided to play it safe and brought her hand back to her side.

Louie studied her for a second (she hated it when he did that, she always felt like an old book being opened up too quickly under that gaze), and he waved her off. “Uh, it-it’s fine, just, y’know. Happy I could help.”

“Oh, okay. That’s great. So, thanks. Again. Yep.” Silence followed.

“...Welp, I’ve gotta go do something else,” Louie stated awkwardly.

“Yeah, yeah, same here.” Della said quickly.

“Yeah, and it’s like, really important, so I should really get to it now.” Louie jumped down and began walking out of the kitchen.

“Yep, I’ve gotta go do something too, see ya at dinner.” Della snapped finger guns at him. Seriously, finger guns? Those were so lame, come on.

Louie snapped finger guns back, looking just as awkward as she felt. “Yep, see you then.” And he quickly left.

Della sighed. She really wanted a better relationship with Louie. She looked down at the picture he’d set as her wallpaper. It was the picture he’d just taken of them both. He was holding up a piece sign and had his tongue out, and she just had a surprised look on her face.

She smiled. It was kinda cute.

——0——

From what she could parse together from what he said, Della was fairly certain that Dewey had a lot of apps on his phone. So, that made him the best person to ask for help on this occasion.

If only she could find him. She’d looked through most of the manor, but he had yet to appear. He wasn’t in his bedroom, Webby’s attic, the living room, the kitchen, the treasure room, the dining room, the Cursed Vault of One Thousand Sins, the media room, or even -heaven forbid- the second attic.

And that’s why Della found herself crawling around in the vents. She grunted and forced herself past the intersection she’d gotten stuck on. She never used to get stuck like that as a kid. As a kid, she’d been a master of getting around through the vents. Donald had scoffed, saying that it was worthless, but she knew better. The vents were actually the only pathways through the mansion that wouldn’t move and shift position, as she swore every other part of the mansion would to suit it’s needs.

In fact, if Della remembered correctly, she’d actually started a map of the vents somewhere here. She’d gotten sidetracked before she could finish, and never found the energy to get back to it, but whatever. A half (well, more like a one-and-a-half-quarter) finished map would still be helpful.

She navigated her way to the next intersection. If only she could remember the vent shaft she’d begun carving the map on.

“Oh!” Della looked to the left shaft and saw Webby leading Dewey through it. Webby had turned to her and let out the exclamation. “Della! Hello!” Webby said excitedly.

“Woah, Mom! I didn’t know you could fit in the vents too!” Dewey exclaimed.

“What’s up kiddos?” Della asked. “What are you guys doing in the vents?”

“Oh, I’m teaching Dewey how to crawl around silently.” Webby supplied.

“It’s fun!” Dewey looked excited.

“That’s awesome!” Della gave them a thumbs up. “Hey, you kiddos wouldn’t happen to know where a half-finished map of the vent system would be, would ya?”

“Do you mean The Map?” Webby asked. “You’re headed in the right direction, it’s down that shaft, take a right at the next intersection, when you see the strip of red fabric you want to head up, then turn right at the next fan, go forward and you’ll see it.” She said. She then looked unsure. “I mean, it’s not exactly an unfinished map anymore, but it was when I found it, so that might be what you’re looking for?”

“Yeah no, that’s probably it.” Della replied. Then she smiled. “Wait, did you finish it?”

Webby looked bashful. “Um, yeah, I did. It helped me get a hang of vent travel early on, you know?”

Della beamed. “That’s awesome! I’m glad that it could help you, that’s why I made it. I mean, not to help you specifically, but for anyone who needed a bit of guidance.”

Webby gasped. “You made The Map?”

“Yeah! Well, I mean I started it, but I kinda lost motivation. But hey, it helped you anyways, so...”

“Oh yeah, it really did!” Webby gushed. “It was actually really fun finishing it, mapping it out was honestly the first real adventure I went on! I’ll always remember it fondly,” She sighed wistfully.

“Woah, that’s awesome!” Dewey said. “Wait, so this means that the first time you surpassed Mom was actually way before you met us, not Cornelius’s armory!”

“Oh yeah, that is true!” Della laughed. “Welp, Imma go look at The Map, I’ll see you kids later! Thanks for the directions!” Della started heading to The Map.

“Yep, no problem!” Webby began leasing Dewey down a different vent shaft. Della stopped and watched them leave. She couldn’t help but feel like she’d forgotten something.

Okay, so she’d gotten directions for her Map. Della shuffled back, retracing her steps. Why had she needed directions for the map? Shit, why had she? Well, she hadn’t known that it was finished, so it probably wasn’t to see how it looked. Which meant that she was looking for something. Her phone buzzed. But what had she been looking for? She pulled out her phone and looked at it. 

It was a calendar invite from Donald, something about vaccines? Oh yeah, she’d asked him if he could keep her updated on the kids’ health, this was probably one of those things.

She shoved her phone away. She’d gotten in the vents for something, what was it? Was she looking for one of her little hiding spots? That didn’t feel right.

Wait, shit, right! Her phone! She was looking for Dewey so that he could help her with her phone! Della hurried after Webby and Dewey. “Wait woah-woah-woah-woah, kiddos! Kiddos! Wait up!” She called after them.

Webby and Dewey paused as Della caught up to them, sweating from the amount of exertion. She hadn’t remembered the vents being this damn tight. “Is everything alright, Mom?” Dewey asked.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine, it’s fine.” Della panted. She pointed a finger at Dewey.

“Uh, what?” Dewey asked her, befuddled. “What’d I do?”

“No, no,” Della waved her hand. “You did nothing. I just wanted your help with something.”

Dewey perked up immediately. “You need my help? Do you need help fighting someone? Is it some secret archenemies of yours? An alien race you fought off single handedly on the moon to protect the earth that has come back for revenge? Don’t worry, I’ll beat em’ all!”

“What?” Della asked. She shook her head. “Uh- no, no, sweetie, nothing like that. I just need help with my phone, okay?”

“Oh.” Dewey deflated.“But that’s so boring! Besides, didn’t we already give you a seminar?” He asked. Della tried not to wince as he said that.

Maybe Huey had been wrong when he’d said that everyone else would be happy to help her. They all seemed kind of disappointed in her.

Apparently, she didn’t hide her wince as well as she thought because Dewey immediately looked guilty shuffled towards her. “I mean- that sounds awesome, Mom! I’d love to help you figure out your phone! Besides, who can remember seminars, huh? Huh?~” He nudged with his elbow.

Della smiled at him and ruffled his hair, wiping any lingering guilt on her son’s face away. “Aw, thanks sweetie.” She pulled out her phone. “Okay, so, Donald’s been talking about some apps on his phone, and I think they sound pretty cool. Problem is I don’t exactly remember how to download apps. But, I remembered that you have, like, a bunch of apps. So I’m hoping that my little ‘app expert’ can help me!”

Dewey grinned at her. “Oh yeah, that’ll be easy peasy! Okay, so first things first, you’ll wanna go to the app store...” 

Dewey launched into an explanation on how to download apps, which quickly turned into which apps she should download, which quickly turned into him taking her phone at multiple occasions and just downloading them for her. Webby provided input as well.

In the end, Della left the vent system with an intrinsic knowledge of how to download apps, and a phone laden with the ‘best free apps that one can find!’ according to Dewey.

Now if only she could figure out how to delete some apps, she’d be golden.

——0——

“And now just tighten that bolt so that it’s snug,” Della instructed Huey as he helped her with repairs on the Cloudslayer. Huey turned the wrench a couple times before standing back and wiping his brow.

“Phew. Okay, I think that’s tight?” Huey gestured to the bolt. 

Della tested it with her hand. “Hmm, yeah, that’s pretty good! I’d make it a bit tighter, but honestly that’s just down to personal preference.” She picked up the wrench and tightened it a bit.

“Are you almost done?” Dewey complained from the sidelines. He wanted Huey for something, but Della couldn’t remember what.

Della looked to Huey. He’d been helping her for a while (probably), he was probably a little tired by now. “Yeah, I think we’ll finish up this lesson here. You did great Hue, but I can handle it from here.” She rubbed his head under his cap. “You can go help Dewey with whatever he needs, okay?”

“Okay, Mom. Thanks for the lesson!” Huey said. “Alright, Dewey, I can help you with your algebra homework now.”

“Pog!” Dewey gave a thumbs up.

Well that was a weird thing to say.

“Actually, with my lesson done, do you think you kids could give me a lesson?” Della asked them. She’d been getting better at asking her family for help.

Huey and Dewey turned to her. “Of course,” Huey said. “What do you need?”

“Well, I don’t think I’ve ever heard the word ‘pog’ before, what does it mean?”

Dewey pondered for a moment. “Uh, it means, like, pog?” He tried. Della just kind of looked to Huey.

Huey sighed. “Apt, Dewey.” He said. “So, the phrase ‘pog’ is used as a sort of exclamation of happiness that something good happened, kind of. It’s essentially like if someone said ‘yeah’ or ‘great’ or ‘nice’. It’s can be used interchangeably with the phrase ‘poggers’.”

Dewey groaned. “Yeesh, what a clinical explanation, Hubert.”

Huey rolled his eyes. “Yes, and just using the word again is such a better response.”

Della cut in before it could become an argument. “Those were great examples, both of you. Wait, no- those were both ‘pog’ explanations, guys.”

“Wow.” Della heard Louie’s voice cut in. Louie was leaning against the hanger door, looking aghast at her. “That was probably the worst thing I’ve ever heard. And that includes Uncle Scrooge’s explanation of the Spear of Selene incident.”

Della slumped in defeat. Great, how embarrassing. “Hello to you too, darling son of mine.” She grumbled.

“Sup,” Louie gave her a two-fingered salute. “So what exactly led to Mom uttering that crime against the English language?”

“We’re trying to teach her modern day slang!” Dewey said from where he was sitting.

“Oh, this I gotta hear,” Louie made his way over to them and sat down with his brothers. Great, wonderful, all her kids were hear to make fun of her. Lovely.

On the other hand, all three of them at once might be able to help her better than just one at a time...

“So pog is usually supposed to be used in a more expletive-esque way.” Huey continued to teach her.

“For example- If I asked someone if there was still Pep in the fridge, and they responded with ‘yes’, then I might say ‘pog’ in response.” Louie said. “Speaking of which, do you guys know if there’s any Pep still left in the fridge?”

“Yeah, no, I think I drank the rest of it,” Dewey said.

Louie let out a hiss of disappointment. “Aw, updog.” He watched Della out of the corner of his eye.

She remained silent, and raised an eyebrow at him.

Louie snapped his fingers. “Dangit, I thought for sure I could get you with that.”

Della smirked at him. “What, you thought you could pull a ‘what’s updog’ on me? Yeah, I’m not that old, kiddo.”

“Aren’t you, like, forty?” Dewey asked.

Della blinked at him. “I- what? No, why would I be forty?”

“She’s not forty, Dewey,” Huey stated. Della was glad at least one of her kids was defending her age. “She’s just thirty-six.”

What.

“What?” Della asked incredulously. “What do you mean, thirty-six? Last I checked, I was in my twenties!”

Louie looked at her. “And let me guess, last time you checked was when you had us?”

“Well, yeah. What are you getting at?”

“We’re twelve.”

“I know that. So?”

“So, you’re twelve years older than what you last thought. Plus, Uncle Donald says he’s thirty-six, and you both claim to be twins, so...”

Della blinked. “Oh.” She said lamely. “...Okay, I’m gonna go ahead and ignore that for now, because if I continue to think about how I’m almost forty I’m gonna have a panic attack. Um- you guys were telling me about modern day slang?” She tried to change the subject.

Her kids thankfully let her. “Do you have any more phrases and the like that you want to know?” Huey asked.

“Uh, yeah. Actually-” Della ruffled through her pockets and brought out her journal. “I have a list.”

“You know that you can make notes on your phone, correct?” Louie asked dryly. He seriously reminded her of Donald when they were younger.

“Um, yeah, duh. I just wanted to write it down here.” Della lied.

Louie looked unimpressed. “Welp, guess we know what we’re gonna be teaching you next,” He said. “What’s on the list?”

“Okay,” Della flipped to the page with the lingo her family -and others- had been using that she had trouble understanding. “Let’s start with...” she ran her finger down the long list. “Simuh?”

“...Please tell me that you didn’t just sound out smh.” Louie deadpanned.

“Well, okay,” Della replied defensively. “What’s the big deal if I did?”

“I- just- you don’t sound out acronyms, mom.”

“Yeah you do!” She replied. “People say lol and lmao, don’t they?”

“Okay but that’s different!” Louie replied.

“How?!”

“Generally, unless it has a vowel in it, it isn’t sounded out,” Huey butted in helpfully. “Look, if it’s about three letters and there isn’t a vowel in the middle, just don’t sound it out, okay?”

“Okay, noted.” Della literally noted that down in the book. “So, what’s smh stand for then?”

“Shaking My Head,” Dewey told her. “For example, if Louie had been smart, he would’ve said ‘you don’t sound out acronyms, mom. Smh.’”

“Look, I was too disgusted to think straight, okay?” Louie defended himself.

“Okay, Shakin’ My Head,” Della muttered as she added onto the note in her journal. “Alright, next up: idk.”

“I Don’t Know,” The triplets responded in sync.

Before Della could open her mouth, Louie jumped in. “Now, Mom- Mom, we mean that i-d-k stands for I Don’t Know, alright? It’s not that we don’t know what that means, it’s that that’s literally what it stands for.”

”I knew that’s what you meant!” Della defended herself.

The boys raised their eyebrows in sync.

“Okay well I would’ve figured it out eventually,” She said after a moment.

“Sure.” Louie replied dismissively. “Next question?”

“Hmm, I’ve already done yolo,” Della looked over the list when something caught her eye. “Um... Yeah, I’ve just kind of got the letter F here, I don’t know if that’s supposed to be slang or not.” Della scratched her head.

“Oh, yeah, that’s slang.” Dewey nodded.

“I thought so,” Della smiled inwardly. “So is it like, failure or something? You know, like saying that you got an F?”

Huey moved his hand in a so-so gesture. “Eh, kind of. It is generally used when something goes wrong, yes, but it’s mainly a used as a sign of condolence.”

“Seriously? How’d we get to that?” Della questioned.

“Memes.” Louie said.

“‘Press F to pay respects,’” Dewey added solemnly.

Della blinked. “...What?” She asked dumbly.

“It’s a pretty well known video game scene,” Huey said.

“Oh, that makes more sense.” Della added ‘press F to pay respects’ to her notes. “What about E? Does that mean anything?”

“Ooh,” Her kids looked at each other a little worriedly. Louie spoke up. “Um, that one’s a little hard to explain. It’s a meme that’s like, purposefully nonsensical? Like, it doesn’t make sense, and that’s why people think it’s funny.”

“Huh,” Della scratched her head. “I think I get it. Are you saying that it’s like a henway?” She put on her best poker face.

Her kids looked at each other, confused. Louie specifically looked a little wary. “Uh, sure,” He said suspiciously.

“Maybe?” Huey furrowed his brow. “I mean, what’s a-” He suddenly slapped a hand over his mouth to stop himself from finishing his sentence.

“What’s a henway?” Dewey -her sweet, innocent (hah) Dewey- fell right into her trap, hook, line, and sinker.

“About twelve pounds.” She replied immediately.

“Wh- oh.” Dewey’s face morphed into realization. He slapped his head into his hands, ashamed.

Della grinned like a maniac as her kids groaned at her. “Hahaha-ha! Tough luck, kiddo!”

“Yep, I knew that you were gonna try something like that, I knew you were gonna try something like that,” Louie said. “I’ve never heard ‘henway’ before, though.”

“Really?” Della cocked her head. “It was pretty common when I was a kid.”

“Yeah, we’ve really only gotten them thrown at us from Dewey, and all he knows is updog.” Huey said.

“Not anymore!” Dewey jumped to his feet. “I’ve got henway now too!”

“Yeah, to bad we all heard it,” Louie didn’t look particularly sorry about that.

“Well Webby hasn’t!” Dewey zipped out of the hanger to find her.

“Wait, Dewey, what about your homework?” Huey rushed after him.

The air in the hanger suddenly got awkward as Della and Louie realized that they were alone together.

“Well I think I’m gonna go follow them,” Louie jumped up and power walked out of the hanger.

“Yeah okay, you guys have fun!” Della said. She closed her notebook. Welp, guess that was it for today’s lesson. Though not necessarily the end of her learning; maybe she’d try using the Twitter account Donald had helped set up for her.

That was a mistake.

——0——

A few days (and seven different life-threatening situations) later, the kids could be found playing Super Smash Birds in the living room.

“Come on, come on, come on!” Huey was on the edge of his seat as he tried desperately to keep his fighter alive.

“Give it up, bro, you’ve lost.” Louie said calmly as he lounged on the couch. He pressed a few buttons on the controller in his hand and sent Huey’s fighter flying.

“No!” Huey cried out. “Dang it!” He slumped back as the screen declaring Louie as the winner flashed before his eyes.

“Hah!” Dewey laughed at him with popcorn in his mouth. “My turn!”

Huey huffed and tossed him the controller. “You were probably cheating,” He grumbled.

“What? Me, cheating?” Louie put a hand over his chest in disbelief. “I’m wounded, Hubert! Why, my own brother calling me a filthy cheater, the nerve!”

Huey crossed his arms and pointedly looked away from Louie.

Louie rolled his eyes. And they called Dewey the theatrical one. “Oh come on, how could I even cheat at Super Smash Birds?”

“I don’t know, but you probably found a way.” Huey reasoned.

“I don’t think he cheated, but I wouldn’t put it last him to get a cracked controller.” Webby added from the sidelines (they’d all come to the agreement that Webby was too good to allow to fight in 1v1’s, and had to be fought in a 3v1. Even then, she still won most of the time).

“Well, uh- thanks, I think?” Louie said.

“Dude, hurry up and pick your fighter already.” Dewey tapped his foot impatiently.

“Chill, man, I’m going.” Louie rolled his eyes and picked... hmm, he’d go with Looncina this time.

“Finally!” Dewey picked Ganondove. The stage was set and the fight began. Looncina’s speed and agility was a good match for the slow-moving powerhouse that was Ganondove.

Louie rolled out of the way of Dewey’s grab. “Oh come on, I had you there.” Dewey complained.

Louie snorted. “Yeah, right, keep telling yourself that.” He landed a crit on Dewey and sent him flying upwards. 

Dewey righted himself and rocketed downward with a down smash. Louie leapt up to meet him with his own midair strike. They both connected, sending Dewey back into the air and Louie crashing into the ground.

“Ooh, that looked cool.” Called a voice from the doorway. “Whose the girl?” Della asked them.

“Oh, that’s Looncina!” Webby replied. “She’s a warrior from the future who came back to the past to stop a horrible calamity from taking place!”

Della whistled. “So she’s cute and she’s a badass? Deadly combo.”

“Did you come to watch me cream Louie?” Dewey excitedly asked her as he pummeled Louie. Louie countered one of his punches and sent him flying off the stage, losing a life.

Louie smirked. “What was that about creaming me, Dew?” He asked smugly.

Dewey punched him irl. “Shut.” He said.

“Eh,” Della waved her hand. “I mean, I had a question about my phone and everything, but if you guys are busy it can wait.”

“No no, don’t worry,” Louie said distractedly as he focused on getting out of the combo Dewey had managed to get him in. “We can multitask. What’s the issue?”

“Cool,” Della fished her phone out of her pocket. Dewey managed to get him off the stage. Shit. “So, I’ve been poking around Twitter for a little while now,” She began.

“Oh, that’s not good.” Louie said.

“Heh, yeah, I’ve kinda come to that conclusion myself.” Della mumbled as she scratched her bill. “But yeah, um... what does milf mean?”

Louie felt something in his brain shatter. Judging from how quiet the room got, everyone else felt it too.

“Um. I. Uh.” Huey stuttered eloquently.

“...What’s the context?” Webby asked hesitantly.

Louie through his controller into the air. “Why would you ask that. Why would you ask that. Why would you ask that.” He covered his ears in despair.

“Uh, Mark Beaks called me it on Twitter.” Della responded.

Ok yeah no, something definitely broke there.

“AAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!” Dewey covered his ears and ran out of the room. Louie was too shell-shocked to move.

“Okay, and that’s where I draw the line. I’m not dealing with this. Not today. Not today.” Huey numbly walked out of the room.

“Where’s everyone going? Is it a curse? Did Beaks put a curse on me?” Della frowned at her phone.

“No, its- um.” Webby stuttered. “I’m- uh. I’m gonna go get Granny.”

That jumpstarted Louie back into gear. “Oh no!” He shot up on the couch. “No, you don’t get to leave me here alone, Webby! Not when you’re the one responsible for this mess!”

“I’m sorry!” Webby replied. “I regretted it as soon as it came out of my mouth! But in my defense, she’s your mother!”

“Exactly!” Louie exclaimed. “That’s why I shouldn’t be one of the poor souls dealing with this!”

“Okay, I’m seriously getting worried now,” Della said. “Am I, like, actually dying right now?”

Louie was saved the existential torture of having to respond by Beakley appearing. “Why on earth did I just see Dewey doing a horrible impression of a banshee?”

“Okay, they aren’t answering.” Della turned to Mrs. Beakley. “Mrs. Beakley, how long do you have to live if somebody calls you a milf?”

Beakley blinked. “...I’d imagine fairly long. Why are you asking?” She asked, like it was the last thing she’d wanted to do in the entire world.

“Marks Beaks called me one on Twitter. He said ‘@moonmamma’-that’s my handle-‘is such a milf’. Is that not a hex?”

Louie whined in agony. He never wanted to hear this, ever. This was going to be more traumatic than the timephoon. Webby’s expression said that it’d be the same for her.

Beakley’s mouth was partially agape. She closed it with a snap. “No, that’s not a hex, you’ll be fine.” She let out a particularly long-suffering breath. “Can’t say the same for Beaks, however,” She grumbled.

“Cool, then why did everyone freak out when I said it, huh? What’s it mean?”

“I- um- that was a phrase when you were still on earth, have you seriously never heard of it before?” Beakley tried weakly. It seemed she was just as hesitant to talk about it as everyone else had been.

Della shrugged. “I dunno. If I have, I’ve forgotten it!”

“Of course you have.”

Louie groaned. He just wanted this to be over with already.

“Well, Della,” Mrs. Beakley began hesitantly. “It’s acronym, to start out.”

He hated this he hated this he hated this he hated this he hated this he hated this he hated this he hated this hated this he hated this he hated this-

“Wait, no, I can get it,” Della scratched her chin. “Okay, okay, okay. Money In Las... Vegas?” She cringed at herself.

Louie uncovered his eyes to look at her. “Do you think-”

“Yeah yeah yeah I know that Vegas starts with a V, not an F!” Della interrupted him. “It’s just the only thing I could think of that comes after Las!”

“Well I think it’s safe to say that’s not it.” Beakley replied. “It starts with ‘mother.’”

“Oh this is horrible.” Louie whispered to himself.

“If we’re stealthy, we might make it out alive,” Webby whispered back to him.

“Hmm, Mother...” Della pondered for a moment. “...Is Like Fire? No, that doesn’t sound right.”

He hated this he hated this he hated this he hated this he hated this he hated this-

“Mother’s Inducting Lithium Forks? No, that one doesn’t even make sense.”

This was torture. He was being tortured for forgetting to clean his room for the eighth time.

“Mother Introducing Little Fowls? Mother’s Illegal Light Fixtures? Mother-”

“It’s Mother I’d Like to Fuck!” Louie screeched, covering his ears and folding into the fetal position. “He’s saying that he wants to fuck you!” He cried.

“Language!” Beakley reprimanded.

“Oh!” Della said. She hummed for a minute, then made a negative sound. “Eh, he’s a bit too twinky for my tastes.”

“Oh, how wonderful.” Beakley murmured.

“Hey, wait, does this mean that people think Ma Beagles a milf? I mean they must, look at how many kids she’s got!”

Webby let out a strangled cry. “Okay abort mission, abort mission! Retreat, leave no man left behind!” She grabbed Louie and darted out of the room.

Della watched them leave. “Was it something I said?”

Mrs. Beakley sighed. “I think that’s enough learning about your phone for now, Della.”

“Aw, okay.” Della looked down at the forgotten controllers. “Hey, the kids abandoned their game.”

“Yes, it appears that they did.”

“You wanna go a few rounds?” Della nudged her playfully.

Mrs. Beakley paused. “...You know what? Sure. I need something to permanently erase what just happened from my mind.”

Chapter Text

At around 2:30 in the morning -when everyone else was asleep- Della found herself in the kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee. She rubbed sleepy dust out of her eyes as she avoided looking at the reflective brown liquid. If looking in mirrors were bad, reflections from liquid were worse. The problem was that the liquid made the reflection all distort-y! Her brain already fucked with mirror images enough, she didn’t need them to actually be distorted, thank you.

She just... never felt like she was looking at herself anymore. Well, she’d kinda always had problems with that, but it’d gotten better for a while! ...Then the moon happened.

Man, that really described a lot of things in her life, didn’t it? She was doing better, then she’d fucked off to the moon and messed up all her progress.

Fun.

Della’s contemplation was thankfully interrupted however when she heard a quiet thump outside the kitchen window. She probably wouldn’t have heard that if she hadn’t gotten used to the absolute silence of the moon. As it was, the sound immediately put her on edge. Della crept up to the window, careful to keep her metal foot from tapping on the floor. She had to be quiet, lest she scare whatever was outside into moving.

Well, it was probably just a branch or something. But it might be a bigfoot, trying to get to the kids! Oh, or maybe it was an injured little wyrmling that needed to be nursed back to health, and it would develop an unbreakable bond with whoever did so! (That reminded her, she and Donnie really needed to check up on Terror and Phoebus sometime soon.)

Or maybe it was just a certain golden-haired duck she hadn’t seen in a while, dressed in one of her uncle’s large comfy robes, lying in Beakley’s flower bushes.

“Aunt Goldie!” Della smiled brightly. It’d been some time since last they’d met.

Goldie looked up at her, blowing a loose strand of hair from her beak, and smirked. “Wella Wella, it’s Bella Della! I haven’t seen you since the moonvasion!”

“Wait, you were at the moonvasion? I didn’t see you.”

“Oh, I just popped in at the end to - uh, check on things. I was surprised to see you still kicking, Old Sharpie.” Goldie smirked.

“Wha- ‘ Old Sharpie? ’” Della exclaimed. “Why am I Old Sharpie now, who’s Young Sharpie?”

“The green kid, Louie. He’s Sharpie now.”

“Wait, seriously?” Della asked. “Does he carry a bunch of knives on him?”

“Oh right, that’s why I called you Sharpie,” Goldie muttered. “No, he’s just sharp, you know? Like, real perceptive and all that shit.”

“Ah,” Della said, trying not to sound too disappointed. It would’ve been nice to have a common point to talk with him about. She paused for a moment, clicking her tongue, putting the breaks on her mind from following that particular train of thought, before finally remembering where she was. “So why are you lying around in Beakley’s flower bushes?” 

“Oh, you know, I just thought the view was lovely.”

“Huh, I guess it is.” Della stuck her head further out the window and looked at the view. “Yeah, Beakley removed the terraces outside of Scrooge’s window.”

Goldie sighed. “I noticed.” She remarked dryly. She stared at Della, eyes narrowing as she studied her. Della tried to not let it make her uncomfortable.

“Like what you see?” Della asked wryly.

Goldie’s face relaxed as she let out a huff of laughter. “Just wanted to make sure it was you, Speedy.” Seemingly content with what she saw, she turned back to staring into space.

“Speedy?” Della scrunched up her face in disgust. “You’re not actually gonna call me that, right? And what, did you really think my family wouldn’t be able to tell if I was an impersonator? After almost a year?”

Goldie raised her hands. “Hey, you never know with Moneybags, he sees what he wants to see all the time. And Sharpie is taken, so I gotta come up with something else to call you.”

Della rolled her eyes. “Or, y’know, you could just call me by my name.”

“Preposterous.”

Della laughed. Quiet sort of settled over them for a moment. It was a nice quiet, though. Della had forgotten what that felt like. “I wanted to thank you, by the way.” She said.

Goldie looked immediately suspicious. “What for?”

“For having a good relationship with Louie. You know, being there for him and everything.” Della looked out, smiling wistfully.

She suddenly felt Goldie stand up and clasp her face, forcefully tilting her head this way and that. “Okay, I was wrong, there’s no way you’re actually Della.” She studied Della’s face invasively.

“W-what?” Della asked with smushed cheeks. “What happened? What did I say?”

“Don’t play coy, you just said I was a good role model for Sharpie. I know I’m not.”

Della laughed. “Dude, how are you not? You’ve gotten yourself into more shit than Scrooge , and you’re still alive, aren’t you? You’re successful, you’re happy, and you’re good at what you do.” She said. “I mean fuck, if you could get over your crippling fear of ever letting anyone get close to you, you’d be golden! Well not literally, unless you have some sort of emotional touch-related Midas curse.”

Goldie glared at her and dropped her hands from her face. “Yeah, no, you’re definitely Della.”

Della grinned at her. “Hey, she actually knows my name!” Goldie flipped her off.

Suddenly, the hallway light turned on. “Hello? Is somebody there?” Beakley’s voice echoed into the kitchen.

“Welp, that’s my cue to head out.” Goldie quickly made her way away from the window.

“Wh- hey! Don’t just leave me here!” Della vaulted over the kitchen window, landing on her back before rolling to her feet and launching herself forward in a bounding jump to catch up with Goldie.

She turned and gave Della a look over her shoulder, not bothering to slow down. “C’mon, you’d be fine! It’d just be like Galdwin.”

Della paused. “You and I remember Galdwin very differently.”

Goldie shrugged but made no move to shoo Della away. They snuck further into the grounds of the mansion before Goldie stopped and shoved Della and herself behind one of Scrooge’s many, many statues that littered the grounds. Della went to protest but Goldie shushed her before she could make a sound as the sound of spinning rotors and the faint smell of burning rubber announced another presence: they watched in silence as the DT-87 hovered past their hiding spot, scanning the area as it went.

“One of your toys?” The thief asked quietly as the red laser slipped over hedges they were crouched underneath before continuing onward silently.

“Oh god no, I hate that thing, it’s one of Gyro’s inventions.” Della whispered back.

Goldie hummed, then turned to her. “Take off your leg.”

“What?” Della asked, indignant. “Why?

“It’s too loud, you’re going to get us caught.”

Della grumbled. “Too loud, my ass,” But she did as she was told, and took it off. “Now what, genius? You want me to hop? I bet hopping’s gonna be louder.”

Goldie sighed in exasperation and looped one arm around Della. “I’ll help you walk, now just shut up and move.” She began walking with Della in tow.

“Hey, this kinda reminds me of the Keller Run,” Della snickered.

Goldie groaned. “ Please don’t remind me of the Keller Run.” They entered the garden maze that sometimes popped into existence on the grounds, and Goldie decided that it was a good place to stop. “And why do you need to hide anyways?” She asked Della as she set her down. “It’s not like you’re a home invader.”

“Yeah, but Beakley’s been getting on my ass about actually sleeping, and I don’t wanna deal with her.”

Goldie shrugged. “Eh, suit yourself.” She looked around where they stopped. “I wonder if Sourdough keeps anything interesting around here,” She mused. She began to give the area a cursory glance. 

Della winced as she put back on her leg. Goldie was right, it was kinda clanky. Maybe she could make a new one? Yeah, she could. Not like, a replacement for this one -cuz this one was dope- but as an alternative. One made mostly out of lightweight plastic, instead of metal. It wouldn’t hold up to the rigors of adventuring (and she probably wouldn’t be able to fit a rocket thruster -or a knife- into it), so it’d probably just be something for around the house wear.

“Ooh,” Goldie made a noise as she held up a small golden egg. “Is this where Moneybags keeps the Golden Goose?”

“Oh, yeah,” Della remembered. “Yeah, I think Louie said something about that a little while ago.”

Goldie grinned. “Of course Sharpie's already found it. I think I’m gonna go, uh, borrow it.” She said.

Della laughed. “Have fun.”

“What, are you not coming, Princess?” Goldie teased.

Della shot to her feet. “Oh, don’t you fucking dare call me that,” She pointed an accusing finger to Goldie. 

Goldie smirked and began walking away. “It’s not my fault if it’s the truth, honey.”

Oh, like hell she was getting away with that. “I am not a Princess!” Della stalked after her, deeper into the maze.

“Sure you’re not,” Goldie drawled, heading down a left turn. “You’re just the heir to the richest duck in the world, -whose epithet is ‘The King of Klondike’, mind you-, you live in his mansion, you don’t have a job, need I go on?”

“Yeah, but I’m not sitting around in a tower waiting to be rescued, now am I?” Della huffed, pausing at the intersection to watch Goldie as she proceeded confidently down the left-hand passageway and disappeared out of sight. “Center’s to the right, by the way.” She announced to no one in particular, fishing out another golden egg that had been caught in the gnarled branches of the topiary barrier and polishing it on her sleeve.

“I know, I know,” Goldie said as she backtracked and went to the right. “Well, maybe you haven’t sat around in a tower , perse, but I do remember something similar in the Alaskan wilderness.”

“Motherfucker, that was an entirely different situation,” Della exclaimed. “That was a survival scenario, not an ‘I’m just waiting for my prince’ scenario. In a survival scenario you should stick in one spot, in order to not get more lost. In a ‘I’m just waiting for my prince’ scenario, that’s just somebody waiting for another person to do their dirty work.”

“So what I’m hearing is, Sharpie’s a princess?” 

Della stopped. “Holy shit, he totally is. That is totally Louie’s whole shtick..”

“Well, you know what they say: Like mother, like son.” Goldie grinned. 

“Sure, and the role model’s got nothing to do with it, at all.”

Goldie shuddered. “Ugh, that just sounds so wrong.”

“Yeah, well, too bad. You’re totally his role model.” Della smirked. 

Goldie didn’t respond, so they walked through the maze in silence for a little bit. Not for too long, though.

“Seriously though, thanks for helping Louie out.” Della’s grin faltered. “Me and him had kind of a rough spot a little while ago. Sometimes it’s like he thinks he’s alone from everyone else.”

“And he’s not even a teenager yet,” Goldie remarked.

“Yeah,” Della looked down. “The thing is, he’s kinda right. I don’t think any of us really understand how he thinks and works. Or at least, not in the way he needs. Beakley’s real strict, so she’s a no-go, Scrooge definitely doesn’t get it, and I know that Donnie doesn’t exactly like what he does.”

“...And you?” Goldie tried. Della huffed a bitter laugh. 

“Yeah, I think I’m probably the worst. The shit he gets himself into scares me.”

“Oh come on, Sharpie’s no worse than you were when you were his age.” Goldie defended him.

“Yeah, that’s the problem. He’s like me.” Della looked back up at her. “I’m terrified that he’s gonna get himself killed. Or worse, that he’s gonna get lost.”

Goldie stopped and cocked her head. “How is that worse?”

Della flashed her a rueful smile. “I know that you don’t really mind, but isolation is a hell I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. And I’m scared that one day Louie’s gonna end up finding out why..”

Goldie looked away. “And you think that I’ll knock that outta him somehow.”

“No, I don’t. It’s my job to make sure he doesn’t repeat my mistakes. But he needs someone he feels he won’t be judged around, you know?” Della swallowed the lump in her throat. “And like you said, he’s not even a teenager yet. If he’s anything like me -which he is- he’s gonna need someone like you in those years.”

Goldie huffed and resumed walking as they passed by a fountain of a marble owl, the third time they’d come across one. “And who said I was gonna be sticking around for those years? I never signed up for dealing with teenagers. You sure this is the right direction?”

“Oh, come on Aunt Goldie, you never said it, exactly, but you’ve intoned it. You wanna help him be the best he can be, after all.” Della said. “And yeah, we’re getting close. I actually helped with this one - three fountains that look exactly the same, right after the other, that way you feel like you’re walking in circles.”

Goldie rolled her eyes. “I do not wanna help him, I think the kid’s a brat. He’s just a decent partner whose eyes I can still pull the wool over. I don’t care about the kid.”

Della smirked at Goldie’s aloofness. “Really? Cuz his picture in your wallet says otherwise.” She held up her wallet, which she’d taken from Goldie when she’d gotten in her face.

Goldie shot her a confused look, which morphed into alarm when she patted down her pockets to find it missing. “Oh, you little shit,” She quickly took her wallet back, slightly embarrassed. “You’re supposed to be ten years out of practice. And give me back your uncle’s wallet too, I earned that.”

Della held his wallet out to her but didn’t let it go. “Admit it, you care about him.” She teased.

Goldie huffed and snatched the wallet. “I will do no such thing. I’m Goldie O’Gilt, I care for no one.” She pointed a finger at Della as she opened her mouth. “And don’t you dare say anything about being afraid to be a part of a family, you motherfucker.”

“Come on, you gave him my old nickname! And I know you liked me.”

“It was a good nickname, I’d be remiss to let it go to waste. And how did you , miss I-can’t-read-facial-expressions-or-tone-of-voice-to-save-my-life, come to the conclusion that I’ve ever cared about you?”

“Oh, no reason,” Della drawled. “You just seemed to find it pretty important that I felt comfortable with who I was.”

Goldie rolled her eyes. “That doesn’t mean anything, Wings. I don’t care for you at all.”

“Uh-huh.” Della smiled. “Sure. You’re just this cold and unfeeling loner, who’s never cared for another living soul besides herself, ever.”

“Exactly, glad you’ve finally figured it out.”

Della sighed bemusedly at her aunt’s silliness. The maze opened up into a circular center, with a fountain in the center, the metal-hued goose swimming in it sleepily, apparently roused from its dreams by the approach of the two women. It ruffled its feathers and let out an undignified honk before paddling forward, eager for a treat.

“Aha,” Goldie scooped the goose out of the water with a smile. “You’re mine now, you little moneymaker,” She paused a moment, looking at the small copper (seriously Scrooge, could you be any cheaper?) collar that hung around the goose’s neck with an equally small tag.
“Do not remove, may cause massive destabilization of the precious metal market- McDuck.” She read.

Della frowned. “Wait, isn’t there supposed to be a minotaur guarding this goose? The kids said something about that.”

“Yeah, and I’m guessing that they took care of it,” Goldie shifted the goose in her arms. “Look, see, they even left a note.” She pointed to a pink sticky note on the fountain that Della had missed, torn and faded with age but still legible and covered with a light dusting of sparkles. She looked at the note, which read ‘ I.O.U one (1) minotaur - Webbigail Vanderquack’ .

“Huh, so they did,” Della remarked with a small but unmistakable note of pride. “So you’re gonna steal that goose, then?” She asked.

Goldie waved her off. “Well, I was on that adventure when Scroogey found this little gal, so if you think about it, she’s really mine too.”

“I’m sure Scrooge will see it like that.”

“Yeah, well, he doesn’t have to know, now does he?” Goldie tugged at the collar around the goose’s neck. “Really don’t need this tag on you. You got a knife on you?”

“Seriously?” Della flipped out a pocket knife. “Who do you think you’re talking to?”

“Well I mean, you’re not Sharpie anymore, so who knows?” Goldie asked as she took the knife from Della and sliced through the chain.

“Yeah yeah, you’re real funny, Aunt Goldie.”

Goldie hummed as she pocketed the knife (Della was never seeing that again). “You know,” She mused. “Speaking about ‘who you are,’ have you talked to your kids about any of... that, yet?” Goldie inquired.

“Hah!” Della laughed, immediately recognizing what she was hinting at. “Ha hah, ha ha ha no. No way, no how.”

Goldie raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? You’re trying to pass for straight with your kids?”

“Uh, yeah,” Della responded like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I mean, I can, so…”

“Seriously? What, you think they’re gonna be homophobic, do you?”

“No- well, I mean-” Della felt lost. “Wait, are you seriously lecturing me on not talking to my kids about this? Whatever happened to ‘If the world thinks you’re a straight woman, and that you’ve always been a straight woman, don’t correct them’ ?”

“That point still stands when you’re talking about the world,” Goldie replied. “But your family ain’t the world, Ace.”

“They are to me.” Della glared at Goldie, daring her to say otherwise. She didn’t want to risk it. She couldn’t risk it. She and her kids were doing alright right now. Goldie just didn’t understand. She began to pace. “It’ll rock the boat, Goldie, and we don’t need that. Plus, they’re twelve. Twelve-year-olds have opinions. So, yeah, sure, I am kinda scared.”

Goldie looked annoyed at Della’s anxiety. “Didn’t Donald raise them?”

“Look me dead in the eyes and tell me that Donald, my brother who despises talking about his personal life with his sister of all people, would tell his kids about his sexuality, much less his successive string of lovers before he-” Della paused, self-conscious as her traitor brain reminded her of things she didn’t need to think about right now. She pushes the thought down and continues, voice louder than maybe it should be. “ -before he started raising the triplets.”

Goldie opened her mouth, then closed it. “Okay, you have a bit of a point. But even still, you’re their mother, they won’t hate you for being you, even if they aren’t anything like you.”

“I’m a woman they’ve only known for a year,” Della corrected. “And I’ve already royally fucked up at least three times in that year, I don’t wanna fuck up a fourth time.”

“Holy shit, you really do think they’re homophobic.”

“I don’t think that!” Della cried, exasperated, waving her hand in the air while Goldie fastened Scrooge’s (well, it was as good as hers now) bathrobe’s belt around the golden goose’s long neck. “It’s just - I don’t want them to think that their mom is -” She waggles a hand. 

“A slut who rolls in and out of the bed of anyone with a cute smile?” Goldie supplies.

“Yes, thank you. You took the words right out of my beak,” Della hunched her shoulders, exasperated. “They’ll ask questions like - is this why our dad isn’t around? I’m just barely managing to make it up to them for missing so much of their life. I gotta be a good mom - the perfect mom.”

“So,” Goldie began as they started walking out. “You’re just gonna con your kids until they’re in college or something? How long will that be? Ten years? Well, maybe fifteen - that Bluey seems a little slow.”

“Hey, watch it, his name is Dewey. And he’s smart, he just needs to be taught in a different way than the others.” Della admonished her. “And I’m not conning my kids, I’m just gonna hide a part of myself from them and bury it deep deep down so that way they can all think that I’m something I’m not!”

Goldie turned to look at her. “Do you hear yourself when you talk sometimes?”

“What, are you gonna tell me that ‘that’s exactly what a con is’ or something?”

“Yeah, Wingnut, that’s exactly what a con is.”

“Oh really?” Della challenged. “Well, I don’t want something from them, so there.”

“You want their love.” Goldie said without missing a beat.

“Oh- fuck you, that doesn’t count.” Della threw her hands in the air. The goose honked. “See? She agrees with me, you’re a bitch.” She said.

Goldie rolled her eyes. “What happens when they start asking about how they were born, hmm?”

“Simple; magic.” Della wiggled her hands in a jazzy sort of way as they resumed walking. “And it’s not like it's a lie, I mean magic was involved, kinda. Besides, they’d only question that if they found out about everything. Which they won’t.”

“Like they didn’t find out about you?” Goldie asked.

“That’s different.”

“Is it? They found a mystery that the adults didn’t tell ‘em about, followed it to the end, and weren’t happy that it was kept from them. You know what happened with the Sunchaser, right?”

“It’s called the Cloudslayer, and yes,” Della knew about how her kids had reacted to learning about what she’d done. That was, in fact, one of the biggest reasons that she didn’t want to tell them about this. “I know the incident you’re talking about.”

“So then why do you think this is a good idea? They’ll find out eventually, whether you tell them or not. And they’ll probably take it better if you tell them.”

“Yeah, well, that’s a problem for Future Della to worry about.” Della said sullenly.

They exited the maze, and Goldie sighed in defeat. “Fine. You win, don’t tell ‘em. But I really think they could use it, Wingnut.”

Della looked away. “...So, sticking with Wingnut, are we?” It was an obvious subject change, but she hoped Goldie would let it pass.

“Or Wings, or Ace, or Wingy. You know, flight stuff, cuz you consider yourself an ace pilot, after all.”

Della smirked. “Hey, I am an ace pilot, thank you very much.”

“Uh-huh, uh-huh,” Goldie nodded. “Hey, how did you lose your leg, again?”

“Oh, fuck off, Goldie,” Della replied lightheartedly.

Goldie snickered at her. She glanced up to the sky, probably reading the time from the stars. Della used to be able to do that. “You know, I do think it’s past time that I ‘fuck off’.”

“Aww, but we were having fun,” Della complained.

“Maybe, but I’d prefer to get out of here before Twenty-Two comes out here with a broom.” Goldie stretched and adjusted the goose in her arms. “You know, if you find yourself needing some extra cash, I could always find some work for my favorite smuggler.”

Della smiled wryly. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll think about it.”

“Good.” Goldie nodded. “See you around, Wingy.”

“See you around, Aunt Goldie.” Goldie began walking away. “And you can go ahead and keep my wallet, I don’t have anything in it!” She called out.

Goldie laughed, her back to Della. “Talk to Sharpie, he could use it!” Was all she said in response.

Della watched as she left. She always loved talking to Goldie, it always left her feeling better about herself. She’d even given her a new nickname! She’d never let it show, but Della was pretty giddy about that. Wingnut. It had a nice ring to it.

Della turned and walked back to the mansion. Maybe Goldie was right. Maybe it would be a good idea to talk to her kids about... all that. It’d be better than letting them stumble upon it themselves, at least.

She sighed. She’d think about all that later. She just needed to figure out a good time to do so.

As Della passed Donald’s houseboat, she saw that the cabin light was on. So he was probably suffering from a bout of insomnia as well, huh? She could go bother him, spend the rest of the night in company. Maybe even broach some of the topics that Goldie had talked about.

...Eh.

She didn’t want to bother him.

She vaulted back into the kitchen and returned to her (now cold) cup of coffee. It was going to be another sleepless night, it seemed.

Chapter Text

“- and so the thrilling adventure of the Lost Caribbean Key comes to a close -” Webby narrated breathlessly from the back of the Cloudslayer, leaning up against the window to watch as they descended.

“Webby. Please, I’m exhausted. Do you have to do the narration?” Dewey asked, head lolling to the side of his seat next to hers.

“We did so much swimming today…” Louie grumbled next, covering his face with his hands.

“Sorry, it helps me remember what to write down in my journal,” Webby apologized. “I can do it more quietly?”

“Thank you.” The triplets chorused, leaning together for support while the cargo plane glided towards home. 

“- and so the thrilling adventure of the Lost Caribbean Key comes to a close, and while the brave adventurers may not have been able to retrieve the sunken flagship of Francisco Núñez Melián's salvage fleet because of those treacherous pirates, they found something even more valuable, a map listing the locations of all the wrecked Spanish Treasure ships circa 1634! And so new adventures will sprout-” The duckling continued to recount, mostly to herself, hands moving back and forth like she’s conducting an orchestra while Dewey yawned widely.

