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Scrooge McDuck glared at the finances in front of him. He sighed, rubbing his brow, trying to ignore his pounding headache. It persisted stubbornly. Another sigh and he picked up his pen gingerly, rolling it between thumb and forefinger as he tried to summon up the will to work.
He glared at the ancient clock in the corner. A quarter after four in the morning. He needed to sleep. In a little under two hours he had to get ready for an important meeting with the board.
He tapped his pen on the table, muttering to himself.
Duckworth poked his head into Scrooge's office, mouth turned down when he saw that his employer was still awake, and looking positively ill. "Sir."
Scrooge looked up, "Ah, Duckworth. What is it? Why are you up?"
"I could ask you the same question, sir."
Scrooge stood, and winced. He grabbed at his cane, limping to his employee, "I was just... Preparing myself for the day, you know how it is."
Duckworth smoothly opened the door, trying to ignore that strained smile. Scrooge's cane thumped down the hall, and Duckworth spoke almost hesitantly, "Mr. McDuck?"
Scrooge paused and turned back, the circles under his eyes as prominent as ever, "Ay, what is it, lad?"
Duckworth swallowed. His job was the safety and continued wellbeing of Scrooge. Normally, his boss was just as reluctant to discuss personal matters as he was, but his master's personal matters were clearly adversely affecting his health, and that was not to be tolerated under any circumstances.
"Are you unable to sleep because of the disappearance of Della, sir?"
Scrooge stiffened, eyes going wide, "This- this has nothing to do with... What? Why are ye even askin? You know- I-"
Duckworth nodded in understanding, "And is it because young master Donald has not made any attempt at communication?"
Scrooge leaned wearily on his cane, "Duckworth, I'm fine. I'm just having a bad spell lately, is all. Nothing to it."
Duckworth eyed Scrooge's leg critically, mentally reviewing important dates and anniversaries on his internal calendar, "Is the injury acting up again, sir?"
"... If ye mean insomnia-"
Duckworth paused, "Oh." He'd just remembered, the date, "I'm sorry, sir. I'm sure, Donald will call."
Scrooge sighed, realizing his butler had managed to figure out what was bothering him so much, "No, I'm afraid he won't, Duckworth. I've already tried."
He turned and limped up the stairs, "I might as well try to sleep, I mean, what harm could it do, anyways? I mean... Family is just rubbish isn't it? I don't really need anyone, do I?"
His voice grew fainter and fainter as he disappeared into the corridors, trying futilely to convince himself of something he knew wasn't true, "They all just leave anyways... I mean, I don't need them... I don't..."
Duckworth sighed.
His job was to protect Scrooge, but sometimes it wasn't what he needed to be kept away from, like monsters or cryptids, it was those he needed by his side. And unfortunately, he had no control over relatives.
Scrooge had been looking forward to this day for months, eager and utterly buoyant. At least, until, Della....
And now, that day had come, and Donald still did not call. He still maintained that furious, stony silence. A silence that was full of unspoken anger and blame.
Duckworth thought again, of the date, marked in advance and circled three times with a red pen. As if Scrooge would ever forget that Della's three eggs, his three new nieces or nephews, were supposed to hatch today.
Duckworth supposed Scrooge wouldn't sleep.
He was right.
The fire crackled and Scrooge burrowed further into his housecoat, the economics book clutched tightly in his hand. He kept drifting, unable to concentrate, the words blurring on the page.
He'd tried to work, but his brain was too sluggish to even comprehend the book he was reading at the moment.... He was too tired for even that. The reason he was up at half past two was that, obviously, he couldn't sleep. All he seemed to be good for at the moment was staring dully at the flickering flames in the grate.
His eyes wouldn't shut and his body wouldn't relax, he was tense and coiled with anxiety. His leg ached and he shifted it.
His head hurt and all he could remember was that last moment with Della, how it was all truly his fault that his three brilliant, wonderful great nephews did not have their mother. How it his fault that Donald had been left all alone with three small ducklings. He couldn't blame Donald for cutting off all contact with him. Unfortunately, his distance had all been for naught. The boys were a part of his life, and worse his adventures.
Scrooge rubbed his brow, his leg pulsing faintly with pain in the remembrance of that awful day.
Unbeknownst to him, Duckworth had just poked his ghostly head literally through the door. He frowned with disapproval and then floated up through the levels of the mansion until he got to Donald's room. He was sleeping soundly. Duckworth paused... He would check on sir's nephews first before waking up this one.
The nephews, if they were asleep, needed it. Donald was a bitter wildcard, and should not be asked to provide emotional support except as a last resort.
Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, they were all awake watching some sort of cartoon on the television. Duckworth's nose wrinkled with disgust as he passed into the room behind them. He spoke, "Children."