“Still feels like a bit of a bust, not getting the original map and everything,” Huey murmured regretfully. “Just a picture of the original is good enough for navigational purposes, but the historical value of the wreck-”

“Was not worth the amount of money mom and Uncle Donald spent on that giant glass diving bell.” Louie butted in. “Honestly, I don’t get why Scrooge let them handle this one. It was a lame adventure. All I got was this stupid thing,” He lifted a small and ornate-looking pewter egg, about the size of his fist, out of his hoodie pocket. “And I don’t know what it does! Heck, it’s not even gold!”

Huey sighed. “Then why don’t you give it to the adults? I’m sure they’ll be more interested in the strange artifact that you conned off that traveler. That thing is probably cursed, and will bring about a bunch of misfortune if handled incorrectly or something.”

“No way, it’s my egg,” Louie frowned as he stuffed it back into his pocket. “I need to have gotten some treasure out of the whole thing.”

“You know, some people would consider knowledge to be the greatest treasure of all,” Webby interjected as they landed. She rubbed her eyes and stifled a yawn herself now that she has the narrative set in her mind, the boundless enthusiasm for proper documentation only able to sustain her for so long. Scuba diving did take up a lot of energy.

“Yeah, nerds, like Huey.”

“I heard that.” The oldest triplet muttered. “And for your information, most Spanish treasure ships carried silver, not gold -”

“Neeeeeeerd.” Dewey and Louie called out together in quiet harmony, interrupted as the Cloudslayer touched down. One of the perks of having Della and Donald working together was that -between the two of them- they could distract Launchpad long enough during the last leg of flights so that Della could land smoothly, rather than crash nose-first through the hangar. 

“Aaand we’re good to disembark. You kids doing okay back there?” Della called over her shoulder as she stills the Cloudslayer, killing the engines with a small whine.

“Oh don’t open the cargo bay door until we’re on the ground - beginners mistake I made all the time.” Launchpad interjected, looking up from the puzzle Donald had laid out for him - if there was one thing Donald knew how to do, it was how to distract someone.

“Launchpad, we are on the ground.” Donald informed him, gently patting him on the shoulder. 

“Aw, but I’m not finished with my puzzle - can we take her back up again for like, another hour?” Launchpad said, with a small note of disappointment. 

“C’mon, you know the rules. Plane activities are for when I’m piloting, not before. Remember what we said?” Della coached her co-pilot lightly. 

“Before the plane is in the air, my attention should be-” He paused, glancing over his shoulder back towards the console, “Uh, there.” The twins nodded in approval, and with a small amount of regret Launchpad carefully transferred his puzzle back into the box, and then back to the cabinet under the console that had all the board games (handling it with much more care than he ever employed in actually piloting) before picking himself up.

“I’ll finish it next time for sure! Anyway, I guess I should get going. My sister Loopey is going to be in town tonight-” He began, before the twins brushed past him, Della and Donald caught up communicating in their private sibling language of shrugs, eye movements, and gesticulations that they shared with each other from habit and experience.

‘- what do you mean, ‘no thanks to me?’’ The slightly older of the two asked by furrowing her brow, continuing the conversation they’d glared at each other about four hours earlier before taking off from the Lost Caribbean Key. Della ducked under Launchpad’s arm as he hurried to catch up with them, explaining enthusiastically about how his sister was also a pilot as they followed the kids off the plane.

‘What I mean is that you didn’t think anything through.’ Donald implied by dragging his fingers over his bill. 

‘I totally thought things through! Today was a great adventure!’ Della responded by brushing a strand of hair from her face and rolling her eyes, before arching her head to append a question. ‘Wasn’t it?’

Donald countered by shifting his cap to a slightly different angle.

“Oh, you take that back!” His sister verbalized in outrage, earning a confused expression from her co-pilot. 

“Uh, okay. I guess sushi burritos may not be for everyone-” Launchpad began, rethinking his planned evening entertaining his sibling.

“What? No, Launchpad, I wasn’t talking to you.” Della responded, frustrated, but unwilling to continue the conversation in greater depth while the kids were nearby. ‘Houseboat. Now.’ She signaled to her brother, who made a small motion with his hand to indicate how tired everyone was.

“After we get them to their rooms,” Donald said out loud. “Webby and the boys need some rest - they have friends coming over tomorrow.”

“... yeah okay, you want to carry one or should I scoop them all up?”

“You handle them, my back is still stiff after getting hit with that oar.” 

Della nodded before moving forward as they exited the hangar, wrapping her arms around her sons and carrying them to her face to brush them down with her bill, preening them. 

“Okay, I know we all had a long day but you still need to wash up. Dinner’s in twenty.” She announced, grunting slightly as Webby climbed up to roost on her shoulder. “Louie, no taking naps in the bathroom shower, I’m serious. Uncle Scrooge is up my butt about ‘conserving water’. You guys feel up for food at the table or should I tell Beakley to set up the TV trays?”

“Why can’t we just have dinner in our rooms?” Dewey whined quietly instead of answering as he cuddled closer, slipping under his mother’s jacket. 

“We all have dinner together. That’s the thing we all agreed on.” Webby reminded him, kicking her feet as Della carried them up the walkway to the house. She could tell that Louie was already asleep based on the rise and fall of his chest, so she gently stirred him with her hand.

“Penny gets to eat by herself.” Louie muttered in opposition.

“Yeah, that’s ‘cuz she doesn’t exactly think of herself as family,” Della said, glancing over her shoulder to the spare hangar where the Moonlander had made her home before she raised her voice.”Which is a complete. Boldfaced. Liiiiiieeeeee!! That only she belieeeeeeeeves!!! ” She yelled.

“Ow,” Louie moaned as he plugged his ears a little late.

“I don’t think she could hear that from here, Mom,” Huey said.

“Eh, we’ve had that conversation before,” Della informed him. “She could probably feel it at least. That’s for later though. For now, go get clean!” She instructed the ducklings as they reached the terrace patio, making a shooing motion with her hand. The quartet proceeded forward at a sluggish pace, breaking up into pairs, Webby supporting Dewey and Huey supporting Louie, and occasionally poking and prodding their sibling to keep them moving forward (or in Louie’s case, to stop him from attempting to nest on top of Huey like a cat). 

Della stuck her head into the kitchen door, making a small waving motion at Agent 22 as she prepped dinner.

“Long day - kids are gonna pass out as soon as they finish dinner. Mind if they watch TV while they eat?” She asked. She could hear her brother’s back pop as he slid into a deck chair, looking about ready to pass out himself. Della slid down next to him after receiving a nod from Beakley (good old Agent 22, never talked more than she needed to) rocking backward slightly on the wicker chair as they watched the sunset behind the house, the two of them in true silence now and remaining that way until the tap of a cane indicated that arrival of their uncle..

Della shot Donald a look that asked - ‘you got this?’

‘Yeah, yeah, yeah.’ The sailor responded by waving his hand, straightening up. 

Scrooge -surprisingly- didn't immediately get down to brass tacks, instead coming bearing bowls and spoons and allowing them both to eat dinner - clam chowder, one of the few seafood dishes Della and Donald both equally enjoy - while they related what they found in drips and drabs.  

The treasure map - lost, but a copy preserved at least (if a little bit grainy) on Dewey’s phone. The Candelaria - also a write-off, meaning that they wouldn’t be able to recoup the losses on their expedition costs, but the bounties on the pirates captured at least reduced the sting of being in the red, as well as the promise of millions more in salvage waiting to be found. Even as much as he might hate the saying, Uncle Scrooge wouldn’t contest that - at least in this instance - he had to spend money to make money. 

The rest of the evening passed by in a blur - children herded away from the TV and into pajamas, Webby separated from her journal so that she would actually go to sleep instead of cataloging the adventure all night, the rope burns on Louie’s hands rubbed down with ointment - by the time everything was finished, the last of the day had passed. The two elder ducks managed to step off into the self-contained privacy of Donald’s house boat, though neither seemed particularly interested in restarting the conversation from earlier. They rested against each other, until finally Della couldn't stand the silence anymore, something squirming away inside of her. 

“Okay, okay -”

“Do we gotta do this now?” Her brother interrupted, taking off his cap. 

“I’m not gonna let you stew about it. Obviously you’re unhappy. I don’t understand why,” Della muttered, “But it’s pretty clear that-”

“You don’t understand because you never understand!” Donald interrupted, starting to show the irritation Della knew he was feeling. “And I very much doubt that having a conversation about it’ll change anything! It hasn’t in the past.”

“Oh come on! I’m here , I’m talking to you now , I want to understand. So just tell me already instead of sulking !” Della shot back, the familiar anger that came from having to argue with her twin breathing new life into her tired limbs. But the fights felt… different, now. Angrier, filled with more hate than they used to. They did this like- every week since Della had come back; Della would do something with the boys (didn’t matter what) and then Donald would rip her to shreds with everything she did wrong.

It was like he hated her now. Well, after everything that’s happened, everything she’d done to him, would he really be wrong to do so?

It didn’t matter, so long as he was willing to work with her on taking care of the kids, then Della could live. Even if he got pissed at her and blew up in her face about it.

But that wouldn’t happen this time! The adventure had gone fine! Sure, the adventure itself might’ve been something of a bust, but that’d never been what Donald cared about! She’d done fine!

Right?

“Nothing I say will change your mind if you think today was ‘a good adventure’ !”

“What? We got the treasure map, didn’t we? Even Uncle Scrooge -”

“It’s not about the stupid treasure! It’s about how you keep letting the boys egg each other on and don’t stop them from putting themselves in danger!” Donald shouted.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Della swore, taking off her aviator’s cap and tossing it aside, metal foot slamming against the hull. “The kids were fine! They handled it!”

“They shouldn’t have to! We need to protect them from these things!”

“They’re adventurers ,” Della stressed. “And they’re kids! Kids egg each other on!”

“See, that. ” Donald spat. “ That’s the type of thinking that- how can you think that that’s okay??”

Della could taste black licorice in her mouth. She ignored it. “What do you mean?”

“You let them egg each other on, you ignore the warning signs that they’re going too far-”

“What warning signs?”

“-You don’t pay enough attention to them- do you want my kids to die?” Donald shouted.

“I-” Della was taken aback. “No, of course-”

“Then why do you do this?” Her brother interrupted, pacing around the room angrily. “Why do you continue to let them put themselves in danger? Do you not see it or something?” He asked, sarcasm and mockery dripping from his voice (of course, Della’s mind couldn’t help but compare him to Uncle Scrooge in that moment. The two of them were much more alike than either one ever wanted to acknowledge).

“I-” She could feel her hold slipping.

Donald plowed on without stopping. “Are you that negligent? Are you that bad at this whole thing? Do you even care ?”

That did it. Della could feel it as her mind slipped, falling away from the present. Donald continued to talk, but she could no longer hear him. ‘Ignorant. Negligent. Uncaring.’ Her mind whispered. ‘Horrible person. Horrible woman. Horrible mother. Bad mother. Bad sister. You hurt them. They hate you. They’re right. You’re wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrongwrongwrongwrongwrongwrongwrongwrongwrongwrongwrongwrongwongwrongwrongwrong-

“-and are you even listening to me right now?” Donald demanded.

“I- I thought I did well,” Della mumbled. (‘Wrong.’)

“Of course you did,” Donald threw his hands into the air. “I bet you thought that last adventure was ‘just perfect’ too, huh?”

She had. “I-” Della swallowed, the black licorice taste swelling in her throat, almost making her gag. “I really thought I did okay.” (‘Horrible. Worthless. Shouldn’t have come back. Shouldn’t have made things so damn difficult .’)

Donald sighed aggravated, and put his head in his hands. He breathed deep for a few seconds before addressing Della again. “I just- I can’t do this right now. Just go, we’re done now, alright?”

Della stood up and numbly walked out the door. She barely felt the wind on her cheeks as she exited the houseboat. (‘Bad horrible bad bad’)

She really thought she’d done okay. (‘Wrong wrong wrong’) How could she have been so stupid? Obviously everything hadn’t been okay! (‘Not okay. Bad. Worthless. Junk’) She fucking blew it! Just like everything else.

She felt herself walking, but she didn’t know or care about the direction. She was too wrapped up in her mind. She’d fucked up. Again. Again and again and again , she just continued to fuck up . How on earth could she claim to be a good mother? (‘She couldn’t’)

One foot in front of the other.

She should be better. She needed to be better, those boys deserved the best fucking mom in the world! But she wasn't. She was failing miserably at every. Damn. Step. (‘Every fucking step’)

Her breaths were short and quick.

Why couldn’t she be better? She was trying, so damn hard, why wasn’t it working? (‘Terrible person. Unteachable. Unsaveable.’) She needed to be perfect, the perfect mother, but she couldn’t. She needed help. 

Everything tasted like black licorice blacklicoriceblack-

She didn’t deserve help. (‘Toxic’)

One foot in front of the other.

She needed to be perfect.

She didn’t know where she was. It was too loud.

She couldn’t be perfect. (‘Burden’)

Too colorful.

She wanted to be a mother.

Too heavy .

She didn’t deserve to be one. (‘Vile’)

Too much .

She didn’t deserve anything. (‘Deserved nothing. Deserved punishment. Deserved hell. Deserved the moon. Deserved death’)

One foot in front of the other.

She shouldn’t be here.

She shouldn’t be here.

Chapter Text

Lena grunted as she struggled to climb the gate to McDuck Manor. Man, six months (or maybe eight- it was difficult to keep track) in the Shadow Realm really put a gal out of practice in B&E. She winced as the morning sun caught her eye.

“You know, we could just use the intercom system.” Violet supplied from her spot firmly on the ground. “It exists for a reason.”

Lena stuck her tongue out. “But that’s not as fun!” She wiggled her legs as she pulled herself over the top. “Besides, this is more exercise! And aren’t you and Pops and Dad always getting on my case about exercise?”

“We still have a hill to climb, Lena.”

Lena paused and looked up Killmotor Hill. “Oh. Right.” She pursed her lips. “Yeah, I’m not doing that.”

“Then how do you plan to get to the Manor?” Violet asked. “Last I checked, it was on top of that hill.”

Lena waved her off. “Eh, I’ll just shadow travel over.”

Violet frowned. “Okay, but how will I join you? You won’t be able to grab me from upon that gate.”

There was a pause.

“Lena...” Violet began warningly.

“Hey, remember how I had a slice of 'nilla pie saved in the fridge?” Lena asked innocently. “And remember how it ‘magically disappeared’ this breakfast?”

“I’ll tell Dad on you,” Violet said.

“Uh-huh, sure you will. And I’ll tell him about who really summoned Avarithinalix the Ancient One in the garage that night.”

Violet’s eyes widened. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, I would.” Lena grinned. “So we both know you won’t tell.”

Violet stared imperceptibly at her for a moment before her gaze hardened. “You know what? Fine. The pie tasted delicious.”

Lena gasped. “Ah hah! I knew it!” She pointed a finger at Violet. “Have fun climbing Killmotor Hill, you pie thief!” And with that, she leaped off the gate (well, more like slumped off, but whatever) and dove into the shadows. 

The world went from colorful and loud, to dull and muted as the shadows washed over her. Lena focused her mind onto the mansion, and willed herself forward. Shadow travel wasn’t exactly describable, in any way that she knew at least, but if Lena had to try, she’d equate it to swimming. Sort of. It felt like she was floating in nothing, yet at the same time, like she was pushing through a bunch of force with every move she made. Travelling from place to place was less a physical motion than it was focusing on a place covered by shadow and letting yourself be drawn towards it, like the quick transitions of a dream, so it could still get exhausting - especially in bright exposing light or pitch darkness - but in a mental fugue sort of way. That feeling got worse the deeper you went into the Shadow Realm. Thankfully, you could stay pretty close to the surface when shadow traveling.

Lena paused as she got closer to the mansion. There was something at the entrance. It was… a Tulpa? What was one of those things doing so close to the surface? And in the daytime, as well? It was rather formless, too, only vaguely humanoid-shaped, and quite melty. Like it had been around for too long, and was beginning to fade. It turned to face her, the emotion-born shade slowly beginning to take on a different appearance as it leeched off of her residual magic instead of whatever it was that had created it, growing taller and lankier, like a fusion of herself and - someone else she didn’t want to think about.

Odd. Violet would definitely have been interested in figuring out why it was here. 

So Lena blasted it into nothing without a second thought. ‘Serves her right,’ Lena thought. ‘Friggin pie thief’.

She should probably get out of the Shadow Realm now. Lena looked around for a shadow to take form in, and found a fairly nice one right outside the door. She settled in, took a deep breath, and mentally pictured herself tearing away at the shadows until she could feel the sun on her face again. She opened her eyes, and she was back in the normal world. Another successful shadow jump.

Lena shook off the excess shadow and knocked on the front door. She waited a moment, but nobody arrived to let her in. She knocked a second time. Same result. Odd, usually Tea Time would be at the door before Lena could even knock once! What was going on?

Lena made her way over to one of the windows and peered inside. She could see a bit of movement, but what she was interested in were the shadows. She spotted a rather nice-looking one nestled in between a suit of armor and the wall, and grinned. She focused her energy and melted into the floor once more, quickly reappearing in that nice small shadow, inside the manor.

Now that she was inside, Lena could better assess the activity from the inhabitants. And the best way she could describe it was a sort of quiet chaos: the McDuck family were moving quickly between rooms, a sort of harried and distressed air emanating from them. They had yet to notice her arrival.

As she stepped out from behind the statue, she felt someone bump into her. “Oh, sorry- Lena?” Webby looked up to Lena, a confused expression barely hiding the worry in her eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“I mean, you wanted to go to the mall to just ‘hang out’ today, didn’t you?” Lena asked. They’d made plans earlier that week, and Lena was fairly certain she hadn’t gotten the dates wrong.

Webby’s eyes widened. “Oh! Right! The mall! I did say that,” She looked away and rubbed her arm. “Um- I, uh- look, Lena, I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can do that today.” She looked guilty.

“Hey, don’t worry about it Pink, it seems like you’ve got a lot going on around here today,” Lena waved her off.

The shorter girl giggled sadly at that. “Heh. Yeah, we really do.”

“What’s going on, anyway? Was one of the ‘totally not cursed’ artifacts revealed to be ‘totally cursed’? Did Dewey try to summon another demon for Dewy Dew-Night?”

“Oh, I wish it was that easy,” Webby looked stressed. Everyone looked stressed. “Della’s missing.”

Lena frowned. “What? What do you mean, she’s missing? For how long?”

Webby sighed heavily. “She didn’t show up for breakfast, and she wasn’t in her room when Uncle Donald went to grab her. We’ve been scouring the mansion for hours, but so far, nothing.”

“Huh, that’s odd,” Lena didn’t know Della too well (she’d gifted her a lava lamp after finding out what she’d been through, but she’d never really talked to her), but up and disappearing without even a note didn’t really seem her style. “Has anyone tried calling or texting her yet?” She asked.

“It wouldn't matter, she doesn’t have her phone on her,” Donald joined in the conversation in the hallway, holding up a phone Lena had to assume was Della’s. “She left it on my boat last night. She still doesn’t remember to take it with her. I mean, this is the entire reason she should be remembering this, but nooo. I swear, when I get my hands on her, I’m gonna-” Whatever threats the sailor promised were lost to his speech impediment as he stalked away, fuming.

Lena watched him leave. “Well, he’s all prickly.” She remarked.

Webby sighed again. “He’s just- he’s just worried. We all are.”

“Hmm,” Lena examined Webby, who looked like she was holding back tears. It broke Lena’s heart to see. “Alright.”

Webby looked up at her. “What?” She asked.

“I’m going to help you guys look for her, and when Violet gets up here, she’ll help too,” Lena promised. “We’ll find her, don’t worry.”

Webby brightened up at that. “You will? Oh, Lena!” She jumped up into Lena’s arms and gave her a hug that would crush Lena’s bones, if she had bones and wasn’t just some blob of shadow magic. “Thank you thank you thank you!”

“Yep, I’m awesome Pink, but do you think you could let go of me before you squeeze me back to the Shadow Realm?”

“Oops, sorry!” Webby jumped back as if burned.

Lena waved her off. “It’s cool. Where’d you see Della last?”

Webby thought for a moment. “Well, I saw her last at dinner. But I think she went to Donald’s houseboat before bed. She usually does so after a day with us.”

Lena nodded. “Alright, Donald’s houseboat, got it. I’ll go ahead and scour the area around there for any signs of magical manipulation.”

“Okay, sounds like a plan. Thanks again, Lena. You’re the best.”

Lena gave her a salute and headed out the back of the mansion. On the way, she saw the others all freaking out. From what she knew of Della, she was sure she’d be fine, but still. It made sense that her family would be so worried, what with everything that had happened with the moon.

She cleared her thoughts as she exited the mansion, and took a seat on an old wicker chair on the patio looking over the pool and the houseboat resting calmly on the water. She closed her eyes and focused her energy into a detection spell she’d been working on with Violet - letting her sister write the magic poem hadn’t resulted in the best rhyme scheme, but the effects of tracing the runes she had picked out with it were impressive, sigils of pink energy forming around her with each word.

“In blackest day or brightest night

Cantaloupe, watermelon, orange

see the invisible, touch the twilight

Something - something - remove the door hinge, 

row row row fight the power -”  Lena breathed in and felt the magic inside her core tense up, then let it all out with an exhale.

Her face twisted into a slight frown as the spell washed over the mansion grounds. Nothing. So magic was not the cause for Della’s disappearance. Or if it was, it was too powerful for her to pick up with a simple detection spell.

Wait. Lena recalled the encounter with the Tulpa at the front of the mansion. Could that have been involved? If it was, then there were bound to be more. Unfortunately, Tulpas were creatures of shadow, so they couldn’t be tracked by simple magic detection.

Hmm. What if she…

Lena turned her magic towards the darker side, drawing herself closer to the Shadow Realm. Not into it, not right now, but closer. Because if she was close enough, she might be able to alter the detection spell just enough to be able to see the Shadow Realm.

Sure, she could probably just go into the Shadow Realm - like for shadow traveling - but this was more interesting. Plus, if she was right, the Shadow Realm would probably be a little hostile right now.

When she felt close enough (or at least, as close as she was willing to go - shadow traveling was fine, but dipping into the Shadow Realm while in direct sunlight was dangerous. Maybe not deadly , but it would definitely hurt), Lena refocused her magic into the detection spell and blinked heavily.

Immediately, she could tell it’d worked. The Shadow Realm now looked like it was superimposed onto the normal world. The color interactions between the two were pretty trippy, but they weren’t as interesting as the sheer mass of Tulpas that were making their way into the forest behind the mansion, the spectral creatures of emotional resonance dragging each other forward with the momentum of water rushing through a broken dam.

‘Yeesh,’ Lena thought as she stared in slight revulsion at the shambling, melting mounds of fear and bad feelings. ‘That really is a lot. Did one person really call them all ? Or was it a curse?’

Well, she wouldn’t find out the answer to that by standing around. Lena steeled her nerves and followed the Tulpas into the forest, moving firmly in the physical world where the only dangerous thing she might encounter were the grumpy peacocks that wandered around the estate grounds.

Following the Tulpas wasn’t a difficult feat, even if they weren’t a slow-moving mass ( ‘like the amalgamates in that Undertale game’ Lena’s mind oh so helpfully supplied) they left a trail of ectoplasm in their wake that clung to the bottom of her shoes - another oddity, spiritual and emotional backwash appearing in the physical world, in broad daylight no less.

Something inside of Lena knew that she should be ready for something bad as she slid down the hill, the spiritual gunk now mixed with pine tree resin and evergreen needles that clung just as annoyingly (though with a refreshing scent at least). The Tulpas were hard to tell apart, but occasionally one would surface, or be forced to the top by whatever laws of physics applied to shadow denizens, and she would catch sight of a few familiar features - a beak, an eye, a jaunty cap, a ragged scarf. 

“Aunt Magica, if you’re doing this you can just come out now!” Lena called out to the forest, waiting to see if her sort-of-but-not-quite relative would respond, then picked up the pace. “Because I have friendship magic and friendship is soooo much better than shadows.” She added, hoping to see if the older sorceress might rise to the bait.

Nothing - except of course the increased presence of the Tulpas, who were so thick together now that they left the air sticky and tasting of ozone and regret.

“Della? Yo, Ms. D!” She called out, changing tactics as she searched the forest floor. “Are you okay? Give me a shout if you’re not dead!”

Still nothing.

“Oh, please don’t be dead!” She begged, making her way through the Tulpas. Again, another thing that was odd, it was kind of difficult for her to maneuver through them. They were seriously strong here. “I don’t wanna find a dead body in the woods! I mean, I guess most days I think it’d be cool, but that was not on my agenda for today!”

As Lena took in a breath and continued pushing through the mass of Tulpas, she paused. She could almost hear… breathing. To her left. She looked to her left, and saw-

“Ms. D!” She called out. Della was curled up against a tree, barely visible under all the Tulpas that were assaulting her. Lena was surprised for a moment that Della was hardly reacting to them, then remembered that -seeing as how they existed on the Shadow Realm, and Della was on the Material Plane- the fact that Della was reacting to their presence at all was pretty bad.

“Della, you alright?” She asked as she leaned down to get closer to the pilot.

Della’s breath was shaky. Lena could barely make out what she was saying. “...Too much...” Della muttered under her breath. “...Too loud…Too many…” The Tulpas were groaning and shrieking and clawing at the poor woman.

“Oookay, you’re probably having a panic attack right now, got it,” Lena said to herself. “That’s why the Tulpas are all around at the moment. Okay- nod if you can hear me, or if you know that I’m here.” She tried.

Della didn’t move.

“Alright, well, don’t worry, I can work with that,” Lena assured Della. Well, Della couldn’t hear her, so it was more like assuring herself, honestly. She stood up and looked around at the mass of Tulpas. They were so thick around here that she couldn’t even see the forest floor. Which meant that she couldn’t safely phase into the Shadow Realm where she was.

Unless… Lena looked up into the trees. If she could get up into the canopy, the shadows there would let her phase, and she’d be up high, so the Tulpas wouldn’t be able to reach her. That just might work. “Okay, hang on tight, Ms. D. I’ll be back before you know it.” Lena hopped up into the trees, easily climbing to a spot with good shadows.

“Born in shadow, bathed in light-” Lena began to chant, her eyes becoming dark purple disks. “-drown me now in everlasting night. Born in shadow, bathed in light, drown me now in everlasting night.” With each utterance, her form got darker and more ghost-like. “Born in shadow, bathed in light, drown me now in everlasting night!” With that, Lena felt a yanking sensation as she was fully immersed in the realm of shadow.

Immediately, the Tulpas noticed her and began to wail in earnest. They were Angry, They were Sad. And they were Hungry. “Yeah, nice seeing you too, you little shits,” Lena climbed further up into the tree.

The Tulpas screeched in response and began to try to climb after her.

Lena scoffed. “Hungry, aren’t you? Well, let’s see how you like the taste of this, ” She threw her hands upwards towards the sky and coalesced her magic into an orb l in her hands. It was an attack that she called the ‘Friendship Bomb’. Webby had wanted to call it the ‘Friendship Missile Defense System’, but then Lena wouldn’t have been able to shorten it to the ‘F-Bomb’, so she’d vetoed the idea.

As she released the orb into the sky, it shattered into millions of smaller beads of magic, which stayed floating in the air for one beat… two beats… and then suddenly all the beads arced downwards, striking the Tulpas and exploding on contact.

The Tulpas wailed in sheer agony as the friendship magic burned away at their very souls, destroying them near instantly. Turns out, most things that came from the Shadow Realm didn’t react well to friendship magic! Who knew? “Any of you fuckers hungry for more!?” Lena bellowed.

Silence. 

Well, mostly. Lena could hear the faint sound of wails coming from the direction of the mansion.

She turned in disgusted amazement at the sound. “What the fuck? More Tulpas? Fucking- Okay, somebody must’ve brought home something cursed,” She grumbled. 

“Well, at least the ones around Della are gone, anyway.” She hopped (well, more like swam - Shadow Realm, and all -) out of the tree and gave the older duck a once over. She still wasn’t looking too good, but then, the Tulpas were just destroyed, it might take a bit for the effect to wear off.

“Course, that may not happen if more Tulpas make their way over here.” Lena mused to herself. Thankfully, she had a way to deal with that. She brought her magic around in a semi-circle around the two and burned it into the ground, creating a small magic barrier. It wasn’t the cleanest, but one of the (only) perks about being considered a De Spell by most magical creatures was that the denizens of the Shadow Realm usually tried to stay away from her anyways.

With the circle set up, and the Tulpas hopefully repelled, Lena looked back to Della. She still looked like shit, and like she wasn’t exactly… present.

Lena’s own experience with panic attacks and the like swam at the surface of her mind. Whenever she got like that, loud noises and bright lights, and bad physical feelings always made her feel worse. But that was because she had been trapped in the Shadow Realm, where such things were practically foreign. Who said Della would be the same way?

Well, then again, one could easily make comparisons to the moon and the Shadow Realm. That was actually an exercise that she did with her therapist sometimes, comparing what she went through to other, more likely things to happen to help her come to terms with it all. Not that getting stuck on the moon was likely, but hey. She did know someone who had been.

“Y’know, talking to you without you responding makes me sound like a crazy person, Ms. D - you wanna talk to me yet?” The sorceress asked Della as she leaned down in front of her, placing her hand into her space. “No? Can you not hear across dimensions? Alright. Gonna try something different. Don’t freak out, promise?”

Lena placed her hand on Della’s shoulder (or, well, as much as she could when they were separated by dimensions) and focused. “Come on, I’ve done this before,” Lena mumbled. “Maybe doing it from the Shadow Realm is a bit different, but it’ll be fine.” The magic built up in her hands, forming bright points of light at her fingertips.  The teenage sorceress dragged her index and thumb through the air, leaving behind a faint pink and purple afterglow that lingered in the air, her motions becoming more complex as she wove the energy around Della’s form, trying to drag her into the Shadow Realm. Slowly, slower than Lena would’ve liked, Della’s form gained color and substance as she passed through the barriers and was resituated into the Shadow Realm.

“Alright!” Lena cheered, before quieting down quickly when Della winced at the noise. “Right, no noise, that was the whole- sorry,” She whispered. Hand still on her shoulder, Lena slowly began rubbing it as she sat down next to Della.

After a little bit longer, Della’s breathing finally began to even out, and Lena felt her shift under her hand.

Della’s head lifted up as she looked around. “Where- where are-” She choked out, sounding like she was in physical pain trying to talk. “Lena? What are-”

“It’s okay,” Lena assured her. “Just take a minute, alright? You’re fine, you’re safe.”

“The boys - everyone -?” 

“It’s fine, they’re fine, just take a minute to breathe, okay?” Lena repeated calmly.

Della nodded and took a moment, letting the quiet of the Shadow Realm wash over her. After a few minutes of silence passed, she turned to Lena. “Hey,” She said weakly.

“Hey,” Lena replied.

“Where, um- where are we right now?”

“Shadow Realm, in the forest ‘round Killmotor Hill.”

Della looked around. “How long have I been here?” She asked.

“In the Shadow Realm? A couple minutes, but I think you’ve been in the forest all night. It’s practically noon now.”

“ Shit ,” Della put her head in her hands. “All night? I didn’t- what happened?”

“Yeah, kinda hoping you could tell me that, Ms. D,” Lena patted her shoulder consolingly. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

“I- I remember the houseboat, and talking to Donnie, and- I think I had a fucking panic attack,” Della rubbed her arm self-consciously. “Or something like it, at least.”

“And then what?” Lena prompted. “You came out to the forest to calm down?”

“Heh,” Della laughed. “I remember moving, but that’s it. I had a panic attack, and then I was in the Shadow Realm with you.”

Lena paused. “...You had a panic attack that lasted well over eight hours?”

“I mean, I don’t know if I was panicking the entire time,” The pilot defended. “I may have had one or two moments of respite.”

“Jeez, lady, you are going to therapy, right?”

Della blinked at her. “No, why would I be going to therapy?”

“Why would- are you kidding me?” Lena asked, mouth agape. She held up her hand. “No, you know what? Don’t tell me, I’m just gonna let your family deal with that one.”

“Alright, fine with me,” Della replied. She went silent for a moment before sighing. “Fucking hell, why am I like this? Why did that set me off? I should’ve been fine.”

“Well, I don’t have the entire story yet,” Lena began, “But it might have something to do with the sheer amount of Tulpas that’ve invaded your mansion. You guys bring home some cursed object or something?”

“No, last adventure was a bust,” Della said. “Unless one of the kids found something, we didn’t bring anything home.”

“Hmm,” Lena mused. It might be worthwhile to do a sweep of the mansion later. Just to help clear out any of the excess Tulpas. “Well, regardless, the Tulpas shouldn’t have affected you so badly if you weren’t already feeling like shit. What happened?” She asked.

Della sighed. “It’s nothing,” She began.

“Motherfucker,” Lena cut her off. “I just wiped out the largest hoard of Tulpas I have ever seen. And they had all congregated around you, like you were the latest ‘hot new toy’ of the Christmas season, and they were all middle-aged moms who forgot to buy presents for their kids until the last moment.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad,” Della tried.

“Bitch it was worse,” Lena grumbled. “I undersold that whole point. You felt like shit for some reason, alright? You don’t have to tell me why, but you do have to come to terms with it.”

Della frowned and looked away. Lena shrugged from her spot shoulder-to-shoulder with the aviator. She didn’t know why she bothered. 

She glanced at the warding circle. It seemed to be holding strong.

“...I think Donald might hate me.”

Lena turned back to Della. “Really?” She asked. “What brought this on?”

Della laughed bitterly. “What do you think? The kids. Like usual. He says that I’m not enough, that I’m hurting them. And he’s right,” She put her hand on the back of her neck. “I know that he’s right, that I’m not doing enough for them, but… it feels like the only thing he’s said to me since he came back is that I’m not enough. And that I know that that’s because I’m new, and I’m not a good parent yet, but…” She trailed off, looking ashamed.

Lena rubbed Della’s shoulder consolingly. “It’s alright, the only person who can hear you here is me.”

“It’s stupid,”

“Yeah, it probably is,” Lena said. “Does that mean it doesn’t affect you?”

“...It shouldn’t,” Della frowned.

“Not an answer, Ms. D,”

Della went silent. “...I feel like I shouldn't've come back,” She whispered, as though she was afraid the phrase would bite her.

Lena, for her part, listened silently.

Della continued. “I know that I’m just being an idiot, but it feels like if I hadn’t come back things would’ve been better. Like, as far as everyone was concerned, I was dead. Had been dead for years. I mean, I had a fucking shrine, did you know that?”

Lena shook her head. No, no one had said anything about that, but she wouldn’t put it past the McDuck family.

Della continued her ramble. “I had a shrine. They all mourned me, had a shit ton of complicated feelings on the matter -I mean, I pretty much killed myself, how are you supposed to feel about that? And then, right when everyone was finally coming to terms with everything, I fucking crash back into their lives and fuck everything up.”

Lena could see tears forming in Della’s eyes. “And I know I’m being stupid, but- I know that it’s just a lot of complicated feelings, but- it feels like they don’t want me here,” Her voice was barely a chocked whisper by now. “Like, I’ve come back to anger, and disappointment, and disgust, even. And I know that that’s stupid!” Della hid her head in her hands. “I know that that’s not fair to them, that they’re being forced to re-evaluate the feelings they couldn’t process for ten years, but even with that! Doesn’t that mean it would’ve been better for them if I hadn’t come back? They wouldn’t be forced to deal with this again. And by coming back, I’ve just guaranteed that they’ll be hurt, and confused, and that’s my fault. I didn’t want to hurt them. I’ve never wanted to hurt them. I don’t know how to stop, do I leave? Would that hurt them more?” She sobbed. “I just want to stop hurting them, why is that too much to ask?”

Lena was silent for a moment, gathering her thoughts, before responding. “Yeah, I- I know how you feel.”

Della sniffed. “You do?” She asked, like it was the most horrible thing in the world that she understood. And to be fair to her, it was pretty shit.

“Yep,” Lena replied. “I don’t know how much you know about me-”

“You’re a shadow construct created by that bitch to steal the dime from Scrooge in exchange for your freedom, you wormed your way into his life via Webby, who ended up showing you true love for the first time, and you decided that Webby’s love was more important than your freedom, and you sacrificed yourself for her.” Della interrupted her.

Lena blinked. “I- I mean that’s a little simplified but yeah, pretty much. How did you know that?”

Della shrugged. “Webby gave me the rundown when you came back.”

“And you listened to her without losing focus?”

“Yeah,” Della nodded as if it was easy. “I always listen to Webby when she’s infodumping.”

“Okay, well, just that is enough to clear you in my books.” Lena said. “I mean, I love her -only as much as a friend should, of course-” Smooth, Lena. “But even I find it difficult to just sit there and do nothing sometimes.”

“Oh, yeah, no, obviously. I have trouble with that too, but I can deal with it by finding something for my hands to fiddle with. She doesn’t really mind if you aren’t looking at her.” Della supplied. “I think she kinda prefers not to have eye contact, actually.”

“Huh, I’ll have to try that,” Lena noted. “Anyways, the whole shadow thing? That’s why I can understand where you’re coming from. I know that I hurt her- she hides it well, but I know that she doesn’t deal well with betrayal. I know that my actions have caused her pain, and even worse? I know that I’ve hurt her nowadays, despite my best attempts not to. Like for example- the listening. I know what she talks about is important to her, and I try to listen, but I know that sometimes I fail. A lot. And I know that sometimes she’s hurt by that. And then there are the nightmares or the magical mishaps, or the flashbacks- I know that I’ve hurt her. And that sucks!” Lena cried. “I hate it so much! And it’s not just her, it’s my sister, and my dads, I know I’ve hurt them too. And so often, I get the thoughts that it would be better for them if I just left. And so often, I feel like I’m selfish for staying. But I know that’s wrong, I know that they love me, and care about me, and that it would hurt them more if I left.”

She rubbed Della’s shoulder. “And I’m willing to bet your family’s the same way. Sure, they probably don’t show it as well -I mean, your main form of emotional communication is trauma bonding- but they do love you. A lot. Take right now, for instance!” Lena gestured to the mansion. “They’re all out looking for you. They’re worried. Would they do that for someone they didn’t care for?”

Della gave a shaky chuckle. “Depends, does that person have a treasure we want?”

Lena rolled her eyes and stood up, stretching. “Yeah, well, I don’t think you do. Face it, they love you, you’re stuck with ‘em now.”

Della stood up as well. “...I hope you’re right,” She said.

“I’m always right,” Lena replied breezily. “Even when I’m wrong, I’m right.”

That got a laugh out of Della. “Yeah, that makes sense, kiddo.”

“Right?” Lena chuckled. “Well, we should probably head back. You good now?”

Della nodded hesitantly. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Cool, we’ll head back through the Shadow Realm, that’s quicker.” With that, Lena took the hand of the older duck and left the protective circle. She focused her thoughts onto the mansion courtyard - then altered her mental image to be slightly above the mansion, in case any Tulpas were still around - and willed the two of them through the shadows, back to their home.

—0—

Lena and Della emerged from the shadow of the massive golden dollar sign, landing on the loose pile of gold coins around it and getting their feet wet in the trickle of water that flowed out between the gaps of the fabulous collection of wealth Scrooge used as home decor.

“Ghrf, I really need to do more magic exercise or something,” Lena said, visibly winded as she wobbled to a standing position atop the shifting pile of gold. “If I’m gonna use my powers so much, I would prefer it if it didn’t leave me all dizzy and faint-headed.” 

“You know, if you actually took the time to meditate , you might not suffer from that problem.” Violet’s voice brought Lena back to the here-and-now, as she saw her sister being held in the arms of that purple moonlander. What was her name again… Perry? Panini?

“Penumbra!” Della smiled shakily. Right, that was her name.

“Ah Della! I see that Medium-Sized-Della found you! That’s good.” Penumbra said. Now that Lena was looking at them, Penumbra and Violet looked, well, exhausted. Like they had been in a fight pretty recently. To top it all off, they were covered in white ectoplasm.

“Hey, so I think the mansion has a Tulpa infestation,” Lena told her sister.

Said sister gave her a withering glare. “Oh, do you now?” She asked dryly.

“Yeah, well, you know,” Lena shrugged, remaining purposefully obtuse. “Had to fight a few to get Della home safe. Speaking of which, your family is freaking out at the mo’, we should probably get you back there soon.”

“Right, yeah,” Della agreed.

“Lena,” Violet gave her a glare.

“What?” Lena groaned. “I just fought a whole load of Tulpas already, what more do you want?” She asked. “I do not feel up to dealing with all the Tulpas in the mansion at the moment.”

Violet sighed. “Very well, then I guess that Penumbra and I shall be the ones to deal with them. Alone. Unable to travel into their realm to defeat them properly.”

“Sounds good to me, see ya later!” Lena saluted her sister for her brave sacrifice and took Della back into the mansion.

The inside of the mansion had calmed down a bit since the morning, but not too much. By the sounds of it, everyone was in the kitchen.

Lena checked behind her for Della, who still didn’t look the best. She looked like… well, she looked like someone who’d had a mental breakdown and then spent eight hours in the forest, without sleeping. If it was up to Lena, she’d send Della straight to her room, or at least somewhere she could even herself out.

But Webby (and the others) had been worried.

And as much as Lena felt like a shithead for it, Webby being worried took precedence over Della’s health for her. One look at Della made it obvious that she felt the same, though, so she didn’t feel too bad.

As she entered the kitchen, she could hear the voices more clearly.

“-None of the goats in that goat dimension have seen her recently-”

“-She could be in the hedge maze, Aunt Goldie said something last time we spoke that-”

“-We’re sure she’s not in the vents somewhere?-”

“-I’ve checked thirteen times, but do you think I should go up to fifteen?-”

“Found her.” Lena called simply. The ducks in the kitchen stopped their planning all at once to look up at her as she said that, catching a glimpse of Della standing right behind her.

“Mom!” The boys chorused. One moment, they were on one side of the kitchen, then the next they were practically glued to the woman.

Della rocked under the sudden weight of her kids. “H-hey! Hey, kiddos.” She stammered weakly. She brought her hands up to better hold them and stroke their heads. “I- I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen, I didn’t want to hurt you guys. I don’t want to hurt you guys. I’m so, so sorry about-”

“What are you apologizing about?” Lena cut her off. “It’s not like it’s your fault you got trapped in Faerie.” She said.

Della blinked. “I- I didn’t-”

“-Watch where you were going, sure, but I mean come on, you’re being too hard on yourself.” Lena motioned to outside the kitchen window. “It’s not your fault there’s no lights out there to help guide where you’re going.”

“You got trapped in fairyland?” Huey asked.

“Yep,” Lena answered for Della. “You should really scan your yard for portals better. She tripped on a rock on her way back from the houseboat and fell into a faerie circle.” She lied easily. “Don’t worry, I took care of it after getting Della out. But yeah, for about eight hours -or however long it was in Faerie, time is funky there- she was trapped. Alone. In a place that is practically stimulation central.”

She gave Della a stern look. “I think it’d probably be a good idea to rest a bit. Do you have somewhere you can go that feels safe?” She asked.

Della nodded. “I- yeah. My room. I guess I could go there.”

“That’d be a good idea, you could probably do with some controlled silence right now,” Lena told her.

“O-okay. Okay, yeah. I’ll go do that. Thanks, Lena.”

Lena gave her a cheeky salute. “No problemo, Ms. D.”

Mrs. Beakley approached Della. “I can escort you to your room, Della. Boys, get off of her.”

“But-” Dewey started before Mrs. Beakley gave him a deathly glare. The boys slid off without a problem.

Della gave her kids one last kiss, and with a final nod to her brother and uncle, she headed off with Mrs. Beakley to her room.

As she left, everyone in the kitchen took a big sigh of relief. She was back. She was okay. Mostly. Lena felt a bump against her side, as Webby gave her a big hug. “Thank you so much, Lena.” She said.

“Eh, it was nothing,” Lena began, before feeling another few bumps around her midsection as the boys clung to her. “Wha- oh no, not you guys too.”

“Seriously, thank you!” Dewey said.

“I was so worried!” Huey cried.

“...Oh, what, Green? You ain't gonna say anything?” Lena poked the fourth body around her midsection.

“Shut up.” Louie said, voice wavering a little.

“Seriously, lass,” Scrooge said, his hand clutching his chest, like the old man he was. “I cannae repay ye fer this.”

“Well, you could always try, ” Lena said. “I mean, I’d have to say that a car would be pretty nice.”

Scrooge laughed, “Ye can be funny when ye try, lass!”

“I wasn’t joking.”

“Oh.” Scrooge deflated. “...Get a driver’s license first, and then we might talk.”

“Deal.” Lena nodded. She tried to shake the triplets and Webby off of her. “Okay, you guys can get off now.”

“Hmm, nope!” Webby replied.

“What do you mean , no ?”

“This is thanks for saving Mom!” Dewey said.

“Oh no ,” Lena said as it dawned on her. “I forgot that you all are huggers. Get offa me!” She quickly phased into the Shadow Realm and phased back out a few feet away.

“You can’t escape us that easily!” Webby cried out. “After her!”

“This is why I don’t get involved with your family drama!”

Chapter Text

Donald sighed as he listened to the crickets in the yard. It had been a very hectic day. He’d wanted to talk to Della after he woke up, they hadn’t exactly left last night on the best of terms. So, when she didn’t come down for breakfast, Donald had volunteered to grab her. He could talk to her then, with a clearer head than last night.

But she hadn’t been in her room. She hadn’t been anywhere in the mansion. She was just… gone. Like she’d disappeared.

Though apparently, she’d never even gotten to her bedroom in the first place. Donald looked out the houseboat window. Tripped and fell into Faerie, huh? If Donald hadn’t let himself get so angry, maybe he would’ve noticed. Maybe he could’ve helped her, maybe she wouldn’t have been gone so long.

Or maybe they would’ve both gotten trapped. Donald sighed. It was useless to go over what-ifs.

It was also useless to try and sleep, what with his mind running so fast. He might as well get something to eat, at least.

Taking care to walk the path carefully, he made his way to the mansion kitchen. He knew that Lena said she’d taken care of the faerie circle, but he didn’t want to take any chances. There were still foggy memories he had of serving as a page in the summer court that bobbed to the back of his head on quiet nights or in the midst of storms. Memories of waiting on a massive woman with iridescent wings and black eyes, or polishing his cousin Gladstone after he had been transformed into a solid gold statue. Those memories served as the only recollections he had of the time he had spent in service to Titania, the rest having been lost to the folding of time and space that turned a single day into a year. Not all of the memories were bad, per se - but they all felt foreign, like they belonged to some other Donald who now lived in a small shuttered section of his mind, and only came out to check on him now and again like a disinterested neighbor.  No, better to keep an eye out - and like Grandma Elvira had told him again and again, always keep a piece of iron in his pocket, just in case the fair folk decided that instead of waiting around they would come and find you. 

The kids' extended banishing-ceremony-turned-sleep-over was apparently still going. The smell of incense and the sound of an intense round of the Flour Game (a bunch of sneezing, coughing, and laughter) drifted through the windows of the mansion. Apparently, there had been some sort of evil energy spirits that had required the kids to counter them by summoning some sort of positive emotion counterpart to neutralize them. The kids’ spirits were still high, though honestly Donald couldn’t blame them - they were probably also blowing off the few hours of intense worry that they had all lost Della again. 

Donald pushed those thoughts down, and instead waved hello to Penumbra as she passed by him on her way back to the airfield, clad in an oversized t-shirt that loudly proclaimed ‘I want it!’ in bright pink letters. 

“Nice threads Penny.” He commented, and the massive woman shook her head. 

“They are... adequate, in insulation ability. I had to borrow them from your housekeeper after my own garments were soiled. Her form is roughly the same size as mine.” The alien says, fishing a loose handful of goo from her hair and flicking it aside. “At least, more alike than your form is. You lot are so tiny.”

“Well, I think the clothes look good!” Donald assured her, ignoring the last part, earning a thoughtful look from their semi-permanent house guest. 

“Hm. I’m not sure about the glyphs, but it is comfortable at least. I shall consider using it as a model for expanding my wardrobe in the future. Good evening.” Penumbra waved goodbye as she brushed past him, the conversation ending as abruptly as it started. 

Donald was now alone on the back porch - just him, and the moths fluttering back and forth around the porch light, which provided enough illumination for Donald that he wouldn’t have to fumble around while opening up the door that went into the kitchen.

The fishy ammonia smell of ectoplasm had been banished -or at least reduced to its normal levels (thanks Duckworth)- but Donald was still on edge when he saw the shadow of the fridge almost… move. He flipped on the light, which dispersed the shadow, and revealed that nothing was there with him. He let out a breath.

Which he immediately regretted as he heard a thump come from inside the refrigerator. Something was in the kitchen with him! 

He braced himself for a fight as the thumping got louder. And louder.

“Hey!” An annoyed voice came from the fridge. “I know somebodies out there, ‘cuz the light came on. Open up the fridge, or I’m going to blast the door off its hinges. And I’ll eat all your food, too.”

“Lena?” Donald called out.

“Donald? That you?” Lena responded, voice slightly muffled from the door. “Catching teens in fridges now, are we? That your brilliant plan to keep us all safe?”

“Calm down, I’ll get you outta there,” Donald opened the fridge door and the teen hopped out, dislodging one of the salads he should really get around to eating off one of the shelves.

“ Thank you for turning on that light,” Lena said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’ve never been in the middle of a shift when the shadow disappears. It’s really disorienting.” She flicked mashed potatoes out of her hair.

“Did you get hurt? Are you feeling okay now?” Donald immediately shifted into mother hen mode at the sight of the teen. There were deep bags under her eyes. She looked exhausted.

“Okay, enough with the ‘worried mom’ act, I’m fine.” Lena brushed him off in exchange for rooting around the fridge and the cupboards. “Where’s the coffee? Or do Tea Time and Moneybags not allow anything more caffeinated than watered-down tea in the house?” She asked.

“No, it’s fine, I’ve been hiding some around the place,” Donald went to the bread drawer, riffled around a little, and pulled out a small packet of instant espresso. Lena eagerly grabbed it from him and returned to the fridge to grab a bottle of milk. She dumped the contents of the paper sachet into it before vigorously shaking the bottle, producing a muddy brown concoction that was no doubt terribly bitter. The teenager chugged half of it in one go.

Donald watched the entire thing silently, not exactly willing to judge because hey, he had been a teenager once too. Honestly, no one could probably top the vile black coffee tar that Uncle Scrooge would make on expeditions to colder climes that was so thick it had to be eaten with a spoon. Instead of departing with the bottle, however, Lena just made her way to the kitchen table and slumped into a seat. She seriously looked exhausted. Honestly, it made sense if she’d used as much magic as she’d claimed to today.

“Why are you down here, anyways?” He asked. “If the others are being too loud for you to get to bed, then there are a lot of other rooms that you could use.”

“I’ll go to sleep when they do, I’m not that tired.” She claimed.

Donald looked her over. “You sure?” He tried.

Lena shot him a glare. “I’ll go to sleep. When they do.” She repeated coldly. A lot colder than Donald would’ve thought was appropriate.

Well, he wouldn’t push it. “Alright, I’m gonna make some food now, though.”

“By all means, go ahead.” Lena rolled her hand around as a go-ahead. She stopped mid-motion. “Actually, before you do, I wanted to talk to you. ‘S why I’m still up.”

“Oh?” Donald paused, turning to the teen. “What did you need?”

Lena shrugged, putting on an air of nonchalance. “Just wanted to ask what you’ve been talking with Della about.”

Donald frowned in confusion. “Why do you care?” He asked.

Lena’s act of uncaring faltered a little, just enough that Donald could tell it was an act. The teen was… testing him, somehow. He felt his guard instinctively raise a little. 

“Just curious, you know?” She claimed. It didn’t feel like a lie, exactly, but it still felt untruthful, like she wasn’t saying what she actually wanted.

“…Nothing much,” Donald tried for an answer. “Just want to make sure she’s doing good by the kids.”

“Hmm.” Lena leaned forward on the table, looking over her nails. “And I’m sure she’s been great, right?” She asked.

Donald faltered. He felt guilty as feelings of bitterness and… other feelings that he couldn’t fully place flashed through him. It wasn’t her fault that she wasn’t living up to his expectations, he felt bad for being so hard on her. 

But at the same time, it kind of was her fault. After all, he’d warned her not to go to space, and what did she do? She got lost, and hadn’t learned how to be a parent. He supposed that that meant she was really on year one of parenting, though, and was he much better than she’d been back then?

No, that didn’t matter. She had to be a good mom, the kids were counting on her to be so. They looked up to her so much, she needed to be able to take care of them. They’d missed her.

But she was his sister. He’d missed her too. (He just wanted to hug her-)

No, his feelings on the matter weren’t necessary. The kids came first, they always came first, and they needed her to be better. He had to make her better, even if it hurt to yell at her so much.

But at the same time, it felt… cathartic? It was all so strange, she’d come back just when he’d finally begun to accept that she was gone. It brought about difficult feelings, things he thought he’d dealt with years ago.

How he felt didn’t matter. All that mattered were the kids.

They came first.

“Well?” Lena’s question shocked him back into the present. Right, she’d asked him about Della’s progress.

“She’s… been trying,” He winced at his lame answer.

Lena scoffed at him. “ ‘She’s been trying?’ ” She parroted back to him. “Are you kidding me? That’s the best you can say?”

Donald felt his ire rise. “Are you going to stop hiding behind the whole ‘bored of the world’ act and say what you want to say directly?” He asked. “Because I don’t enjoy talking in circles. You already talked to Della about this, haven’t you?”

“You want direct? Fine .” Lena let her facade drop and glared daggers at the adult. “Yeah, I talked to Della about this already. She said that practically all you’ve done since you and her were in the same house is tell her she’s been doing a shit job at taking care of her kids.”

Donald took a deep breath to calm himself. It wouldn’t do to blow up at a child.

 “Look, I just want to make sure she’s doing as best she can. The kids matter, she needs to know that.” And she was exaggerating, he’d talked to Della about more than just them!

Right?

“Of course she knows that!” Lena exclaimed.

“Well, she needs to do better at acting as such! She lets them do dangerous things, and she’s been worrying them!” He defended his actions.

Lena looked furious. “Oh, she’s been worrying them ? So I guess you’re going to go and yell at her for this whole event too, huh?” She accused him.

Well, she should’ve been looking where she was going- “No, I’m not going to. At least, not yet, she deserves time to rest after Faerie. Though she should’ve remembered to keep some iron in her pocket.” He mumbled.

Lena laughed bitterly at him. “Oh, how good of you. Really, that’s great, you’re a wonderful brother, giving her time to rest from her time in Faerie before blaming her for it. Honestly, great plan. Oh, except ,” She put a hand to her chin in mock consideration. “She never actually went to Faerie! Wow, what a shocker!”

Donald blinked. “What? But you said-”

“I. Lied .” Lena told him. “I didn’t want anyone -read: you- laying into her after everything. What actually happened is that, after your little chat with her, she ran into the forest and had a panic attack that lasted eight plus hours.” She growled out. “Of course, the Tulpas hanging around her definitely didn’t help with that, but still.”

That didn’t make sense. “What do you mean? Why would she panic?”

“I don’t know,” Lena snapped, “She fucking hurting, that kinda messses with how one reacts to shit. She’s confused, she doesn’t know where she’s standing, and she’s launching herself headfirst into parenting without getting time to heal.”

“Well then she shouldn’t be a parent!” Donald shouted. Guilt flooded his system as he said that, though. He didn’t mean that, not really. But the fact that she was hurting herself to be one wasn’t good. “At least, not yet; she should be taking time to heal, or something.”

“Oh, brilliant plan. How do you suggest going about that, hmm? ‘Hey, Della, we’ve come to the decision that you aren’t fit for being a parent!’ ” Lena said in a mocking tone of voice. “ ‘You know, the exact decision you’ve been afraid of us having since you came back!’ I’m sure she’d take that just swimmingly. ”

Donald felt frustrated. Lena was overreacting, Della wasn’t that bad! Right? “Look, I- I know that she wants to be the kids mom, and I want that for her too! Honestly! But I want her to be okay too!” He tried.

“Well, you’ve done a fantastic job showing it,” Lena said. “She thinks you hate her.”

“Oh come on,” Donald rolled his eyes. “You’re exaggerating!”

“No, I’m not!” Lena got up from the table and walked over to him. “She says that all you’ve done since she’s been back is berate her and scold her on what she’s been doing wrong!”

“Well she needs that! She needs to be a better parent! The kids are expecting her to be a natural at this!”

“Were you a natural when you started?” Lena was right up in his face now. “Did you magically know everything when the kids were first born?”

“No, and that’s the point!” Donald claimed. “How is she supposed to get better without being told what she’s doing wrong? Scrooge isn’t going to do it, Beakley won’t either, the kids don’t know what makes a parent a good parent, so that leaves me! The kids look up to her, they need her to be a good parent!”

“Well she needs a better support system!” Lena yelled practically into his ear. “She’s obviously not doing well, yet she’s still gotta deal with a shit ton more than she’s used to! Not just because she was on the moon for a while, but she didn’t exactly get practice before then either! She hasn’t taken a break in what - eight months? Ten? And sure, you could easily say that she ‘doesn’t deserve a break’ , but that doesn’t change the fact that she needs one! Or at least, someone who can tell her ‘Hey, good job! You did well!’ Every once in a while! If things keep going the way they are, she is going to fucking break soon, and do something that everybody regrets. Is that what you want? Huh?” She demanded.

“Lena,” Donald warned, “Let go of my shirt.”

Lena looked down, and now realized that had grabbed onto Donald’s shirt with her right hand, and had an orb of magic in her left. She let go and took a step back, taking a breath. “Look,” She said. “I’m not saying that you shouldn’t warn her when she does something wrong, or hurtful. I’m not saying that you should let her cause pain and all that to herself and those around her. I’m not saying that you’re wrong for feeling hurt, either!” Lena told him. “She disappeared on you for ten years, then she came back! I know that that’s gotta bring some confusing and unwanted feelings! She knows that too!”

Donald crossed his arms and glanced away. He knew that, deep down, yeah, he hadn’t exactly processed everything yet, he was still hurting. But that didn’t mean he had to like it getting thrown in his face.

“But for fucks sake, if you want to keep her around, then you need to throw her a bone. ” Lena stressed. “You need to give her a reason to believe that she’s not just causing everyone pain. That she’s not just good for making things difficult for the ones she loves.”

Donald opened his mouth to talk but Lena held up a finger. “No,” She said. “Before you even start, she does feel like that. She is terrified that the only thing she can do from here on out is hurt her family. That every choice she makes will cause pain to everyone around her. And you wanna know what happens when you think like that, Donald Duck?” Lena asked him. “‘Cuz I know. I’ve thought like that before. Eventually, you start to rationalize. You stop thinking, ‘How can I help?’ or ‘How can I make my family happy?’ No, instead you ask yourself, ‘What actions can I do to bring the least pain?’ And that line of thinking is dangerous because the most logical choice at that point is to take away what’s causing the pain. And what do you think she thinks is the cause?”

“She’s not hurting us!” Donald interrupted her. “She’s making us better! We want her around, we want her to stay! Maybe we need to relearn how to be a family, and maybe things are a little odd now, but we still want her here!”

Lena took a deep breath. “Well, I’m not the one you need to be saying that to.” 

She finished the rest of her bitter drink and tossed the bottle into the trash overhanded. “Welp, good talk, Donald,” She stated, as though they hadn’t been yelling at each other just a moment before. “Imma head back upstairs to the others. And I think you have a place you oughta go too.” And with that, Lena nonchalantly ducked under the table (the only place in the kitchen that still had shadows big enough for her to fit in) and disappeared.

Donald took a moment to count down from ten like his therapist had shown him to calm himself down. Lena was right, he had somewhere to be.

—0—

Donald stood before the door to Della's room. He couldn't see any light coming out from under her door, but that didn't necessarily mean anything, she never really had a light on in that room. Come to think of it, Donald wasn't sure if she had a light installed in her room. Regardless of the lack of light, Donald was fairly certain his sister was still awake because he could hear the faint sounds of tinkering coming from behind the door.

He thought back to what Lena had said to him. It was painful to consider, but that didn't erase those thoughts from existence. Only talking to Della could do that.

Well, he wouldn't get anywhere like this. Donald rapped his knuckles against the door. He wondered if his sister could still tell who was at the door just based on the knock.

The hallway was silent, apart from the sounds of the manor's various supports shifting slowly with the drop in temperature the night had brought. For a moment Donald considered that his twin might have fallen asleep before the door opened, just a crack. The light from the hallway sliced through the dark, revealing a small section of Della's face and her left eye, red and puffy.

"Heeeey Donald." She said after a moment of hesitation. She opened the door slightly wider so as to address him, while still keeping as much of herself in the dark as she could.

"Heeeey, Della," Donald repeated, just as awkwardly as she had. 

"What's uh - what's up? Kids okay?"

"Uh, the kids are fine, don't worry." He waved her off. "Just... wanted to talk. Can I, uh... can I come in?" Donald asked hesitantly.

"Aah, my room's sort of a mess right now. I haven't really got any place to sit -" Della said quickly, laughing awkwardly as she ran her hands through her hair. She didn't even have a hairband in, so her bangs kept falling messily this way and that. "Why don't you come back tomorrow?"

"Oh, don’t worry about it, I don't mind a mess. I mean, you've seen the houseboat." Donald said, rubbing the back of his head. "Honestly, I thought after the kids stopped living in it, it would get less messy. Guess I was wrong!" He forced a laugh. Wow, this felt awkward. Was this seriously going to be what talking to his sister would be like from now on?

Geez, that thought was depressing.

"It uh - it looks good from the window. Pretty." Della said as she tried to maintain a smile, her eyes flicking back and forth in a clear sign that she was searching for a potential distraction before a soft whistling noise catches her attention.

She immediately apologized, turning around with a loud clank as she fumbled in the darkness for something. There was a dull clatter when she disappeared out of sight, Donald was just able to make out her silhouette as she pulled on a cable.

"Gyro's acoustic engine - I promised I'd help him work out some bugs on the larger scale model." She murmured apologetically as the whining began to fade.

"Ah," Donald didn't know what an 'acoustic engine' was supposed to be but seeing as how it was his sister and Gyro, that made sense. "You and Gyro talking again, then?" He asked.

The dark blobby shape that was his sister paused, picking up something that gleamed metallic-y in the dim light and balancing it in her hands. 

"Yeah... after the Screwloose. Was pretty much the only good thing that came of it."

"Heh, yeah," Donald muttered. Oh boy, the Screwloose. The time when she built a bomb and could've killed the-

Geez , Lena's admonishment about actually talking to his sister felt more and more real to Donald every second. At least the Screwlooses were over, or at least the two of them had claimed they were over. 

"Hey, so, I was kinda hoping we could... you know, talk. About today. And everything." Donald explained haltingly.

"Huh? Oh, you don't gotta worry about anything. I'm fine!" Della said cheerily. In the dark, Donald almost believed it. The only thing that made him think otherwise was the raw edge to her otherwise cheerful voice. "Uncle Scrooge checked me for elfshot and didn't find any marks, and it only felt like I was Over There for a few minutes. Time dilation, you remember how it is."

"Yeah, uh..." Donald sighed. It really wasn't helping to beat around the bush. "...I know you didn't actually go to Faerie." He admitted.

Della's silhouette trembled for a moment, but she waved it off, turning her back to her brother as she began to tinker with the barely visible machinery on her desk. 

"You do? Well - like I said. I'm fine. I basically took a little vacation wherever it was I ended up!" She insisted, her tone still cheerful ."I mean like, I barely even remember what happened, so it’s kinda like I just took a relaxing nap!”

"Yeah, I'm sure it was relaxing." Donald couldn't help but roll his eyes. "The bags under your eyes really make me think 'rested.'”

Della didn’t respond, keeping her back to him.

 “Look, can I please come in?" Donald asked after a moment. "I'd prefer not to talk about all this in the middle of a doorway."

"... Do you mind if we keep the lights off?" Della asked hesitantly, her shoulders sagging.

"Sure," Donald nodded instantly. "No problem. Do you have anything else for light, though?" He requested as he entered the room, slowly closing the door behind him.

"Uh, yeah. Hold on a sec -"

It was almost pitch black inside of Della's room, the darkness as thick and rich as a velvet curtain. Donald could just make out the sensation of his sister moving beside him as she searched for something on her desk. She pauses for a moment before clicking something once - twice - three times in rapid succession, and a soft buttery yellow light illuminated on her shoulder. A Lil' Bulb petulantly hung its incandescent head before Della prodded it lightly.

"Hey, come on. Don't get in a huff. You wanted something to do, now you got something to do." 

The tiny robot let out a quiet noise (that sounded like the crackle a tungsten light filament might make before shorting out) in protest. 

"It's not that undignified!" Della shook her head at the Bulb. It’s light didn’t exactly banish the darkness so much as deepen it, giving the shadows texture and depth from the tiny puddle of luminosity. "This okay, Donnie?" Della asked him after a moment. “‘Cuz if not, I do have a lava lamp that could help too.”

"What? Oh no, this is fine," Donald said, staring in confusion at the Lil’ Bulb. "Does Gyro know you have that? Even if you two are talking again, I doubt he would just give it to you."

"Actually, I found him! Little guy was smashed in the Moonvasion." Della put the tiny automaton on her hand so as to better direct the light towards her brother. "I fixed him up, but I still haven't exactly gotten him back to a hundred percent though. Burns through light-bulbs way too fast, and every time I replace them I need to start all over again on the repairs."

“Huh. So what you’re saying is, Gyro doesn’t know.” Donald said as he used the faint light to look around the room. Boy, it really was messy. There was a whole bunch of spare parts and junk littering her room (Was that a severed hand? ...Yeah, Donald decided to just ignore that). There was also a white noise machine playing softly on her desk.

"Ah, I'll show it to him once I work the kinks out." His sister responded dismissively, reaching up with her free hand and pulling her goggles over her eyes, blocking out most of the light in the room. "Sorry, just - really bad headache. Hey, here's an idea, why don't you hold Lil' Bulb while I work?" She said, dropping the tiny robot into Donald's hands before moving towards her bed, pushing a pile of magazines onto the floor and invitingly patting the covers. "Park your keister right here."

"No one uses keister anymore, Della," Donald said as he obediently sat on the bed. "Have you taken anything for the headache yet?" He asked.

"What, you gonna hold my hand and put a wet towel on my face?" She asked sardonically, repeating the steps their parents took for migraines. "I'm fine, I keep telling you! I sawed through my own leg without any painkillers, I can handle a little headache.” 

“Della, you had a built-in painkiller called adrenaline for that,” Donald replied. “Beakley keeps the cabinets stocked with Advil, go take one and then we’ll talk.”

Della put her hand down on her workbench, a little bit louder. "I told you, it's nothing . I'll get something after we - finish doing whatever it is we're doing." She told him, a note of petulance creeping into her voice. Lil' Bulb seated itself on Donald's palm, swinging its tiny feet back and forth over the edge of Donald's hands, bouncing lightly and without much concern like it was listening to a song only it could hear."If this is about making everyone worry, I'm sorry - I know how bad it scared the kids to not know where I am. I'm - I won't let it happen again." Della said, rubbing her arm self-consciously.

"No, it- it's not about that," Donald said. Was that really all they talked about if that was what Della defaulted to? "I mean, yeah, we were worried, but it- it's fine. Well, it isn't, not really, but like- ugh," Donald sighed and rubbed his head. Why was this so difficult?

"Look, I really had no idea what I was doing, okay?" Della said, shifting defensively to another task, pulling at some loose wires from a doo-hickey on her desk. "I mean- I knew what I was doing, I just lost track of time. But I have a watch now so it won't happen again." She continued, proceeding down a track that she had obviously mentally prepared for herself.

“That- that’s not the point, Della,” Donald replied. “I don’t- having a watch on you is all well and good, but I just wanted to talk to you and ask if you were okay.” Because spending the night in a forest didn’t exactly seem ‘okay’ to Donald.

Della groaned in exasperation. "How many times do I have to tell you that I'm fine before you understand that I. Am. Fine ." Della retorted, her flesh and blood foot tapping against the floor as she spoke slowly and clearly. "I'm talking to you right now, aren't I? Instead of curled up in the corner and crying like a little girl."

"If that was the only thing that separated 'fine' from 'not fine', then I'd be golden' Donald thought. He sighed and leaned forward. "Look, Della, I had an… interesting conversation with Lena a little bit ago," He said. "That's why I know that you didn't go Over There, and instead got stuck in the forest." He explained. "...Though you could very easily have gotten trapped in Faerie from there. You are remembering to keep at least a bit of iron on you, right?" Donald asked, getting himself off track.

Della simply tapped her metal leg in response.

“Ah.” Donald responded. “You’ve got iron in that then? Alright, I suppose that works.” He sighed. “Look, Lena said some things that like... well, it kinda feels like maybe she was exaggerating a little... 'cuz you know, some of the things she said just kinda didn't make sense, like... 'cuz like, we care about you, a lot, and we want you here and... and you know that I don't hate you, right?" Donald asked, a little desperately.

Donald saw Della pause. She turned away from him a bit. “I- yeah, of course, I know that!” She claimed, but her voice was shaky like she didn’t exactly believe what she was saying.

Donald felt his stomach drop. She was lying. Even after all this time, Donald could tell. “You don’t, do you?” He whispered.

“I-” Della faltered, looking back at her brother. “Look, Donald, it’s fine, okay? I- I get it, it’s fine. I abandoned you, and left you with three unborn children to deal with. Then, after you’d gone and gotten attached to them, and gotten used to me being gone, I came blowing back in like a freaking hurricane, messing up everything. If I was in your shoes, I’d probably hate me too!” She laughed, her voice cracking. “I know that it’d be stupid to assume that- that everything could just go back to the way it was, like nothing happened. I knew that something like this would happen, it’s fine!” 

"No, no, Della, I… I don’t hate you,” Donald said. “I don’t I-”

“Donald, please-” Della closed her eyes, her breath shaky. “Just- don’t do that, okay? It’s fine if you hate me, I get it, I hate me too!” She said, “But please, please don’t lie to me about that, don’t give me hope.”

“Della, no, I...” Donald reached out to comfort her, but faltered. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. How long had she felt like this? “I’m so sorry, I-”

‘No, it’s fine!” Della insisted, her voice watery. “Don’t- don’t apologize because I screwed up again, okay?”

"That’s not- No.'' Donald put the Lil' Bulb down on the bed and hugged Della tight. "I don't hate you." He whispered voice choked. "I don't, I never could. Never. You didn’t screw up. You didn’t. I- I’m so sorry, I never wanted this, I’m so sorry. Please, please believe me.” 

His sister stiffened at the contact. “I-” She faltered, looking away.

“I care about you so much Della, okay? I don’t want you to be hurting.” Donald tried to push past his shuddering breath. “But I- I guess I haven’t really been helping much with that, huh?” He laughed wetly. "I just- I want the kids to be okay, you know?" He further explained. "But- but I took things too far. I mean, I think this is the first time we've hugged since the moonvasion, huh?" He felt something inside of himself break as he acknowledged that. "I want you to be okay too. I care about you so much, Della, I've never hated you. Been pissed, sure, but I never hated you."

Della was quiet. Her arms wrapped around Donald and squeezed him from both sides, like he might disappear if she let go.

 "How do I make up for it? How? I hurt you. I hurt everyone ." She asked when she found her voice again.

"I... I don't know," Donald admitted. "All I know is that I want you to stay. To keep trying, to keep existing. I know that's not a good answer, and it doesn't make up for it, not really, but I don't think that matters?" He said. "I think- we forgave you. You came back, with an apology ready for us, and we decided to accept it. And I think that's all you can do, the rest is up to us. And we're- we're confused, sure, but hey! We're the McDucks, we thrive on confusion!" He chuckled a little. "...You already have made it up to us, I think. It's now time for us to move on. But the only way we can do that is if you stay with us, okay?" He held onto her a little tighter. "So please don't leave. Please."

"If I ever did anything to hurt anyone, I -" Della gulped, hot wet tears splattering against Donald's neck. "I just think. Maybe it'd be better if I was still on the moon or - or had died."

" No ." Donald replied firmly, ignoring the tears falling out of his eyes as well. "Della Duck, that is not true. We care so much about you, okay?  Things would not have been better without you here, because we love you. You matter so much to us, we’d do anything for you."

Della blinked rapidly, snorting to swallow back a tide of phlegm her emotions had stirred up at the back of her throat before she spoke. "Maybe, but- you love the old Della. I'm - I'm not her anymore though. I'm broken."

Donald actually smirked at that. "You know, I remember saying something pretty similar when I came back from the Navy. Remember what you did back then? Because if I recall correctly, you beat the shit outta me until I said I wasn't worthless and broken." He said. "Am I gonna have to do the same to you, Dels? 'Cuz I will. I care about you enough, and that stands for both pre- and post-Moon Della, okay? Because even if you are different people -which you aren't - post-Moon Della still seems pretty cool."

Della smiled back, but couldn't keep it up for long before she put her head back against her brother's shoulder. 

"I just want things to stop hurting.” She whispered. “Sometimes I feel like I'm made of glass. Every time I move, I crack. I patch one hole up, and make another. And even when I'm doing great, I'm always afraid of being shattered."

"Well, that's what we're here for." Donald rubbed her back. "Even if you do fall apart, we'll be here to help pick you back up. We may not be professionals -and we need to talk about getting you professional help eventually here- but even just talking can help a bit. Honestly, that's what helped me the most after the Navy. And you don't even have to do that, if you don't feel up to it." He assured her. "You can just lean on us, remove some of the weight from your shoulders. You're not alone anymore, Della. You have a family that can hold you up when you can't do it by yourself."

Della let out a shuddery breath. “...Okay,” She nodded. “Okay. Thank you.”

"Also, painkillers are pretty good at stopping some pain, like, say, headaches," Donald poked her.

Della slapped the back of his head. “Motherfucker, we were having a moment,” She complained.

“A moment without Advil,” Donald said.

"Alright, alright, I get the hint," Della said, pushing back at the poking finger. "I'll go and get something.”

"With your goggles on?"

"Yeah," Della said, like it was obvious. "It's too bright out there for me right now. I'll be back in a bit, okay?"

“Okay.” Donald nodded. 

As Della left the room, Donald drummed his fingers on his leg. The Lil’ Bulb looked up at him in annoyance. 

“What?” He asked. “I’m not fidgeting that badly.” He claimed. 

The Lil’ Bulb simply flashed at him in response. 

“Alright, fine,” Donald groaned. He may not have known exactly what the Lil’ Bulb said, but he had a pretty good idea. He quickly rushed outside the room and went to Della’s side. “Hang on a minute, I’ll come with you!” He called out to her.

Della glared bemusedly at him at the end of the hall. Donald had to wonder how his sister even saw anything- it wasn’t like the mansion was particularly well illuminated to start with. Scrooge’s penny pinching meant that no light was ever on a moment longer than it needed to be, to avoid running up the electricity bill (nevermind that he owned the water and power company,) and the goggles were tinted darkly enough that it probably didn’t let her see anything but the faintest outline of her surroundings, but it seemed like that was all she needed to navigate. 

“I’m just going to the bathroom down the hall,” She insisted, tapping her metal foot as Donald caught up with her. “You want me to hold your hand so that the ghosts don’t scare you?”

Donald gave her a lighthearted glare. “Oh, please. The ghosts know better than to mess with me.”

As soon as he said that, a vase fell off the side table they were walking next to and rolled under his feet, tripping him up and sending him to the floor. “ …most of the ghosts know better than to mess with me.” Donald amended. 

“How can you even navigate here anyways?” He asked as he stood up and brushed himself off. “It’s super dark, I can’t see anything.”

"I'm used to it. Nights last fourteen days - well technically three hundred and sixty hours - on the moon." She explained with a shrug, putting a hand on Donald’s shoulder.

“Oh.” Was Donald’s lame reply. “…I can see why you might’ve lost track of time, then.”

"Yeaaaaaaaah, it kind of sucked,” Della admitted. “I had to keep time by listening to my heartbeat -which was honestly not super accurate- so I was always off, but I never knew by how much. Anyway, I don't need any light to get through the mansion. I've got this place memorized like the back of my hand... apart from the parts that've been remodeled." She put her hand out. "Like, right here - this is where we would do indoor roller derbies, because of how straight and flat it is."

“Huh. So it is,” Donald mumbled, not really sure if it was, given how dark it was, but he was willing to trust his sister on that. “Heh. Man, Scrooge hated it when we did that.”

"Yep, he went ballistic a few times. And here's the board that would always trip us up." Della said, putting her foot out and leaning on it.

“Why did they keep that in?” Donald asked. “That’s silly. You know, I think you got tripped up on that more than I did.” 

“That is a complete lie,” Della scoffed as she stepped on the board, which let out a soft chirp when she did so. "World's oldest burglar alarm!" She explained happily. "It's called uguisubari, or 'Nightingale floors', in Japan."

“Oh, geez, I can see where Huey got it,” Donald laughed.

"Hey, at least someone appreciates my trivia now." Della insisted as they continued onward, her foot clanking softly against the hardwood.

“Yeah, him and Webby both, I’d assume,” Donald said.

“Heh, yeah.” Della fell quiet for a while, reaching out again when they passed by another door. "The kids room," Della announced quietly, rubbing her fingers against the doorknob and pushing it open to reveal it illuminated by the moonlight, the triplets beds empty. She paused as she took in the empty beds. “Uh... where are-”

“They’re having a sleepover in Webby’s room,” Donald explained to Della before she could panic. “I’m surprised that you haven’t heard anything yet. They’re being really loud.”

“My room’s soundproofed,” Della said, turning back to the boy's bedroom. “...Used to be our room, remember?”

“Oh, yeah, I do. Surprisingly, I think it looks bigger than when it was ours. It must be because your freakishly huge telescope isn’t in here anymore.” Donald said.

"I think it's the bunk bed. Much more efficient use of space." Della argued.

“Hmm, nope. Think it’s because of the telescope.” Donald argued back.

Della shoved his shoulder before pausing.

“...How old are we, Donald?” 

“…Seriously?” Donald said incredulously. “Don’t you remember how old you were when the kids were born?”

“No, I don’t mean-” Della sighed. “I know we’re thirty-six, but… all this time has passed, and we're still here in Scrooge's mansion, like when we were kids. Well, you're technically living on his pool but it's like - you know?" She said helplessly, squeezing her brother's shoulder a little tighter.

“It feels like we haven’t grown up, yet at the same time like we’ve been through too much to be kids?” Donald tried.

"Yeah. Yeah." Della agreed, her gaze drawn magnetically to the moon, the silver disk reflected in the smoked lenses over her eyes. "...Sometimes I wake up and expect to hear mom and dad coming to pick us up."

“…Yeah, I guess that never goes away, does it?” Donald asked, staring up at the moon as well. “You know, getting a job could help you feel more grown-up,” He supplied after a moment.

"Doing what ? Running an auto-shop like Robotica?" Della asked incredulously. "The only thing I know how to do well is fly and fight monsters, and I am not taking a job as an airline pilot."

“Okay, well, I doubt that’s all you know,” Donald said. “You’re good at learning things quickly when you want, you could try to get hired by some big company or something.”

“...Donnie,” Della admonished him. “Do you really think anyone would hire me?” She asked incredulously.

“Don’t you have like, two degrees?” Donald questioned.

“No, I’ve got three,” She claimed. “But Donnie, I’m also a single mother of three, who’s in her late thirties and never had a job, has a disability, and is seriously fucked up in the head. What part of any of that makes you think that people want to take me on as an employee?”

“Okay, you’ve got a point,” Donald admitted. 

“Besides, I don’t want any of that. I wanna be a housewife or something.” Della said, turning her attention directly to her brother.

Donald gawked at her. “...Who are you, and what have you done with Della Duck?”

“Oh, hah ha, very funny,” Della shoved his shoulder. "It’s the only ‘career’ where you get to be around your kids as much as humanly possible without it being weird."

“Oh. I guess that makes sense, yeah,” Donald admitted. “Give it a few years, though. I have a feeling you’ll change your mind soon enough.” He said.

“Sure I will,” Della scoffed.

“No, I’m serious,” Donald told her. “I love those kids to death -you know that- but they can be absolute hellions.”

"Oh, what if I get a job as a teacher!" Della suggested as she resumed her movement forward, snapping her fingers. "... but then I'd have to be around a lot of other kids. Hrmm."

“Hey, I thought you liked kids,” Donald said. “You know, I honestly wanted to be a teacher too, when I was constantly looking for jobs, but I was turned down. Probably because they couldn’t understand me.” He claimed, following after his sister.

"I don't know, I do but at the same time - thirty of them all at once sounds like it might be a little overwhelming." She pointed out.

“Oh, yeah, no,” Donald nodded. “Never get a job as a kindergarten teacher, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Della waved him off as they finally reached the bathroom door. She flicked on the light inside - more for her brother's benefit than her own - and she skirted around a mess of make-up smeared tissue papers that were overflowing from the garbage bin to reach the medicine cabinet. 

She flinched as she caught sight of her reflection. Della threw the cabinet door open with more force than was necessary, her feathers raised on the back of her neck as she took a deep breath. "Fuck, I forgot she'd be there -"

"What?" Donald asked, looking around the bathroom. It looked like it was only the two of them in there. "Della, you good?"

"No, I'm fine. I'm fine." Della insisted, grabbing the sink for support before finally managing to straighten back up. "It's - it's nothing. Just more dumb brain stuff."

"Oh, yeah," Donald nodded. He knew all about dumb brain stuff. "What kind of dumb brain stuff?" He asked. Sometimes it helped to talk about this sort of thing.

"Just - don't like to see myself in the mirror. Or reflected in anything else, like water." Della tried to explain as she took a bottle of aspirin, and popped off the cap, swallowing two pills dry with a cough.

"Swallowing like that could ruin your esophagus," Donald said immediately.

"Tell that to my old boyfriends!" Della immediately retorted, laughing and leaning against the bathroom wall on her elbow. "They were always trying to get me to swallow!"

"Jeez, Della- " Donald groaned and kneaded his face. "Just- shut up, that's gross, I don't wanna hear that stuff." He pushed her shoulder.

"I know, that's why I said it!" The pilot laughed, punching her brother back. "Seeing you roll your eyes is ten times as funny as any dirty punchline I could come up with, and I could come up with some pretty raunchy jokes."

"You know, maybe you'd feel more mature if you didn't make those jokes," Donald tried.

"Donnie, the word they have for these jokes is 'adult'! It's got to be mature." Della insisted before seating herself on the covered toilet seat.

"Just- please don't make those jokes around the kids," Donald asked her. "They won't get it. At least, I don't want them to get it, and I'd like to hold on to the idea that they're innocent for as long as I can."

“Come on, do you have that little faith in me?” Della scoffed. “I can keep my mouth shut around them, obviously! It’ll be fine!”

“Uh-huh,” Donald rolled his eyes. “Do I need to remind you of the Tomb of the Elements?”

“You motherfucker, why are you still on that?” Della asked. “I lasted for months without swearing, man.”

“Yeah, and then you stopped,” Donald said. “And now Louie swears too.”

“He does?”

“Yes. He doesn’t swear around me , but I do know that he’s no longer watching his language.”

“Oh, that’s not great,” Della admitted. “Well, anyways, don’t worry. I’m trying not to give them a sailor’s mouth.” She told Donald, resting her elbows on her knees and her chin in her palms. ”... mom used to wash yours out with soap, remember?"

"Ugh," Donald shuddered, then paused for a moment. "No, I think it was dad, wasn't it? I might be remembering things wrong, but mom never watched her mouth, I don't think she really cared. But I do remember the soap." He assured her. "Hoo boy , do I remember the soap. If I didn’t know better, I’d say that’s what gave me PTSD, not the Navy."

"Maybe, but I remember how bad Dad would swear when him and mom got into fights? They were always cussing each other out when they thought we couldn't hear."

"Yeah, they always forgot how much their voices carried." Donald nodded. "Then the next morning, they'd be right as rain, like they never had any argument whatsoever. You know, I think that might’ve given me a bad idea on what a healthy relationship was.”

"What's the old saying? 'Never go to bed angry?'" Della proposed. 

“Heh,” Donald cringed, the memories of last night flooding his head. “Whoops.”

Della fell quiet, her beak worrying at a loose feather on her hand. "...what are we going to do, Donald? We can't kiss and make up like mom and dad."

"Ew, no, that's gross," Donald waved her off. "...I don't know, but I can say sorry. So, sorry. Again. For, well, everything."

"But it's - we like to fight. That's our thing. That was always our thing. But now it's -" Della paused, looking up at her brother. "Everything's different now. I want you to be able to call me out when I do something shitty without going to pieces."

"Don't get me wrong, I still plan to call you out if you do something I don't agree with," Donald said, leaning against the sink. "I'm still the kids primary caretaker, even with you back. I want you to share the responsibility, and the joy of it all, but I'm not gonna let you do the whole thing blindfolded, 'cuz that could hurt the kids and you.” He sighed. "I think a lot of it might have to do with how I say things? For example, I'm fairly certain that accusing you of not caring, and wanting the kids dead was a little much," He chuckled humorlessly. "And I don't have to continuously remind you of what you're doing wrong, either. Because the thing is, you aren't actually a bad parent," He admitted. "You've got like, less than a year of parenting under your belt, and you're already rocketing towards my level, which is over ten years of experience. Yeah, you're not perfect, but no parent is, really. You're doing good." Donald assured her.

Della lifted up her goggles, wincing slightly in the bright light, rubbing the tears out of her eyes. "You really think so?" She asked her brother hesitantly.

"Of course," Donald assured her immediately, putting a hand on her shoulder. "You're not perfect, but you're good. You obviously care about the kids, and want them to be both safe and happy. You want them to be able to be themselves, and don't want them to feel like they have to prove themselves to you. Sure, you do miss some things, but you're not clueless. You don't want them to get hurt, you just have a bit more to learn on what can hurt them. Their lives are better for having you be a part of them." He told Della.

"Thank you." His sister replied quietly, not able to muster up anything more cogent for a few long moments, before finally she blinked away the last of her tears. "It means - a lot. Donald, you were a really great dad. You never should have had to put your life on hold to take care of Huey, Dewey, and Louie but - but I'm glad that they had you." She smiled, shaking her head. "Selfish, right?"

"Oh, please," Donald waved her off. "I had nothing going for me, not really. Besides, they're worth much more to me than anything I might've done if I hadn't been the one to take care of them. Now do you want to stay around in this bright bathroom, or would you prefer to go back to somewhere darker?" He asked.

“Hmm, actually,” Della stood up. “The kids have that game -Super Smash Birds?- I was thinking, maybe we could play it? You know, like old times.”

“That’d be fun, yeah,” Donald nodded. “But are you sure? Looking at a TV isn’t exactly good for a headache,” He warned her.

“Yeah, yeah,” Della waved him off as she began to make her way to the media room. “I took some aspirin, I’ll be fine.”

Donald rolled his eyes at his sister's antics. “Okay, even still,” He followed after her. “You’ve been awake for like, over twenty-four hours by now, are you not tired?” He asked.

“Hm, nope!” Della said. “Feeling perfectly awake!” She claimed, even as she let out a huge yawn.

“...Uh-huh,” Donald raised an eyebrow. “Quick question- What even is your sleep schedule?"

"Uuuuh, I don't have one? I just sort of stay awake until my body tells me to check out. Sometimes that's like a forty-five-minute cat nap, sometimes I'm out for four or six hours." Della explained.

"...Della."

“It’s fine!” She claimed. "Did you know that before the invention of the electric light most people in the western world slept in four to six hour blocks?" She continued, her voice still raw but happy. "People would usually wake up at dawn, take a nap around noon, go to bed with the sunset, and then wake up around midnight to do stuff before going to sleep again."

"Cool, did you know that the healthy amount of sleep for an adult is eight hours?" Donald asked, knowing full well that Della did know that.

"Yeah…” Della admitted. “But like, the fuck am I going to bed unless I'm physically or mentally exhausted. Sitting there with nothing to do is - it's just torture."

“Read,” Donald said simply. “It’s pretty all around helpful, it both gets you tired and gives you better things to think about instead of… all that,” He waved his hand around his head. “If you don’t wanna do that, then just take some melatonin, I can be a stopgap measure for the whole thing.”

“All right, alright, I’ll keep that in mind,” Della said, in the tone of voice she used when she would not keep something in mind. “Now can we go play video games or not? I’ve had a rough twenty-four hours, I wanna do something before going to bed.”

Donald sighed. “Okay, fine. I get Looncina, though.” 

“Oh come on!” Della protested. “I wanted her!”

“You just want her ‘cuz you think she’s hot,” Donald said.

“...Well, maybe, but that’s the only reason you want her!”

Donald couldn’t help but grin as he continued to bicker with his sister about such inane things as ‘who gets what fighter on Super Smash Birds’. Things would be okay. Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not in a week, but they’d be okay.

Chapter Text

If you told Della that you thought insomnia was fun, she’d agree with you. So long as when you said ‘fun’, you meant an absolute bitch. Della stared stubbornly up at her ceiling, counting the glow-in-the-dark stars she and the kids had put up. It seemed like a good idea at the time, it gave her an excuse to info-dump about the constellations and space to the kids, after all. Unfortunately, she couldn’t help but wonder if the reminder of her time in space was keeping her awake.

She sighed in defeat and sat up. Yeah, she wasn’t getting sleep tonight. Honestly, she didn’t even know why she’d tried . She and her family had been on an adventure for the past few days, one of the first they’d done since learning about FOWL that wasn’t focused on finding missing mysteries before they did. It hadn’t gone wrong, it actually went rather well, everybody seemed to have fun, at least. But still- it had been an adventure, and Della never really slept well after adventures.

Besides, she was actually hungry for once, so she might as well capitalize on that. 

From her bedside table, Lilly (the busted Lil’ Bulb she’d been half-heartedly attempting to fix) buzzed at her.

“For the millionth time, no,” Della rolled her eyes. “Trying to sleep on my bed would not help me get to bed faster. It’s too soft.” She stretched, wincing slightly as her back cracked.

Lilly flared his head light petulantly.

“Yeah yeah, and there’s shit on it that I don’t feel like cleaning off. So sue me,” Della sat up and winced, pain lancing through her leg stump like a hot knife. Yeah, she was not putting on her prosthetic just to go downstairs.

“Hey, Lilly, have you seen my crutches anywhere?” Della asked, scanning the room for the mobility aids.

Lilly’s light blinked for a moment before disappearing. Della continued her look around for her lost crutches from her spot sitting on the floor. She scanned over the top of her desks, on her bed, on the floor, but she saw nothing. Eventually she dropped down to look underneath the bed, and she recognized one of her crutches lodged up underneath there.

“Well, there’s one,” Della mused as she sat up, contemplating how to reach it without necessarily moving. “Where’s the other?”

It was about that time that the second crutch flew at her, smacking her clean in the face.

“Gah!” Della winced as it hit her, lifting her arms up a second too late. Lilly stood a few feet away, looking much too proud of himself for something Della could kill by squeezing it with one hand. “…Thanks.” She said after a moment.

Lilly flashed his appreciation at Della as she stuck the one crutch underneath the bed to grab the other one. It took her a few tries, but eventually she managed to catch it, pulling it back with an ‘ahah!’ And a pleased look on her face.

Della turned to Lilly as she propped herself up on the crutches and made her way to her door, hopping deftly over the scattered clutter that littered the floor. “You want to come with?” She asked him.

Lilly cocked his head and blinked rapidly at her.

Della raised her hands in a placating gesture. “Well I don’t know, look at knives, maybe?” She tried. “Geez, no need to get so snippy, I was just trying to consider you.”

Lily buzzed at her.

Della gawked at him. “Rude! Well if you keep acting like that, see if I ever give you presents again!”

She slammed the door to her room with a huff. “Serves me right for trying to be nice to one of Gyro’s creations.”

Picking up her crutches, Della pushed her way down the hall. She wasn’t great at moving around in crutches, but she was learning. She had to be, her prosthetic creating wasn’t coming along as easily as she’d wanted it to be.

While she’d done it before, making a workable prosthetic was… difficult, to say the least. She wanted something light and simple she could wear around the house, and that wasn’t really the hard part, but she was waiting on the necessary parts for that one. While waiting, Della had decided that changing up her old prosthetic might help, it hurt like the dickens when flying, after all. That was what was making things difficult, apparently she’d managed to build her metal foot in such a way that it couldn’t be changed, unless she wanted it to be flimsier.

Which- it was, as she’d unfortunately learned from the day’s adventure. It nearly broke, and that hadn’t helped anything.

Della’s thoughts came to a halt rather abruptly as she entered the foyer, which was odd.

Nothing seemed to be off here, so she wasn’t entirely certain what had tipped her into survival mode. Regardless, she stopped and listened. Maybe she’d heard something without realizing?

Moving forward slowly and carefully, Della could hear noises coming from the kitchen, and there was a light on there as well. She heard… sizzling, she was pretty sure.

“Yesss,” She heard a whispered cry of success come from the kitchen as well. It… it sounded kinda like Louie. But what was he doing up? Silently, she curled around and looked into the kitchen.

Louie was awake, and had pulled a stool up to the stovetop, apparently frying some eggs, if her nose could be trusted. He seemed proud of himself, like he’d managed to flip said eggs without fucking it up. Della knew that look well.

She paused as she was spying on Louie’s process of making food at- well, at late at night. Should she go in? Why was Louie up at this time, and why was he making food? Was she supposed to say something about this? She was fairly certain she’d heard something about the kids having a bedtime, was she supposed to reprimand him and send him up to his room? 

Oh, Della didn’t know how to do that well, what if she somehow fucked it up? And it’s not like she could really say anything, she was up too. And she was coming to the kitchen to get some food as well, so what was she supposed to do? Make him go to bed? Was that what a good mother would do? Or would she just- not acknowledge that this was odd?