All three jumped, Dewey yelping with surprise.
They all turned and Dewey replied, "Duckworth, man, you gotta stop sneaking up on people like that!"
"It wouldn't be a problem, sirs, if you were in bed."
Huey gulped, "We were just going to bed!"
Duckworth straightened uncomfortably, "You are needed elsewhere. Bedtime will have to wait."
Louie frowned, "What, why?"
"Sir requires your assistance."
Dewey laughed as his brothers snorted, "That old fuddy-duddy? Needs our help? And he asked for it? What did you do? Pull his teeth?"
Duckworth sighed, "He doesn't know I am here, but he needs assistance. Yours specifically."
Huey titled his head curiously, turning around to face Duckworth on the old battered sofa, "Why do you think he needs our help anyway?"
Louie closed his eyes and mumbled sleepily, "I need some dough before I move anywhere first."
Duckworth was getting impatient, "It's one of his bad days."
Dewey snuggled into the couch cushion, "It can't be a bad day, it's night."
Duckworth grew larger, "He requires your assistance!"
Huey tapped his brother's shoulders, "Uh, guys...? Maybe we should go find out why Duckworth wants us to help Uncle Scrooge!"
Louie spoke, eyes still closed, "It's not like he can hurt us. He's supposed to protect Uncle Scrooge, and we're his family."
Duckworth roared and all three boys leapt into the air. He thundered, wisps of dark smoke and eyes burning red with annoyance and rage,
S̳͚̥͍͔̭ͩ͛C̪̭̜̠͆͘R̂̂͗ͦͩ͋͝Ő͓̰̦̝̟͟O̡̤̼̻̻̼ͪͦ̏̇GE̖̥̬̫̒͛ M̭͇̹͌͞ͅͅC̪̭̜̠̗̫͆̌̎̔̇̅͘ͅD̎ͬ̈͂͗̓̿͏̖̰̯͓U̧͓̣͇̻̼̙̒̅̿̾ͩC̪̭̜̠̗̫͆̌̎̔̇̅͘ͅK R̂̂͗ͦͩ͋͝E͚͓͍͔̟̻̤QU̧͓̣͇̻̼̙̒̅̿̾ͩIR͖̬̳̿̀E̡̝͇͕̮̩̦̔̔̑S̹̍ͣͫͮͅ YŐ͓̰̦̝̟͟U̧͓̣͇̻̼̙̒̅̿̾ͩR̂̂͗ͦͩ͋͝ ̱̭̞͍̹͖̙͗ͬͨ͊ͤͮ̚͢A͑͗ͫ́͏̫̯̲͍̼S̹̍ͣͫͮͅS̳͚̥͍͔̭ͩ͛IS̹̖̟̍ͣͫͮ͌̀̋̊̍͑̎͡ͅT̷̤͖̲̟̤͉̱̭̞͍̹͖̙ͦͣͧ͗ͬͨ͊ͤͮ̚͢A͑͗ͫ́͏̫̯̲͍̼̮Ñ̷̮̗͉̮ͭ̉̈̍ͅC̪̭̜̠͆͘E͚͓͍͔̟̻̤!"
The boys leapt action, running down the stairs as fast as possible, a furious black demon chasing them the whole way.
They stopped panting outside of one of the many living rooms. Huey whispered, "Is he gone?"
Louie shrugged and Dewey pointed silently at the door. Light spilled out underneath it. The three boys looked at each other before hesitantly pushing open the door.
Scrooge was in his chair, glaring at the fire, an open book on his lap. He looked up at the sound of the door, brow furrowing when he saw his nephews, "Boys? What are you three doing up?"
Louie, surprisingly, spoke up, "We can't sleep, Uncle Scrooge." He nudged his brother in the side. Huey squeaked, "Yeah! Do you know any insomnia cures?"
Scrooge blinked, "Um, reading...?"
Dewey started forward, and to his Uncle's utter surprise, pulled himself up onto his lap, "Alright. What boring book are you reading today?"
Scrooge's mouth opened and closed at the other two followed their brother's example. Huey looked at the cover, "Ah, a decisive history of economics for the eighteenth century? Sounds interesting!"
Louie yawned, settling in, "That should put anyone to sleep."
Scrooge was gobsmacked as Huey nudged him, "C'mon, Uncle Scrooge are you going to read or not?"
Several responses flashed through his head, all annoyed negative answers, but all he could remember was times like this when he had read books to his own sisters before bed. He picked up the book, swallowing his words of protest, and as the boys snuggled in sleepily, he began to read.
Donald found all four of them in the morning, sleeping in the chair, the fire burnt down to cinders. He looked at the ghostly Duckworth curiously, "What are earth...? How did this happen?"
The butler hummed knowingly and retreated without disturbing them.
They slept for a long time.