A second voice spoke up, muffled and a bit hard to make out from a distance. "- the silky texture of the curds are what separate a real French omelette from its American counterparts, and it can take a while to get it down right."

"Okay, yeah, I got it, but how do you get the omelette out of the pan?" Louie inquired to his unseen instructor.

"Plating is important, just like -"

"Oh do not do a paid promotion on me right now!"

"Getting a good night's sleep, which is why I trust-"

"No, NO! HOW DO I GET IT OUT OF THE PAN IN A NEAT ROLL UP SHAPE?" Her son begged his unseen instructor before dropping something and cursing quietly under his breath as the sound of tableware filled the air. "My eggs... they're chewy!"

…Okay, so Louie wasn’t in the best of moods. Della decided to leave him and… whatever ghost that only he could see be, and tried to quietly leave the kitchen.

She turned to leave, and took a step out of the kitchen.

And then she was falling.

Right, she hadn’t put her prosthetic on! Della flailed with her crutches and managed to turn a wild fall into a barely-controlled fall. Unfortunately, a barely-controlled fall was pretty much just as loud as a wild fall.

Della's son appeared at the edge of her peripheral vision, plate in hand and fork in mouth as he watched his mother flail for a moment.

"Hey, you uh - you doing okay there mom?" He asked quietly, taking a forkful of his disappointing omelette and eating it while watching the older duck on the floor.

“…I’m fine, just- thought that the floor needed a good cleaning, and decided to donate my body to the cause,” Della said dryly, pushing herself up to a sitting position. “Why are you making an omelette at- what time is it?”

"Uuuuuuh, 9 PM?" Louie suggested as he pressed his back up against the kitchen wall and slid down, his hoodie riding up around his shoulders with the action.

Della blinked. “I may be stupid, but I’m not an idiot, kiddo.” She said, “I know it’s way past your bedtime, at least.”

"Okay, fine. It’s- I dunno 1 AM? I haven't been paying attention to the clocks." Louie mentioned, despite the fact that in the kitchen he would be surrounded by clocks.

Della looked around again, seeing if she could catch the imperceptible mentor. “Who were you talking to, anyways? Do you have a type of ghost-sight that allows you to see invisible phantoms? ‘Cuz if so, that’s pretty awesome.”

"No, I was just watching a cooking video online. You know, on my phone. Remember? You can watch videos on your phone now." Louie mentioned, reaching into his pocket to retrieve the item in question, which displayed a still image of a Porcupine sitting on an inflatable mattress.

“Ooohhhh, that makes sense,” Della nodded, looking at the phone. “I genuinely forgot that watching videos was a thing. But- if you were watching a video tutorial, why didn’t you just, like, watch all of it first and then prepare your eggs?”

"Because it was an omelette! How complicated can an omelette be?" Louie asked, frustrated as he dug his fork into the yellow vaguely rounded blob. His phone was placed on the floor as he took another bite.

“I dunno, apparently not that easy.” Della shrugged.

"It got tough and rubbery so fast...." Louie despaired quietly while he chewed.

“Aw, it’s alright sweetie, you can make another in the morning.” Della assured him, reaching forward to pat his shoulder. She paused in midair as her brain caught up . “Wait. Why are you making an omelette at one in the morning? Why are you up at one in the morning? Isn’t your bedtime ten?”

"I dunno, why are you up?" Louie deflected.

“I don’t have a bedtime,” Della shot back. “But you do. And we just spent a long weekend adventuring, so you should really be getting some sleep right now.”

"Yeah but on the other hand, that means we're doing nothing tomorrow because everyone's going to be taking the next few days off to recuperate. Really, this is the best time to stay up late." Her son asserted. "Omelette?"

"I- I'm not really feeling eggs at the moment," Della declined. "I am hungry though. And it really isn't the best time to stay up, because, sure, you're right, but you also went on the adventure." She stood up and began searching around the kitchen for other sources of food. "You also need rest and recuperation."

"Eh. It's not like I was getting any sleep anyways." Louie muttered as he followed after Della slowly. “Do you… want me to help?” He asked, looking at her crutches.

"Nah, I'm good, I can just…" Della trailed off as she hopped up onto the counter with a ‘hup!’, and began to rummage through one of the cupboards only Mrs. Beakley could really reach. "Why aren't you getting sleep? Is Huey, or Dewey, or both of them being too loud for you?"

"Yeah I guess." The younger duck replied, busying himself with pushing his food around his plate. "Hey, can you reach the really really hot sauce?"

Della looked at him shrewdly. "No offense, kiddo, but are you sure you can handle that? It seems like it'd be a little much for you."

"Probably not, but this way I'll have an edge when I challenge Dewey and Huey to drink some." Louie supplied, reaching over his head to place the plate on the counter opposite Della.

Della shrugged. "Eh, fair enough. Don't say I didn't warn you, though." She pulled the Really Really Hot Sauce out from the back, and also grabbed the chips she'd hidden up here a few weeks ago.

Louie suddenly let out a gasp. “You!” He cried out, pointing to her.

Della paused, “Uh. Me?”

“You’re the person who’s been eating all the snacks!” Louie fumed. “I keep coming in here in the mornings like ‘oh, I’ll have those chips for breakfast today!’ And then when I get here, They’re gone! And it’s because you’re eating them all!”

“I’m only consistently hungry for chips or other small and easy to grab things, so sue me.” Della flopped back down to sit on the counter, handing Louie the hot sauce and opening her bag. "Don't put too much on, okay Lou? It's pretty hot."

"No, really? I thought it would be minty." Louie replied with a roll of his eyes, pulling himself up on the butcher's block next to his plate before uncorking the bottle and adding a few liberal dashes to his plate, then mashing his slightly off yolk curds into it, rendering it a darker reddish-orange in coloration.

"So. Uh. Do you know how to cook? Like at all?" Louie asked conversationally, tapping his fork against the puddle of heavily spiced goo.

"I do!" Della protested, grabbing the hot sauce back and putting a bit into her chip bag. "I can make cereal! And toast! And oatmeal! And slightly burnt grilled cheese! And I made those cakes when I came back, that counts as cooking, right?"

“Heh. Hah ha haaaoohh are you not joking?” Louie blinked at her. “Dewey was vomiting foam for days afterward, no way that counted as food.”

Della crossed her arms with a huff. “Well what do you know? You managed to mess up an omelette.” 

Louie stuck his tongue out at her in response. "You should watch cooking videos. They're super relaxing and also if you watch enough of them you think to yourself 'yeah I could probably do that'." 

Louie took a large portion of his goop into his mouth and chewed it twice before his eyes started to water. To his credit he didn’t immediately spit it out, and seemed to know enough about hot food to swallow as fast as possible before coughing.

"Told you," Della said as she threw a chip laden with hot sauce into her mouth. "Cooking shows were more Donnie's thing, honestly. Never really got into them myself."

“You could do with the tutorials,” Louie coughed. “Trust me.”

Instead of answering, Della just polished off another handful of chips. She looked over Louie, who had gotten up from his spot to grab a glass of milk from the fridge and drink it down. He looked tired, but… not in the way that’d bring him close to sleep, if that made sense. He looked more universally tired, at the moment.

It reminded Della of the face she avoided in the mirror.

“...I think I know why you're up." She claimed after a moment, waving a chip at him. "Do you suffer from pai?"

Louie stared at her, uncomprehending. "Okay, I don't know this one so I'm going to ask, but just so I know it, not because you got me." He clarified before lifting his hand to his mouth to cover up another cough. "So - ghrf - what is pai , mother dear?"

"Pai, or P-A-I, as it's actually called, is Post-Adventure Insomnia." Della answered simply. "You know, the type of insomnia you get when you get home from and adventure, and lay awake with your brain reviewing all of the choices you made on the last adventure, and how practically every single one of them was stupid, and could've gotten you killed, or gotten someone you love killed, and then everyone would blame you for their death, and they'd excommunicate you from the family for getting your brother killed, and you'd be alone again with no one to care for you and love you and-"

Della stopped herself with a blink. "Uh. That- that was probably a little much, sorry kiddo." She laughed awkwardly.

“No, I… I get that.” Louie said, slightly shocked.

"Oh that's fine, it was just a guess and-" Della paused, registering that he hadn't just brushed her off. "What? You- you actually deal with that too?"

“Yeah, like- exactly that,” Louie nodded, pausing as he pulled himself back up on the butcher’s block. “Did you- did you read my mind, somehow? Can you see my darkest secrets?”

"No, I just- I know what that’s like," Della said, shocked (and a little sad) that her son knew how that felt.

"Is it bad after an adventure for you too?” Louie asked. “Because you can see and hear too much, like you can’t turn off the part of your brain that’s saying ‘you’re in danger, keep vigilant?’”

Della sighed. “...Shit, you really do know what that’s like, huh?” She chuckled.

"I mean, I'm talking to you right now instead of snoring into my pillow, aren't I?" Louie replied, pushing his plate away and picking up his leg, balancing the heel of his foot against the edge of the butcher’s block. “This whole ‘P-A-I’ thing is real, then? Not a ‘deez nuts’ joke? ‘Cuz I honestly was worried that you were trying to get me there for a moment.”

“Yeah, no, it’s real.” Della claimed, pulling her leg up as well, leaving her crutches leaning on the counter. “Well, pai isn’t a medical term, if that’s what you’re asking. It’s just- something I came up with during the many sleepless nights I had after adventures.” She admitted.

“Well, I.. think I suffer from whatever ‘pai’ is too, then.” Louie decided. "I'm always taking naps because if I ever sit too long in my bed I feel like I'm going to tear my feathers out sometimes."

“Yeah, it’s hard to get to sleep when your brain is shouting worst case scenarios at you.” Della said. She dug back into her chip bag and stuffed a handful of chips into her mouth. She hoped she hadn’t added to his anxieties.

Oh, who was she kidding? Obviously she had.

"You ever feel like there's this big hand pushing down on you?” Louie asked, startling her mind out of the spiral it was going down. “Making it hard to breathe or move?"

She stared at her son. How did… “Yeah, I've dealt with that before,” She answered. “Like, when I would realize I was being stupid and maybe hurting people I cared about at Junior Woodchuck meetings, or when I'm convinced that someone I love should've died because of something I did, or- yeah, I get that. Do- do you get that too, then?"

"Yep. Sometimes it feels so bad I can't even get off the couch. I'll be screaming at myself inside my head to do something, anything , and then I don't, because I'm a lazy jerk."

“You’re not a lazy jerk.” Della replied automatically.

“Oh yeah?” Louie snorted. “So scheming for riches instead of putting in ‘good honest work’ isn’t lazy?”

“No, it’s dangerous. Especially if you don’t put much thought into it beyond the original idea.”

Her son frowned at her. “Really? Have you gone and changed your tune that much, now? You think my scheming is fine ?” He asked dubiously, like he was daring her to say otherwise.

“I- messing with time is different,” Della cut to the heart of the problem. “It’s not a scheme.”

“You don’t know that that’s what I was going to say.”

“So you weren’t thinking about the timephoon?” Silence met Della’s question, which was as good as an answer. “...Look, I- I’m sorry about what I said. I took things too far, I know that.”

Louie shrugged. “I mean. You weren’t wrong, exactly. I took your family away.”

“You took you away,” Della corrected him softly. “I had to spend nine months in 13th century France and Norman Sicily, and the worst part wasn’t that I was dislocated in time and space - I did that before when I was eight years old, and I was fine. I survived on the moon for ten years! Yeah it was a pain in the ass to navigate courtly politics in Burgundy because my Gallo-Oïl was terrible, but that wasn’t what kept me up at night. What ate at me was that I didn’t know what had happened to you - for nine months. I didn’t know if you were alive or dead or trapped in an alternate timeline or shuffled into foster care because your entire family disappeared in a freak weather event. You’d be alone. Again.” 

She shuddered. “That was terrifying. And I panicked. I never, ever, want you to end up alone, cut off from your family, trapped in either a literal or metaphorical sense.  I said things that I really wish I could take back. And I don’t expect you to forgive me for them just because I’ve told you I feel bad about it,” She was quick to explain, holding out her hand. “But- well, I just want to, well. I dunno. I just don’t want to hurt you.”

“...Sometimes when I panic I say things I don’t really mean.” Louie mentioned. “Or- even when I say things I think I mean, sometimes I figure out I don’t. And I’ve said things that I realized were meant to hurt people on purpose because I wanted them to feel as bad as I did. I don’t think it’d be very fair for me to not hold others to the same standard. I... it just wasn’t supposed to go like that,” He explained. 

“Once I solved the problem I made, everyone was supposed to forgive me. That’s how it always worked out until then. And then - everything after that happened so fast, one thing after the other, and it was like the entire ‘losing your family in time and space’ thing was just a little footnote in comparison to all of our enemies teaming up to try to kill us, or - or what happened with Lunaris. I… meant to hurt you back, and - you have a right to be angry too.”

“No, I don’t.” Della stated firmly. “I’m your mother, if I stayed angry at you for something you said -that was true, by the way- I wouldn’t be a very good one. And I would like to be a good mother.”

“Okay,” Louise sighed. “Well, if you won’t hold it against me, I won’t hold it against you.” He decided.

Della felt a weight lift from her shoulders as he said that. “You don’t have to forgive everyone just because they’re sorry,” She informed her son with a light chuckle, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You can hold grudges if you want to. I know I’ve earned it.”

Louie shrugged. “I have enough to deal with without keeping a bunch of grudges. They’re too tiring. It’s easier to just be like ‘whatever’. Especially with…” He trailed off, getting a little red around the cheeks as he mumbled his next words. “...Especially with people you want to be in your life anyways.”

Della smiled and rubbed his shoulder. “D’aw, you love me,” She teased.

Louie glared at her. “Y’know, if you spent around nine months in medieval Europe, does that mean you’re more like, I don’t know, thirty-eight?” He asked instead of answering. “Forty?”

“Hush, child.” Della warned him, pressing a finger to his mouth.

“I’m just saying ,” Louie held his hands up innocently.

Della stuck her tongue out childishly at Louie, which made him chuckle. Della beamed at the sound.

 “... I admit, I was tempted to use a time machine too.” She admitted after a moment. “Maybe I would’ve taken it, if you hadn’t.”

“Seriously?” Louie asked. “Why? So you could get rich and cause a hurricane to bring an end to Duckburg?”

Della sighed. “No, I would’ve gone back to when I… left, and just- stayed. I would’ve raised you guys, and then when past-me came back from the moon, I would’ve gone into hiding for a little while, and then come back when she took the time tub.” She frowned sadly as she told Louie about her fantasies. “But time is… a weird soup.”

“A weird soup?” Louie raised an eyebrow.

“It’s weird, full of paradoxes!” Della offered as a different explanation. “I… It would’ve hurt worse, if I’d gone back.” She said, though it sounded less like a sure thing, and more like something she said to try and convince herself not to go back. “Staying right here -not using magic or time travel to fix my mistakes- is the best for everybody.”

She had to believe that. That going back would create a tornado that would destroy her family, or hurt her kids, or- or that somehow, by being there when they were kids, Della would get her boys hurt, somehow.

“...You know, that might be the one good thing about anxiety,” Louie mentioned after a moment of silence. “You can make so many worst case scenarios in your brain, that you may actually be able to stop yourself from doing something.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” Della chuckled. “Of course, that kinda goes hand in hand with making rash -and probably quite stupid- decisions without thinking, ‘cuz if you do think, you’ll come up with a million and one reasons not to do it.”

“Mmh, that explains a few decisions I’ve seen you make,” Louie said. “And of course, there’s all the thinking that like, everyone hates you, for some reason, and they just haven’t said anything because they’re too nice.”

“And the intrusive thoughts,” Della mentioned. “Just the most messed up things they can come up with.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Louie nodded. “And the fatalism, like- ‘oh, is your friend not responding to your texts? Yeah, you said something they thought was messed up, and now they hate you. Or better yet, they’re just dead.’”

"I get that.” Della agreed, turning her entire body to face him. “And sometimes after an adventure, you'll be kept awake by your head, and you'll somehow convince yourself that your brother should've died because of something you did, and then, because he's being all quiet, you think he passed away in his sleep, so you panic and try to stop yourself from breathing so you can hear if he's breathing, and he's so silent that you don't know, and it keeps me- I mean, you, or someone else, or- it keeps you awake until morning, until he wakes up like nothing bad happened at all, and you realize you were panicking for nothing, and then he teases you about the fact that you apparently cry in your sleep."

“...O-kay.” Louie blinked.

“Shit," Della rubbed her bill exasperatedly. "That was- that was too much again, wasn't it? Sorry.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Louie assured her. “I- thought Uncle Donald snored, though?”

“Oh, that’s a relatively new thing.” Della explained. “The one good thing the Navy did for him, in my opinion. Before that, he slept like the dead. Like, no noise, at all. Could sleep through a hurricane, too.”

“Huh, well, that’s interesting to know.” Louie said. “But- yeah, no, I get it. Honestly, I’ve done the same a few times.” He admitted with a small shrug, surprisingly blase in tone. “Waking up more exhausted than before you went to bed is part of what makes me, uh - me. Louie Duck.”

Della looked down at her chip bag. "That- fuck, I'm sorry you have to deal with that, Lou. I- okay, I know this is kinda selfish, but I really hope it's not something genetic, and I fucked you over- uh," She looked up, abashed. "I mean, screwed you over, without even being here. Sorry."

"... sorry for giving birth to me?" Louie asked, his tone more amused than anything else. "I mean I wouldn't be here if you weren't around, that's sort of how - biology and stuff works."

"No, I didn't-" Della sighed, exasperated. "I was kinda apologizing for accidentally swearing in front of you, and- well, it was less a 'I'm sorry I brought you into existence' thing, and more a 'I'm sorry I wasn't here to help you deal with things that may have existed by my fault in the first place,' thing."

"Eh, it's okay. I wouldn't have told you about it. I mean I never told Uncle Donald that I had trouble sleeping whenever we moved or that I'd cry into my pillow after school." Louie stated with a small shrug. "The only reason I'm really talking to you about it now is because you clearly have - your own thing going on." He motioned to her whole body (she probably didn’t look too good, now that she thought about it) with a wave of his hand.

"I mean- I'd like to think I would've found out," Della mumbled. "I just- I don't like that you didn't have help with any of that. 'Cuz I know how much all that can hurt, and how that hurt can make you do dumb things, and then those dumb things end up being the catalyst for your family shattering in such a way that they'll never be able to come back together in the same way."

"You and I have had veeery different experiences. I'm fine. This is - kinda my whole deal." Louie assured her. "I sleep whenever I want, watch TV or podcasts or whatever so that way I don't have to think, and when we're on adventures being a coward is almost as good as being greedy."

"I just- I don't want you to get hurt." Della admitted, chips pretty much forgotten. "I don't want any of you to get hurt.”

“Little bit too late for that,” Louie winced. “...Sorry.”

“No, no, you’re not wrong,” Della waved him off. “I mean- this is what life is for you now, it makes sense that you’re- okay with it, at least. So- did you guys move around a lot then?" She asked. A non-sequitur, she knew that, but still. She was interested in the whole ‘moving’ thing. She knew that Donald and Scrooge had had a falling out, and that Donald had been the one to take care of her kids for most of their life. Beakley had made sure she’d known that pretty quickly into her stay at the mansion.

"All the time." Her son assured Della, wrapping his hands around his knee. "Like, seven or eight times after the second grade, which is when we started keeping track. It was - whatever, you know?"

"You moved around that much? " Della gawked. "How? Did- did Donnie go back into the Navy?" She asked hesitantly. She certainly hoped he hadn’t, he’d gotten enough trauma from his first run with them for a lifetime. If he’d gone back in, she would… she would…

Well, she’d do something to him. Most likely something painful.

"Nah, he just couldn't hold down a job." Louie frowned slightly, his face falling. "We'd move up or down the coast wherever he'd find somewhere to work. Part of the benefit of a houseboat I guess."

"...Wait, you lived on a boat?" Della asked after a moment. "Like- an actual, honest-to-goodness, boat?"

"Yep. The one in the pool - you know it, right?"

"I thought he just bought that recently, I didn't think that-" Della sucked in a breath. And another. "Okay. Okay, that's- it's fine. Everything is fine. You all- you're all alive, that's what- that's what matters."

"... you really don't like the ocean." Louie noted quietly.

"I just- mmh," Della shook her head with a grimace. "The ocean is where the devil keeps his playthings. It's dark, and blue, and it looks like you can see for ages, but nope! There's no way of knowing if you can see for miles, or if you can barely see five feet in front of you! It sucks!"

"Did Uncle Donald try to drown you or something?" The duckling asked, pressing his chin to his knuckles lightly. "I seriously don't get where this is coming from."

"Many times, but that's not the point," Della claimed. "I just- I don't like the ocean. I don't like not knowing whether or not my visibility is impaired. That, and gigantic scaly abominations seem to enjoy making it their home, so yeah." She shuddered. "It's fu- messed up. It's messed up. And you guys were ducklings ,” She stressed. “On the ocean . You could’ve drowned!”

"Ugh, now you sound just like Uncle Donald. He was always forcing us to wear these stupid life vests." Louie grumbled quietly. "We're ducks. We're supposed to float. It's like - genetics or whatever."

"Okay, that is a myth," Della countered. "That is not true. At least, not necessarily. I don't know, and I don't care to find out."

"So the webbed feet are what - for display purposes only?" Her son queried, lifting his orange legs for inspection.

"Yes, entirely. They serve no purpose except to look great." Della shot back in turn, lifting her own leg.

Louie snorted. "Sure. But the next time we have to swim anywhere I'm going to use that argument against you."

"I would rather die than have to swim." Della claimed. "And such a thing may very well happen anyway, haven't really gotten down swimming with a metal prosthetic yet."

"Oh yeah, that. Well, you'd probably make a pretty great diver." Louie offered in response.

"I'm pretty good at it, even if it is super exhausting. Dewey always forgets to check his air tank so he's always wasting time going back and forth, which wastes more of his air, and you know - catch-22."

"Eugh," Della shuddered. "Scuba diving. It can be alright, so long as you can see the bottom, but still. You can't fly right after, 'cuz of the bends and everything, so it sucks."

"You know, I bet you could put like, a motor or an underwater jet engine or something on your leg. Or - a rocket or whatever? You could zip around, spend less time."

"I've tried, but if I wanna do that then I need to get a rocket boot or something for my other leg, otherwise I'm just gonna be spinning around in circles." Della twirled her finger in a circle as exhibit A.

"So... I'm not getting a jetpack for Christmas then." Louie guessed.

"They are very difficult to make, and you'd hate one anyways." Della said. "Aren't you like Donnie? Don't you hate heights?"

"Oh definitely, but come on mom - it's a jetpack! The ultimate status symbol!" Her son insisted, leaning forward across the gap between them. "I wouldn't need to use it, just as long as everyone else knew I had one."

"I know that, who do you think you're talking to?" Della said in turn. " Obviously jetpacks are dope! I've tried to build so many, and each and every one of them have had fiery and explosive deaths! They're hard to build, man."

"Hmm. You know what's not hard to build?" Louie proposed, tenting his fingers together.

"Crippling anxiety over your past failures?"

"No, that takes a lot of time and effort. I mean I shiver myself to sleep sometimes and wake up covered in sweat. Cinnamon rolls are a lot easier." Her son informed her, hopping down onto the floor, Della's bag of chips in his left hand. When had he grabbed that? "They're like the only thing Uncle Donald knew how to bake that was actually good."

 "Oh, he probably uses dad's recipe!" Della said, grabbing her crutches and following after Louie. "Man, I just realized how much I miss those."

"Huh. Really? From the pictures I've seen Grandpa Duck didn’t look like he’d like cinnamon rolls. He always seemed more like a-" Louie paused, rolling his free hand in the air. "Meat and potatoes and cigarettes and whisky sort of guy. You know, the kind who doesn't really say anything but looks really intense at you."

"Oh no, he was an absolute nerd." Della claimed. "He built so many model ships, I think it's one of the reasons Donnie went into the Navy. Like- yeah, Dad did enjoy meat and potatoes and all that, but he never really kept it a secret how much he loved his family, much to Donnie and I's chagrin sometimes. Mom was actually more of the 'intense look' one," She leaned forward, intent on trying to sneak a few chips out of the bag Louie had grabbed. "Could get very loud, of course, but her preferred method of punishing Donnie and I was a stern look that just said 'go to your rooms' without words, and Donnie and I would just silently obey."

"... Did either of them ever make special waffles?" Louie asked, the bag shifting to his other hand without looking, narrowly avoiding his mothers attempt to steal some back.

Della grumbled as the chips were taken out of her grasp. "Of course, Mom's waffles were the best , whenever she made them." She said, "She didn't usually make them except for special occasions, or whenever we came back from a long weekend at our Grandma's farm or at Uncle Scrooge's, though."

Louie popped a chip into his mouth, chewing before responding. "For our - tenth birthday, I think - Uncle Donald tried to make us a special breakfast. He even bought a waffle maker. But he accidentally used rubber cement instead of baking powder. He got so mad he threw the waffle iron through a window."

"Pfft," Della chuckled. "Yeah, that sounds like him. How he could mistake rubber cement for baking powder, I don't think anyone but him will know. Though that does remind me of the time Mom tried to make us a triple layered cake for our eighth birthday, but it kept falling over and couldn't hold it's own weight, so she -I'm not making this up here- went and found a stick of dynamite, stuck it in the cake, and just let it explode. We were finding frosting and cake batter all over the kitchen for practically an entire year after that."

"Really? Why? Did she just hate it that much that she wanted to make sure it would never be eaten by anyone?" Her son asked, unable to hide a smile.

"No, she just wasn't thinking," Della smiled as well, caught up in memories. "She was almost as bad as Donnie when it came to anger issues. Same with Dad, actually. You know how it can be, they just kinda stop thinking about consequences and blow their top."

"You ever get that angry?" Louie asked, finally passing his mother the bag of her own snacks with some degree of aplomb as he opened the refrigerator door, searching for the ingredients.

Della began to munch on the chips as soon as she got them back. "Sometimes. Not ever as often as Donnie or my parents did, but I've had my moments. Usually they'd come from like, something or someone touching me when I don't want to be touched, or an odd feeling, or sound, or just- things not going they were supposed to. Though I never really dealt with that too much. At least, I never really got as angry as any of them."

"I never get angry. Well - I mean I guess I get annoyed, and irritated, but I never boil over the way Huey does."

"That's good, anger sucks," Della mentioned. "It's hot, and confusing, and leads you to make all sorts of bad decisions, like hurting others for the sake of hurting them. I hate it, and I know Donnie hates it too."

Louie pulled a few ingredients out of the fridge and balanced them in his hands, walking over to the table. “Yeah, it seems sucky.”

"Do you know if Huey deals with black anger?" Della asked, holding onto a chair to keep balance as she followed after Louie. "Or at least- have you heard Donald say that about any of Huey's anger issues before?"

"Hmm. I think - maybe." Louie confessed, putting milk and eggs and butter out on the kitchen table, thinking for a moment. "Huey and Donald would go fishing together sometimes, and Huey always came back kind of sweaty - but Huey's almost always kind of sweaty..."

"Oh yeah, 'fishing trips,'" Della chuckled nostalgically. "Yeah, I have a feeling they never actually went fishing. Mom used to take Don on 'fishing trips' when he was younger, which was just a fancy way of saying 'taking Donald out to a large area without anything expensive or dangerous around, so he could let his anger out safely.'" She explained, sliding down to the floor to search the cupboards for the correctly sized pots and pans.

The younger duck considered this for a moment, quiet as he looked into the fridge.

"Hey mom, do ghosts sleep?" He asked after a moment.

"I dunno, I think they go to the Underworld from time to time to recuperate, why?" Della asked, tossing the bowls onto the table with a clatter and hopping up, grabbing the counter to keep her stable (Usually she’d be fine balancing on one leg, but doing so this late at night was a tad bit harder than she was used to). "Do you want to make Duckworth do all the work for you?"

"Yeah I can't find the yeast." Louie acknowledged with a frown. "Also he's a ghost butler - we seriously need to just get him to do stuff for us more often. It's sort of a waste how much time I spend doing things."

Della smacked the back of his head lightly. "No, we don't. He's not getting paid, he's doing this out of goodwill. Don't take advantage of people who do things because they just want to, it's not nice."

"Well then who am I supposed to take advantage of?"

"Villians, dude," Della said easily. "If someone wants to fu- to screw you over, screw them over in turn. The only person it really hurts when you take advantage of people trying to be nice to you, is you. That's how you lose people. Besides, you're looking in the wrong place," She mentioned, turning around to the dry storage. "Beakley got a different kind of yeast that doesn't need to be refrigerated, so it's probably somewhere in the cupboards."

"Aunt Goldie said that if you're not milking the cow, you're the one being milked." Louie followed, hands behind his back.

Della rolled her eyes. "And as someone who's heard that, and many more of her little idioms, trust me when I say that Aunt Goldie is an idiot, who has a flawed view of the world. Now get up on the counters and help me look for the yeast, I think they're kept in little yellow packets."

Her son groaned quietly, obviously unenthused at the idea of movement but clambered up onto the counter and walked slowly with his hands out for balance.

"I think Aunt Goldie's pretty smart." He mentioned in a quiet sort of voice. "She's usually the one who comes out with most of the money or treasure."

"And yet, she's also the one at the day who comes out alone," Della replied simply, scanning the cupboards from her spot on the ground as she hopped over to the counter Louie was at. "And loneliness sucks, even if you willingly choose it. Yeah, she's smart, and sharp, I'll give her that, but she's not good at looking inside of herself and confronting anything in there. She runs too much, and any time she feels like something inside of her isn't thinking of the next con, or scheme, she runs."

Louie paused with a sigh, hands on the yeast packet. “What’d she steal from you?” He asked dismissively.

Della smirked. “Not much, surprisingly. So long as you don’t try to take a cut of the treasure for yourself, Goldie’ll actually pay you pretty well.”

“Wait, seriously?” Louie whipped around. “You’ve worked with Aunt Goldie before?”

“You better believe it!” Della laughed, grinning at him. “I was actually the original Sharpie, too!”

Louie gaped at her. “No way! I don’t believe you.” He said. “You? Working with Goldie?”

“Yep, it happened!” Della stated proudly. “She took me under her wing when I was about your age, actually.”

"Uncle Scrooge must have hated that."

"Oh, for many reasons." Della chuckled. "I'll admit, it was kinda a rebellion thing, but at the same time,  she was nice. Helped me come to terms with a few things, too."

"Like what?" Louie asked, tossing the packet of yeast at his mom.

Della caught it out of midair. "Uh..." She thought back to her conversation with Goldie that had happened a little while after the Moonvasion. About talking to Louie about... "Stuff."

“Hmm. You know, I honestly wouldn’t have expected you to ever be the type to pull cons.” Louie admitted, hanging his feet over the edge and kicking them idly. "I mean, you and Dewey are pretty similar, and Dewey doesn't have that great of an attention span."

"Pfft," Della scoffed, tossing the yeast onto the table. "Cons don't need patience, they need quick thinking. But- no, I never really did cons, I more dealt with the whole, uh... hands on stuff."

"Liiiike distractions?" Louie suggested, trying to push off and land next to his mother and ending up stumbling into her back, unsteady on his feet for a moment and immediately gripping onto the older duck tightly.

"Um." Della faltered as she grabbed onto him and a chair to keep them both balanced, as she remembered all of the robberies, and heists, and breaking and entering, and even stabbing a few guys- "Yeah, let's go with distractions."

Her son waited a moment, going still as his mother supported him before releasing his grip on her quickly and stepping away, dusting off his hoodie. "Low tier stuff, being the bag-man is more my speed."

"Well, I'm sure she won't con you then," Della rolled her eyes. "She tends to mess with people who don't act humble around her. Now c'mon, you wanted to make cinnamon rolls, and I don't remember the recipe." Della motioned for him to bring a stool up to the table. "I'd lift you up here myself, but I think I'd end up falling over, honestly. Only one leg attached right now, and all that."

"Okay, okay, okay." Louie muttered, turning back to the bowls and beginning to measure out ingredients, quiet for a few moments while they worked.

They pre-heated the oven and mixed the dry ingredients together. Apparently, Louie had saved the recipe for his grandfather’s cinnamon buns on his phone, so Della thankfully didn’t have to go rummaging around for the recipe on Donald’s boat. Not that she wouldn’t have done that, of course, but goodness knows she would’ve woken Donald up (he no longer slept like a hurricane, though he did snore like one) and he would’ve wanted to help and, well.

She and Louie were spending time together, alone. Call her selfish, but Della didn’t really want anyone else to barge in here.

After setting the dough aside to rise, Louie leaned forward onto his elbows, wiping flour off on his hands. Della could tell something was chewing away at her son, but he didn't seem likely to bring it up.

"...So," She began after a moment, kind of awkwardly. "You, um- have you made these a lot? You seem to know what you're doing, at least."

"Couple times. I like dessert, so having dessert for breakfast is my ideal. If I could, I'd have a slice of cake first thing in the morning." Louie mentioned, before looking over to Della. "Your dad make it a lot, or only for special occasions?"

Della shrugged. "Well, he made it whenever he could, and that was whenever he was around for a while while Donnie and I were as well, and that was a pretty rare thing to have happen, so- yeah, it was pretty much a special occasion thing." She rolled her shoulders and went to re-wash her hands. "What about Donnie? Did he ever make them for more than just special occasions?"

"Usually after he got a job or we got good grades or sometimes just if we were feeling sad.” Louie explained. “Hey, was your dad in the Navy or something?"

"Yeah, actually, he was." Della nodded. "That's one of the big reasons Donnie decided to go into the Navy, he wanted to feel closer to Dad. We ended up moving around a fair amount because of it, actually."

"Huh.... your mom wasn't a pilot was she?"

"Nah, she wasn't. She was mainly a- well, I guess technically Mom was a housewife, but if you knew her, you'd be hard pressed to call her that." Della sighed. "I'm the first pilot in the whole Duck-McDuck clan, actually. First one to go to the moon, too."

"Did they ever do adventures too?" Her son asked. 

"Yeah, a bit." Della said, turning off the water and brushing her hands on her jacket. "Only ever went on a few adventures with Donnie and I, but if they'd- well, if they hadn't left us when they did, I'm sure they would've taken us on more. Apparently they were both pretty prolific adventurers, went to a lot of different places when they were younger."

Louie fell silent for a few moments, poking the dough a bit for something to do. "... Either of them have pai you think?"

Della shrugged. "I dunno. I never- I never really got to know that side of them." She looked up to Louie, taking him in. "Is that what's eating you up? You wanna know if more people get Post-Adventure Insomnia? Or- is it something else?"

"I just - I dunno. You haven't figured out a way to deal with it, right?" Louie guessed, looking down. "I'm just wondering if this is just something I gotta live with forever."

Della looked down. "I... I don't know how good of a role model I am for this type of thing, Louie," She chuckled. "Heck, I don't know how good a role model I am for anything, really. I'm not good at dealing with stress, or anxiety, or- well, any of the things I should be dealing with. But- I can say that it does get better."

She knelt down in front of Louie. "It was a lot worse for me when I was your age. But as I got older, and more experienced, I found ways to deal with it. Were they the healthiest ways of dealing with it? Not always, which is why I'm hesitant to tell you them, but I managed to keep myself from getting those - panicky kind of moments by finding something else to burn the energy off on. One of those ways -and honestly kind of the only healthy one I ever really stuck with- was playing Legends of LegendQuest.” She admitted.

“Really?” Louie cocked his head. “How much money did you spend at the penny arcade?”

“Hah ha, you absolutely hilarious child,” Della narrowed her eyes at him bemusedly. “But seriously- it helped, being able to have something ‘normal’ that I could do to take my mind off of things.”

“Actually, we kinda do something similar,” Louie said. “When we get home from an adventure, we’ll kinda just- play video games. We’ve actually kinda started a tradition of having a fighting tournament in Super Smash Birds every time we come home from a long adventure. It’s nice.”

“Yeah, that’s a good tradition,” Della told him. “Keep that sort of thing up, and you’ll find this sort of thing happening less and less.”

“...Like you?”

Della winced. “I- well, okay, yeah, I’m not doing too hot these days,” She admitted. “But I'm pretty sure that that's because of the moon, and all that trauma, so it’s a special case. Just stay away from rocket ships bound for other planets, and you should be fine!" She clapped him lightly on the shoulder.

"Hmm. What about space stations in geosynchronous orbit?" Louie asked cheekily. “Would those be fine, or should I treat them with suspicion and fear too?”

"Just stay away from space, okay kiddo?" Della chuckled, moving to a more comfortable sitting position. "And- I know what I'm about to say is gonna sound cheesy, but- talk to people about this, okay? Things really started getting better for me after I started talking to Donnie about everything. And you don't have to talk to your brothers, or your uncles, or me, but you should talk to someone."

She snapped her fingers. "Like Goldie. She's shit at feelings, and she'll probably rag on you for how you're feeling, but if you can deal with that, she's got some pretty good techniques at getting your mind off these types of things."

Louie fell silent again. "... really?” He asked hesitantly. “She won't use the information against me at a later date?"

"Despite what she'd have you believe, she's actually pretty good at understanding what lines not to cross." Della assured him. "Like me, she- well she's helped me understand a lot, and- she hasn't ever said anything to anyone else, and- yeah. Just, yeah."

Louie was quiet for a few moments, thinking. Slowly, like a feral cat just learning to trust, he leaned against his mother’s side. Not talking, not even really using her for support, he just carefully pressed his head against her side.

Della wrapped her arms around Louie and pulled him in for a hug. She hoped he'd be okay, at the end of the day. He shouldn't have to deal with stuff like that.

She hoped it wasn't her fault he was.

Her mind traveled back to her conversation with Goldie, about talking to Louie about all of... that. Even like this, she wasn't entirely certain if she could. She was- well, she was still scared. At least she could admit it, now.

Della looked at the little duckling in  her arms. She wanted- well, she didn't know what she wanted. She wanted him to not be lost, to not- to never have to feel like he wasn't accepted by his family. She knew she'd failed at that before, but she wasn't sure how to help.

Maybe... maybe she should take Goldie's advice. Just- just a little bit of it, though. She wasn't sure she could talk about the whole thing without having a panic attack yet. And that wouldn't be fair to Louie.

"...Hey, Lou?" She asked, giving him a small shake. "You still conscious?"

"Yeah. I'm awake." Her son replied, voice quiet.

"Okay, okay." She sighed. A small part of her kinda hoped he'd be asleep, so that she could have a good excuse not to talk about this. "I, um. I wanted to talk about something that- well, I don't really know how to talk about, exactly."

"... moon stuff?" Louie asked quietly, still not looking up.

"I mean, in some sense,” Della chuckled slightly at herself, “But- no, not really. I'm, uh- I-" She took a shuddery breath in, and out. It was going to be fine. There may have been a million different ways it could go wrong, but it would be fine. She just had to do this before her mind could convince her not to. She could do that. She could.

"I'm- I'm bisexual." She said quietly, closing her eyes. "Do you, uh. Do you know what that means?"

"Yeah, you like guys and girls." Louie replied with a small shake of his head. "I'm thirteen, Mom."

"Okay. Okay, cool." Della breathed out. "Are you- is that okay? You're not- that's not weird for you, is it?"

"... nah. I... sort of thought you were a lesbian." Louie admitted, rubbing the back of his arm in embarrassment.

"Wait, seriously?" Della looked down at him. "You don't care? You- wait, you thought I was a lesbian? ...I'm not- I'm not as good at hiding it as I thought I was, am I?"

"I mean, you let Penny pick you up and carry you." Louie pointed out. "And you get - really close to other women we meet on adventures, like uh, that viking lady, Goosedottir." He opened his hand, grasping at the air. "Also you named the spear of Selene after Selene, so - I just assumed that you had something going on with her."

"...Yeah, that- that's fair," Della mumbled, rubbing the back of her head. "Please tell me I'm better at hiding it than Webby, at least?" 

"Do you wax poetic about how great your best friend is and tell everyone that she's stolen your heart?"

"Yeah, I know that the bar's low, but still. Just wanted to be sure." Della sighed. That- went better than she'd expected it to go, honestly. She could still feel the adrenaline pulse through her system. 

Yeah, she was not sleeping tonight.

"... I admit, I might have been... projecting. Just a little bit." Louie mentioned, his voice much quieter. "I mean. I just thought - it would be cool if you were gay because... you know."

"...Why?" Della asked. "Wait, are you... are you gay?"

Louie flushed, looking up at the ceiling steadfastly. "I dunno, I - I never had a boyfriend or anything so it's not like it's official or anything."

"I don't think that's what makes you gay, Lou," Della assured him, gently petting the back of his head. "Do you like boys? Do you think they're hot, at least?"

Her son huffed, obviously not exactly happy to discuss this topic with his mother before pushing through it. "I - yeah. I think so."

“And does the thought of being with a woman make you all squicky?”

"..rhf, I - I don't know about that. I just don't want to kiss a girl."

“Okay. And does the idea of being gay make you- well, not necessarily happy, but- content, at least?” Della asked.

Louie shuffled his feet back and forth for a moment. "It - it helps me feel better. And I like - knowing about other people who are like me."

"Well then, yeah," Della shrugged. "I'd say you're gay. And Goldie would say so too."

"How would she know? She's like a hundred years old."

Della stared at Louie bemusedly. "Yeah. So she's had over a hundred years of experience. Honestly, she's one of the first people I told, aside from Donnie. She really helped me feel better about, well, who I was, and who I wanted to be. She's surprisingly good at it."

"So - she's okay with that stuff? I thought..." Louie trailed off, his expression mystified.

"Yeah, she's obviously okay with this stuff!" Della assured him. "You should probably talk to her about everything, but- yeah, she's cool with this. You don’t get to be that age and remain completely straight anyways.”

“Well Uncle Scrooge managed!” Louie pointed out.

“Hah! No he didn’t.” Della said. “He most certainly did not.”

“...What.” Louie blinked at her, mouth agape. “You mean he’s- what?”

“Yeah, he’s queer.” Della nodded. “And so’s Donnie, and Duckworth, and- I don’t know about Beakley, actually.”

"What? Really? Duckworth too? I thought butlers weren't allowed to do that kind of stuff." Louie frowned, thinking for a moment. "Also, you seriously think that Ms. Beakley, who's six foot three and can bench three times her own body weight, is straight ? Really?"

"...Okay, yeah, you're not wrong," Della mumbled. "But- yeah, of course Duckworth was queer, I mean- why do you think he's still haunting Uncle Scrooge's mansion?"

"... no way, he's in love with Uncle Scrooge?!" Louie guessed, putting his hand to his head. "Oh. Wow, now I feel a lot more shitty about getting him to run that garage sale for me..."

"I mean, he can still be kind of a dick," Della shrugged. "But I'm not gonna tell you you shouldn't be sorry. And- obviously he and Uncle Scrooge like each other, why else would he clean the mansion free of charge?"

"He was really really boring in life and death made him even more boring?"

"No! Well, yes, but-" Della sighed. "No, it's 'cuz he cares about Scrooge, and all that."

"Huh. Did - he and Uncle Scrooge do something special on his birthday?" Her son asked, putting some pieces together.

"I- you could say that," Della grimaced. "Really prefer not to think about that, though."

"... no wonder he hated that party." Louie decided, shaking his head. "This is - huh. I wouldn't have ever guessed. I mean, he's our Great Uncle, and - Duckworth's a ghost so -"

"Louie, do you really want to think about the specifics?" Della asked. "Duckworth is gay, your great uncle is bi. End of all the story that we need to worry about."

"I mean it was weird enough seeing him flirting with Aunt Goldie -" The smaller duck stopped, shaking his head. "He's so OLD." He insisted, poking Della in the side lightly. "Ms. Beakley I understand, she's got a silver cougar thing going on..."

"Yeah, I- I really don't know why I even considered the idea that Mrs. Beakley was straight. I mean dang, she is big," Della hummed, a light blush forming on her cheeks. "...Right, I've got a kid with me right now. You think the yeast's risen by now?"

"Uh. Yeah, definitely. Probably?" He looked over to the covered baking pan, his gaze still thoughtful. "Hold on though, I'm still processing this. Is there anyone else in our family who's like me or you?"

"Well, let's see," Della said, rubbing her chin. "I can't- okay, don't go outing anyone to anyone else, this is just- this is just so you feel more comfortable, m'kay?"

“Okay,” Louie nodded.

Della began to count off her fingers. "Alright, well- I don't know about my mom or dad, but my aunt Matilda is a lesbian -you'd like her, she's a lot like you, honestly- Gladstone's... well, he's not cishet, that idea is honestly laughable. I think Fethry's pan, I can't remember, Scrooge is bi, Goldie's bi, Grandma Elvira is a lesbian-”

"Wait how is Grandma Elvira a lesbian?” Louie interrupted. “She had like, four kids!"

"Yeah, I know!" Della said. "I've asked her about it before, and she just- laughs, and changes the subject! Let’s see, who else… Launchpad's definitely bi, or pan, I- I think Uncle Gids is gay and ace, but I don't really know him that well. Oh yeah, and Donnie's bi as well. Did he ever tell you guys that?"

"... Uncle Donald never... mentioned anything,” Louie said slowly. “But I got some - vibes, you know? Sometimes. A lot of guys seemed to like him a whole lot. Seriously, have you ever talked to Storkules for five minutes? He's constantly gushing about how 'Friend Donald' is the greatest adventurer ever."

"Oh yeah, no, Storkules is super fucking gay," Della said immediately. "He may very well still be in the closet, but make no mistake- he's gay."  She hummed. "You ever meet José and Panchito?"

"Once. I knew that they were definitely - I mean - they had this entire handshake where they picked each other up off the ground!" Her son confided in her. "And Uncle Donald was just - he really needed to impress them!"

"Yep, they were all in a relationship once!" Della nodded. "They broke it off when Donald went into the Navy, but they all still care about each other. Somehow, Donnie manages to do that- keep people around him even when they no longer mean what they once meant to him."

"This is so weird. I didn't think Uncle Donald could even have any kind of romantic relationship until he met Daisy." Louie confessed, threading his fingers together. "And they just - they seemed to click, like that, you know?"

"That's actually pretty common for Donnie, he clicks with a lot of people." Della hummed. "I do hope that Daisy sticks around, though. She's- yeah, she's awesome. And, you know, they seem to care about each other more than most, actually."

“...You have a crush on her, don’t you?” Louie asked shrewdly.

“Hush it, child of mine.” Della shushed him. “That is neither here nor there.”

"We need to tell Webby.” Louie decided. “She'll die, but she'll die happy."

"Oh, it'd almost be cruel to tell her," Della chuckled, standing up slowly. "She'd love it, but at what cost?"

"Hey, maybe it'll finally give her the push to stop mooning over Lena and ask her out already." Louie offered as an alternative.

Della shrugged. “Maybe, I’ve seen weirder.” She lifted herself up and poked at the dough. It seemed risen, to her at least.

“…Do your brothers know?” She asked after a moment. “Have you talked to them about this?”

"No. I don't know if they know or not, but - I haven't - really talked to them about it. I haven't talked to anyone about this. Except for you mom." Louie admitted, shaking his head.

“Okay, well-“ Della shrugged. “It’s not like I can say anything about that. I haven’t said anything to your brothers either.”

"... They've got to be okay with it though, right?" He asked, his tone just a little bit pleading.

“I- well, if they aren’t, they’d be in the minority.” Della said. “I’m sure they’re alright with it. I- I hope they’re okay with it.”

Louie fell silent as he took the pan and slid it into the oven, contemplating something. For a second, Della could see the same look on his face that her mother would make on occasion, when she was working on a very difficult puzzle. It was surprising, to say the least, for Della to continue to see her parents in the actions or faces her children would make, even well after they’d gone. 

Maybe she was too liberal with the conclusions she was drawing, but the way Huey would gush about true love and whatnot reminded her so much of her father, or how he could spend hours on a single project and forget time for a moment. Or how Dewey would act all goofy to try and cheer his brothers up- when she had been a kid, she’d just thought that both her parents had been goofy just because they were parents, but she had a feeling now that they were mostly acting that way to make her feel better. And the deeper she dug, the more she could remember of how sly her mother could get when she wanted to be, rather good at running circles around those she didn’t have respect for. A lot like Louie, honestly.

She missed her parents.

Louie returned to the table and spread himself upon it, flat on his back. "They've got to be okay with it." He repeated.

“I really really hope they are,” Della agreed. “…Here, I have an idea, actually.

“How about -maybe not tomorrow, but before the end of the week- I’ll talk to them about all of this,” Della gestured to herself. “And maybe not- maybe not everything, but at least all I’ve told you. And if they aren’t okay with it, then you can find out with me. And if they are, then great! Does that bring you at least a little bit of reprieve from the pai?” She asked, checking the timer on the oven.

"That... does help." The younger duck finally decided, hands in his pockets. "I guess - yeah. If you're okay with it?"

“Yeah, totally!” Della lied, putting her hands on her hips proudly. “Why wouldn’t I be okay with it?”

"I dunno, I guess for the same reason I might be. Worried that - Huey or Dewey might change how they act around you." Louie admitted, running his hand through his hair. "I know that they're my brothers but what if they start being weird around me? What if this changes stuff?"

"Well..." Della bit her lip. She felt the same way as Louie, but she felt that he needed comfort right now, not someone telling him that, yeah, he should be afraid of that.

"Donnie didn't treat me differently," She settled on after a moment. "Not after I told him I was bi, not after- other stuff, either. And he's the one who raised you guys! So I doubt that they'll treat you poorly if you come out to them. Sure, maybe some things will change, but I don't think it'll be in a bad way, kiddo. They love you, I can see that easily. Something like this won't change that."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure." Della assured him. "And- if I'm wrong, then that's why I'm being the trial run. It'll be okay. Now," Della clapped her hands together and looked around the kitchen. "How in Dismal Downs do we make the sugar sauce again?"

"Oh that's pretty easy, just equal parts powdered sugar and water and then some cream cheese if you're feeling fancy." Louie assured her, sitting back up with a huff. "... yeah, definitely cream cheese, not milk."

"Hmm, easy enough!" Della declared, hopping around the kitchen to collect the ingredients. "Always loved the sauce most, honestly. The way Dad used to make it was just- mmh, delectable." She said, popping her lips.

"... you know we could just make the icing and eat it with a spoon." Louie informed her lightly.

"Oh, that was Donnie and I's favorite part of the baking process," Della reminisced happily. "When Dad finished making the sauce, but the cinnamon buns were still in the oven, and he'd just let us grab a spoon each and have some of the sauce before they were placed on the buns." She sighed nostalgically. "But you're the one who wanted this, so we're making the cinnamon buns. Also, you're the one who wanted this, so if Beakley comes along in a huff, I am shifting all the blame onto you, Lou. It's nothing personal, she's just terrifying."

“What a wonderful mother I have,” Louie drawled as he rattled on the drawers, searching for a hand mixer. “It’s like, two A.M, now. Mrs. Beakley probably went to sleep about five hours ago. It’s fine, I never see her when I get up at night.”

"Well, good for you," Della grumbled. "I seem to be cursed with bad luck, seeing as how she seems to always find me when I'm awake and out of my room. And -even though I'm a whole-ass adult- she always berates me for not sleeping enough. It's so annoying." She said as she grabbed the necessary ingredients and threw them onto the table.

"Maybe because you're so old, and you need sleep more than me." Louie offered.

"That is literally not how it works." Della protested, waving a spoon at her son. "You're supposed to be the one getting more sleep than I do. I'm an adult, I can last easily on- what was it again? Four hours of sleep are all that’s necessary? Three?"

"I thought it was eight." Her son stated as he pulled himself into the chair. "... also I totally get like, twelve hours or more of sleep pretty much every day thanks to all my naps."

"Well good." Della stated. "I... Well, I'm used to not sleeping a whole lot, so it's fine. And three is basically an eight, just with two bumps taken out of it, so- three. That's all the sleep I need!"

"... I'm pretty sure that's not how math works, but if that's the case can I have thirty bucks?"

"Why would I give you thirty bucks?"

"Because three is just a zero with a little bit missing!” Louie explained. “So really, it's more like you're not giving me anything."

"Hmm, you know what?" Della hummed. "When you say it like that, sure! Here's thirty bucks." She slapped her empty hand down on the table in front of him and went back to trying to eyeball the correct measurements needed to make the sauce. "I know it looks like nothing, but that's practically thirty bucks," She relayed back to him cheekily.

Her son snorted and leaned forward to place the mixer into the bowl and flick it on, spraying himself and Della with a shower of powdered white stuff before the sugar began to dissolve into the cream.

"You know you owe me pretty much eleven years worth of allowances. And birthday gifts. And Christmas.” He said. "I'd be happy to take it off you in a lump sum."

Della brushed some of the white powder off of her face. "Well- I won't deny the birthday gifts and the Christmases," She said, slightly awkwardly at the mention of the missing time. "I've- I'll be honest, I've thought about that a lot, but Scrooge gets to handle the whole 'missing allowances' thing. I can't afford that type of cash. Seriously, I'm like, dead broke."

"I could take those gifts in a dispensation to maybe do something you wouldn't approve of without consequence." Louie offered.

"Mmmmmm," Della hummed disapprovingly. "That would definitely end up being a case-by-case basis. I- I already won't ask about what you're doing with Goldie, but- I really don't want you to turn out like me? 'Cuz I kinda hate most of this,'' She tried, motioning to herself. "And I hate myself for most of the decisions I've made in the past, and I don't want that for you. 'Cuz this shit sucks."

"... don't say that around Dewey. I don't think he'd like to hear that." Louie warned instead of actually responding.

"Yeah, but- I don't really see him becoming like me, honestly," Della mentioned. "He's too similar to Donald for that. Seriously though, he is so much like Donald, how come I don't hear more about that?"

"What? He's exactly like you!" Her son protested, wiping icing off his fingertips and then licking the beater lightly. "He's even gonna be a pilot."

"Is he?" Della asked. "You gonna tell me he doesn't do this type of thing regularly, hopping into phases with all of his gusto and thinking that they'll stick, until suddenly a new one comes around and now that's what he wants to do with his life?" She put the icing in the fridge to give it time to cool and solidify a bit before the buns were done. "Don't get me wrong, I'd love for him to become a pilot, and I will definitely help him learn how to be one for as long as he asks, but- I always knew what I wanted to be, Donnie was the one who hopped from lifestyle to lifestyle, and profession to profession. He never knew what he wanted, I honestly wouldn't be surprised if he still doesn't!"

"I think he'll stick with it. I know he doesn't usually stick with anything but he really likes being in the air with you." Louie argued, offering a beater to his mother silently. "Plus, I’m pretty sure he was trying to get Launchpad to teach him before, but that didn't last long enough for anything to come of it. I'm pretty sure Dewey tried to talk him into it a couple times, but never got that far because Launchpad would accidentally launch the limousine off a ravine or something."

Della paused as she took the beater, and made a strangled sort of sigh. "It's fine. Launchpad is very good at crashing, he has a one-hundred percent survival rate on all his crashes. ...He has a one-hundred percent crash rate, but it's fine! It's- haaaah,"

She shook her head. "Well, if he does end up becoming a pilot, then I will be for sure the loudest and proudest person cheering him on. I'm already proud of him, he's doing pretty well for his age." She commented. "But- you kiddos are... young, still. You still have your whole lives ahead of you, you don't need to have a solid plan for what you're gonna do with your life yet. If you do, great! If you don't, that's still great! Improvising is part of the fun, honestly."

"When did you know what you wanted to do?" Louie asked.

"Oh, since I was six." Della replied. "...I'm a bit of an odd case with that, though, so don't use me as an example for that. Don't use me for an example for anything, really, I'm- I'm not a good role model. It took Donnie a while to settle on- what's he settled on now? Accounting? All I know is, he changed his major a lot in college."

"I'm pretty sure Uncle Donald just enjoys being around the ocean." Louie proposed, gently putting a hand on his knee and then looking away, tapping a light tattoo on his thigh. "... you're pretty good. I think." He finally admitted, watching the oven carefully.

Della blinked a little, surprised at the admission. She looked at her son, who was very specifically not looking at her.

She smiled. "Thanks, Lou. And same to you. I- I know I had... uh, problems with it, in the past, But I do honestly think you have a good head about you. I'll admit, I'm not to proud of what I used to do, and I'm scared of the path it can lead down -the path I ended up taking- but, if anyone could somehow go down that route and come out the other side with the people you love still around you, I wouldn't be surprised if it'd be you."

"Yeah well, I don't think you gotta worry about that." Her son tried to assure her awkwardly. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Della reassured him immediately, putting on oven mitts as the timer for the cinnamon buns dinged at them. "We have baked goods. Are you good? And don't bother lying, I know when Goldie's lying, and I know you’ve picked up some of her tells. And I'm also your mom, I'm developing a sixth sense about the whole shabang."

"I'm okay." Louie responded, his tone less certain than his words but confident still, tucking his hands back into his pockets.

"... huh. You do know how to cook." He marveled quietly as Della removed the intact pastry curls.

"See? I can bake," Della responded proudly, placing the still-hot pan on the table (and, consequently, burning a pan shaped mark into said table) and retrieving the icing. "They look great!" She began to pour the icing liberally on the cinnamon buns. "And I did this all on one leg, too! I'm amazing."

"And only three hours of sleep."

"Probably even less!"

"And since it's so early we don't have to share these with anyone." The duckling added with a grin. "Good job mom. We should stay up together avoiding thinking about our crippling faults more often."

"I mean, it's not like our insomnia's suddenly been cured." Della grinned in turn. She took one of the cinnamon buns and held it up like a wine glass. "Here's to being okay. Maybe not great, maybe not even as good as everyone else, but okay."

"I will definitely toast to that." Louie decided, spearing one of his own with a fork and holding it up to smush against his mother's, dripping hot icing over the floor in the process.

"Also don't eat it yet, these are really hot," Della told him, dropping her cinnamon bun back into the pan and shaking her hand off.

“Yeah, no duh,” Louie looked at her like she was crazy. “They just came out of the oven.”

Della chuckled, ruffling his head feathers in response. "Love ya, kiddo." She said, grinning at him.

Louie sighed exasperatedly, but Della was happy to see the hint of a smile on his lips as he looked away. “...Love you too.” He mumbled in return. 

Chapter Text

It was a quiet night on the houseboat, for Donald. The kids were quiet, he’d recently fixed his door, which had gone surprisingly well (he’d only hammered his thumb instead of a nail twice this time), the weather was clear and the pool was nice and calm, he was getting to a good part in his book, and he’d even managed to sneak some of the tea out of the house, allowing him to finally have a nice strong cup instead of the flavored water that Scrooge had.

It was perfect. Donald felt at peace.

Which the universe obviously could not have, so it just had to send a disaster to make him miserable again.

“DONNIE WHAT THE FUCK. ” Said disaster’s name was Della Duck, who burst down his door and stomped into his home like a hurricane that held a very specific grudge against him.

Donald let out a defeated sigh. “I just finished fixing that,” He whined, eyes transfixed on his door, which now took up residence on his floor.

“I do not give a shit,” Della informed him as she walked up to him and grabbed him by the collar, knocking his tea over in the process. “Now what the fuck is wrong with you, you mangy animal?” She glared at him.

“So many things, what specifically are you talking about?” Donald asked, gently trying to pull Della’s hands away from him.

“Their names , Donald!” She didn’t let go, and instead shook him vigorously. “Their fucking names!”

“Okay, context, Dumbella! Context!” Donald grabbed her head and glared back at her to get her to stop. “Whose names are you talking about?”

“My boys , Donald!” Della shouted, like it was the most obvious thing in the world that she was talking about that, how on earth could he have missed it when she barged into his privacy and shook him around like he was a cocktail to be served to James Bunt? “I’m obviously talking about Huey, Dewey, and Louie!”

Donald arched an eyebrow. “Della, it’s been almost a year, are you just now figuring out their names?”

“Shut the hell your mouth, bitch.” Della rolled her eyes as she let go of Donald and put her hands on her hips. “You know damn well that’s stupid. What I’m talking about is their full names, Hubert, Dewford, and Llewellyn. Why the fuck would you name them that?”

“Haven’t we talked about this before?” Donald groaned and turned away from his sister. Of course this was what she was bothering him for, of course. Honestly, he was surprised she’d lasted as long as she had before confronting him. Granted, he’d thought (foolishly, oh so foolishly hoped ) that she’d just- forgotten that she hadn’t named them that. That would’ve been so nice, never having to deal with an irate sister because she didn’t approve of his naming choices, but nope. The universe wasn’t kind to him like that.

Donald went back to his kitchen and poured himself a cup of cold coffee he’d brewed this morning. He was going to need it. “Look, I get that you don’t like what I picked-”

“That’s an understatement.”

“ -But . You have no right to complain, you didn’t leave me any names before you left, so I just came up with some.” Donald stated, shrugging and closing his eyes in a ‘what can you do’ gesture. After all, if she’d wanted better names, she shouldn’t have left it up to him.

…Okay, maybe that was a little cruel, but what was he supposed to do? Call them his niblings and other terms of endearment for their entire lives? (I mean, he pretty much did anyways, but that was besides the point.)

“Are you kidding me!?” Donald’s eyes snapped open as Della slammed her hands down on his counter, properly incensed now. “‘I didn’t leave you names!?’ You fucking dickhead, how dare you!”

Donald blinked. “Well, you didn-”

“I fucking did! ” Della yelled at him. “I left you Jet, Turbo, and Rebel! I even wrote it down for you and anyone else if they couldn’t understand you!”

…What.

Donald stared at his sister, dumbfounded. He opened his mouth to retort, then closed it, then opened it, then closed it again. 

“…Della, I thought you were joking. ” He admitted after a moment of stunned silence, placing his mug back on the table.

Della’s hands flew into the air. “Why on earth would I be joking about that!?”

“You wrote those names down on an old receipt that you had on your desk. And, and , those were the names of your hamsters!”

“They weren’t hamsters , they were an elite super secret superhero task force disguised as hamsters.” Della shot back, glaring at him.

“Didn’t Turbo get decapitated by the door?”

“Maybe! What the hell is your point?”

“What kind of superhero gets bested by a door? ” Donald asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well that- wait, no, stop getting me off track by forcing me to relive the trauma of my hamsters dying!” Della told him.

“Ah hah, so you admit they were hamsters!” Donald pointed an accusing finger at her.

“I- whatever! Shut up!” Della fumed, her hands flapping in the air agitatedly. “The fact that their names aren’t Jet, Turbo and Rebel isn’t the point. I’m not so childish thay I won’t admit that those names, while awesome for kids who might grow up to be a racecar driver, a test pilot, and a BMX stuntman, don’t suit them as well as Huey, Dewey, and Louie. But you didn’t name them Huey, Dewey, and Louie, did you?” She asked. “No no no, you gave them monstrosities . You gave them Hubert , Dewford , and Llewellyn.” She shuddered, cringing at the very ideas of their names.

Donald rolled his eyes, putting the empty coffee pot down in the sink to be washed out later. He’d honestly forgotten just how dramatic his sister was. “Okay, they’re not that bad,” He tried, sipping his cold drink.

“‘Not that bad?’” Della fumed. “ ‘Not that bad??’ Donnie, you named them Hubert, Dewford, and Llewellyn . I’m shocked the doctor didn’t slap you for those.”

“Oh come on, those are good, solid, respectable names. The kind of names that you can put on a college application.”

“Hubert is a nerd's name.” Della stated in explanation. She held up her hand to stop Donald from commenting as he opened his mouth. “And not a nerd in the way Huey is a nerd, I’m talking about those nasally misogynistic nice guy nerds, who’re all like ‘women can’t be in STEM,’ and ‘I’m gonna be your boss one day.’ Those are Huberts.”

…Okay, Donald hated to admit it, but that did sound like a personality that a Hubert would have.

 “You’re out of your mind!” He did say he didn’t want to admit it. “It’s not that bad!”

“Dewford isn’t even a real name, Donald!” Della yelled back. “I’m fairly certain I’ve been called a dewford before as an insult. Probably by a Hubert!” She claimed. “You literally named my child an insult! What did he ever do to you?”

“He almost broke his neck tap dancing once.”

“I- wait, seriously?” Della blinked.

“Yeah, he ended up just breaking his arm, though.” Donald informed her. “That’s not the point though, Dewford isn’t an insult!” He did have to admit, it did kinda sound like something he’d been called in the past, though.

“His middle name is literally Dingus.” Della retorted.

“That one’s a family name!”

“Okay, well what about fucking Llewellyn, hmm?” His sister asked, planting her hands on her hips and tapping her foot. “That is literally a girl’s name.”

“No, no, it is actually very specifically not a girl’s name,” Donald protested, with a readiness that spoke of having made this distinction many many times before (because he had). “The femanine version would actually be Llewellanne. Llewellyn is actually the name of an old Welsh ghost-”

“So you named him after an old fuck buddy of yours?” Della interrupted, sitting down in the seat she’d all but forced Donald to vacate. “That’s even worse.”

“No- okay, we never actually slept together-”

“Wait, but you did actually name him after a ghostly ex of yours?” Della gawked at him, shooting right back up. “What the fuck is wrong with you???”

Donald buried his head in his hands and let out a strained groan. He’d forgotten how annoying it could be to talk to his sister. He remembered back when they were teens when they’d fight over every little thing, ranging from who got what colored pencils, to who got to have Jane Doe as a girlfriend, the list went on.

Hmm. Was she… trying to relive those days?

He rubbed his face and grabbed his coffee off the table, downing all of it in one go. “Alright, you are purposefully overreacting right now.” He accused Della, pointing a finger at her. “Huey, Dewey, and Louie are not bad names.”

Della sputtered, seemingly caught off guard by him just calling her out like that. “I- you- I already fucking told you it wasn’t about those names! Huey, Dewey, and Louie are good enough! Now that I’m used to that, I don’t think I could call them anything but, those names feel too… right.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Donald asked her, holding his hands out.

“Their full names are abominations against nature!” Della said, hands flying. “Do they honestly- can you look at me and tell me that they actually like those names?”

It was Donald’s turn to sputter. “Of course they do!” He tried. “…I mean, Huey does, at least!”

“Yeah, ‘cuz his name is at least kinda normal!” Della said, the houseboat creaking as she began to pace. “The other two are just- horrid. Did you not learn your lesson with Fauntleroy?”

“You will not speak that name under my roof.” Donald cut her off with a stony glare. “Their names are not that bad.”

“They’re worse.”

Donald seriously considered just- snapping Della’s neck, then and there. He could do it, too. He was strong enough. ‘I don’t know what happened, she must’ve gotten tangled up in the ropes or something. It was probably a quick death, at the very least.’

But alas, he inevitably decided against it, instead punching a hole in his kitchen counter and breathing heavily for a few moments. She’d just kick him in the nuts with her metal leg if he tried anything. Goodness knows she’d probably been looking for an excuse to do so since she came back.

“…Can we just- drop the act, here?” Donald asked his sister after a quick count to ten. He turned back around to face her, crossing his arms. “I’m not stupid, I know that if you really cared about this sorta thing, it would have been taken care of by now, either by getting their names changed or asking them to come up with new ones or whatever. You’ve had a year, you’re fine with their names even if they’re not what you had in mind.”

“I- you don’t know that,” Della protested, though it sounded kinda weak. “I might’ve just- put it off, until now. Or forgotten it.”

“Dells.” Donald gave her a look. “Be real. If you cared, you would’ve charged in here guns a blazin’ a long time ago. Honestly, don’t think you could’ve held yourself back from just- flying out to the cruise ship and demanding to speak with me.”

Della’s glare lost it’s edge under his gaze, the weak facade of anger dropping and being replaced by a look of tired anxiety that Donald knew well. He saw it practically every time he looked in the mirror, after all. Though it did look different on his sister, he had to admit. It made her look much older than he did, much more weary.

Not for the first time, he wondered just how long Della’s decade on the moon felt like to her.

His sister sighed heavily and rested her elbows on the table, dropping her face into her hands. “I just… you named them,” She explained. “You decided their names, you raised them, you taught them how to walk, talk, and live. You were their parent.”

“I still am.” Donald pointed out, crossing his arms defensively. “I raised them for ten years, since they hatched. I’m not just going to fade away to the sidelines now that you’re here.”

Della shot him an exasperated glare. “That’s not what I’m doing here, dumbass. Believe it or not, more than one parent is the societal norm.”

“Then what is it?” Donald asked, sitting across from his sister. “I can’t exactly read your mind, Dells.”

Della snorted. “Yeah you can, we used to do that all the time.”

“Yeah, but it got harder after- the Navy.”

“You can just blame the moon, Donnie.” Della called him out. “Things haven’t exactly gone back to normal since then, yet.”

“It hasn’t even been a full year yet,” Donald countered calmly. “And there’s kids in the mix now, too. Things are gonna be different. 

“Is that what this is about?” He asked, taking one of Della’s hands. “You’re worried about things not being normal?”

Della sighed. “Not exactly? I mean, yeah, I am worried about that, but that’s not really- the big thing, y’know?” When Donald didn’t respond with more than a slightly confused look, she huffed. “Like- the Big Thing. The Thing that’s on my mind and won’t let me sleep right now. That Thing.”

“You know, just saying ‘The Thing’ a bunch of times doesn’t really count as a good definition-“

“Did you ever tell the kids that you’re bi?” Della interrupted, looking straight at him.

Donald couldn’t help the flush of shame that crawled up his neck at that. “I… it hasn’t really come up,” He tried lamely, averting his gaze. “To be perfectly fair, I’ve never actually defined my sexuality, so there’s really no reason to tell them that.”

“Are you pan?”

“Well, no, but-“

“So then bi works.” Della insisted. “You’re dating a woman, and I know that you’ve fucked dudes before.”

“Oh, we’re just telling people their sexualities by now? That’s just a cool thing you picked up on the moon?”

Della reached over to flick his bill. “Yeah yeah yeah, I’m your sister. One of the only perks that comes with that is calling you out on your bullshit, which I am doing right now. You’re bi. You’ve never had a problem with being called bi, and you’re just trying to divert.”

Donald huffed, rubbing his bill. “You know, I hate it when you do that. And I hate that Louie inherited that need to just- point out patterns that he can see.”

“Cool story, still diverting.” Della said. “Why haven’t you ever told them?”

There were a lot of reasons, honestly. He never really got around it, he was nervous, part of him had been worried that cps would’ve taken them away if he’d come out, he could go on. “You know that I’m a pretty private person, Della,” He settled on eventually, sighing and rubbing the back of his head. “I don’t really like talking about my love life with other people.”

“You talk about it with me,” Della pointed out.

“That’s because you force me to,” He countered with a snort. “I don’t know. I didn’t end up dating anyone while the kids and I were living in the houseboat, so I didn’t want to talk about it.”

That was a bit more truthful than ‘it never came up’ at least. Because it had, once or twice. And Donald wasn’t sure how well he’d handled it, either, because the main feeling he’d always felt at those questions was ‘panic.’ He and Della… well, they’d had it rough. Part of him, the small, scaredy-cat, self-doubting part, blamed it all on being queer. He tried not to listen to it, he really did, but sometimes he couldn’t help it.

…Ah. That was something he’d probably need to talk to his therapist about.

Della looked worried, drumming her fingers on the table and looking out the window, a frown on her face that betrayed her age. In a stroke of -Donald was hesitant to call it ‘luck,’ per se, but at least good craftsmanship- the window gave him a good view of the bedroom the boys had taken as their own. Which used to be his and Della’s bedroom.

Donald sighed. “Your boys are not homophobic.” He answered her unasked question.

Della chuckled. “You say that you can’t read my mind, and yet…”

“I don’t need to read your mind in order to know that it’s being stupid.” He told her. “And that’s a very stupid idea to hold, for many reasons.”

“I know, I know, I know,” Della assured him, rubbing her eyes tiredly. “If they were homophobic, it’d be really weird for them as a part of this queer as fuck family.”

Donald chuckled. “Yeah, it would be. Plus, even if they were, we could teach them not to be.” He said. “Bigotry is learned, not inherent. And where would they have learned to be homophobic, huh?”

“School?” Della offered.

“They hardly learn what they’re actively being taught, you really think they’d pick that up?” Donald asked, giving her a smirk.

“I’m just saying, misogynistic people tend to also be pretty homophobic,” Della explained, smiling back and leaning in. “And, well, you did name one of them Huebert,”

“Okay, we’re done here,” Donald decided, pushing Della’s face away and standing up. “I have work in the morning, so I’m going to bed now.”

“I do not, so I’m going to spend the rest of the night wandering through the halls aimlessly.” Della said in turn. She held up her hands as Donald glared at her. “Kidding, kidding. I’ll try to get some actual sleep sometime here.”

“Good.” Donald replied. Just because she didn’t have a job, didn’t mean that she didn’t need sleep. He really hoped she’d learn that one day.

“Oh, before I forget,” He snapped his fingers and turned around suddenly, pointing to Della as she got up from the table to stretch. “Remind me to send you the kids Christmas wishlists. Huey’s already made his, I’m just waiting on the other two.”

“…Huh?” Della blinked at him.

Donald stared at her. “…You know, Christmas wishlists? The ones that most people send to Santa so that he can get them their gifts, but we don’t because our Uncle’s a stooge? So that we know what they want for Christmas?”

“I know what a wishlist is, smartass!” Della snapped, giving him a dirty look. “I just- didn’t realize that Christmas was so soon.”

“Really?” Donald asked. “It’s almost the end of November. The leaves on the trees are all gone now. It’s cold out.”

“Okay, one- it’s not that cold out,” Della retorted, holding up her fingers. “Two- I kinda forgot how trees worked, don’t judge me, and three- do you honestly think I can remember months anymore? I can’t even remember the time of day these days!”

Donald sighed, rolling his eyes. Of course, only his sister could manage to forget how trees worked. “Well, Christmas is coming soon. So the boys will be done with gift ideas soon, and then they’ll give me the lists, and I’ll give you it as well, so that we can make sure we’re not buying them the same presents. Deal?”

“Alright, alright, fine,” Della said, waving him off. “Trust me, Donnie, I’m not gonna forget Christmas. It’ll be easier to remember when the lights go up, and the traps get set.”

“Good.” Donald nodded. “…And no changing their names as a gift.”

“Oh, come on!” Della stamped her foot and glared at him. “They’re still shitty names!”

“Just- something tangible? Please?”

“Legal documents are tangible.”

“Just- something that can be used for fun, Dumbella.” Donald insisted, pushing her by the shoulders out of his boathouse. “And nothing dangerous, either.”

“You’re no fun,” Della huffed. She paused as Donald shoved her back out, turning back around. “…I think I’m gonna tell them. Let the chips fall where they may, and all that.”

Donald nodded. “Well, you always were the braver one out of the two of us.”

Della grinned and punched him in the shoulder. “Nah, you’re plenty brave too. Brave enough to the point of idiocy, honestly. I mean, no one in their right minds names three adorable little ducklings Hubert, Dewford, and Llewellyn.”

“Get out.”

“Yeah, okay, fair enough.”

Chapter Text

The day had been exhausting- in more ways than just the obvious. Yes, getting eaten and then subsequently upchucked by a gigantic monster had been physically draining -stomach lining was usually incredibly slippery, so it was like trying to stand in a pool lined with greased up trash bags but the trash bags burn you when you come in contact with them- but helping the kids through their collective crisis of confidence had really burned through her emotional energy too, and the rest of that had been used up restraining herself from slapping her uncle for still being an emotionally constipated idiot after all these years. 

Well, that and... being around Selene.

It had been clear that the lunar goddess had her reasons for offering her the position as the new ruler of the Greek pantheon, but that didn't do much to dissipate the polite awkwardness she'd exuded.

None of this would have happened if she'd gone on the adventure for the crown of Hengis Khan- her leg had been acting up, and had hoped a day at home might have fixed it, but it still twinged a little as she climbed the stairs in an uncomfortable way. She headed directly to her room, tracking droplets of ichor in her wake on the carpet, hoping to get the chance to pull off her bile soaked clothes and stupid durable metal leg and pass out in the shower.

Her room was dark (not dreary, though, despite whatever Donald claimed), as per usual, though there was a light coming out from the bathroom inside of her room, keeping her room from becoming pitch black as she closed the door. Had she remembered to turn off the light this morning? Man, Scrooge would be pissed about that the next time he got his electricity bill.

The white noise machine was still on, as it had been for the entire day, though honestly it felt a little bit too loud, right now. Thank you, exhaustion. You fucked up everything nice.

Della sat down, letting out a small huff as she pulled off her hat and jacket- and then paused halfway in removing her scarf.

"Lilly, did you go into the bathroom?" She asked, looking around for the defective robot she was still trying to fine-tune. "If you set up the bucket of water gag again it won't be as funny the second time around."

A slight buzzing from her closet -as well as a yellow light- revealed that the Lil Helper wasn’t actually in the bathroom. And was quite insulted by the idea that he would be so boring as to pull the same prank twice.

"Just checking." Della reassured the bulb before approaching the bathroom door. Maybe just a little bit more cautiously than was necessary, but something about all this felt off, prank or no prank.

She was hit with a wall of steam as she opened the door, the bright light making her wince as the heat enveloped her. The shower was obviously running, she didn’t know how she hadn’t heard it when she entered the room.

And… oh. Oh. Selene was here.

She could see the goddess just behind the fogged up glass, and- yep, she looked just as perfect as she always had.

Granted, she couldn’t see much, but- well, it was enough. Selene was humming an unfamiliar tune, though the sound tickled at the back of her mind, like she should remember, she should know that tune, but something was just… blocking her.

Della felt her face heat up in a way that didn't have anything to do with the hot water. She turned away from the Swan, studying the open door intently before clearing her throat. "Hey Selene. Didn't expect to find you here. In my bathroom. Using my shower."

The humming stopped, and the fog on the door suddenly cleared, giving Della a very good view of the goddess. Despite the blush on her cheeks, Della suddenly felt an -unfortunately- familiar discomfort in her body, every scar and roll and mar on her skin painfully front and center in her mind.

Lovely.

“Oh, Della!” Selene smiled warmly, quite obviously happy to see her. She cocked her head. “I told you that I was going to be using your shower, didn’t I?”

"I - didn't think you meant this shower." Della said, immediately turning away as her naked friend placed her perfect body on display, and she took a moment to familiarize herself with the pattern of tiles on the floor.

“I really felt that I was fairly obvious, but- oh well,” Selene shrugged, before making a sly beckoning gesture with her hand. “Care to join me, darling?”

"Shower's a little cramped don't you think?" The mortal woman asked. "I'll let you finish up and get out of your hair." Della promised instead. She really should have expected this but it still hurt in a weird way just the same.

She could see a frown grace Selene’s face for a moment (even angry, she still looked so graceful), before she hid it behind another smile. “Well, a cramped shower is all the better, isn’t it?”

"... Selene. I know what you're doing, but I really- I just can't." Della said, head dipping down. "I appreciate it but- yeah, no. I can't."

“…Ah.” Selene looked away as well, just as awkwardly. “I- yeah. Sorry.”

"I'll just wait for you to finish up, yeah?" Della asked before putting a note of levity in her voice. "Just don't use up all the hot water!"

“Well- no, it’s alright, I can finish up,” Selene replied immediately, turning off the water and stepping out. “I- we can- you don’t have to leave, or anything. You’re still covered in titan mucus.”

"Oh, is it mucus? I thought it might be ichor or maybe even viscera." Della asked conversationally, brushing off a few clumps of the orange goo from her shirt as she spoke.

“I mean, it was mainly from it’s stomach.” Selene mentioned, rubbing her shoulder awkwardly for a moment.

"Cool, cool." Della said, looking behind her for a moment and coughing. "Uh. Selene, you gonna put on some clothes?"

“Oh! Yes, of course, sorry.” Selene said, hiding a wince as she flicked her hand, immediately drying herself off and drawing a chiton around her. “…So… what’s the story with that?” She asked, pointing to the mirror covered by a cloth. “Strange mirror demon? Got on the wrong side of a Fae? A dimensional portal open up suddenly?”

"You noticed that huh?" Della asked, finally turning around- and then backing up just a little. Being in the bathroom with the goddess was making her… claustrophobic or something. She needed a little more space between them. "Yeah, uh, nah nothing like that. I just - got really frustrated and smashed it, you know, like a goof." The aviator explained, glossing over the fact that 'frustrated' didn't really accurately describe the mixture of loathing, anxiety, and pain she felt whenever she looked at her own reflection.

The goddess still nodded, her eyes- no, no, Della couldn’t look at her eyes. She couldn’t. They were too pitying. “It’s… it’s good to see you again, Della.” Selene said quietly.

"Good to see you too!" Della replied, forcing a touch of enthusiasm into her tone. "You've obviously been keeping busy, what with overthrowing your dad and everything! Congrats on knocking him down a peg, by the way."

“Yeah, that was… a thing.” Selene nodded, letting out a polite laugh that sounded a little forced. “Honestly, it didn't take very long at all. Pretty much everyone was sick of him, so it wasn’t too difficult to convince them to join me in revolution.”

Della bobbed her head up and down in agreement. "Sorry about - not being able to help you out but hey, you know you'd make a pretty great pantheon head." She continued before pausing as she pulled at her shirt. "Anyway, it was great seeing you again but I gotta -you know- wash this off and get into something that doesn't smell like vomit."

“Oh, let me handle that,” Selene replied, waving her hand and immediately, the grime and dirt washing off of Della like a fire scoring away any imperfections in her form (a part of her was afraid that the fire would turn her into ash, though the feeling passed as soon as it started). “There! All better,” She said, clapping her hands together. “You look exactly like… You… yeah. You look good.”

Della smiled, just a little, running her hand through her now clean hair. "Been a while since I've been miracle'd clean." She mentioned. "Thanks Selene. Uh." The Duck faltered, stepping back into her room and looking away. "I guess now that I don't need to clean up I can… go to sleep. Which will be so fun."

“Della, wait, I-“ Selene caught her by the shoulder as she stepped away. “Please.”

The smaller woman flinched at the touch but stopped as requested. "Do we have to do this?" She asked quietly, timidly.

“Please, Della.” Selene pleaded with her, quietly. “I- I don’t want to leave until we’ve had this talk. Please.”

The Duck nodded, and finally turned around to face the goddess, her face clouded.

"I already know what you're going to say- and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Selene that I left and abandoned you and everyone else in my life on a stupid whim." Della said, her voice cracking slightly. "I've hurt so many people, and even though I didn't want to get stuck on the moon, I know that it was my fault I brought that pain into your life. I - I can't even begin to ever make up for that. I understand if you don't want to forgive me. I'm sorry."

“No, Della, I…” Selene looked pityingly at her. Her eyes hardened as she knelt down, hand still on the aviator’s shoulder. “Della. I need you to listen to me, and take these words I’m about to say to heart, okay? You didn’t hurt me. You never have.” She said, an assuredness to her voice that Della felt was just… misplaced.

"No, yeah, I didn't hurt you." Della repeated, eyes narrowed. "I just named the rocket that everyone thought killed me after you. No way that wouldn't hurt."

Selene just looked at her, saddened. "Μικρή Δέλλα, αγαπημένη μου." Even in Greek, Della knew those words: 'Little Della, my Beloved.' A phrase that had been whispered into her ear many quiet nights before. "Oh, Della. You didn't hurt me. Not intentionally. If anyone screwed up, it was me." She said quietly.

The smaller woman flinched again, her hand rising as though trying to ward off a blow. "Don't - Selene, don't. I'm not that woman anymore."

Selene swallowed heavily and looked down. "Right. Yes, I- I suppose you aren't. I... don't like thinking about it, but it's very hard not to," She admitted, looking back up to her with a pained expression. "You've... aged." She said lamely.

"And you're just as perfect as the first day I saw you." Della admitted, rubbing her knuckles into her eyes.

"I am a goddess." Selene mentioned as an explanation. She let out a bitter laugh. "The goddess of the moon, and yet I didn't even notice that you were up there. I let you rot for ten years, and it just felt like the blink of an eye, to me." She said, voice shaking. "If anyone deserves to be mad here, Della, it's you. I claim to be your patron goddess, and yet I did nothing to help you."

Della shook her head. "Hey, the patron goddess thing was just an excuse for you and me to spend time alone together." She said, taking the Swan's hand between her own. “You weren't obligated to save me from every dumb mistake and screwup, and that's what happened. It was my own damn fault."

"But I should have been there," Selene protested, distraught. "If there was ever a time to step in, that would've been it. You can't tell me that you never hoped for that, can you? That I might actually do my job, for once?"

A flicker of an emotion ran across Della's face- a small admission that yes, she had hoped, dreamed maybe that Selene could find her, someway, somehow. "I didn't even tell you I was leaving, you didn't know to look for me."

"But I should've noticed on my own." Selene insisted. "I only knew that you were missing because your son told me. If they hadn't come to Ithaquack, how long would it have been? Fifteen years? Twenty? What sort of a callous bitch doesn't realize that her beloved has gone missing like that?"

"Don't say that about yourself Selene!" Her friend said, shocked. "You're a god! I'm a mortal! There's a difference in how we both perceive time. Ten years was probably just a blink of an eye to you, I’m- that’s just how it is for us."

"And I'm not okay with that!" Selene exclaimed, tears in her eyes. "I didn't even notice that you were gone, and you- you aged, Della. You changed." She took Della's cheek in her hand softly. "Della, I- you could've died, and I wouldn't have known. I wouldn't have been able to place you in the stars, like I promised. I... Della, I'm not going to know when you die. I'm going to lose you, and I'm not even going to realize it."

"It's fine! It was going to happen anyway! And now I'm back!" The smaller woman said, her face burning at Selene's touch. "So there's no reason for you to feel bad, okay?"

"Della, I don't want to lose you. Not like that." Selene replied. "Please- Della, let me take you to Olympus. Let me make you immortal. There's still time! I may not have the crown anymore, but- but I could still make you a goddess!"

"No. Please, Selene- I can’t, okay? Please, don’t ask me that," Della pleaded, pulling away, her own eyes rimmed red. "I can't leave my family, not again. I don't want to be immortal, I just want to spend the time I have with people I love."

Selene looked heartbroken, almost, but she nodded. She let out a wet laugh and ducked her head. "Of course. You've always turned my offers down. I- I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have asked that of you, that wasn't fair. I just- I so desperately want to give you something." She explained, still not looking Della in the eyes. "I thought that- well. I came here because I wanted to give you the ability to be a god, actually. I shouldn't have, but I did. After- after your son left, I did try to help you." She mentioned, only now looking up to Della. "But Dad forbade ever helping you, or your family, ever again. So I led a coup, and overthrew him. But- well, I guess I took too long organizing it, because I found out secondhand -from Iris, of all people- that you'd come back. And that you'd been on the moon the entire time. And I just- I needed to be able to give you something, at least. I wanted to give you godhood, but-" She shook her head. "You don't need that. You never have."

Della could hear the goddess's underlying statement clear as day, even if she hadn't said it aloud. 'You don't need me, anymore, either.'

Della shook her head and her arms, trying her best to dissipate the notion like it was fog. "I don't need to be a god to need you Selene." She tried to explain, her hands fluttering before going over her heart. "I need you like I need my brother, my kids, my family! There were so many times I came this close to giving up - to just letting go and stop fighting. The only thing that kept me going on the moon was the fact that if I did then my brother would be without his sister, my kids would be without their mother - that I'd never get to see you again." Della reached out now, her hands trying to grasp Selene's and pull her closer. "If I didn't have those things, those reasons to keep going, those memories of good times long ago, I wouldn't have even tried to live. So I do still need you, Selene. I need all of you."

Tears were rolling down Selene's cheeks by now, but she nodded. "I... I know. I'm sorry." She said, sniffing as Della pulled her closer. "I just... I don't want to lose you, Della. Not without saying goodbye, first."

"Well. I'm not dead yet." Della said with a weak smile, blinking tears away from her own eyes. "You might get the chance to see me off properly when it happens." She huffed, trying to keep her face smiling. "You know it's funny. You say I didn't hurt you, but that's really all I'm ever gonna be able to do for you, isn't it? All my love will amount to pain for you. I'm so sorry."

"No, Della, it won't," Selene tried to assure her, cupping her cheeks. "Your love for me has made me realize so much about myself, it's just..." She swallowed. "This is the first time that I truly realized that I will lose that love, and- eventually lose all memory of you, as time goes on."

Selene suddenly straightened, eyebrows shooting up like she'd just had an idea. "Della. What if I became a mortal?" She asked.

The aviator blinked, stunned as she processed that suggestion before immediately shaking her head. "What? Selene, no! Why would you ever do that?"

"Well it's not like I'm much of a goddess anyways!" Selene replied. "There was an entire civilization of people living on the moon, and I didn't even know about it! I could just- step down, give my god powers to someone else, and then I wouldn't have to live through an eternity after you died, and you wouldn't have to become a god! It's what would be best for everyone!"

"Don't say that about yourself!" Della tried to assure her, trying to follow the goddess as she turned away. "I don't know any other lunar deities who're doing anything about it either! And - and - Selene, you can't give up everything just for me."

"Why not?" Selene asked, shoulders slumping.

"Because- because-" Della stuttered before trying to turn Selene to face her. "Do you remember the first time we had a fight?" She asked instead of answering directly.

"I- I don't know." Selene admitted, before laughing darkly. "Fuck, see? I'm already forgetting things." She did turn to face Della, though. "I... I think it was over me missing a date, or something?"

"I got angry that you brushed me off to do some - deity thing with Hecate. We argued and yelled at each other over it, because I felt insecure and needed more attention, and you said, and I quote, 'My life cannot revolve around you'." Della explained. "And you were right, it can't. If you gave up your immortality, what would happen between you and your immortal friends, like Xandra, and Hecate? What about your brother, or Aphrodite? How would they feel if you left them like that?" She asked. "All for one mortal. One. Or are you going to tell me that you actually made other mortal friends?"

"...Your kids seem to like me?" Selene tried, though it was obvious she knew that that was a weak excuse.

"They like me too, and I abandoned them for ten years. They like everyone who doesn't try to kill them, and sometimes even then." Della said, before raising her hand to grasp Selene by the cheek and direct her gaze so they stared eye to eye. "I cannot, in good conscience, agree with the idea of you giving up your godhood for me. It wouldn't be fair to you, or your family."

Selene let out a watery sigh, but eventually nodded. "Okay. Okay." She snorted, slightly. "Just- always remember that you're good enough to tempt a goddess to be willing to give up everything for you. That doesn't happen often."

Della laughed, gently letting go of Selene's face and stepping back, unable to resist the urge to put her hands on her hips. "Well, I don't blame you. I mean, I was pretty hot back before I had three kids."

Selene laughed as well. "You're still hot, Della. You're just now a- oh, what's the word..." She hummed, snapping her fingers.

"A milf?" The mortal supplied, flushing just a little.

"Right, a milf!" Selene nodded. "You're a milf now, Della. Having kids did nothing to lessen your beauty, you've got to have so many people jumping at the chance to sleep with you."

"Yeah, well. You and all those 'other people' haven't seen me take off my shirt yet, your opinion would change." The mortal insisted, losing her joviality. "I'm covered in scars all over now - kind of look like I'm stress molting twenty-four-seven because of it."

Selene frowned, taking Della's hand. "No, it wouldn't. You're still beautiful, Della. And I thought you liked scars."

"Yeah, but - not these ones Selene. They're all kind of boring, and don't have that many different stories to tell. 'I got this one when I crash landed on the moon, and I got this one when I crash landed on the moon, and I got this one when I got hit with acid from an alien on the moon.'"

"Della..." Selene held her closer. "You're still beautiful. A few scars aren't going to make me reconsider that."

"Not all the scars are on the outside - oh god that sounds like a terrible line from a romance novel." Della said, immediately regretting her choice in words. "... Not to be dramatic Selene, but I'm- I'm all fucked up, inside and out. I'm not the person you used to know."

"Yes you are." Selene tried. "And even if you're not- it doesn't matter. Because you're still Della Duck. No matter how many scars you have, or feet you don't, or however old you get, I will still love you. I never want to forget you, Della."

Della looked down, slowly making her way to the curtain covered window, toying with the fabric a little to look at the sky for just a moment. "... You sure you don't want to?" She finally asked quietly as she looked away, as though she wasn't even talking to Selene, or didn't want her to hear. "I'm not as good as I used to be. I'm broken Selene. That mirror? I smashed it because I'm afraid of my own reflection now."

"I will never want to forget you, Della." Selene repeated, shaking her head forcefully. "Never. It doesn't matter how many mirrors you smash, that doesn't mean anything to me. You're not broken, you're alive. Maybe you've changed, but that doesn't mean that you're unworthy of love."

"Are you sure? Wouldn't you rather forget about who this is, and just remember the Della Duck you met back on Ithaquack?"

"Not on my immortal life." She swore, with a finality to her life. "I will always, always, choose the Della Duck that I can hold, the one who I can play pranks on, the one who will sing to me. I want to remember each and every part of you, Della. From when I first met you, to when you're old and gray. I love you, not who you once were, you, with all of my heart. That, I promise you."

Della swallowed hard, unable to blink away the tears this time. She finally turned around, trying to wipe her face off with her sleeve as she spoke. "Okay. Okay. I - I'll try and be someone who's worth all that love. All that time." The smaller woman promised before blowing her nostrils out on her sleeve, unable to stop herself from crying. "Sorry, I'm not - I'm a little bit sad but it's just - it's a lot of emotions all at once, you know? I hate these conversations because I always end up sobbing."

"Yeah. But it does feel better, talking about it." Selene agreed, rubbing her eyes as well, despite the fact that -being a goddess- she wasn't cursed with runny makeup or red-rimmed eyes because of the tears. She chuckled slightly to herself. "I- I knew I was being silly, thinking about it like this, but all day I was worried that you'd turned down my offer because you didn't want to be around me anymore. I couldn't blame you if that had been the case, but I honestly should've thought about the whole 'aversion to godhood' thing you've got, shouldn't I?"

"No, no, I - I was a little bit afraid of being in the same room as you alone, but I didn't want you to go away. I just wanted us to have gotten over this... thing we just spent the last thirty minutes talking about and know exactly if we could be close again or if I should take a step back." Della insisted and tried to explain. "Honestly, the - offer of immortality barely even registered on top of everything else. My kids had a really bad day and I thought that your idea might give them something to take their minds off it."

"Aw, that's sweet." Selene hummed, coming up to Della and putting her arms around her waist. "Weren't you worried about what might happen if one of them actually got the job?"

"Nah we'd just-" Della began and then stopped, brows furrowed as she considered that the thought. "Uh. We'd just… uh. Uuuuuuuh."

"You really didn't think about it, did you?"

The smaller woman looked up to Selene as she approached. "... I may not have, no." Della admitted, flushing around her bill.

Selene laughed, that cute, quiet laugh that she always did when she and Della were alone, and Della had said something she found particularly endearing (it was usually her just being an idiot, which Della never really got, but- whatever floated her boat, and all that). She kissed Della gently on the cheek, swaying with her in her arms for a moment.

"Well, on the bright side, you've always been really good at rolling with the punches," The goddess mentioned. "So I think you would've been fine. Probably."

"Oh they'd be fine, that's not the question." Della insisted as she was wrapped up in the goddess' arms. "They're all fantastic and as long as they have each other there's nothing they can't do. But the logistics would be such a bitch and we'd have to figure out if we should move to Greece or not and we'd have to schedule around their new responsibilities when it came to family activities and-" She waggled her hand in the air. "It would have been a lot to add to everyone's plates, is all I'm saying."

"They'd probably be able to handle it." Selene agreed, nodding her head. "They seemed... uhm. They seemed really good at turning bad ideas into surprisingly effective ones, so that's always a plus." She said finally.

"Yeah that's… probably my fault." Della admitted, looking up. "Given how impulsive I am, you know? And how that impacted their lives as they grew up."

"They seem like they're alright," Selene assured her softly. "Maybe a little eager to impress any authority figure that steps into their life, but- other than that, they seem quite smart."

"Mostly because I saddled them with abandonment issues." The mortal sighed as she sat down on the edge of her bed.

Selene shook her head, following Della and sitting down next to her, rubbing her back gently. "I feel like that's not all you, Della. I mean, Webby- wait, you didn't have Webby, right? Or was that another one? Or did one of the eggs have two inside of it?"

"Hah, no, actually I had that same thought when I saw her!" The mortal exclaimed, sitting up just a little bit straighter. "I was worried that the ultrasounds had been off or something, especially when nobody bothered to tell me why she was living in my uncle's house. To be fair, I didn't ask, but at the same time can you blame me for making that assumption?" Della smiled. "Uh - yeah even if she's not biologically related to me though, she's still family, and the boys see her as their sister."

Selene smiled back, adjusting her position a bit to give Della a bit more room to wiggle before returning her hand to her thigh. "Well, she seems like the most desperate one out of them all for approval, so..."

"Yeah but - that's sort of because after I left Donnie decided to cut off contact with our uncle and raise the triplets by himself, which in turn meant that Webby lived in the mansion with only a depressed Scrooge and a paranoid Beakley for family. Another knock on effect of the spear of Selene."

Selene didn't bother to hide a roll of her eyes at that. "You know, Della, not every problem in the world needs to be traced back to you, right?"

"Yeah but a lot of them involving my family can." Della said, just a little bit more tired. "... sorry, I'm being depressing, aren't I?"

"Like I said: I'm happy with the version of Della I can hold, even if she is a little depressing at times." Selene assured her, hugging her and gently guiding her head onto her lap. "If you need to let off some bad air, I'm alright with listening to that, don't worry."

"Thanks Selene. You always know what to say." The mortal admitted as she snuggled up closer, letting herself rest a little bit more firmly against the goddess. "... and what to do. And you're soft and warm."

"I know, I am pretty great." Selene replied, just a little smugly, as she played with Della's hair. "You know, I actually met Webby before today?"

"Mm?" Della asked, closing her eyes just a little. "Let me guess, she was with my kids when you talked to them?"

"Mhm, she was with Dewey when he came by to first meet me," Selene explained. "I only met them, though, the others were busy dealing with my dad and his stupid grudge against Scrooge. But Webby and Dewey were sweet, they'd been looking for you, and had hoped that I would know more about the Spear of Selene than I did." She sighed wistfully. "I wish I could've helped them more, honestly. All I ended up doing was just giving them a picture orb of you."

"Aw, that sounds…" Della began before pausing, stiffening slightly and opening her eyes. "Selene, which sphere did you give them?"

"I know, I know, it's little more than a paltry gift for getting to me, but-" Selene paused as well, humming as she considered Della's question. "...Oh. Hmm, I'm not sure. Now that I'm thinking about it, it might've been the one we took after Mykonos. You know, the one with you, in my bed, baring yourself to me..." She offered impishly.

"Selene!" Della shot up, scandalized.

"What?" Selene blinked innocently at her. "Do you think they didn't like it? Oh, I knew I should've given them more than just a couple pictures..."

Della flushed hot before realization hit her, and then punched the goddess lightly in the side. "You're joking!" She decided before putting her finger to Selene's cheek. "You better be joking or I'm holding you responsible for traumatizing my kids even more than they already were."

Selene laughed, eyes crinkling as she hugged Della. “Alright, but I fooled you for a second there,” She said, grinning. “No, no, I could never give that orb away. I gave them the one when you and Donald fought that manticore, remember?”

Della thought for a moment. "I think so, right before we had to save Storkules after he got stung by it." She relaxed, letting out a long shaky breath. "Woof, Selene, don't scare me like that in the future, alright? I was this close to taking the express ticket to Hades."

Selene smiled at her, pulling her back down to her lap and resuming playing with her hair, her other hand smoothing down the aviator’s shirt. “Your hair’s longer,” She mentioned, lifting strands of it up. “I thought you liked that old cut of yours?”

"I dunno. I spent ten years growing it out. I felt like I could keep the bangs at least." The Duck explained before sliding a little bit closer before pausing as she realized her prosthetic was now pressed firmly against Selene's side. "... hey, if the metal leg makes you - feel weird or anything -" She began and then stopped, not sure what was more upsetting - the leg or the stump.

“I don’t mind it.” Selene assured her. “I think it makes you look more badass, honestly.”

"You sure you don't care?" Della asked again, just a little bit more anxious despite the assurance. "I mean- I know, you like me, but Selene, I'm warning you-" She stopped and started before putting her hands together. "... I can show you how bad it is. Don't feel like you have to say you like it if you don't though, okay? Like if you just think you won't care but then you see how messed up it actually is and then realize you do I won't mind it."

Selene kissed her again, on the forehead. “Della, I promise you, there is nothing that could happen to you that would make me feel any less certain of your beauty. I love you, all of you, and that won’t change, okay?” She assured the mortal.

"Okay..." Della repeated, not for the first time that night. Hesitantly she lifted up her shirt, pulling it upwards over her head to reveal the network of scars that ran over her stomach and side.

Selene gently touched her stomach, fingers ghosting over a large burn scar that wrapped around her side and to her back. “This one is new,” She said, quietly.

"Yeah uh - I got that one fighting a moonmite. Monster that kept stealing my stuff. Spat acid." The smaller woman explained sheepishly as Selene traced across the pink featherless skin.

Selene’s traveling hands eventually settled on her hips, pulling Della closer, back onto her lap. She trailed kisses up her chest and to her neck, stopping just before her face to cup her cheeks and brush her bangs out of her eyes.

“I was right, my beloved,” She whispered softly to her. “You are still just as beautiful as the day we met. In a different way, maybe, but breathtaking nonetheless. Nothing could make me hate looking at you. Μικρή Δέλλα, αγαπημένη μου.”

‘Little Della, My Beloved.’

Della leaned into Selene’s comforting embrace, sighing as she ran her hand through Selene’s hair in turn, fingers lacing through the golden locks behind the Swan's back. “Σελήνιο, όμορφο μου φεγγαρόφωτο,” She spoke softly in reply.

‘Selene, My Beautiful Moonlight.’

“Let me hold you?” Selene requested, tracing her finger along Della’s chest. “I can’t promise to always be here for you, but- at least for tonight, I want to be with you.”

Della gave her a smile, caressing the goddess’s cheek. “I did lock the door. …I think.”

Selene beamed back at her, and slowly pulled Della into a deep, long kiss.

Chapter Text

It was almost an entire year since Della first met her boys. Christmas was about two weeks out and the holiday served as a reminder to Della of the passage of time, the countdown to the annual attempt to bar and/or capture Santa Claus also marking that it had been almost a month since her last nighttime talk with Louie, which mean that she'd been putting off a fairly important talk with her kids for a month.

And Della still hadn't followed through on her promise. Not for any real reason she could articulate. She didn't have to worry about how this would change everything. Her kids weren't going to hate her for this, she knew that. Her son was gay. But if she couldn't come out of the closet to his brothers, then how could she be sure she wasn't teaching him to hate himself?

She knew she wouldn't lose her sons. Logically. Donald had raised the triplets, she knew that they wouldn't hate her for being gay - even if he hadn't come out yet either...

But her mind was still plagued by 'what if's', where she could see the tenuous connections she'd made with her boys unravel. Not only that, what if it turned Huey and Dewey against Louie? What if she ruined their childhoods for a second time?

Della shook her head, aware of the pattern that had been building up over the last few weeks. The more she thought about it, the less likely she was to do it, and the more she thought about that set her emotions into a dizzying spiral of doom that left her sick to her stomach.

With a groan, Della sat up out of bed. She wasn't getting any sleep tonight, she supposed. Not with her brain screaming at her, calling her a coward and a rat, worthless of love, and care, someone too scared to even-

"For fuck's sake, would you please stop it already?" She begged her head, slapping her cheek. She was just so fucking sick of this! All the stress, and worry, and just general fear. It was too much, she hated it, she needed it to stop.

… And there was really only one way to do that.

–0–

Huey had yet to settle down for sleep. He'd just been on an adventure, after all, he needed to jot down his findings before turning the lights out. His brothers were also awake, of course, but not for nearly as noble of reasons, as far as Huey was concerned.

Louie was on his phone, just mindlessly scrolling through Tweeter and whatnot. Huey was fairly certain he would've gone to sleep if he could've, but - well, Dewey was also up. Which wasn't exactly his fault, Huey knew - Dewey really didn't get to sleep easily on the best of days, and after an adventure? Yeah, you could kiss the next few hours goodbye, as the blue boy would just babble on and on about how awesome he'd been while swinging around the bunk bed like a maniac.

Staying up past their bedtime perhaps wasn't the gravest of crimes, but Huey still took care to tread lightly with it. After all, it would still represent a breach of trust in the boys' abilities to police themselves when it came to bedtime, instead of having to be trotted out and inspected by various parental figures to ensure that their teeth had been brushed, and various homework had been completed, et cetera et cetera.

Which is why, when a knock came from behind the door, Huey immediately hissed and shoved his notebook away under his pillow, fluffing the blankets and pulling them up and around himself. His brother's followed suit, Louie chucking his phone over to the bedside table as Dewey leapt back to the middle bunk like he'd never even been out of bed. They'd all gotten quite good at pretending to be asleep when they weren't. (though Dewey's 'honk-shoo's' probably weren't selling it as much as the theatrical boy thought they were.)

Huey could tell that Louie felt the same way, mainly by the jostling feeling of him elbowing Dewey's bed, telling him to play the part of the 'just-woke-up-all-groggy-like' for them.

"Hhdgnk- mmh, huh? Whozzere?" Dewey, to his credit, actually did manage to put on a pretty good 'I just woke up' spin to his voice - probably not as good as Louie could've managed, but better than Huey by a long shot. Plus, he was more believable than Louie, if solely because Louie lied a lot .

"Hey kiddos. It's me. Your mom. Della." Their mom, Della, said on the other side of the door. It opened just a bit, so she could take a look. "Are you guys sleeping? Should I come back?"

Huey could feel Dewey still slightly beneath them, and sighed mentally. They all still had a bit of- well, calling it a 'soft spot' wasn't necessarily accurate, but she'd only been their parent for a year. They weren't as used to her, and thus they weren't going to be as good at playing at being 'good kids' with her as they'd be with Uncle Donald or even Uncle Scrooge.

Which wasn't necessarily a bad thing, per se, but it meant that any false sleepiness in Dewey's voice was definitely not going to last long at all.

Thankfully, Louie seemed to have been thinking the same thing, as he sighed and sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Yeah, no, we're up." He said, waving their mom in. "Caught us just as we were going to bed. What's up?"

Their door opened a little wider, just enough for Della to slip through, bumping it closed with her foot.

"I'm sorry to keep you up. You guys probably want me to just leave and let you get to sleep, huh?" She asked, hand hovering over the light switch.

"No, no, it's fine!" Dewey quickly assured her, probably a little too quickly to be perfectly fair. Huey and Louie shared a look from top and bottom bunk - Dewey definitely still wanted to prove himself to Mom. And if it was anyone else but Mom, they'd probably be automatically able to tell that they hadn't even been close to sleeping, just by the way any and all sleepiness had left Dewey's voice the second he'd heard it was her.

Thankfully, it was Mom, so they'd probably be fine.

"Hey, it's not like we're ever going to say no to a reason to shirk our bedtime, if only for a few minutes." Louie offered with a shrug.

"Hah, right. Bedtime." Della said as she turned the light on - and then immediately winced, pulling her goggles down over her eyes.. "Sorry, wow, I forgot how bright that is, how do you get to sleep like this?" She asked as she stepped closer, one foot treading more heavily than the other on the carpet. She slid up against their bed post to rest against.

“...We don’t?” Huey cocked his head. “Usually we sleep in the dark. You know, without the lights on.”

“Right, right, yeah, I know, I know,” Their mom nodded, waving her hand in the air. “Remembered that as soon as it left my mouth - but like, seriously, it’s still bright without the lights.” She tried, motioning to the window that, while covered, did still let light in from the lamps they’d installed recently in the backyard. “There’s a lot of light, like, all the time these days. Did the world just - get brighter during my absence?”

“No, you’re just used to the moon.” Louie said, the cavalier way he spoke making Huey wince. They were supposed to be gentle about that subject! “It’s not that night is bright, it’s just that you’re used to much darker times.”

Thankfully, Della didn’t seem to take that too badly, instead just laughing slightly. “Right, yeah, that makes sense.” She said, falling quiet for a moment.

“So… how was your day?” She asked suddenly, craning her head up, so she could see Huey.

The boys shared a silent look.

'Where is she going with this?' Louie's raised eyebrow asked.

'She's asking about our day, like a mom should!' Dewey replied with a nudge to the bedpost to shake Louie slightly.

Louie's face remained unchanged. '... And the fact that she already asked that at dinner isn't suspicious? I smell something fishy.'

Huey sighed imperceptibly and shook his head. 'Just- go with it. It's nice to talk about and you know it.'

 "It was... fine." He finally said out loud, fiddling with his sleeping cap. "You know. It was an adventure, adventures are fun."

"I almost died three times." Louie reminded him.

"Which is lower than your usual amount of five, so I think that means it was a good day for you too."

"Right, what was it again? Mummies?" Della asked, gently rubbing her hands together distractedly.

"Well, I wouldn't say so." Huey pulled his book back out from under his pillow and began flipping through it distractedly. "Sure, they were wrapped up like mummies, but they weren't actually mummified - they still had their organs after all. It would be more consistent to classify them as zombies masquerading as mummies, or maybe as Gibdos if you want to go down the video game naming route-"

Louie cleared his throat. "In short, our day was good, don't worry about it."

Huey rolled his eyes. "You know, you could just not cut me off when I'm trying to explain-"

"What, that the mummies weren't mummies?"

"For the last time, they were not. Properly. Mummified."

" You weren't properly mummified."

Huey frowned and clapped the book shut, getting ready to throw it at his brother's smug face, before Dewey interrupted.

"So how was your day, Mom?" He asked, voice a touch louder than need to be to remind the other two that right, they still had a parent around. Book throwing would have to wait until after she left.

"Good!" Della answered back in a slightly strangled tone, almost like she was surprised Dewey had remembered she was here. "Really good. Not bad at all. So good!" She exclaimed, before letting out her breath, shoulders sagging. "I uh - I was mostly thinking. Nothing bad though, all good things."

Huey frowned. It - didn't seem like it, from how she looked. He felt Louie shift from the bottom bunk and immediately turned the frown down his direction. 'Don't you dare act all snide here...'

Louie didn't even bother looking at him, which really ruined the whole 'silent communication' thing.

"Well, you sure look it, Ma." He said nonchalantly, shoving his hands into his pajama pockets.

"Hah. Yeah, the uh - the goggles." She acknowledged. "I've had a little bit more trouble with, you know, the light and stuff, but nothing out of the usual." Della said, rubbing her hand against the back of her leather cap.

“We could turn the lights off if you needed,” Huey offered, already making to get out of his bed.

“No no, it’s alright!” Della quickly assured him. “I’m fine, it’s fine, I’m just-” She squeezed her hands together, looking back and forth, up and down, at each of them quickly before ducking her head again. “I just needed -or, well, wanted- to talk to you, so.”

Louie shot a look up at Huey. 'So. She's acting weird, right? Is mom having a moment right now?'

Huey frowned back. 'No. She's always kept to herself during one of those before, you know that.' She wouldn't put handling that onto them. They all knew that, if nothing else.

'Maybe. Still weird, though.'

"What did you want to talk about?" Dewey asked, either unaware of the silent conversation happening between the other two or willfully ignoring it, (Huey had his bets on the first) instead simply addressing their mom. "Are you alright? Oh, were you cursed? Can you not tell us what you're doing here? Do you need help? If you do, tap your foot once for yes, twice for no!

“Actually, most curses and geas extend to body language, as long as the wizard or druid or whatever knows what they're doing." Della answered, before coughing. "But uh - no, not cursed or anything. I just - I wanted to talk to you. All of you. Collectively. As a group." She hesitated, her hand going to her head. "... Just gimme a minute, and I'm sure I'll remember why!"

The three all frowned at each other again. "...Okay?" Huey said, sitting up slightly. "We can- we can do that, sure. Would us talking... help?"

Dewey didn't wait for a yes or a no. "Hmm, let's see, what could you wanna talk about..." He mused, folding his hands together under his chin in a thinking position. "Are you... coming to tell us about the next adventure? Wanted to show us some neat bug that's in the hallway? Accidentally ate poison and need someone to call poison control but you forgot the number?"

"You don't eat poison, you ingest it." Huey coughed.

"Hubert. What is the difference."

"You eat with your mouth, you ingest substances with any part of your body. The differences in connotations also include not being aware of what it is you're putting into yourself, usually." Della answered, before clearing her throat again. “But no, no, I didn’t poison myself or anything. … Again. I’m fine! I’m alright, I- mmh, I’m fine. I’m perfectly fine.”

She… really didn’t look it. Huey was about to say something to that effect, something reassuring at least, but Louie beat him to it. The younger triplet’s eyes widened as he sat up, apparently having guessed what this elusive ‘conversation’ was going to be about.

“Wait, you’re doing this now? ” He asked, dumbfounded.

“I-” Their mom faltered, looking around like she was in trouble. “  I mean I was thinking about it, so I just kinda-”

“No, no, I mean it’s fine, it’s- uh-”

“I need to talk with you guys tomorrow!” Della all but shouted, cutting off whatever Louie had been about to say. She quickly turned away, pivoting on her right foot. “Need to talk to you - tomorrow - about a thing. Tomorrow.”

"Wh- O-kay?" Huey blinked. What? She came in here just to- say that? That she needed to talk tomorrow? Normally Huey was all for keeping people updated about their schedules, but this probably would have been better as an email.

"Okay! Uh, wait, when tomorrow?" Dewey asked as she left. "Because we do have school- ooh, are we gonna be skipping it to talk?"

"No, no, we shouldn't have to do that." Huey flipped through his calendar book, tapping a page. "Okay, we've got a good forty-five minutes in the morning where we're scheduled to do nothing besides watch TV, does that work with you?"

"Hhhhhhhha yeah, definitely." Their mom replied, almost squeaking - she'd been in the process of walking backwards rapidly to their bedroom door before Huey spoke, and she nodded vigorously in response, one hand fumbling for the doorknob. "Right! I need to talk to you about a thing tomorrow in the morning when you're usually watching TV." Della repeated quickly. "Don't let me forget, okay?"

"Okay, I'll mark it down here." Huey nodded, altering the schedule in his book.

"Goodnight, Mom!" Dewey said cheerfully, giving her a big smile. "See you in the morning!"

"Right! Morning!" She repeated, slightly louder than she should have, before finally getting the door open and darting into the hall - only to come back a moment later. "Sorry, forgot the light." Della mentioned, flicking the switch, before once again departing. "GET SOME SLEEP!"

"...Well that went well!" Dewey said after the moment had passed, speaking into the darkness.

Huey snorted. He was bad at reading the room, but even he could tell that hadn't gone like their mom had intended it to.

"Mmmh. I'm surprised you didn't put up any fuss about getting your TV time taken away Louie." There was silence for a moment as he waited for Louie to respond- but he didn't. "...Louie?"

That seemed to shake his brother out of whatever stupor he was in, as the bed shifted. "Hmm? What? Why would I care about that?" He asked, sounding subdued.

Huey frowned. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

Dewey leaned over. "Do you know what she wants to talk about? I mean, you seemed to guess - is it something bad?? Did something happen?"

"I said I'm fine ." Louie grumbled back, and Huey could hear him turn to face the wall. "I don't know what she wanted any more than either of you do."

Huey's frown deepened. He could tell that Louie was lying about that. He . Could tell that Louie . Was lying . That probably wasn't great.

He decided to have mercy on his brother though, gently placing his guidebook back under his pillow. "Well, you heard what she said. Don't wanna be groggy for whatever Talk we're getting tomorrow."

The room fell silent, lights out and very little movement as all three brothers got comfortable in their beds.

"...Wait. Do you think she's gonna give us 'The Talk?'"

"Do not jinx us, Dewford."

–0–

Della stumbled, bouncing against the banister as she came down the stairs. Everything was too loud, too bright -even in all this darkness- and her brain was too busy yelling at her. She was a coward. She couldn't even say a few damn words to her kids, what type of mother was she? She was horrible, a liar, a cheat, a fake, nothing. She shouldn't have come back, if all she was going to do was fuck with her kids and then freak out! She was worthless! What type of mother couldn't even talk to her own kids?

She barely paid any attention as her feet carried her out the manor and into the backyard, until she kicked open the door to her brother's houseboat.

"Donnie!" She called out, trying to keep from sounding too choked as she gasped for breath. "I- Donnie, I need your help, please." She got out before falling back on her ass on the floor, breathing heavily. And now she was annoying her brother. Of course. Wasn't he tired of picking up after her all the time? For goodness sake, she couldn't run crying to him every single time she fucked up! That wasn't fair at all!

She could barely hear the frantic stumbling sound coming from deeper in the houseboat over the noises in her head, though the sound of her brother slamming open his door was much louder.

"Della! What- why are you-" Donald blinked sleepy-dust out of his eyes, body tensed and ready to spring at whatever unseen assassins Della had been running from.

"Sh-" Della tried to talk, but the words got tangled up in her throat as her chest was constricted by an invisible force. She knew what it was, at this point. A panic attack. "S-ssss-" She tried again, but only came out with a stuttering hiss.

The world kept going fuzzy, shapes blurring in and out of the darkness as her senses attacked her and her mind fought to understand the images. She could barely hear Donald's sharp breathing relax, the tension leaving from his muscles as the creaking of floorboards and dark blob in front of her slowly registered as her brother.

"Hey. You're okay." Her brother's voice, though, still somehow managed to cut through the sharp screaming pain of the world and find its way to her brain. "You're safe now." His voice was calm and soothing, though that wasn't enough on its own.

A long drawn out gasp escaped Della's throat, and her shoulders began to shake. "S-ssorry." She finally managed to choke out, trying to push herself up onto her knees.

"Take your time." She felt a weight on her shoulders, her brother gently grabbing her and scooping her up, carrying her like she weighed nothing. "You've got nowhere to be right now."

The gentle rocking of the boat was somehow easier to feel without her feet on the ground, though that might have also been because Donald was taking her - somewhere. It was dark.

Della shook her head, pulling her leather cap off with jerky motions and dropping it to the ground, so she could press her face against her brother's shoulder and cry into his clothing.

"I'm - I'm so sorry -" She said between sobs. "I - I - I keep - messing up - and - and -"

"Breathe." Donald cut in with a request, opening a door and stepping into somewhere that felt - safe. Comforting. It took him a few moments, but soon Della found herself placed down gently in a nest of blankets, her brother still holding her hand. "You don't have to explain yourself. Just breathe."

Della sucked air in and out, her diaphragm trembling with the laborious motions, slowly relaxing. She was still crying, but at least she could get words out more coherently.

"I'm - so sorry." She repeated as she curled up. "I shouldn't- I shouldn't keep bothering you every time I'm a dumbass. It's not fair to you."

"Hey. Better here where I can help you than somewhere else." Donald reprimanded her gently, sitting down across from her so that she could see his face. He looked tired. "I'm not angry or upset with you or anything, you know. So just sit here, catch your breath, and talk to me when you're ready, okay?"

Della  shook her head, her eyes stinging with each blink.  He didn’t get it, he should be upset with her. If not for bothering him at Ungodly O’Clock, then for fucking up with the kids again and again and again.

"I'm - I'm just -" She started and then stopped, unable to force her mouth to form the words. She clasped her hands tightly together, thumbs rubbing urgently against her knuckles. “I’m such a fucking failure, Donnie.” She finally spat out, shoulder shaking. “I’m a coward, and an idiot, and I can’t even talk to my kids, I just-”

"You're not a coward." Donald cut her off, voice neutral and soothing. “And you’re not a failure. Don’t say bad things about yourself here, if you can help it.” He said, indicating the interior cabin they were in with a glance - it was their room. The boys' place, where they used to sleep when they lived on the houseboat. It was obvious, if only because of the triple bunk bed and the posters.

Della snorted back phlegm and laughed. "But Donnie - that means I might not be able to say anything." She insisted.

Donald shrugged. "Well, you know what mom always said- if you don't have anything nice to say, then don't say it at all."

That got another laugh from her. Well, more of a chuckle really, but it still counted. It helped her get her breathing back to something resembling normal, at least. “Yeah. And she definitely kept to that rule herself.”

“You know what they say - ‘do as I say, not as I do.’” Donald replied, looking up at her at the same time that she looked at him. He looked so tired. “... What happened, Dells?”

Della sniffed and rubbed her nose. “I - I tried to tell the kids that I’m bi.” She admitted quietly. “And instead I just freaked the fuck out and ran away. Like-”

“Ah-ah.” Donald cut her off warningly. Della huffed and glared at him.

“Oh come on.” She said. “Saying ‘like usual’ doesn’t count.”

“Yes it does.” Her brother replied.

She huffed. “Fine. ‘Like I didn’t want to.’ Happy?”

“Very.” Donald sat back on his haunches, looking her over for a moment. “What makes you so nervous about this?”

“I don’t - I don’t know why.” Della answered before frowning, her going to her hairband to fiddle with it. That was a lie. She did know why she was nervous. Sort of. “...I built the Spear of Selene three times, did you know?”

Her brother frowned as well, obviously put off by the news. The first time that she'd seen him on the back foot since barging in here. "No, I- I didn't know that. You've never mentioned it before - it broke on you three times?"

"Broke one time, got destroyed by a moonmite the second - the third one worked." Della explained, with a small huff. "And that's not even counting all the in betweens when I would hit a dead end and beat my head against a wall for weeks trying to jerry rig a solution. But each time -well, okay, maybe not the first- but each time, I thought it was going to work. And, well. Obviously, the first two times, it didn't. The ship was destroyed so many times, and each time it seemed so sturdy, like it wouldn't fall." She sniffed. "I didn't get the chance to - have faith in the third one. Penny launched it without asking me. Didn't have a chance to do anything but hop in and let the dice fall. And I guess I'm scared that I'm going to do that here, too. That I'm going to work so hard to fix my place in this family, and with one mistake, it'll all come crashing back down."

Donald's frown didn't leave him as he listened to her. "Do you really believe that you'll destroy everything so easily?" It sounded like he was leading up to something, but she couldn't be sure what.

"It didn't take much effort to ruin things the first time. Just one stupid decision." ‘Just one stupid decision’ - that could really be the calling card for her entire life. Just one stupid decision broke every rocket. Just one stupid decision left her stranded on the moon. Just one stupid decision was all it took to be sent away from all those foster homes. It was always just one stupid decision.

"Hmm." Her brother fell silent for a moment. For a long moment, just - staring at her. Studying.

"... Della." He began, tone very carefully neutral. "Do you think you're a good person?"

"... This feels like a trap." Della replied, looking over at her brother. "Can I deign not to answer?"

"I'd rather you tell me." The slightly taller Duck insisted.

Della swallowed. "... I don't think good people abandon their unborn kids for a little vacation on the moon, Donald." She finally said.

"Was that the reason you took the Spear?" Her brother asked dubiously. “Because you wanted a vacation?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I was just scared of settling down or something.” Della said.

Donald’s eyebrow didn’t come back down. "That’s your answer? Because you, the woman who always runs towards that which she's afraid of, was scared of settling down?"

Della sighed slightly, closing her eyes. That - that wasn’t fair. He couldn’t just pretend that she was a good person because she was an idiot daredevil at times. "I was afraid that after the boys hatched I'd - I'd get bored, of being a mother, of them..." She tried, looking to her brother again with a strained smile. "That's something you worry about when you buy a pet, not when you give birth to three people."

She could hear the wind outside moving the ship, making it creak slightly as it rocked from side to side in the pool.

"And did you get bored with them?" Donald asked, looking at her like he already knew the answer.

"No. They're my sons. I need to have them in my life - but only after ten years of not being able to see them. That doesn't count." She insisted. “Would you get to what you’re getting at already, Don?”

Donald breathed in and took her hand, looking at her seriously. "I think you're a good person, Della. But you're still afraid that you can't be, so you -" He frowned, rubbing his head. "Want to pretend to be a straight woman, I guess? Because you think that's what makes for a better mom."

Della just stared at him for a moment. “... I can feel your judgment radiating out at me.”

Her brother shot her a look. “Fine. It seems a little silly, when you take everything into account.”

"It’s not that silly, it’s - well, I don't know." Della sighed. "I mean, I don't - that's what we always did. That's what we're 'supposed' to do." She tried. "I mean, 'don't look, don't tell' and all that military jazz."

“Last I checked, our family was not the military, even if Scrooge is pretty strict on shower time.”

“You know what I mean.”

That seemed to shut her brother up for a moment, but unfortunately, it was one of those silences. Those silences that meant Donald was plotting something, not actually at a loss for words.

“... Dells, who from our childhood do you remember was straight?” He asked finally.

"Every single parent in foster care?" Della tried. "I mean, there was Johnny, and Eric, and Marie the Bitter One, and so many fucking names that I can now never use for a child because of how horrible those people are."

"Right. And were they good parents?"

"No, they were horrible." Della said, before blinking. "Well - but, hang on, Mom and Dad might've been straight. Whatever their sexuality, that probably didn't have any impact on their parenting, and..." She trailed off, pursing her lips. "... And you can be a right bastard sometimes, you know that?"

"Honestly, you've gotta admit you set yourself up for this." Donald said, slightly smug before leaning to the side to bump his shoulder against Della's. "Do you think any change at all will be for the worse?"

"Yes." Della replied immediately. "... No. I'm not sure, Donnie. All I know is that right now things are pretty good."

"Are they?" Her brother asked. "Because -I don't know if you noticed- but it's twelve o'clock at night, and you're crying in a nest in my houseboat because you're terrified of being who you are. And that reminds me of some times that I highly doubt you'd say were 'good.'"

Della groaned in response. "At least they're talking to me. At least they like having me around.”

Donald sighed, taking his hand and running it through his hair under his hat. "Dells, what would you do if one of our kids came out?"

"I would love them unconditionally, that's not even a question." Della said easily, rubbing her shoulders. "But that's different, because I'm their mother. I'm supposed to love them unconditionally, it's in the job description. They aren't."

"So we're back at pretending to be a different person because you think your kids would love her more than you.” Donald surmised. “Even though they love you as you are now, with your robot leg and scars and everything?"

"Okay, sure, maybe you’ve got a point there. But if they knew the me-me, then they'd change their mind." Della replied. "Right now, they know me as the cool, fun loving mom that they've never had. However, the true me is an unlovable horrible person, and I don't want them to know that person."

Donald pinched his sister lightly in response. "What'd I say?"

"Wh- hey!" Della smacked him back. "... Don't say bad shit about myself, yeah yeah. But I told you that it'd be difficult, considering that I'd be losing a lot of my vocabulary there. So I think I'm justified." 

“Well, we have different opinions on that.”

Della rolled her eyes. “Fine. You're right, even with the whole robot leg and scars and everything, I still feel like I need to be a different person." She admitted, pulling her legs up to her chest. "I'm just scared that it'd be too much. Like, they can only take me being so weird, and the robot leg and scars and -well, everything wrong with my head- is already stretching the limit. And that's not me saying bad things about myself! I'm just explaining shit, don't pinch me again."

Donald fell quiet again, nodding his head lightly.

“Don’t do that.” Della quickly said.

“What?”

“Stop doing your whole-” She wiggled her hand in the air at him. “‘Thinking up ways to trap me into loving myself’ thing. It’s annoying.”

That got a small but light laugh out of her brother, which (she was loathe to admit) did actually made her feel a bit better. “That is not a thing I do.”

“Yes it is. ” Della replied, poking him in the side. “You do this all the time, ever since we were kids. And it has never stopped pissing me off.”

“Hmm.” Donald just gave her a bemused look. “Well, you’ll have to forgive me for continuing it.”

Della sighed, but it wasn’t really like there was anything she could do to stop him, was there? …Okay, there probably was, but a part of her couldn’t help but be curious about what Donald would come up with this time. It was always something.

Her brother was silent for a pretty long while, smile slowly fading as he looked her over. "... I'm gonna ask you something, and you need to promise you'll answer with the truth. Can you do that Della?" He asked, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"The fact that you are giving me a warning beforehand makes me doubt it, but - sure." Della said, trying to ignore the antsy feeling that crawled on her back at that. If nowhere else, she was safe here, after all.

"Are you a better parent than Bitter Marie?"

"I-" Was she? Could she really say, with absolute certainty, that she was a better parent than her? She'd hurt her kids so badly by leaving, after all. She was a horrible mother, so obviously she couldn't say she was any better.

But at the same time, could she say she was worse? Bitter Marie had hurt them. And she'd genuinely hated her and Donald, too. She'd been one of the biggest hurdles that Della had to overcome to feel comfortable in her own perception of herself, in her body, in everything that was her. She hoped she wasn't doing that to her kids.

"I don't know." She finally admitted, frowning at herself. "I've hurt them, but I don't hate them. I could never hate them. But I don't know if that alone can make me better."

"You didn't hurt them intentionally. You hurt them, but we both know you never wanted it to happen." Donald pointed out. "I think that makes you a better parent. Don't you think?"

"I hope so." Della said, leaning on her brother hesitantly. "I really hope so, Donnie."

"So say it. Say you're a better parent than Marie." Donald instructed, putting his hand on top of his sister's.

"But you just told me not to lie." Della pointed out. "And if I don't know, then how can I say for certain?"

"Because I think you're a better parent than any of the shitty people we had to live with after mom and dad died." He said, squeezing her hand. "I remember exactly what it was like, and I'm telling you no - you are a better parent."

Della let out a heavy sigh, closing her eyes. "I- okay. I am a better parent than Marie was." She said hesitantly. It felt weird to say. Sort of like a lie, but also - not. Like there was a strange pressure that built up in her chest at the words and didn’t fully go away afterwards. "... I'm a better parent than most of the foster parents we ever had- I don't know if I'm better than Liam and Margaret, necessarily."

"You're a better parent, why?" Her brother continued.

"Because I don't hate the kids that I'm raising?"

"And?"

"...And I'm not planning on abusing them?" Della tried. "And if I do, then I'm going to shoot myself back into space so they don't have to worry about me hurting them?"

"Okay.” If Donald had any opinions on her doing that, then he didn’t voice them. “One more way you're better?"

"I don't know, man." Della sighed. "I don't know I'm three-reasons better than them."

"You're better than them because you let our kids live their lives and encourage their interests." Donald pointed out. "Yes, I know, you grounded Louie - but to be honest I would have grounded Louie too. I have grounded him for things much less serious than scattering our family through time and space."

"Yeah, and I also heavily implied that if he didn't stop scheming, I'd kick him out of the family." Della mentioned. "Which, sure, that's not what I meant at all, but it's still what ended up coming across. Absolutely wonderful reaction, sure you would've done the same."

"And you talked to him about it.” Donald reminded her. And they had talked about it - they’d actually been pretty good about doing that. “You apologized to him. Would Marie have done that?"

"... No." Della admitted quietly. "She would've just doubled down on it being my fault, somehow. But- but still, being better than her is hardly praise-worthy."

"Yeah, I agree. But it's a bar. You're not at the bottom of the pile, Della." Donald said, thinking for another moment. "And do you think someone who's not the worst should continue to pretend to be someone they're not to their kids?"

"I don't know," Della whined, covering her eyes with her arm. "I don't want to keep pretending, Donnie. I feel horrible about it. But every time I try, I just- can't."

"... Because you don't want things to change." Donald concluded, rubbing his sister's hand again. "But things are going to change, Della. That's going to happen no matter what happens. Our kids won't stay pre-teens forever. And they're going to be learning from us. What would you want them to know when they meet a person who's not straight or cis?"

"That they're the exact same as them, and they're worthy of love and care just the same as everyone else." Della said, exhaling heavily. "...I said that I want to talk to them tomorrow." She mentioned. "I hope I don't chicken out then."

"You're helping them, Della. Just remember that. You're helping them, not hurting them." Donald insisted. "You're helping them by talking to them about this."

"I really hope you're right, Donnie." Della said, feeling around for his hand. "And I wanna help 'em, but there's a part of me -a part of me that I hate- that's scared that I'm gonna lose them if I do."

"You won't. They love you Della. You know that, right?" Donald asked as he put his hand in hers.

"I... Donald." Della sighed, squeezing his hand. "Sure. They love me. But I'm just scared that they won't always."

"We could do this together." Donald proposed, turning to watch his sister's face. "There's no reason not to."

Della took a breath, considering for a moment. That would actually be nice. She wouldn’t be alone, and she hated being alone. Hell, maybe that’d been what was missing this entire time. Maybe she’d just needed to suck it up and ask Donald to help her sooner.

"... I mean, I'd be less likely to chicken out, if you were there." She admitted. "But like- there's gotta be a reason you haven't yet, right? Is it really just that you don't like talking about your love life?"

"Yeah -" Donald began, and then stopped, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. "Well. No. That's part of it I guess. You know how I've started dating Daisy?"

"Oh hell yeah I've noticed." Della nodded enthusiastically. "She's a fucking hottie, you are lucky that the kids were down in the dumps last time you went on a date with her."

"Yes, I am eternally grateful, that way I only had to deal with Storkules inviting himself to my date instead." Her brother said with a tone indicating that he is not that grateful, actually.

"Hey, at least he was probably just flirting with you."

"I haven't told her that I'm bi because, well, there's always the chance that she'll think that means that I'm - you know - that I'm easy. Or something worse." He continued, ignoring that last statement. "She's been the first steady partner I've had in years, since the boys hatched, so before that it just - well, I still haven't given them the talk yet. I know, they're almost teenagers but -" Donald let out a slightly strangled noise. "I could have talked to them earlier, but - when I had a love life, I was a different person. I don't know why, but I'm reluctant to stop being... well, you know. The me who's spent the last ten years living a normal life."

"Oh please, you weren't a 'different person,' you just acted different. The kids would love you anyways, no matter what." Della assured her brother before holding up her hand. "Yes yes, I know, I'm being hypocritical out the ass right now. But so are you, so shut the fuck up."

"No, you don't understand, I'm not afraid the kids wouldn't love me anymore." He said, shaking his head. "Which isn't something to be afraid of because I raised our boys right. It - it would be more about what that would mean for me?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Della asked, cocking her head. “What, do you like the idea of being a different person?”

The slightly abashed silence from her brother was all she needed to know the answer. “... Look, I was angry, and rude, and belligerent, and just plain old mean back then. And I don't like admitting that that's still there, because - I don’t know, because it was hard, I guess. Really really really hard learning to be a normal person. Learning how to cook, how to drive -well, how to drive safely- how to show up on time and keep to a schedule. It took me years to force myself into all of that, learn how to kiss ass and not speak my mind, to just keep my head down and put my beak to the grindstone." Donald's face fell, more than a little regretful. "I don't know, but at some point, I sort of buried who I used to be after I stopped talking to Scrooge. And that new person is still there.”

“Hmm.” Della nodded thoughtfully, before slinging her arm around Donald’s shoulder. “Yeah, all I’m hearing is that my brother’s a fucking hypocrite.” She said lightheartedly. “Ashamed of his past and who he was -because internalized homophobia is still a bitch even thirty years later- and he gets on my case about not being honest. For shame, Donnie."

"Hfm, you're oversimplifying it -" Donald objected as his sister pulled him closer, reversing the way they had been leaning.

“Am I? Really?”

“Yes.” Donald huffed. "The old me was a shitty person, who was just angry all the time at everyone."

"You weren't shitty." Della claimed. "You did so much to protect me, man. That's not something a shithead does."

"Okay, okay, I'll admit that I wasn't a bad person, but that old me couldn't have raised our kids. And now after all this time, I'm - now that I moved in with Unca Scrooge -" He grimaced. "I don't know, I'm terrible at explaining this sort of stuff. Does any of this make sense?"

"Hah hah, you called him Unca Scwooge," Della teased him immediately, grinning at him. 

"Ah, boil your head." Donald groused at the slip of the tongue.

"Well, hey, it's not like I'm much better.” Della assured him. “About the worry and inability to explain shit, I would never fuck up so badly by calling Uncle Scrooge Unca again. Stupid fear and shit that honestly doesn't make sense holding you back, you know?"

Donald sighed quietly.  "I should have talked to the boys about this when they were old enough to use the internet. Sat them down and just been honest about it - but then I'd have to lie because what am I going to do to explain - any of the things that we did when we were figuring ourselves out without bringing up Scrooge, who I was trying very hard to pretend didn't exist?" He kicked his feet against the floorboards. "Then I might have had to confront the fact that I missed the miserable old bastard."

"Yeah, you two always talk the big talk, but take it from somebody who's been around both of you when the other is gone: You can hardly last a week without each other." Della pointed out. "Though I will say - despite all of my worry, I am actually doing better than you in the coming out department, surprisingly."

"Yeah, well, I really didn't think I'd ever run into any of my old partners again, much less Storkules. Do you know how awkward that was when we crashed on Ithaquack?"

"Lemme guess - he shoved you right in between his massive pecs a bunch?"

"Uh huh. He practically burst into tears, he was so happy to see me."

"Yeah, that sounds like him." Della said with a smirk. "Selene and I also ended up bursting into tears, but it was less about happiness and more about regret. It ended well, though."

Her brother flushed and scowled before nodding. "... So. Yeah, I guess I am a hypocrite." He finally admitted after a few long moments of silence.

"Eh, don't worry too much about it, both of us are." Della waved him off. "I did actually come out to Louie, like, a month ago, though. Not the others -obviously- but I'll take whatever victories I can hold."

“See? You’re braver than you think you are,” Donald assured her, smiling at her.

“Yeah, maybe.” Della agreed, before biting her lip. “...  Also I might've told him you were bi." She admitted sheepishly. "I honestly can't remember, it was two months ago. Sorry 'bout that."

Donald’s smile immediately turned into a tired scowl. “Thanks, Dells.”

“Look, I’m sorry, I really am, alright?” Della tried. “I just wanted to assure him that he wasn’t alone, and that a lot of his family was also queer as fuck.”

“And if you remember that, then why are you having problems telling the others this?”

“I don’t fucking know, man, fear is weird!”

Donald rolled his eyes, but thankfully he didn’t seem too bothered by the turn of events. Which Della was thankful for, she hadn’t meant to accidentally out him. “Hm. Well maybe that's the problem?” He suggested. “Instead of talking to all of them at once, would it be easier to go one at a time?"

"Ehhhh, no." Della shook her head. "I think the suspense would kill me more than it already is. I don't like wading into the pool, I prefer to just- jump into the deep end, get it over with."

"Well, no reason why you can't at least pick out a place where you'll feel more comfortable. You got any place where you feel - you know, safe?" Donald asked.

"Not really, dude. I've got my room, but that's kind of a hostile environment to most other people who enter it, and that wouldn't be very fair." She replied. "I think I should be fine if you're there, though. Just- don't let me back away, please? I wanna talk about this with them, I really, really do."

"Don't worry, I'll hold your feet to the fire." Donald assured her. "And you'll do the same, because misery loves company."

"Oh hell yeah I will, that's not even a question!" Della said, pulling her brother forward to give him a noogie. "... Question. When you said that you haven't give the boys the talk, did you mean just the talk, or 'The Talk?'" She asked, pausing for a moment. "Do my babies know how babies are made yet, Donald?"

"Ah, I mean, I tried - but they only understood, like, every other word I said." Donald admitted. "I think they got the point though - egg and a sperm make a baby - and even if they were fuzzy on the rest of it I - well I know what their search history is."

"Okay, so long as I don't have to give it to them, I'm good." Della decided. "I've dealt with enough embarrassment between all of us, I really don't need more.

"... Do you think I can stay here tonight?" She asked quietly. "I mean, I don't think I'm going to be able to sleep, but it'd be better than spending the night alone in my room."

"... yeah, I think that'd be - that'd be fine." Her brother said, leaning his head onto her shoulder. "I still snore, that hasn't changed."

"Good." Della replied as she got comfortable, sighing quietly as she buried into the nest. "I prefer that to silence."

Chapter Text

If there was one thing that Della learned from her time on the moon, it was that darkness was relative. Ten years on the moon, where shadows were pitch black due to the lack of an atmosphere to let light bounce around, made pretty much everything on earth seem bright.

Which, in turn, made it kinda difficult to fall asleep, especially when Donnie’s room didn’t have blackout curtains. (And maybe it was also because she had anxiety and insomnia, but counterpoint: fuck you.)

Point was, Della never actually realized when she fell asleep - she simply blinked, and suddenly there was sunlight streaming in through the windows, birds chirping, and her entire body was sore like she’d gotten beat up by thirty-two squirrels in a trench coat in her sleep.

Honestly, not the worst start to a day she’d ever had. Not even the worst start during this week, actually. The sore leg was a bit of a letdown, though.

Della winced in pain as she sat up, sticking her tongue out at the metal leg she’d forgotten to take off during the night. Yeah, she wasn’t going to be able to use that today.

Today… today. Today was important. For some reason. Why was it important again? Something about the boys-

Oh. Right. She was gonna talk. About being bi.

That was… wonderful.

She really didn’t like that her leg was sore, right now.

“Donnie? What time is it?” She asked as she stretched - she already knew the time, it was most likely six o’clock (she never really could sleep for much longer than six without blackout curtains) but that didn’t mean she couldn’t bug him about it. “Also, where the fuck do you keep crutches up here?” 

It took her brother almost a full minute to respond, which was honestly just insulting. Really, the nerve on some people - she deserved to be responded to in thirty seconds at most.

“It’s six, why do you need crutches?” He called out hoarsely (Well, more hoarsely than usual - he’d probably just woken up as well, knowing him) from down in the boat proper.

“Because I wanna walk, dummy, and my leg’s all sore, so I can’t exactly do that very well, can I?” Della asked, before waving her hand. “Actually, don’t worry, I’ll go and grab them myself.” She said, hopping up- and immediately toppling over with a painful grunt. Stupid earth gravity.

“Oh, would you just hang on? I’ll be up in a minute!” Donald shouted back up, making Della huff. She could handle herself, thank you very much. She could hear her brother stomping up the stairs before the door opened, revealing him standing there with a book in his hands- and no crutches.

“Ah, perfect, just what I asked for. A book.” Della said dryly, earning a glare from her brother as she looked at him from the floor. “That’ll definitely help me walk.”

“Quit it.” Donald ordered, kicking her lightly. “And sit up already, I’ve got something I wanted to show you.”

Well, that certainly got Della’s attention. She pulled herself up onto a chair, unlatching her metal foot and hucking it across the room halfway. Serves it right for not magically unlatching and sliding away during the night.

Ooh, she’d have to build one that’d do that, maybe it’d have an automated locking mechanism? But then it might unlock during an adventure - it’d probably have to be evening wear or something.

“I realized we never actually sat down and went through these old things together,” Donald continued, a happy note in his voice as he sat down and opened the book. It was a scrapbook, Della belatedly realized. “I mean, I’m pretty sure you went through all my stuff while I wasn't here at some point, but – well. Want to look at the pictures again while I tell you about when I took them?"

“Ah- no, actually, I couldn’t manage it.” Della said, blinking at the scrapbook. “I mean I tried, but I only ever managed to get to one picture with you holding the triplets, and - well, my brain kinda did The Thing?”

“...The ‘Thing?’”

“You know, The Thing!” She tried, tapping the side of her head. “The thing where it’s like ‘hey, wanna be overwhelmed by the entirety of the sheer scope of everything you’ve been through crashing down on you in one moment for like, five seconds? No? Well too bad, cuz we’re doing it anyways!'”

"Ah. Yeah, I think that's the post-traumatic stress disorder." Donald said with an easy familiarity. "We don't have to look at anything if you don't want to, but we got time to kill – the kids won't be up for another hour and a half."

"No, no, I wanna look through things. I bet it’s just ‘cuz you weren’t around that kept setting me off." Della explained, rubbing Stumpy. That made sense, right? Yeah, no, it made sense. "And I don't have PTSD. That's something you get from war and everything, and I haven't been to war."

Donald suddenly stopped his movements and slowly looked over at her. Hmm, that must’ve been the wrong thing to say or something.

“...No, Della, it’s not.” He said, slowly, like he was this close to wapping her over the head for being stupid. (A part of her kinda wanted him to- he hadn’t done to her since they were kids! Nowadays, he just said she was an idiot and left it at that.) “You can get it from anything traumatic. That’s why it’s called ‘Post- Traumatic Stress Disorder'. Because the trauma part is what’s important.”

Della waved him off. “Psh, like I’ve been through anything traumatic enough for that!”

“... Are you fucking serious.”

“Anyways, let’s look at pictures, huh?” Della quickly stole the book from Donald’s hands and placed it on her lap to keep from continuing that line of questioning. They could broach that topic later, when she wasn’t already on the verge of a panic attack because she had to tell her kids she was gay as fuck today. (Oh fuck oh shit she was gonna tell them she was bi fuck).

Her brother, thankfully, seemed to feel the same way, as he let the topic drop in favor of leaning over her shoulder to look at the pages as well. “We’re gonna talk about that eventually, Dells.” He warned her.

Della huffed. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Hey, if you fucked off and left Scrooge in the dust after I left, who’d you get to take this picture?” She asked, pointing to one of the first pictures in the book- at least, one of the first pictures in the book that she hadn’t already seen. (The first picture was That One - the one of her, Donald, and Scrooge with the eggs. No need to stay for too long on that picture, she already had her own. … The one in the scrapbook was less weather-worn, though.) “Also, you look like you’ve been crying for hours.”

He really did, the picture was of him holding a gaggle of eggs. And quite frankly, Della thought he looked like hell; his hair was a mess, he looked like he hadn’t slept for over twenty-four hours, and his cheeks and eyes were red as shit, but for some reason he still looked happy. No, not happy - he was looking at the eggs with so much love (so much damn love) like they were the one thing keeping him here.

… Oh. They probably were.

Fuck.

"Panchito." Donald said, drawing her out of that downward spiral that threatened to pull her under and leave her drowning. He’d always been pretty good at that, even when he didn’t necessarily mean to. "Well, for the ones when they're still eggs, at least. Him and Ze helped me through - well, you know." He said, tapping the picture of himself. "All of that."

"That's nice of them." Della said. That wasn’t exactly what she’d wanted to say. That was a lot more than ‘nice’ - they’d obviously loved him a lot. In fact… she frowned and looked back up at him. "Why'd you end up cutting them off for so long, then?"

"They wouldn't have been happy sitting in one place." Her brother answered easily, like he’d rehearsed that answer. "... least, that's what I told myself. I didn't want to pin them down, they were happier on their own together without me. Yeah, I know, stupid, but I really thought I was doing them a favor."

Of course he did.

"You weren't, dumbass." Della slapped him on the back of the head. "I have a feeling that they didn't really feel too comfortable leaving you like that. Thank goodness you three have made up, at least."

"You know what I was just as afraid of?" Donald asked, pushing his hat back into position after Della knocked it off. "That if I asked them to stay, they'd have told me no."

“Bullshit.” Della shook her head. “They wouldn’t have. They loved you, Donnie.”

Donald frowned. “Yeah, well… I didn’t want to lose that.” He finally admitted. “I didn’t want to push the bill too far and finally make them decide I wasn’t worth it. Better to end things on my own terms - on good terms - than to let them crumble to dust, yeah?”

Well, that was sad as shit. Della snorted, pushing his hat to the side again and noogying his head. “And you say that I’m the unhealthy one, you hypocrite.”

Donald huffed, sticking his tongue out at her and pulling his hat back into place with more force than last time. “You are the unhealthy one. At least I’ve gone to therapy for my problems - and honestly, pushing José and Panchito away was probably the worst thing I did back then.”

“You mean-”

“ Aside from pushing Scrooge away, but he deserved it.” Donald quickly replied, before frowning. The next page had him juggling three blurry white objects.

"... oh god, I forgot about this." He muttered, covering his face.

Della cocked her head. “Huh, those are some weird shaped ball-”

…No.

No! There was no fucking way that he-

That that bastard-

He-

“Donald.” She began, her voice deadly calm. “What exactly are you juggling?”

"... yeah, I'm not even going to try to justify this, please smack me." Donald said, turning his head to the side.

So those feelings earlier, where Della felt guilty over how the eggs were probably one of the only (if not the only) lifelines Donald still had?

Well hey, like she’d said -  her brother was real good at chasing that spiraling away.

"ARE THOSE MY EGGS , DONNIE?!?" She yelled, immediately smacking her brother on the cheek. "What the - when was this? What the fuck, dude???"

"I know, I know, I'm sorry!" Donald apologized profusely, rubbing the bright red impression of a hand her palm had left behind. "Nest-tending was driving me crazy, I hadn't been to bed in three days."

"So you thought a good idea would be trying to kill them, then?" Della gaped at him. "I just- oohh, you are so lucky that you didn't drop any of them."

"I wasn't trying to kill them, I swear!" Donald said. "I didn't even think about what would happen if I dropped one till I fumbled one of them and had to catch it with my foot like a hacky-sack."

"Fucking hell, Donald, if I’d known that you were gonna chuck my eggs at the floor, I wouldn’t have made you godfather!” Della said, shaking her head.

“Okay, that’s a little dramatic-”

“Hey, remember about a month ago?” She interrupted him. “Where you accused me of wanting to kill the kids because I wasn’t doing perfectly in parenting them?”

“You’re gonna remind me of that every time I do anything wrong, aren’t you?”

“I think I’ve earned it here.” Della said with a sniff. “Seriously, what the fuck were you thinking? ”

"Honestly, I wasn’t - I was very sleep-deprived, okay?" Donald tried to explain. "Nest-tending - it sucked so much, Della. I couldn't do anything but sit there and stare at the eggs and turn 'em over occasionally." He pointed to a photo on the opposite side of the page. "Chito and Ze kept shifts with me, but even when I wasn't there it was - " He began and then stopped, a flush coloring his face.

“... Well?” Della prompted, ignoring the fact that he was obviously embarrassed. “What was so horrid about that time that made you go crazy?” She stopped suddenly at the look on his face. “... Oh. Right.”

Donald nodded. "It was just really hard to actually get any rest the first couple of months without you. I thought making the nest from your old clothes would help, but - it just made everything worse. Smelled like you were right there and -" Her brother let out a small but long-suffering groan. "Sorry. Just - sorry."

Della let out a small sigh, rubbing Donald's shoulder. Yeah, no, that was fair. She probably wouldn’t have done any better, if the situation had been reversed. "It's alright, dude. It honestly should've been me suffering there, so I can't really stay that mad at you. I guess that explains where my clothes ran off to, though."

"It's supposed to help them imprint when they hatch. That's what I was told anyway, I really had no idea what I was doing." Donald said as he pointed to another picture. "I tried knitting them cozies for a while. That's why they look like fuzzy footballs." He said, the eggs in this picture wrapped up three different shapeless wool blobs, each a different bright color.

"Wow, your knitting did not get better with time," Della said with a smirk. "They look cozy enough, though."

"Yeah, it was a really bad winter that year." He explained, turning over the page, thumb rubbing against a well-worn photograph that had been taken out and put back into the plastic protective sleeve many times.

It showed Donald making a cup of coffee in the background, while three very small, yellow puffballs were nestled together in the foreground. Her kids. Their first actual picture. 

“It took six hours for them to get out of their eggs. Most stressful six hours of my life.” Donald said, his fond smile audible in his voice.

"Aww, they look so cute." Della cooed, smiling as she looked at the picture. "How on earth did it take you six hours? ... Louie?"

"Yeah, he had the most trouble." Donald mentioned. "I read about what to do, rubbed olive oil into the feathers, warm water. Couldn't touch the shell, though. I have no idea why, but the book I had was very clear on that point."

"Really? That's a thing?" Della asked, blinking. "Or is that one of those pseudoscience things that everyone thinks is true, but really isn't?"

"I have no idea." Donald admitted frankly. "I think maybe it has to do with not putting any pressure on them, but I wasn't going to find out if it was true or not." He smiled softly. "I had the first good sleep that night after they'd all gotten cleaned up."

"Ugh." Della shivered. "If I couldn't help them with their shells, I'd probably have just been crying in a corner somewhere." She frowned. "... to think of it, I probably was crying in a corner, actually. Depending on when they hatched. I did a lot of that the first few months."

"Would it help to know that I sang the lullaby you wrote for them when they all fell asleep for the first time?" Donald asked.

Della smiled. "Aw, really? I mean, Louie did say you sang it to them, but - honestly, I'm surprised you remembered the words. And that they were intelligible enough for Louie to understand them."

"You wrote it down." He answered with a small shrug. "And I had lots of practice. Dewey and Huey were very colicky."

"I'd say I don't regret missing the sleepless nights, but uh... honestly, really didn't miss out on 'em." Della said. It wasn’t the same, exactly, but sometimes she thought that the insomnia she’d developed during her stint there was some sort of like - cosmic karma. It was supposed to happen with the kids, but it’d still happen anyways even if she wasn’t around them. "Especially during that first month, it took me a while to remember how days worked on the moon."

"Yeah. Don't really know how you got any sleep at all.” Donald added. “I couldn't figure out how to sleep and chew gum at the same time."

"Oh, I didn't either. Ended up going on until I couldn't stop myself from passing out, and then the choking would wake me up." Della explained. At the slightly horrified look on Donald’s face, she added, "Eventually, somehow, I got into the habit of sleep chewing. Which absolutely sucks, now that I'm back on earth." She grumbled, sticking her tongue out - which was actually to show Donald the amount of scarring, mostly. "Ith a womber I hafthen thued ip off yed.”

"Hff, well, I had my beak clamped shut for most of my time up there.” Donald said. “I think the constant pressure from that was enough to keep, however these things work, working. Long enough for a couple catnaps here and there at least." He rubbed his jaw at the thought of that. "I think I broke my beak breaking out of the clamps. Does this look crooked to you?"

“All of you looks crooked.” Della replied, cocking her head. “Don’t think your beak looks any worse than usual. … Though I guess I haven’t seen you since you possibly broke it, huh?”

Donald nodded, looking at the photos laid out before them.

"I guess it's pretty much the same as in the pictures. It's probably fine.” He decided, waving his hand. “It's a little hard for me to spot the differences from how I looked then to how I look now, though. I guess I was - rounder?" He hazarded as a guess, frowning at the image his friends had taken of him trying to wash a very squirmy duckling. "... least my head seems so. Did I always have such a fat head?"

Della nodded vigorously. “Yes. You’ve always had a big head about yourself. Always.”

“Yeah, yeah, screw you too.”

 Della stuck her tongue out in tandem with Donald, before humming and pointing at the baby. “Let’s see - Huey’s a rule-follower, Dewey likes the water… is that Louie, then?” She hazarded a guess.

"... it could be him or Huey.” Donald admitted, scratching his head. “Neither of them liked baths very much for a while. George had to help me hold Huey down when he started to teeth, he'd chew on anything that got too close to his face when he wasn't happy."

"That... honestly does sound like him." Della admitted. "... George?”

“Yeah, George helped out.” Donald nodded, talking like she obviously knew who he was talking about. “He had a son about… a year or two before you were laying, so he knew the basics I was still stumbling through, like how to heat up formula to the right temperature, or how to actually rock kids without doing too rough.”

“No, no, that’s not what I-” Della shook her head, frowning. “Who the fuck is George? I don’t remember meeting any Georges in my life.”

Donald frowned as well, looking at her confusedly. “... George Geef? We were in high school and college together - do you remember any of my friends?”

Della just frowned and wracked her head, trying to think. George Geef, close friend of Donald’s, had a kid a few years before she did…

…Wait. “Goofy?” She hazarded, looking at Donald like he was insane. “Fucking Goofy? Goofy Goof? You’re calling him George fucking Geef? ”

Donald nodded. “Yeah, because that’s his name!”

Della exploded at that, throwing her hands in the air. “No, no, absolutey fucking not! You are not calling him that!”

“He has a son in high school now, Della!” Donald explained. “He’s got a shockingly successful career as a photographer! I can’t just call him ‘Goofy’ like I did when we were stumbling around getting kicked out of parties together.”

“Yes, you can, because that is such a better name than fucking George. ” Della shook her head. “George just sounds so fucking cursed. And besides, saying ‘I’m fucking George’ doesn’t sound as funny as ‘I’m fucking Goofy.’”

“... I hate the way you say things sometimes, Della.”

“Well too bad, ‘cuz I don’t give a fuck.” Della said, grinning. “And I’m sure his son… uh… wait, shit, I knew his name, hang on." She held up a finger to shush Donald. “... Matt?”

"Almost. One letter off. Max."

"Okay, well, I'm sure Max would agree with me that Goofy's name is Goofy, not George." Della decided easily, folding her arms. "Don't act like you have to call somebody by a proper name just because you're in your late twenties, Donnie."

Donald blinked at her, looking effectively done with her shit. "We're thirty-seven, Della."

Della's eyes widened. "... Right. We are. That's a thing that happened." She blinked, before grasping Donald by the shoulders and shaking him. "Fuck me, we're so old, Donnie! We're practically fossils!"

"Yeah, well, at least we have a ways to go before we're as old as Scrooge." Donald reassured his sister as he was bounced up and down by her vigorous jostling.

"That's- yeah, that's true." Della nodded, sighing heavily with a far off look in her eyes. "Fuck, my children are teenagers already. I feel like I just met them yesterday. ... I pretty much did." She said. "It hasn't even been a damn year since I came back yet. Fuck."

"Yeah. Can't believe it's only been two years since I -" Donald stopped, shaking his head. "It's funny, those ten years were the most stressful in my life, but looking back on it, it feels like I was sleepwalking through most of it." He frowned at the next page, which has all three triplets crying on the couch. "Like, I barely even remember this one. There was a lot of crying every time the boat rocked a little too much."

"Then why'd you take a picture of them?" Della asked. "And honestly same- I actually think I might've sleepwalked for an entire year, added all up."

"Because they were all hugging each other. It was adorable." He grinned, and then laughed. "This one I remember. Dewey's first steps." He said, pointing to a picture of a very unsteady looking toddler who was on a mattress surrounded by pillows, Donald ready with a catcher's mitt in case he stumbled, apparently. "These next ones are all terrible quality. I bought a digital camera with a timer on it. I have most of these on my phone, actually. They're less grainy on that small screen for some reason."

"Wow, you look quite prepared for Dew." Della teased, elbowing him. "I might have a little to learn about what needs protecting when, but I'm willing to bet that you seriously smothered them. Good old mother hen."

"Dewey would bang into everything when he started walking." Donald explained, waving the suggestion off. "Like he expected that if he ran towards a wall, it'd just disappear right up until he hit it."

"Aw, babies are supposed to run into walls. You did a bunch when you were a kid, according to Mom." Della reminded him. "What was it she said about that, again? That it builds character?"

"That it helped me get a thick skull." He reminded her, knocking on his skull. "... honestly, I really did worry about how uncoordinated Dewey was. Huey and Louie had a lot less trouble on their feet. Though Huey was still chewing on everything..." Donald paused and then looked up. "Oh, Della - you should get a mouth guard. It worked for Huey, he used to grind his teeth in his sleep."

"Ew, no." Della frowned and shook her head. "That's so nerdy, Donald! And I'm not a nerd ."

Donald stared at her. “... Yes you are.”

“No the fuck I am not! I’m a badass!”

“You studied astronomy and engineering in college.”

“Yeah, and that helped me build a rocket ship out of scrap metal and solid gold on the moon!” Della insisted. “ Tell me that’s not badass.”

Donald just stared at her for a moment longer. “... What’s more important here, Dells? That you look cool while you sleep - which isn't actually possible, I've seen you asleep, and you're a mess - or you keep yourself from choking on your own tongue?"

"I wouldn't choke on it, I'd chew it up." Della corrected him. "Besides, it's fine. I don't wanna put weird shit in my mouth."

"This is because dad made you get braces, isn't it?"

"I will forever hold a dark spot in my heart for that. Such action shall never be fully forgiven." Della vowed, shuddering slightly at the memory. "That just compounded on everything in foster care, and made my life a living hell." 

"And you wasted all that pain and suffering anyway.” Donald said cheekily. “Honestly, I'm surprised you have any teeth left in your head."

"Fuck off, I take care of my teeth well enough." Della claimed, flipping him off. "Besides, if I hadn't, maybe I would've gotten all gold teeth, so I could've fueled up the engine for the Spear right then and there, and been back before Christmas."

"What?” Donald frowned. “Why would you need to do that? There's gold everywhere on the moon!"

"Yeah, I didn't fucking know that until after I met the moonlanders!" Della explained. "And that was after my ship had been destroyed for the third time, and I was honestly this close to just - spitting out the gum, then and there, if they hadn't brought me to Tranquility."

She bit her lip. She - hadn’t meant for that to slip out. It wasn’t like she was proud of those feelings, why was she trying to use them to defend herself? Fuck, she’d probably gone and made everything all awkward. Damnit.

Donald didn’t seem entirely sure of what to say to that. He sort of looked away as well, trying to focus on the book instead. 

"... I'm really glad you lasted through it." He mentioned quietly, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I know, it sounds weird to say  - thanks for toughing it out?"

Della smiled at him, relief flooding her body. "I'm glad too. It wasn't horrible all the time, I mean, I told you about-" She cut herself off with a snap of her fingers, her smile falling with a huff. "Right, no, you never got the transmissions. Remind me to see if any of the moonlanders recovered those, I think Penny mentioned something about seeing them in Lunaris's war room."

"You know, I will." Donald decided. "I guess it'd be like your scrapbook. Only it's a video?" He tried to analogize.

"Kind of! You miiight want to skip a few parts, though?" Della tried. "There were a few times where I turned on the camera and, uh... kinda couldn't keep the happy attitude up there for the entire time? I have a feeling that those wouldn't be very fun to watch." She warned.

Donald frowned. “... Really?” He asked.

Della scratched the back of her head awkwardly. “Yeah, no, I - turns out, not talking to actual people for ten years can kinda make you descend into madness a lil bit. May have caught some of that on camera a few times.”

“Hmm.” Donald hummed, before leaning in. “And what do most people who feel like they’ve gone mad and want to get better do?”

Della pushed him away. “Fuck. Off. Dickhead.”

“I didn’t say anything!” He tried, throwing his hands in the air.

“Uh huh, sure.” Della stuck out her tongue. “Just- if you do find the transmissions, and I ever start to get all fidgety -or, well, more fidgety than normal- and start talking about how I want to die, even in an offhand manner, then that’s probably a sign that you should skip that one.” She said.

Donald nodded, silent for a few moments as they paged through more photographs. Della turned to the photographs as well, not really wanting to talk about this anymore. She was fine. She was fine!

… She’d be fine, at least. Probably. Regardless, right now she wasn’t worrying about that, and was more worrying about just how bad Donald had gotten as a parent. As the boys got older, Donald's efforts to protect them became more and more overbearing, if the pictures were anything to go by.

"Okay, I know this one seems like overkill." He pointed to a picture of Huey in protective padding standing very far away from a football field. "But you need to understand, our kids had gotten into a lot of trouble. One time the three of them accidentally flooded an entire town. I lost a couple of jobs just because the boys were always poking their bills where they weren't supposed to."

"Sure, yeah, that sounds like perfectly good reasoning for almost choking them with pillows. I can literally see Huey's cheeks turning blue." Della pointed out. "Did you ever stop to think that maybe the reason they did such wild shit was because they were chafing under the strict and overbearing rules you kept setting?"

"Most likely." Donald agreed, ducking his head. "I know I probably just made it worse. You've got to give me credit, though, they grew up healthy and with good heads on their shoulders." He said, pausing. "Oh, look. This is the receipt I got from Louie for my donations to 'Louie's kids'. His first real scam that was more complicated than just lying about something to sell it to other kids."

“… Isn’t impersonating a charity a federal offense?” Della asked. She would know, she’d attempted that in the past. Goldie hadn’t always been the best influence. “Why would he put his name on it? That’s just asking for trouble.”

"He was eight years old." Donald explained. "I'm pretty sure he thought he was being clever - the charity raised money to help kids just like him."

"Still, naming it after himself is kinda like painting it with neon green. It makes the scam noticeable as shit." Della said, before pointing to another picture, which had the triplets all dressed up in Junior Woodchuck fancy uniforms. Only one of them actually looked excited. "Oh, were all boys in the Junior Woodchucks at one point?"

"Yeah. Dewey was the one who was originally interested, actually. He loved the idea of getting to explore the wilderness. Louie just came along because Huey and Dewey were there. Huey was the only one who really liked it long enough to stick to it, but he still drags his brothers to jamborees and group events occasionally."

"D'aw, that's cute. Remember when Fethry and I used to always drag you and Gladstone along for those jamborees?" Della asked with a smirk. "Man, those were good times."

"I had my identity stolen by a bear.” Donald complained. 

“And he was a better brother than you ever could be.” Della immediately replied, sniffing and wiping under her eye. “I still miss him sometimes.”

Donald flipped her off. "Uh huh, sure. And - and, need I remind you, there were also these two chipmunks that were always throwing twigs and nutshells at me! I'm pretty sure they were possessed by evil spirits. They tormented me everywhere I went!"

"How do you always say those things without realizing how hilarious they were?" Della joked. "Besides, it was mostly fine! And you got to spend more time with your cousins, Donnie, what could ruin that?"

"... Okay, maybe some parts of it were nice. Maybe." Her brother finally admitted. "Not the cousin bit, though, dealing with Gladstone was definitely not a bonus. My favorite part had to be the canoe trips."

"Oh yeah!" Della smiled happily. "I loved it when those got all rough! Those white river rapids were always so exciting!"

"You flipped the canoe on purpose at least once. Admit it." Donald accused his sister.

"Hell yeah! Multiple times!" Della nodded. "Though a fair few were for Fethry, specifically. He wanted to see more fish, and - well, you know how persuasive his puppy dog look was."

"Hmm. Remember that trip to the Yukon?" Donald asked. "The one where Scrooge lost that prospecting competition to Gladstone. He was so pissed off after that."

"What the hell did he expect, going up against Gladstone? His luck wasn't going to let him just lose," Della said, shaking her head. "It was nice, though. A little cold, but the stars were amazing . That’s actually where I first decided I wanted to go to space, you know?"

"Yeah, you’ve mentioned that once or twice. Or a hundred times." He mentioned, running his hands through his sister's hair lightly. "Was that the first time we met Goldie? I can't remember exactly, I know it was up north though. I remember she took out a revolver and tried to shoot Scrooge."

"Oh yeah, I think it was then," Della said, leaning into her brother slightly. "I just remember immediately becoming interested with her. There was just something about her that struck me as like... a kindred spirit. Didn't know what, at the time."

"Because she tried to solve all of her problems with deception and violence?" Donald proposed.

"No, 'cuz she was trans, like me." Della reminded him. "Remember? Talking with her is really what helped scrape away a fair amount of the trauma and dysphoria left behind from fucking foster care."

She wasn’t sure if that was the first thing that drew her to Goldie, but it was honestly what she remembered the best. Meeting somebody else who was trans -and proud of it, too - was genuinely a shock to her. In a good way, though.

She could remember a lot of the talks that she and Goldie had had about all of that - she got her in a way that nobody else really could. Not even Donnie, despite how much he’d always been sure to help and make sure Della was alright.

Speaking of which… 

“You good up there?” Della asked, leaning back to look at Donald. He hadn’t said anything in a bit. “Did you see something or what have you?”

Donald was staring off into the far-distance, eyes wide, before suddenly blinking as Della pinched him. “Hmm? No, yeah, I’m fine.” He quickly assured her, looking… almost guilty as he worked his jaw. “You just - reminded me of something.”

Della frowned, snorted, and sat up. “What, did you forget that Aunt Goldie was trans or something?” She asked jokingly. “The woman who’s pretty much never hidden that a day in her life?”

Donald looked away. “... Not her, no.”

Della cocked her head. What did he… oh. Wait. “... Donald-”

“You got pregnant!” Donald protested immediately, gesturing to her. “You had three kids!”

“You fucking forgot?!” Della asked, gobsmacked. “You forgot that your own sister was trans? Really? ”

“Well, I’m sorry, you transitioned when we were like - what, six?” Her brother said, defending himself. “I’ve known you as my sister for my entire life, pretty much!”

“Oh, okay, so everything that had to do with fucking foster care didn’t, I don’t know, tip you off in any way?”

“Look, I was trying to pretend that I had a normal life, remember?” Donald explained. “So that kinda meant that I didn’t really - think about that. Also, that time just kinda sucks to think about anyways.”

“Wait wait wait wait, hang on, hang on.” Della held up a hand, shushing Donald. “So- you mean to tell me that not only have you apparently not told our kids that we were in foster care, you also forgot back then, too?”

Donald, sensing that he might’ve dug himself an even bigger grave then, clammed up. “... No?”

“How fucking long have you forgotten that?!” Della asked, mouth agape. Really? Fuck, she knew Donnie had a bad memory at times, but jeez , dude!

“... A little while.” Donald admitted sheepishly. “Look- foster care was long behind us, you’d transitioned way before then-”

“I don’t really think four years counts as a long time anymore, but sure.”

“Well it did back then and that’s what matters - you transitioned a long time ago, and then suddenly came home with children? Come on, you’ve gotta give me at least a bit of sympathy here!”

“Just because I used magic to transition and the old geezers didn’t doesn't mean I have to act like you didn’t somehow forget a large-ass part of who I am, dude!” Della said, hitting Donald on the shoulder. “I mean fuck, dude, seriously?”

“Okay, I didn’t really forget!” Donald protested. “It just - you know, it was how the world worked. It wasn’t like - oh I suddenly thought you were cis or something- it’s just that you were you. ” He tried to explain. “There wasn’t much else to say about it. All of that was just what made you Della Duck, so I guess… I don’t know.”

“You forgot that there were words that described who and what I am for a hot sec there?” She surmised. “What did you tell the boys when they asked about me?”

“Not… a lot.” Her brother admitted, shame creeping up the back of his neck. “Actually, almost nothing. I was waiting until they were older to try and explain things. That’s what I told them, at least.”

“... You really told them nothing about me?” Della asked, unable to hide the crestfallen tone from her voice. 

She’d… well. Okay, if she was honest with herself for once. She knew he hadn’t. The kids had been too excited about the littlest things about her, were too shocked at learning that they shared common interests and traits to have known - well, anything.

But could she really be blamed for hating that idea? That the people she was closest to were fine pretending that she didn’t exist, and the people she loved the most knew jack shit about her? (That everyone she loved and wanted to love did perfectly fine while she wasn’t in their life?)

She tried to lie to herself, pretend that all of those connections and theories she had were just her brain pulling at strings that didn’t exist, making patterns where there was just chaos. 

But that was a lie. She knew they knew nothing about her.

Hell, if she actually believed the lies she told herself, would she actually be having this much trouble letting them know who she was?

Donald had a guilty look on his face, head faced down. “... Sorry. I should’ve told them more.” He said. “I guess I just - tried to stop thinking about you for a while. You didn’t deserve that.”

… No, she couldn’t stay mad at him. Not for that. (Fuck, she hadn’t even been mad at him for that in the first place, had she? Nope, that was all saved for herself.)

“Fucking dumbass.” Della said, but she flicked his forehead fondly. “And hey, I guess now I can always say that I pass so well that my own brother forgot.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Donald replied, sticking his tongue out at her. “And I still think you liked her initially because Scrooge kept telling us how dangerous and devious she was.” He said, blatantly switching topics back to what they’d originally been talking about. She guessed she could let him have that. (For now.) “Your eyes lit up just a little when he talked about the time she shoved him out of an airship."

"Look, that was mostly because of the airship." Della tried. "... I mean, yeah, the rest of it was because she seemed like an absolute badass, but still."

"... I regret not taking the boys on trips more often. I told you about what happened about that vacation we took, right?"

"No, you didn't. I'm assuming one or all of them caused mass hysteria and panic, though?" Della surmised.

"Actually, no. I chickened out at the last minute because I got so anxious. We were going to visit the Grand Canyon, but I kept worrying that Dewey might end up walking off a cliff or Louie would get bitten by a burro or - I don't know, maybe Huey would have gotten stung by a scorpion or something." He explained. "They wanted to take pictures, so I brought them to a convenience store with a cardboard cut out advertisement for Grand Canyon Soda."

"Oh, I bet they were pissed about that." Della chuckled, sitting back slightly. "How long did you have to sleep with your eyes open after that little stunt?"

"A month. They got me back eventually by filling my room up with shaving cream one night." Donald admitted, the book sliding between the two of them, pages pressing together. "I was honestly a little impressed afterwards. Angry but impressed. They weren't as bad as we were about pranks, though."

" Nobody could be as bad as us with pranks!" Della said with a laugh. "We literally put Dad in the hospital that one time because we thought it'd be funny! … And he'd delivered the news that I was going to have braces, too, but still."

"Mom should have tanned our hides for that." Her brother said, shaking his head. "I still don't know why she sent us off to bother her brother for a month."

"Probably because she was more worried than angry, and even then she never liked punishing us when she was angry." Della guessed. "... We were kinda shitheads when we were kids."

"Mhm. We were stupid kids. Didn't know how good we had it."

"I miss them." Della said quietly. But did she really mean that? There was a part of her - a part that was much bigger than she wanted to admit - that was almost… grateful that they weren’t around to see her.

Fucking hell, that was a horrible thing to be glad about.

“Yeah. Me too.” Donald nodded, but he looked guilty as well. “I… I didn’t always, though, did you know that? I mean, I did, but I guess a part of me was glad that they - they weren’t around to see me waste my life.” He said, ducking his head. “Working minimum wage jobs, scrabbling for money. Tearing their grandsons away from their family.”

"Taking care of them, giving them good values, doing whatever it took to keep them safe and happy," Della corrected him. "If anyone, they'd be disappointed in me. I'm a mess, I can hardly eat, can hardly sleep, can't talk to my kids- I abandoned my family, left behind everyone in my life because I wasn't thinking about them.... I just can't imagine that they'd be anything but mad at me." She said, blinking back tears. Her mom had been a great mother, despite the flaws that Della could piece together now that she was older. And she had always been the type to go out of her way to take care of children, and keep them from shitty parents. How would she have felt at her own daughter turning out to be a horrible mother?

Donald shook his head, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles before pulling Della into his arms, hugging her.

"Don't say that. Don't. I'm the one who messed up worse. You didn't mean to get stuck on the moon. I stopped talking to everyone in our family on purpose. Messed things up for everyone. Fethry went off the deep end, took a job in a deep sea lab to get away from everyone. Gladstone tried to help me, but I pushed him away. He basically didn't have anyone after that, spent all his time floating from casino to casino. Abner - ah, god, Abner was just so angry at everything. He stopped talking to anyone, even Fethry."

"And all of that happened because of me." Della reminded him, though she did sink into the hug. "Because I was too stupid to think past myself for more than a moment. I hurt everyone in my family because I was stupid and reckless, Donnie. I hurt you. Badly." She said, sniffling. "I never wanted to hurt you like that. I just - I was the catalyst for all of this. I may not have meant to get stuck on the moon, but I did waltz into the Spear all by myself."

"I should have stopped you. Done something. I could at least have tried to be there for you when you got pregnant more than I did. Nobody should go through that alone."

"You did try to stop me. That only made me want to do it more." Della claimed. "I'm a dumbass like that. It doesn't matter if you could've stopped me, that wasn't your job. You- you shouldn't have to take care of me all the time." She explained, trying to keep her voice as steady as she could. "It's not fair to you. ... And then you had to take care of my kids, as well. Give up everything else in your life because I made a mistake."

"I didn't have to.” Donald said, shaking his head. “I had a family, a huge family full of people who wanted to help me, and I turned my back on them. Tried to pretend that they never existed, like I sprang out of the ground fully formed one day."

"And none of that would've happened if I had just let the sleeping bear lie for once and not gotten in that Spear. I should have listened to you, Donnie. I'm so, so sorry."

"Don't apologize. It's - it's what happened." Donald sighed, pressing his hand to Della's back and rubbing slowly. "If you didn't get lost in that storm, things would have been just as different as if you hadn't taken the Spear, if Aunt Daphne never got killed, or our parents were around, or granny never got trapped in Arcadia... a lot of stuff happened to put us where we are now."

"But all of those other things happened because of other people." Della reminded him, unable to raise her voice above a whisper without it sounding choked anymore. "There's only one person to blame for me getting lost: me. I hurt everyone, I can't just pretend that I didn't."

"Scrooge shouldn't have built that damn rocket in the first place." Donald muttered. "Crazy old man, thought we couldn't live life without adventure." He stopped, burying his sister's head against his shoulder. "You got hurt too, Della. The most out of any of us. It doesn't matter how things happened in the end. We're here now."

"I'm not the person who grew up without my mother, Donald." Della said. "Well, I am, but- you know what I mean. If I'd been here, I probably wouldn't be so worried about talking to my kids about - all of this."

"Yeah, well- If ifs and ands were pots and pans, there'd be no work for tinkers' hands." Donald said, and Della snorted. That was a phrase she hadn’t heard in a while.

"Oh, fuck off with that," She complained, slapping him lightly on the chest. "You're not Mom, stop trying to pretend like you've got all these amazing proverbs that solve everything. They didn't, even when she used them."

"Hey, I'm just saying what mom would have told us if she was here." Donald argued back, taking a shaky breath. "This is the way things are, and feeling guilty about why doesn't help anyone. Would be a waste of time and energy."

"Yeah, unfortunately, that doesn't really stop the stupid feelings." Della said, rubbing her eyes. "... I just wish I could believe that Mom and Dad wouldn't hate me for everything I've done." She admitted quietly. "I don't like feeling relieved that they can't see me like this."

"They wouldn't. They just wanted us to be happy." Her brother decided. "Come on. We gotta go talk to the kids. We need to stop crying on each other."

Della snorted. "Ain't that a phrase I've heard before. I mean, not the kids part, that one's new, but replace it with 'cousins' or 'Scrooge' or 'Grandma' and we're golden. Man we cry a lot."

"We're sadsaps." Donald pronounced, rubbing his eyes again with the edge of his sleeve. "The McDuck blood makes us all melancholic. Well. Melancholic, short, and angry."

"It doesn't help that we suck." Della mentioned, groaning slightly as she sat back up. "... Not sure if I'm gonna want to put all my weight on my leg, even if I do put it on. You got anything I can use as a cane at all?"

"Uh, would one of Ze's old umbrellas work you think?" Donald asked. He frowned slightly as he began to look for one, as if thinking.

"He leaned on them all the time." Della shrugged, making grabby motions with her hand once he’d gotten one from out of the closet. "And it always did make him look snazzy.”

“Mhm, yeah.” Donald said distractedly, holding the umbrella just slightly out of reach. Fucking hell, couldn’t he at least have the decency to give her the thing she asked for before getting all up in his thoughts. “... Are you gonna be telling the kids about the fact that you’re trans, too?” He asked.

“Hah!” Della let out a bark of laughter that startled Donald into dropping the umbrella. “Yeah, no, fuck that. For multiple reasons. I’ve barely got the courage to tell them I’m bi, you think I can manage it for something that I genuinely got abused for?”

Donald looked concerned, which was annoying. He always looked concerned. “I guess not. … But they wouldn’t-”

“I know, I know, ‘they wouldn’t hate me or act differently around me,’ I get it.” Della said with a sigh. “I - I wanna tell them. Eventually. But not today.” She decided. “I can’t do that today. Maybe sometime, though.”

Donald nodded. “Okay, I’ll support you in that. Just- you know, I mean if you’ve told Louie already-”

“Huh?” Della cut him off. “I haven’t told Louie I’m trans, what are you talking about?”

“... You haven’t?” He blinked. “But I thought you said that you two… talked.”

“Yeah, we did.” Della confirmed. What was he getting at? “I told him I was bi, and he- you know, he felt- comforted by that.”

Donald just stared at her. Again. Like he was realizing something. “... Hey, unrelated question - you have been given the triplets medical information, right?”

“Uh - yeah, duh.” Della nodded, confused. “I was around for a while when you weren’t, man. Scrooge made sure to give them to me.”

“Mhm, mhm,” Donald folded his hands and brought his fingers up to his lips, like he was realizing something. “And I’m assuming you skimmed them?”

“Well - no!” Della immediately protested. She’d been good! … okay, maybe the words had blurred together a little bit, but she’d gotten through it! “No, I got all the important things!”

“Okay, yeah,” Donald nodded, looking up at her. “And - knowing that, you still feel nervous about telling the triplets that you’re trans?”

“Yes, duh, what the fuck are you getting at, Donnie?” Della demanded, peering at him suspiciously. “ Obviously I do, nothing’s changed. What, should something have?”

Her brother worried at his lip, that look of ‘Welp, I fucked up, and I’m probably gonna pay for it sometime here, but I might as well still attempt some damage control’ in his eyes. 

“... Nope. Nope, everything’s fine. “ He decided on finally. “You don’t have to worry about it, it’s- it’s nothing. It’s fine. Probably gonna have to talk to Louie eventually. And have a talk with Scrooge. But it’s fine.”

“No, seriously, what the fuck?” Della demanded, glaring at him. “What’s going on?”

“Seriously Dells, it’s- it’s fine.” Donald said, sighing heavily. “You’ll… you’ll learn eventually. Don’t worry about it.”

“... You can be seriously fucking weird sometimes, you know that?”

“Yeah, I know.” Donald agreed, pinching the bridge of his nostrils. “Here’s your umbrella, by the way.” He said, tossing it to her. 

“ Finally , thank you.” Della said, putting back on her leg and putting some weight on the umbrella. It actually worked pretty well, surprisingly. Maybe José had his umbrellas reinforced. "... You know, if you hadn't shoved him and Panchito away, I have a feeling you three would've ended up getting back together." She mentioned off-handedly.

"Maybe." Donald said noncommittally, shrugging. It was much better of a chance than ‘maybe,’ Della knew that. "... Honestly, I'm surprised him and Chito didn't tie the knot when I gave them the cold shoulder. They broke up too.”

“Wait, what?” Della gasped. “Really? But they were so cute together!”

Donald nodded in agreement. “Ze went back to Brasilia to work for an airline. Chito just... bummed around, for years. Playing for drinks and food, winning shooting competitions."

"Aw, I guess they didn't feel comfortable without their third." She guessed. Still, a right shame, that. "... I feel like they're back together now, though, right?"

"Yeah. One good thing that came out of almost being eaten by a giant plant monster." He raised his hand. "It was - a thing. Long story short, it sort of reminded us how much we missed each other."

"How sweet," Della cooed. "All three of you fucked, didn't you?"

"Ugh, I swear, you're still a giant teenager." Donald groused, arms folded over his chest. "We might have - but only after we had... a long conversation. I cried."

"You? Cry? What a shocker." Della chuckled, resting an elbow on his shoulder. "Can't blame you, though. Ze's cute and sexy, and Chito is absolutely adorable. ... And you are taken at the moment..." She hummed in thought.

“Della…” Donald began warningly.

“What?” Della asked innocently. “I didn’t say anything. All I said was that you were taken, can’t it just be an innocent observation?”

“With you? No. No it cannot.” Donald replied, shaking his head. "... Do you think Daisy would care?” He asked after a moment. “That I'm bi. That - I'm still really close with my old boyfriends."

Della shrugged. "Well, the closeness to your old boyfriends? Not sure, that could go either way, honestly. That you're bi, though? Nah, I doubt it." She assured him. "With how heavily she blushes when I flirt with her, or when she sees me while I'm working on the Cloudslayer? There's no way in hell that she's not at least a little into women."

"... you've been flirting with my girlfriend?" Donald asked, his tone not at all surprised but still a little disappointed as they took the steps to the deck slowly, taking their time as they made their way back to the mansion.

"Hell yeah! She's hot as fuck, dude!" Della explained. "And loyal, too. Sure, she seems to like it, but she's always making sure not to encourage me to take it any further. A lot better than a bunch of your earlier girlfriends, I'll tell you that."

"Oh, so I should thank you for trying to steal them too?" Donald asked sardonically.

"Hey, if they're gonna cheat on you, they're gonna cheat on you." Della shrugged lackadaisically. "Better it's with your sister who will tell you all about how disloyal they are than with someone else for years, yeah? Think of it as a vetting process! After all, isn't that always what you would say to me?"

"You could at least be subtle about it.” Donald complained. “Your version of flirting goes from winking to take off your top in about thirty seconds."

"Hey, it works! Besides, it's not like you have any choice but be subtle, Mr. 'I-don't-wear-fucking-pants!'" Della countered.

Donald refrained from responding to that, instead just letting out a slightly annoyed hiss. Della decided to take that as a win for her. Hell, it was probably the only one she was gonna get for a while, as she stared up at the mansion looming in front of her.

She gulped. A part of her thought she could hear the bells of the Grim Reaper just around the corner.

It was time.

Chapter Text

So. Some context for why Della felt so damn scared about talking to her kids about herself might've been in order. See, Della had never really... told people the truth about who she was before. Ever, honestly.

Every time, the truth just sort of- came out, in one way or another.

Her parents were the ones who helped her figure out that she was trans (they never knew she was bi), Scrooge found out when he caught her with Selene that one time, Donald had pretty much always known. Pretty much every single one of the most important relationships in her life had figured out who she was without any say on her part. And she’d gotten used to that. So actually being the person to mention it first? Yeah, that was neither something she was used to, or something she felt like she could do.

That wasn’t the only reason, of course, but it was a pretty big one.

The only thing keeping her from panicking was that she'd already come to the decision that she was just going to tell her kids that she was bi. Nothing more than that, she'd- wait for another day to talk about being trans.

Why the hesitance?

Well, fuck if she knew. All she could really rationalize was that it proooobably (read: definitely) had something to do with how her being trans had been taken in foster care. It... yeah, it hadn't been great.

Now were her kids as bad as everyone in foster care? No, of course not. They were leagues better in every way, shape, and form.

Did that matter to her brain? Apparent-fucking-ly not, no.

She was sure that the hesitance in her step was apparent to Donald. Even if she was using an umbrella for support, she also leaned a little bit too much on him too as they entered the manor. Della didn't say anything, though, just breathed in and out loudly through her nostrils.

"It's okay," Donald assured her, rubbing her back. "They're not gonna hate you."

“Haha, why would you say that??” Della asked, unable to keep the tired -and slightly manic- edge out of her voice. “I didn’t say anything about being afraid of my own children, did I?”

Donald just gave her a dry look. “...So, did you forget about the whole conversation we had last night, or are we just pretending it didn’t happen?”

“Pretending, please.”

Her brother just rolled his eyes. “Dells. I promise you, I didn’t raise them that badly.”

“Okay, but like what if-”

“Even if they don’t entirely get it -which, sidenote, is extremely unlikely-” Donald cut her off, looking her in the eyes. “They’ll still be perfectly respectful. They’re good kids, Della.”

Della pressed her eyelids tightly shut and shook her head. “I know, I know. You’re a good parent, Donnie. I know that you know the kids.” She knew that. She knew that, but it was just… difficult to admit it to herself. To let herself believe that she could have good things in life. “...And maybe if I’d been around for them when they’d grown up, I’d know them too.”

"You are around for them growing up." Her brother said. "They're still kids, Della. You still have time to be their parent, to help out- and trust me, I could really use the help." He shuddered. "They've caused so many problems as tweens and pre-teens, I cannot fathom the hell they're gonna bring when they're teenagers."

"Oh, hormones, they make life so interesting." Della agreed, straightening herself up as best as she could. "Okay, sorry. I'm stalling at this point. Let's just - keep going. If I stop to talk at every step, we'll reach the living room way after eight AM."

Donald nodded, pulling her along.

"...And you're absolutely certain you don't wanna also talk to them about being trans?" He asked, for the hundredth time.

"Donnie I am barely holding it together as it is, if you want me to die of a panic attack, trust me: there are easier ways." Della warned, and the smart mouth retort was enough to make her stand straight and lift her head up, so she no longer resembled a prisoner being walked to the firing line.

Donald sighed heavily. "Yeah, okay, just... yeah no, okay. That's- okay." He repeated a few times, shaking his head.

“Why do you keep asking, anyways?” Della asked. “What’s the big deal?”

“It’s nothing.” Donald said, though it looked like it was killing him to say. “It’s… yeah, it’s nothing.”

If he was going to say anything else, he seemingly thought better of it, instead returning to just dragging Della along. Ah, whatever. She could grill him on whatever the fuck had his brain in a twist later.

She had to admit, walking through the mansion this early in the morning was... different. She hadn't done so since she was a kid. And, sure, maybe that was a little weird for someone who had gone back to living here full-time for nearly a year, but-well, she usually spent most mornings stuffed up in her room.

...And occasionally some afternoons stuffed up in her room.

........And evenings and nights as well sometimes.

Yeah, okay, she wasn't great about getting out all the time. Maybe that was another reason she didn't feel the most positive about talking to her kids: she needed to get into better practice of doing so.

But that was something to think about later, right now she could watch how the early morning light shining on the paintings made them look different. Wince at how the sun would bounce off the suits of armor and directly into her eyes. Enjoy the calming stillness of the air, the way that everything just seemed- stopped, in time. Like every other worry in her life could disappear for just a moment, a moment while the sun still shone in that quiet way, a moment that would return evermore.

...Wait, was she a morning person?

Fuck, she might've been a morning person.

She could hear the kids before they entered the living room: there was a set of webbed feet pacing on the carpet (Huey- he tended to 'orbit' when he was waiting for something, like she did), the sound of a game being played, probably on a handheld device based on the tininess, (Dewey- he got bored easily and needed something to keep himself busy) and the sound of faint snoring, (Louie- he was usually asleep by this time, this was his 'napping while on the road to school' time) all accompanied by the sounds of an early-morning cartoon playing on the TV.

Huey was the first person to notice when they finally arrived. He stopped orbiting around Dewey (who was indeed on the floor with his eyes glued to a video game on his phone) and looked up to her.

"Mom, you made it!" He said. "I almost thought you weren't going to show up, it's eight oh five."

"Hey Hue, Dew, Lou." Della said, smiling before looking around. "Wait, where's Webby?"

"She's probably still doing the sudoku puzzles in the newspaper, why?" Huey asked. "You want me to go get her?"

"Wait, what's happening?" Dewey asked, looking up from his game.

"Mom's here." Huey said, motioning to her. "With... Uncle Donald, apparently."

"Oh. Wait, it's that kind of talk?" Dewey sat up, blinking and rubbing his eyes as they adjusted. "The one where we need both of them?"

"It's - uh - no, it's just a uh -" Della resisted the urge to snap her fingers as the words finally popped into place. "It's a family talk. It's why I wanted Webby here too, since she's pretty much - well, family."

"Oh that's even worse." Louie said, yawning as he woke up from his nap. "Who got in trouble this time? It wasn't me."

"Nobody's in trouble." Donald said. 'For once.' Della could hear him whisper under his breath.

Dewey placed his phone down. "Are we finding out that we're moving across the country? Or that one of was adopted?"

Huey began to leave, before doing a double take and looking back at his brother. "Dewford. We're identical triplets."

"...Wellllll," Louie wiggled his hand.

Huey sighed. "We're practically identical triplets.”

“And yet, if you were secretly the clone of some ancient nerd, it wouldn’t surprise me.” Dewey said. Huey just rolled his eyes and zipped off to find Webby instead of answering.

Della gripped the umbrella tighter as her son darted away - the fact that she was now in the same room with her sons, who she loved, had apparently made panic flood every part of her body. It took a lot of effort for her, but she managed to avoid shaking, focusing on breathing in and out before talking again.

"So, uh. How did you guys sleep? You get anything to eat yet?" She asked in what she hoped was a relaxed tone of voice - these were things mothers asked their children, why did it sound so stilted coming out of her mouth?

"I mean- we slept." Louie said with a shrug. "And ate. It was pancakes, you missed it. ...Speaking of which, Mrs. Beakley is probably gonna hunt you down once we're done here."

“Oh. Great.” Even more pain to look forward to.

Donald moved over to the couch, fishing for the remote to turn the TV off before getting his hand slapped away by Louie.

"Hey! I'm still watching that."

Donald just looked at him. "....No you're not. You were asleep right before we came in here."

"Yeah, and?"

"And Dewey's playing a video game at the moment." Donald said. "Huey was pacing. And you're telling me you were all watching a cartoon, too?"

Both of Della's kids gave various noises of assent, and Donald sighed. "I swear, you three can be the weirdest kids I know sometimes."

"Well, you raised us, so who do you really have to blame for that?"

Della snickered. She felt a soft pang in her heart as she watched Donald interact so easily with the kids, sure, (if she hadn’t left, maybe that would’ve been her instead) but it was dwarfed by the warmth it brought at the same time. Seeing her children just be children - it helped.

"I don't understand what the issue is Don, I mean, I usually blast music while playing Legend of LegendQuest,  or working on the Cloudslayer, and it never distracts me." She pointed out. She gently eased herself into the nearby armchair, but kept the umbrella in her hands, so she would have something to fiddle with.

Donald rolled his eyes. "That's because you're always distracted. And somehow it gets even worse when you do stuff without music."

"Ooh, cool umbrella!" Dewey interrupted. He flopped over onto his belly and rolled over to her, poking said umbrella a few times. "You know, I've been thinking about getting a swagger stick." He said. "What do you think, would I look cool with one?"

"No, you wouldn't." Louie answered before Della could say anything. "You would look like you were holding a stick and had no idea what to do with it, because you'd be constantly fidgeting. Hey, is that why it took you a so long to rebuild the spear?" He asked, both extremely blunt and out of the blue. "'Cuz you had literally nothing for background noise?"

"Louie!" Donald squawked. Louie just looked up at him.

"What? I'm genuinely curious."

Della managed to actually laugh at that one, putting her hand to her head. “No, no, I had a TV, that helped a bit.”

Donald blinked, shooting her a confused look. “You had a TV? On the moon? ”

“Yeah, well, technically I made a TV on the moon by repurposing video transponders to pick up broadcasts on the 54 to 806 Megahertz RF frequency band.” Della nodded. “I mean- it didn’t always work, it generally only played stuff about half the time I could get it to turn on.” She admitted. “And during those times that it was futzing up and everything, it… it would take me longer to do anything… huh.” Maybe that had been one of the reasons everything took so long. Who knew?

“Huh. Well, at least you weren’t entirely without entertainment, at least.” Her brother mentioned, trying to look at the positives. Della nodded. He was right, she’d had a few creature comforts while up there. She may have been desperate to get back home, of course, but even she knew that if you forwent any and all normalcy and comfort, you’d got crazy. And then she would’ve gotten nothing done.

"Yeah. And even then, that’s not really why it took so long.” She said, chuckling slightly to herself. “It's funny - I needed gold to power the rocket, right? So I spent years combing the moon for gold and I never saw any, and then when I'd just given up on ever getting home, Penny turns up and shows me that the moonlanders have so much gold they just use it as tissue paper and throw it in the garbage, which is also gold." The shorter sibling sat up a little. "I mean, it pissed me off so much in the moment, but looking back at it now, it's like the perfect example of dramatic irony."

Louie blinked. "...Wait, how much gold did you say was on the moon again?"

“ No, ” Della, Donald, and Dewey all stated forcefully at the same time.

Louie held up his hands, looking taken aback by how quickly they’d responded. “What? I didn’t say anything! I just asked one innocent little question, it’s not like I was considering going up into space to take some of the gold they left behind for myself!”

"Ah buh buh buh you're never going into space, remember?" Della said, wagging her finger at him. 

“I never said I was going to!” Louie huffed, crossing his arms. “ Jeez. ”

“And we’re keeping it that way.” Donald stated firmly. “No more space, period. We’re done with that.”

“Oh, but what if I wanted to be an astronaut?” Dewey asked. Della couldn’t help but feel a bit of warmth in her chest at the idea of her son also falling in love with the stars, but it really wasn’t worth it.

“Trust me, kiddo, just stick to astronomy. Or find a god or goddess of the stars and fu- become their friend.” She said, wincing slightly at the close save. “It’s like, practically the same thing.”

“There are only two hard limits we have for you guys.” Donald said, holding up his fingers. “One is the military, the other is space. Your mother and I have gone through them both, so trust us when we say: they are not worth it. ”

"Plus, what's the point of getting treasure if all you have to do is just pick it up off the ground?" Della added. "I mean, just look at Gladstone."

"How can you say that with a straight face?" Louie asked, gobsmacked. "I just- that would be my dream, man!"

"And that is exactly why it's not happening." Donald repeated, pinching the bridge of his beak.

"You really need to read up the myth of Icarus." Huey mentioned as he returned, a smiling Webby in tow. "Seriously. I think it's rather fitting here."

"Some guy got wings, got told 'don't fly up high' said 'bet' and fell to his death. I fail to see what that has to do with me."

"...Yeah. And that’s the problem.”

"Okay okay okay enough about Louie and Della being parallels of Icarus, everyone else but them already sees that!" Webby said quickly, hopping over the back of the couch and landing next to Louie, bouncing him up and down. "Is it Duck Family Mystery Time?"

"Oh, I knew it!" Dewey said, sitting up immediately. "This is about Phooey, isn't it?"

Della frowned bemusedly. “What? No, why would we have a talk about - phooey’s just what our dad would say when he didn’t want to say ‘fuck,’ which is where we picked it up.”

Webby immediately flushed bright pink, gasping quietly - her sons meanwhile are much less phased by the curse word, even as Donald sighed into his hands. “Della.”

“Okay, sorry, just-” Della waved her umbrella in the air. “They’re fucking teenagers, practically! They know what swears are by now.”

“That’s no excuse not to set a good example!”

“From the way you two talk, I wouldn’t have thought either of our grandparents kept from swearing in front of you.” Louie admitted dryly.

"Yeah, and besides, that's not what Phooey is!" Dewey said, looking back and forth between Donald and Della. "Phooey's the fourth triplet!"

Della snorted. "I would remember if I laid another egg, Dewey."

Dewey still looked unconvinced. He rubbed his chin suspiciously, narrowing his eyes at Della. "I don't know, the math's not adding up..."

"That's because triplets means three , not four , Dewford." Huey said, smacking his brother upside the head. "Anyways, I don't mean to nudge, but what is it that we need to talk about? We're on a bit of a schedule here."

"No we are not." Louie rectified.

"We should be on a schedule."

"Oh, yeah." Della cleared her throat, looking up to the ceiling before back to her brother, eyebrows arched to ask 'Maybe we should put it off?'.

Donald leveled a very unimpressed look at her, and even if she didn't know her brother she could read ' We are in. The room. We are not putting this off.' from that. He even added a quick slice to his throat to say 'If you try to back out I will kill you. Does that help?'

"Oh, I know what this talk is about." Louie suddenly said, raising his hand high in the air like he was at school. "It's about how Mom and Uncle Donald are secretly psychic, and seeing as how we're hitting puberty we're going to need to be on the lookout for these new psychic powers as well. Quick, Dewey, what am I thinking of?"

"That the dash-dash double jump move doesn’t work as well when you’re over encumbered - or, uuhhh - cheese!"

"...Why would I be thinking of cheese?"

"Well, I don't know, I am!"

"No, no, it's -" Della rubbed the side of her face, a rolling boil of emotions simmering behind her tongue. "I just wanted to say, first of all, that I love you - each and every one of you." She started, trying not to wince. "No matter what you do, or who you grow up to be, I will always love you." Della shifted her attention to Webby. "And that goes for you too. You may not be directly related to the boys, but I... think you qualify as their sister."

Webby let out a tiny whine at that, eyes very quickly filling up with tears. "Ohhhhhhhhh..."

Louie frowned.  "Yeah, we- we know that. Why are you - repeating that?" He asked, sitting up straight. "Is everything okay? No one's dying, are they?"

It was faint, but Della could hear Dewey's breath hitch because he was positioned right at her feet. "Mom?" He asked, looking up. "Are you... are you dying?"

"What? No! No, no, no. Nobody's dying." Della waved her arms, and winced internally. Of course that's how they would take that statement, why did she never think about what her words would sound like before saying things?

"IS UNCLE DONALD DYING?!?" Huey immediately shouted, terrified.

"Wh- no!" Donald said. "I- she just said that nobody is dying!"

"...Oh." Huey sat back down, flushing slightly. "I- I missed that part. Sorry."

"Well, nobody’s dying right now, at least.” Della couldn’t help but add. "... I mean eventually -"

"Della."

With visible effort, Della managed to arrest that sentence before it got any further and quickly resumed speaking.

"I just want you to know that I will always love you, but you don't have to love me." She continued. "If I do - something, anything, that makes me not worth loving, you drop me like a hot potato." Della insisted. "Because even if someone loves you that doesn't mean you have to love them back."

"What? What are you saying? Mom, what happened? Why would we hate you?" Dewey asked, looking up at her with tears in his eyes.

Donald looked at her and put his hand to his beak. ' Okay, it's a good start- maybe a little bit less on the dramatic declarations of love? Specifically, the whole- 'you can hate me' part? Please?'

Yeah, okay, this wasn’t going great, and she knew it. All she could feel was that tightening sensation in her heart, her pulse pounding in her ears, all while her brain tried way too hard to convince her that her family was going to hate her. Seriously, that wasn’t fun, brain. You could stop anytime , now.

"I'm gonna stop loving you if you don't tell us what you're talking about." Louie said, earning a glare from his brothers and Webby that he ignored. "What happened? Did you kill someone? Do we need to lie to the police or something? Are you going to jail for tax fraud?"

"No, but I've been lying to you. Again." Della admitted, twisting the umbrella back and forth in her hands. "And I'm sorry. The truth is -" She trailed off, the umbrella coming to a halt in her hands. "I'm - I -" 

Goddamnit, why wasn't there a book with instructions on how to reveal secrets to your family without traumatizing them? There were books on when to wear pants.

Okay, okay, maybe she couldn’t say it outright. That was fine, that was fine! She could just approach the problem from a different angle, that’d work out just fine. It’d be fine. 

Everything would be fine.

Saying it in her head like fifteen times definitely meant that it’d be perfectly, one-hundred percent, fine. Obviously.

"You kids know Selene, and how she's my friend?" Della asked rhetorically before continuing. "She's one of my best friends, you see, and before I was - stuck on the moon - we were a lot closer."

The others looked at each other, confused.

"Oh! Did you take the offer?" Huey asked, looking very relieved as he asked. "I thought that Zeus took the wreath with him- are you going to become a god now?"

"Oooh, what are you gonna the god of?" Webby asked immediately. "The sky? Like Zeus was?"

"Ah, nah. I can barely handle the responsibilities I have as it is, no way I could be a deity - though if I was asked to pick a domain I probably would go with sky, but a different sort of bent than Zeus' thunder and lighting, maybe more like Nut, and I know what you're going to say, and her name meant something a lot different in Ancient Egypt  -" 

Getting off track here, focus.

"Della." Donald gave her a look. "You good?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah -" Della responded, taking another deep breath. Maybe it wasn’t the entire truth, but- whatever. She was powering through. "But you know, Selene wasn't my only friend, if you can believe me having more than one besides Penny." She braided her fingers together.

The kids blinked. “Uh. O-kay?” Webby said, confusion clear in her voice.

"I actually used to be pretty popular in Duckburg, though being related to Scrooge always made that more complicated, especially when I started hanging out with a Beagle girl, but there were lots of other people around the world, some I met on adventures, but some were just, you know, regular people I'd meet in a hotel or a bar or something. Oh, this one time, at pilot school -"

"Della, what-" Donald looked entirely confused, raising his shoulders to say 'What on earth are you doing?'

‘I have no idea, words are just coming out of my mouth, help me.’ Della signaled by rubbing her knuckles together, barely even pausing to take a breath.

They all looked confused, honestly; everyone was staring at her with their heads tilted and eyebrows creased - everyone except Louie, at least.

"OOHHHHHHhhh, it's this conversation!" Louie shouted, an exhaustedrelief in his voice as he sagged like a sack of loose potatoes into the couch. "You fucking asshole , I was freaking out so bad! I thought you were dying or something!"

"Hey, language!" Donald shouted immediately, whatever he'd been about to say to help forgotten in order to tell Louie off. "That's no way to talk to your mother!"

"Wait, what is she talking about?!" Dewey asked, turning over to look at Louie. "You know what she's getting at?"

"No, I know nothing. Absolutely nothing at all." Louie insisted in the same tired voice, waving Dewey away. "Pay no attention to me, I have no prior knowledge whatsoever."

"Whhaaaat is going on?!" Huey asked, grabbing his cap and twisting it in his grip. "I- do you have a problem with your friends? Have you been lying about- no that doesn't- I don't know what you're- oh my gosh,"

Webby frowned, eyes piercing Della's. All that managed to do was add to the feeling of tightness, that the commotion everyone was kicking up was causing her. And it really didn't help that she remembered that Webby really didn't like secrets being kept from her. 

"You keep saying 'friends' weirdly. Like you mean something other than-" She blinked. "...oh. Oh. "

"It's - well - I had a lot of friends who were women, just like your great aunt Matilda, she used to be friends with Virginia Wolf, you know?" She pointed out, the words coming faster as she tried to speak over the confusion. "And, and, and you know, Goldie O'Gilt was friends with her too? So it's not like I'm the only one who has a lot of women friends, and it's not weird why are you saying it's weird, I like women a normal amount -"

"Wait, what?" Webby looked at her with her mouth agape.

"I don't know anyth- wait, what?! " Louie shot up suddenly. " Goldie? And Aunt Matilda?!"

"Oh yeah, Goldie is super popular and very friendly, so she has a lot of friends, though when she got close to Grandpa and Grandma it was mostly just to piss off Scrooge-"

"WHAT?!"

"Wait, Goldie knew Grandpa Fergus and Grandma Downy?" Dewey asked, thoroughly confused.

"And anyway I shouldn't really be gossiping about other people behind their backs because it's very rude, you kids know that it's rude, right?" She continued on at breakneck speed. Oh god she was a horrible person, why couldn’t she just say the fucking words?! "You should never share secrets about other people like I just did, especially about if they're dating a moon goddess and their uncle just doesn't understand that it's not just a phase -"

The sharp sound of a cane being slammed against the ground shook everything in the room to a halt.

"What in Dismal Downs is going on here?" Scrooge asked from behind her. When had he come in? He stepped over the threshold, looking at everyone before focusing on Della. "Lass- it is eight o'clock in the morning! Some of us are trying ta get some planning done before work!"

"Uncle Scrooge, thank god.” Della said, sagging with relief. “Okay, yeah, okay, I’ll shut up now. I’ll just tell the kids I’m bisexual tomorrow or something.” 

Today had been a wash, that’s just- that’s just how it went sometimes. She could try again tomorrow- maybe prepare some flash cards. Or maybe she could just record it on a tape and let the kids put it in the VHS player or something.

…Wait.

She’d said that out loud.

Realization flitted across Della’s face. She pulled her cap down over her eyes and let out a soft whine. “Ah, phooey.”

Everything was quiet for a moment, and for a brief second it was almost like being back on the moon. No atmosphere, no sound, no awkward tension, just - her.

Then Donald sagged in his chair and sighed heavily. "For pity's sake , Della."

"WHAT?!" Dewey bounced up. "Wait, what was that? You're- I- what?"

"Oohhhhhh my gosh oh my gosh oh my goshhhhhh-" Webby seemed on the brink of hyperventilating, wide-eyed and staring off into space.

"Wait, you're- then you were trying to-" Huey's eyes widened. " Hang on, so you're saying that Goldie-"

"Right, okay, everybody just stop talking for one moment." Donald ordered. Everyone -thankfully- stopped, allowing him to stand and hoist Della to her feet. He thrust her into their uncle's arms. "Okay- you take her for just a moment. Talk to her. Now." He said.

"Now hold yer horses, laddie, why should I-"

" Now. "

"Right, talking to Della, got it." Scrooge nodded dutifully, talking Della by the arm and leading her out of the room. She could just hear Donald turning to the kids and asking them to wait for a moment to let everything cool down.

Fuck. She’d fucked everything up. Good old Dumbass Dumbella Duck struck again! Screwing everything up since the dawn of time! Fucking fuck fuckity fuck fuck fuck .

Scrooge pulled her back into the foyer, stopping near the staircase. He coughed. "...So. What -exactly- were ye trying ta do, back there?"

Della buried her head in her elbow and sat down at the end of the banister. "I don't know. I was trying - to tell the kids - that - you know? But it wouldn't come out!"

Scrooge nodded. “...Aye. Ae can see that.” He said. He grunted as he knelt down in front of her. "Lass. Take a deep breath. Count ta ten. What was the problem?"

The smaller Duck took a deep shaky breath.

One. Okay, just- take stock for a second.

Two. She was alive. The world hadn’t ended.

Three. She couldn’t hear the kids. They were probably listening dutifully to Donald.

Four. Scrooge was here now. That made things better.

Five. She could hear birds chirping. That was nice.

Six. Her brain was finally starting to calm down again.

Seven… Eight… Nine…

She held her breath for ten seconds, then finally breathed out. Ugh, she still felt like shit.

Better shit, but still shit. She looked up to her uncle with red-rimmed eyes.

“...I don’t want them to hate me.” She admitted quietly. “And I know, I know. I know , I know they’re better than that, I know they would never hate me for being queer, but- I just got them back, Uncle Scrooge.”

Scrooge seemed a little awkward, like he wasn't entirely sure what to do. But he did pat her shoulder. "Ah. Well- why do ye think they'd hate ye?" He tried. "If ye're thinking that, Ae mean- ye must have some reasons floating in yer noggin'."

"Take your pick." Della said, hand going out as she counted off on her fingers. "Foster care, getting arrested, Penelope pretending she didn't know me, the fact that I was born in the nineteen thirties?"

And oh, there was so much more she could go into if she wanted. So many people, so many friendships, she’d lost for just- being herself. But if she went into everything, she’d probably just ruin the facsimile of calm she’d finally managed to get herself to, so- well, Scrooge would probably get it by just that.

"Hmmm." Her uncle nodded."Aye, Ae suppose that would make things rather difficult. Though at least they've never had ta deal with any of that." He mentioned.

She paused. He understood? That… wow, yeah, no, that made her feel a little better, she had to admit.

"Yeah... but here I am almost reduced to hysterics trying to talk to my kids about it, and what are they going to take away from that?” She asked. Maybe they wouldn’t hate her, that much she was starting to be able to admit. But she could still mess them up by accident. “That maybe they should be ashamed."

"Ehhhh..." Scrooge wiggled his hand in the air. "Ae mean- maybe , but Ae donnae know. They're smart kids. They understand the whole..." He gestured at her. "'You' thing. They're probably more likely ta just think ye're being yer usual weird self."

Della snorted. “Gee, thanks.”

Scrooge winced.  "Ah- Ae donnae mean that in a bad way, o' course." He quickly rectified, sitting down with an 'oomph.' "Ye're you . Being a little weird is what makes ye special, it's what makes ye Della. Ae mean, aye, it's a right shame that not everybody can understand ye, but yer efforts ta make people understand are admirable."

"You heard what I was saying back there, right?" She asked, raising her eyebrows and then realizing she'd pulled her cap too far down to show that expression. She pushed it back up to where it normally sat. "Imagine I raised my eyebrows really archly when I said that."

"Aye, Ae did hear ye. And Ae'm pretending not tae have until we finish talking. Ye should be grateful fer that." Scrooge said dryly. He shifted so that he was sitting next to her. "Why do ye want ta tell them, anyways? If this is such a difficult thing for ye, why not just keep it a secret? If there was ever a secret ta keep, it'd be this one."

"Louie." She said softly, shoulders sagging. "I'm trying to do this for him."

"...And that's it?" Scrooge asked, eyebrow raised. "No other reasons, lass?"

"I dunno, it might be nice to actually bring a date over to the mansion without having to open a window for them to sneak in." Della answered, rubbing her nostrils. It was a nice thought, she had to admit: bringing her dates over to meet her kids, her family. Seeing if they would love them like she did.

And even past that, she just wanted them to know, she realized. She didn’t like the idea that she was keeping this part of herself secret anymore. It was just so fucking tiring, all the time. She wanted to make things work out for once.

 "I... I really really want to believe that things are different now. That my kids don't have to grow up with all the same baggage I did, but another part of me says I'm just setting them up for a fall."

Scrooge shrugged. "Well, lass- things are different. Fer starters, they've got a lot more family than ye and Donald did." He mentioned. "They've got a lot more people looking out fer them. They may not be as world-weary as ye two were at their age, but that's -and it pains me ta say this, but Ae believe it's right- that's actually a good thing. They didnae get any pre-baked hatred about certain peoples and certain ways of life coded intae their brains. They're going ta grow up with some baggage, aye, but they know better than ta carry it alone, lass."

"But what if they meet someone like Marie?" She asked, shaking slightly. "What if I just get them hurt because I filled their heads with nonsense?"

Gently, Scrooge took her cheek and guided her to look at him, eyes serious. "Then they'll have you , lass." He said. "You'll be there ta protect them. And if not ye- then Donald. Or me. Or Beakley. Or Fenton, or Gyro, or Gandra or Manny or Matilda or Goldie or Fergus or Downy or Panchito or José or Selene or Storkules or even Daisy- they're nae alone, lass. They'll never be alone, not fer as long as they're wanting." He assured her. "And even if none o' the people Ae've named -heaven forbid- are there fer them when they get hurt, they'll be there afterwards. Ta help, ta soothe, ta let them heal."

Della looked down at her knee. "Did you ever tell grandpa and grandma about... being you? Or did they just find out?"

Scrooge snorted. " Heavens no. Ae didnae even know what Ae was back then, and once Ae did find out Ae just hoped they'd never mention it. Never would've told them a damn thing, if Ae could've helped it."But ye're nae telling yer parents." He mentioned. "Ye're telling yer kids. And -while Ae may not have told them - who did Ae tell that Ae was bisexual?"

"...Me and Donnie." She finally looked up. "Weren't you afraid of what might happen?"

"Oh, of course nae." He scoffed, before looking at her. "Ah. Ae mean. ...Yessssss. Ae definitely , without a doubt, was terrified of- talking about my sexuality. Obviously."

"Yeah, well, I guess being the richest Duck in the world boosted your confidence." Della finally said, before punching her uncle on the shoulder lightly.

"It was more the fact that Ae'd caught ye and Selene giving each other hickeys moments before, but sure."

The younger Duck snorted, wet and nasally but no longer actively running down her bill.

"Okay, okay, okay, I've never been very good at being subtle." She admitted before letting out another long breath. "Which is why that happened back there, I guess. I've gotta forget the subtext and just go for the text-text."

"Aye. Well- donnae get too graphic with it." Scrooge warned her. "Ae donnae think ye need ta regale yer children with explicit stories. Donald is already much too close ta getting a heart attack as is.”

Della chuckled lightly. “Yeah, wouldn’t want to do that to him. I don’t wanna deal with the kids alone when they become teenagers.”

 “Mmm. Well, now that that’s over with…” He readjusted himself, and the air in the room suddenly grew colder, like a snap freeze had taken over the foyer. "Correct me if Ae'm wrong, but did Ae hear ye telling the kids that Goldie has cuckolded me with my parents? "

"Aaaah - yeah anyway I should - go and - talk to my kids before I fall apart again." Della said quickly, reaching around for the umbrella and pushing herself back into a standing position. "Let's talk about this never, okay?" She called out as she picked up the pace to a rapid hobble to get back into the foyer before her uncle could get another word in.

Thankfully Scrooge didn't chase after her, and as she got back to the living room, things sounded like they'd calmed down a little.

"Okay, good, you're back." Donald said as he noticed her, wiping sweat from his forehead. "We've all agreed that we're gonna pretend that none of that was said, if you'd like to take a do-over." He offered.

"Yep, this is all totally new to me." Huey added, sitting politely on the couch. "I- definitely didn't hear or piece together anything. At all. You just- were late, that's all."

"Yep, totally!" Dewey nodded. "...Mostly because it's the only way we're gonna be able to keep Webby from fainting again, but hey."

"I didn't faint," Webby said. "I just got a little lightheaded because I stopped breathing from the excitement. That's all."

"We will be asking about - all of that - later, though." Louie mentioned. "Because like- I don't even have words, honestly."

"Well. Ah. I guess I shouldn't waste any more time then." Della agreed, moving slower on the carpet. She brushed past the chair she'd been seated in before to step in front of the couch more directly. "Hi kids. I'm bi."

…Wow. Really?

That’s it? That’s all she had to do? This whole time?

No fireworks went off, the world didn’t end, nobody started screaming. The kids just all nodded in unison, looking like they'd had a bit of a talk on how to react.

"Okay, alright." Huey said. He started to let out a sigh before aborting it halfway. "Why- uhm. Why couldn't you have just said that in the first place?"

"You do not know what it was like during the eighties." She warned, gently easing backward until she could lean up against the coffee table. "Or nineties. The early two thousands weren’t that great either." Della lifted the umbrella up to gesticulate. "It was bad ."

"It was not fun." Donald agreed.

Huey nodded, seemingly content with that answer. "Okay. That- I understand that. I mean, I've done a little bit of research into the topic," He admitted, and maybe Della was being a little hopeful, but she clocked that and almost immediately filed it away for later. "And, yeah, things have really gotten a lot better since the twenty-tens, really."

The others were trying to be silent and respectful, but Dewey was very obviously vibrating with questions in his seat.

"...Okay, Dew. I'm going to have to disappoint you. Selene is not your mom. Other mom." She said, trying to pre-emptively head this line of questioning off.

Dewey visibly deflated. "Aw, dangit. But you two looked so close in that orb she gave us!" He said.

"Yeah yeah yeah no, you two did date though, right?" Webby asked immediately, vibrating with equal intensity to Dewey's previous vibrations, as if she was feeding off of his lost power.

"...Yeah. Okay, you got me. I picked the name Spear of Selene for a reason, after all." Della admitted, aware that her face was burning red-hot. "She was the first person I was ever actually in a serious relationship with."

Webby squealed excitedly, arms flapping like mad. Della could practically see the stars in her eyes. "You- you dated- you a goddess- you dated a woman -"

"Why did the woman part come second?" Louie asked.

Donald cleared his throat for attention. "Okay. And what do you all have to say about this new reveal?" He asked.

They quieted down with an 'oh, right,' before Huey spoke up.

"Uh- well I just wanted to say that I support you, regardless of your sexual orientation." He said.

"Yeah yeah yeah, totally." Dewey nodded up and down. "We could never hate you for that! We could never hate you at all!"

They then both looked to Louie, who just shrugged. 

"Oh right, yeah." He looked to Della. "I'm sorry to say, but I don't think I can ever forgive you for this." He said in a monotone, ignoring his siblings' gasps of outrage. "Because as you know, I'm a raging homophobe, and you liking women? Yuck. And I really thought we were getting somewhere, too."

“Ah, a blood feud it is then.” Della nodded, just as mock serious as him. She couldn’t help but smirk, however, reaching out to take his hand in hers and squeeze. “Thank you for being patient. I’m sorry it took me so long.”

"Yeah, yeah." Louie looked away, though he didn't let go of her. "Thanks for doing it eventually."

"Louie!" Webby looked on the verge of tears. "You- I you-"

Louie's eyes widened. "Oh, right. Sorry Webs, I was messing with her?" He admitted. "Guess that was a little insensitive to you, my bad."

"Oh- oh, oh thank goodness- I-I mean, what?" Webby blinked, immediately sitting up straight and finding a sudden interest in her nails. "I have absolutely no idea why that would be worse for me than it would be for all of you guys. Yep. No reason other than common decency for why I wouldn't be comfortable hearing you say those things, no siree Bob."

Della nodded seriously. "Obviously." She agreed. "And everyone in this family would have been more than willing to beat the tar out of any potential homophobe."

"Yep, not that it's needed, though!" Webby agreed, nodding her head. "Because you are definitely the only person here who isn't completely, one hundred-percent straight. Yep. Definitely."

Everyone fell silent for a few moments, just kind of staring at her.

Louie coughed. "Right, well I'm-"

"OKAY I LIED I'M GAY." Webby immediately caved. "I LIKE GIRLS. MORE THAN THE AVERAGE AMOUNT."

The triplets just looked at each other for a moment before nodding slowly.

"...Obviously?" Huey tried.

"Yeah, I mean you have a crush on Lena, right?" Dewey asked.

"I knew that as I saw your sword collection." Louie admitted.

Webby squealed and pressed a pillow into her blushing face. "I- You- I mmmmhhhmhmmmmyyyyeaahh it really is that obvious isn't it?" She asked meekly.

"You want us to keep it a secret? Nothing has to leave this room if you don't want it to." Della offered Webby.

"Yes- no- I dunno- is it really that obvious?"

"No, they're just being dramatic." Donald assured her, rubbing her shoulder as he took a spot on the arm of the couch.

"No we're not." Dewey stated bluntly. "It's about as obvious as the fact that Louie's gay."

"Yeah it's- hang on, what?" Louie paused and looked at Dewey. "You- excuse you."

"What?"

"I- I mean like-" Louie just blinked. "I feel I've done a much better job of hiding it."

Huey wiggled his hand in the air. "I mean- you're not bad at it, but like-"

"There's only so many ways that you can excuse the fireman calendar, dude." Dewey mentioned.

"...Okay that's fair."

“I’m sorry, what fireman calendar?” Donald asked, one eyebrow arched.

“It’s nothing bad .” Louie replied, blushing as he pulled his hood up around his face.

"I mean, you could just be interested in supporting the local firehouse." Della offered as a weak alternative before continuing. "But I'm really glad you two feel comfortable enough to tell us this. I'm sorry about - making my coming out so dramatic."

"Is there any other way in this family?" Huey asked sardonically.

"Yeah, I'd say that was less dramatic than your return, but only by a little bit." Dewey nodded in agreement. Then both he and Huey turned to look at Louie expectantly.

"...What?"

"Well?" Dewey asked. "Mom and Webby both officially said it."

"Yeah!" Webby agreed, sitting up straight finally -only a little bit of blushing mess still on her face- looking at Louie. "We both got our time in the spotlight, don't you want it as well?"

Louie just looked at them for a long moment before turning back to Della. "So Aunt Goldie's bi too, huh?" He asked.

"Ohmygosh that's right!" Webby said with a gasp, before gasping even louder. "OH OH OH! And Aunt Matilda likes women too! Right? I got that right, right?" She looked at Della with a hopeful grin.

"Yes, that's right.” Della nodded. She felt a little guilty for coming out for them, but - well, she knew them. And if they were here, she could pretty much guarantee that they would’ve both smacked her upside the head for not saying so sooner. “I probably shouldn't have mentioned any of that... but it's not like the two of them hide it. Goldie's always been a shameless flirt, and your great aunt was actually pretty influential in the UK gay liberation movement." She paused before looking at her brother, a smirk playing across her bill. "Speaking of which - Donnie, is there anything you want to share with us?"

Donald pretended he didn't hear her, examining a speck of paint on the far wall. It took a moment, but all four of the kids' eyes widened as they turned to look at him.

"No..." Huey straightened up.

"Wait, really?" Dewey asked, mouth agape. Webby was making a noise that somehow transcended the normal range of hearing, just barely able to be heard if you listened closely.

"You have anything you wanna tell us, Uncle Donald?" Louie asked, blinking slowly. "Stuff you could've told us -oh I don't know- any time in the past thirteen years?"

"...Yes, I do." Donald said finally, looking back. "It's that I have a better excuse than your mother: I was in the Navy. Don't ask, Don't tell. All that stuff was drilled into me even harder."

"Mmmmmmm, I don't know, the navy seems like it's kind of famous for three things, and one of them is rum and the other is the lash." Della teased, leaning towards her brother till her beak was resting on his shoulder.

"Well I never claimed anyone else was good at following that rule."

The others all launched themselves in unison at the adults, and almost immediately the pandemonium was back.

"YOU'RE QUEER TOO?"

"Why didn't you say anything?"

“You’ve known us for thirteen years, man! Why did I learn that from her?”

"Do you like men? Are you gonna stop dating Daisy now?"

"Did you date Panchito or José? Because you definitely dated one of them, don't even try to hide it!"

"Why didn't we ever know?"

Donald held up his hand, leaning back as everyone crowded in on him. "Ack- okay: Yes, because I wanted to give you guys a good life and it never came up -and maybe I have some issues of my own I need to work through," He admitted, ticking off his fingers. "I've known you for longer than that, because I knew you when you were eggs, I'm bisexual, so I'm going to continue to date Daisy- and both."

"BOTH???" All the kids yelled in unison.

"You can do that?" Huey asked.

"You were cheating on them?" Dewey asked, gobsmacked.

"No, of course not, it-" Donald sighed, looking to his sister. "Della?"

"Yes, oh brother of mine?"

"Would you kindly get your children off of me, so I can collect myself and better answer their questions?"

“Hmm, I don’t know,” Della drawled, leaning on him with her kids. “You did raise them for thirteen years.”

“Della.”

“So I think that they’re really your kids, you know?” She continued with a grin. “So really, I think it’s up to you to get them off of you.”

“You birthed them.”

“And you raised them. Your point?”

Donald simply stared at her as he was slowly smothered in a pile of feathery bodies, and Della felt good.

This was good. She felt good.

They knew about her, and they didn’t hate her. They still cared for her and loved her, they hadn’t even been troubled for a second. (Well, okay, they had, but that was entirely her own fault.)

They loved her- not just the idea of her, but her. Hell, maybe she could tell them she was trans! She wanted to. It was another big part of who she was, after all.

…But - later. She’d give it a few weeks, maybe. Hopefully she wouldn’t be as worried as she had been this time, but- a few weeks might help her get her story straight, at least.

But that didn’t matter right now, all that mattered was that she had her family, and her family had her, and she could be happy. They knew, and they still loved her, and she could be happy.

—0—

“Why did you tell Mom before you told us?” Huey asked for what felt like the millionth time. Louie just sighed as he flopped into his bed, nestling under his sheets.

“Obviously because you already knew.” He said, staring up at the bunk bed over him. “Didn’t think I needed to say anything, you know?”

He frowned as Dewey’s face popped in over his. “Okay, I might not be the brains of the group, but you made it pretty clear this morning that you had no idea that we knew!”

Well, drat. He knew that wouldn’t work, but still. A guy could hope.

“I was going to.” He said, sitting back up and sticking his tongue out at Dewey. He rolled his eyes at both of their dubious expressions. “I was! …When I eventually got a boyfriend.”

Both Huey and Dewey groaned at that. “But then we wouldn’t have known until we were in our eighties!” Dewey protested.

“Hey!”

“Well - okay, Dewey, that’s not fair.” Huey admitted, jotting down some notes in his JWG. “We’d be waiting until our forties to know anything.”

“Oh, you two think you’re sooooo funny, don’t you?” Louie asked sardonically, narrowing his eyes at them. “Fine. If you’re gonna be like that, then I won’t tell you why I told mom first.”

The effects were immediate. Huey’s head immediately turned from his book and Dewey was unable to hide his curiosity.

“Well okay, hang on, let's not be hasty now,” Huey tried.

“Yeah, no, we’re brothers!” Dewey agreed, bouncing onto Louie’s bed. “You’re supposed to tell us everything, so c’mon dude!”

Louie turned on his side, pulling his blankets up and looking away to hide his smirk. “Nope. Not spilling any secrets for two people who don’t think I’ll ever find love.”

He grinned as he heard the two of them sigh.

“Louie…” Huey approached the bed, climbing onto it as well. “Fine. You’ll- probably find love eventually.”

“Eventually?”

“Before you’re forty.” He corrected.

“Yeah, totally.” Dewey nodded. “I mean, granted, it’ll probably be a giant man-eating plant that drains the life out of everyone it touches, but I’m sure you two would get along great.”

Louie scoffed. “Excuse you,” He sat up, pointing a finger at Dewey. “ He would be a giant man-eating plant that drains the life out of everyone he touches. Because gay.”

Dewey rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay, okay. Now c’mon!” He said, bouncing up and down on the bed. “Tell us why you told mom first!”

Louie adjusted his seat on the bed, perfectly happy to keep his brothers in suspense for a little bit longer. “I didn’t mean to tell her,” He finally admitted. “It just kinda slipped out.”

“Like how mom let it slip?”

He snorted. Yeah, right. “No, I’m a master at talking. It may have slipped out, but it was still super smooth, like - like butter.”

“Uh huh, I’m sure.” Huey said.

“Shut up, Hubert.” Louie punched him lightly on the arm. “It- you know, I’d had a night where I wasn’t able to get much sleep, so I was watching some stuff, mostly cooking videos. I- ended up making myself hungry, so I went down to the kitchen to make some food, and then - mom showed up as well.”

“And then when she asked you why you were cooking food past midnight, you just said ‘I’m gay, deal with it?’” Dewey guessed sarcastically, earning a light smack as well.

“No. We- talked.” He admitted quietly. “About stuff. And things.”

“Wait, you gotta have a late night talk with mom?” Dewey interrupted, looking offended. “And you didn’t say anything?”

“I’m sorry, did I just hear the person who went back in time and spent Christmas Eve with Mom and Uncle Donald complain about someone else talking to Mom?”

Dewey shut his mouth at that, looking appropriately abashed. 

“That’s what I thought.” Louie said. “And it wasn’t like we talked about anything big, it was - just stuff.” He tried. He decided to omit the fact that they’d had more late-night talks afterwards - this was just about the first one. “The topic drifted here and there a little bit, and eventually it faded for a bit, and then she just said she was bi out of the blue-”

“Wait, are you serious?!” Huey cut him off, mouth agape. “Mom told you she was bi before she told the rest of us? Why?”

Louie threw his hands in the air. “I don’t know, Hubert! I- she was using me as a trial run, had spoken to Goldie, could sense a kinship, maybe? I don’t know, she just- did.”

Dewey blinked. “...And how did you take it.”

“I took it fine!” He insisted. “I mean it’s definitely not what she was worried about. …Considering I mentioned that I’d thought she was a lesbian originally.”

Both of his brothers looked at each other. “Seriously?” Huey cocked his head as they got more comfortable on Louie’s bed. “I mean- I didn’t see any signs.”

Louie just gave him a look. “...Really? She lets Penumbra sling her around like a sack of potatoes.”

“So? She lets a lot of people do that.”

“Name them.”

“Well there’s Penumbra, obviously, but also Selene, and that viking lady Goosedottir, and Beakley, and M’ma Cabrera, and oh yeah no okay I see the pattern now.” Huey admitted, taking his book back out of his hat to write down said pattern, if Louie had to guess.

(‘Why Della Duck was Bisexual.’ Wouldn’t that be a kicker of a rule in the Junior Woodchuck Guidebook?)

“And that’s when you told her you were gay.” Dewey tried.

Louie rolled his eyes. “Yes, Dewey. That’s when it came out. Absolute shocker, I know. ...Also apparently our family is really fucking gay.”

“Huh.” Huey thought about that for a moment, before nodding. “Yeah, no, that makes sense. Didn’t catch Uncle Donald, though.”

“Yeah, no, right???” Dewey twisted in place to shake Huey’s shoulders. “How did we miss that? We literally lived with the guy!”

“We also missed that he was an adventurer.” Louie pointed out. He settled down into his bed, getting more comfortable. If they were on this topic now, then they probably wouldn’t ask about the elephant in the room. “Like seriously, we missed so much about him.”

“We still should’ve seen it when we went on that trip with José and Panchito, though.” Dewey pointed out.

“...Yeah, no, you’re right. We should’ve seen it then.”

Huey was silent for a few moments, brow furrowed. He eventually raised his hand and looked at Louie. “So, question.”

Ah, yep. Here it was. He should’ve known that he wouldn’t escape it. “...Yes, brother of mine?”

“If you told her that you were gay, did you also mention that you were trans?” He asked.

Louie just chortled. “Ah hah, yes. You mean, ask me if I told the one person whose opinion I’ve been absolutely terrified of hearing that I was trans? Is that what you’re asking me, Hubert?”

Huey sighed. “I mean, from the way you say it, it just sounds like it would’ve been a pretty good moment to-”

“Yeah I know!” Louie buried his face under his covers, letting out a seething whine. “I know that that would’ve been the moment! But by the time I actually remembered that I wanted to talk about it, the moment passed, and all the stupid anxiety came and it’s just- gah!”

“Ooookay, yeah.” Huey nodded, gently rubbing Louie’s shoulder. He had to admit that it felt - okay. It helped calm him down, at least. “Gonna chalk that one up to anxiety, then.”

“Man.” Dewey fell onto his back, kicking his legs. “How many times have you tried to talk about it with her, again?”

“Shut up, Dewford.”

“I mean now that she’s come out as bi, it should be easier, right?” He asked.

Louie sighed. “You would think, but also.” He jabbed a thumb at his exposed forehead. “Brain. It be stupid sometimes.”

Huey hummed. “Well, hey - maybe she already knows?” He pointed out. “I mean, she does have our medical information. Maybe she just wants to be polite and is waiting for you to say something first.”

Mom? Waiting? Yeah right. He loved her, but that woman was the most impatient person he knew, and he’d lived with Dewey his whole life. He scoffed. “Uh huh, sure. I’ll believe that- if you can answer me one thing.” He said, sitting up. “When’s the last time that she hinted at something casually? Because you know that if she knew, she’d be trying to hint at the fact that she was perfectly fine with it.”

“Well… hmm…” Huey, frowned, trying to think.

“And who gave her our medical information, if you can recall?”

“Scrooge did.”

“Now do you think that he sat down with her and went over it with her?”

Huey looked up at him. “Are you saying that you honestly don’t believe that mom knows you’re trans?”

“Well, it certainly wouldn’t surprise me!” Louie said, falling back and pulling the covers over his head.

“Okay, so she doesn’t know. Somehow.” Dewey hummed, tilting his head from side to side. “How’re you gonna tell her?”

Louie sighed. “...Why do I have to? Maybe I don’t wanna tell her.”

He didn’t even have to look to feel the glares that his brothers were giving him.

“Look, it’s- it’s difficult, alright? I’ve been trying, I really have, but I just- I don’t wanna mess things up.”

“Lou, c’mon.” Huey reached over to him. “If she was transphobic, Uncle Donald would’ve kicked her ass the moment she came back.”

“Mmph.”

“She won’t hate you.”

“Mmmmmmmmmmph.”

When it was clear that Louie wasn’t going to come back out of his blanket shield, Huey sighed. “She’s probably gonna find out eventually, Louie.”

“...I know.”

Huey nodded. “Right, well. If you ever want help telling her, just let us know.” He said as he got off Louie’s bed.

“Yeah! We’ll definitely help!” Dewey agreed, clambering up from Louie’s bed to his own without using the ladder. “But I doubt you’ll need it, I’m sure mom would support the idea absolutely.”

Louie groaned. “I know.” Unfortunately, simply ‘knowing’ wasn’t helping matters.

Maybe he’d talk to Goldie about it. Get her opinion on things. She knew his mother, after all.

…Yeah, yeah. He’d talk to Goldie about it.

After Christmas, though.