Chapter Text
It was a tricky proposition and a dangerous hike up the mountain for the four of them. Scrooge considered it arduous, which meant the kids would probably have some problems with it. As was the case with their last adventure, Mrs. Beakley had insisted on attending. At the moment, she and the kids were ascending the mountain behind him. The climb was mostly silent, due to the strenuous nature of their activity.
Louie hadn’t been interested in going at first, because this was one of the adventures not involving treasure. They’d roped him along, although he claimed he’d joined under protest. On the other hand, the other kids were positively excited about this. It was just vexing that the object was on the top of a mountain, at the summit.
He wouldn’t have to compete with Glomgold to reach it, at least. The other Scottish billionaire would have no interest in a shallow pool that conveyed the faces and voices of those that the person who loved had lost. Scrooge wouldn’t look in it himself, but the boys had shown varying degrees of interest in it. He was afraid to see Della in there. There was no confirmation she had died, but there was none that she had lived, either.
To see Della would be to admit there was no hope. His heart was heavy at the thought and he focused on climbing the mountain. Any further rumination or brooding could wait until they reached the summit.
The next hour passed in relative silence. It was growing colder and he had warned everyone to conserve their energy. Mrs. Beakley had hardly needed the reminder, but the kids had. His hands had frozen inside their mittens and he’d long stopped regarding seeing his breath as a novelty.
After another half hour, at which point he thought his arms were about to pop out of their sockets, he reached the summit and guided the others up with him. They all panted and Scrooge cast his gaze about for the pool. He needn’t have worried about someone else being there; aside from themselves, there was no one.
He gestured for them to follow him into a cave and his skin burned upon contact with the much warmer air. His tail wagged, quite against his wishes, and he muttered. The kids were shedding their heavy winter gear, as it was about seventy degrees inside. The inside of the mountain had hot springs, which was what created such a dichotomy of temperatures.
“So, where’s this Pool of Eternal Reflection?” Louie asked. Scrooge wiped at the profuse sweat on his face; the sudden temperature change had induced sweating.
“Right there,” he said, pointing toward a lake recessed within the cave toward the back. They staggered toward it, exhausted from their trek. Since it was too high for Launchpad to fly, they would have to at least partially descend before the pilot could catch them. That assumed he didn’t crash into the side of the mountain.
Feeling as though he ought to face his fears, as the boys would expect him to, he knelt at the edge of the pool. Della’s face did not appear. Relatives he’d outlived had, but no one he cared to speak with. He stepped back; it’d been curiosity and fear that had propelled him up the mountain. While not seeing Della didn’t tell him anything more about her current state, it was reassuring to know that she wasn’t dead. He just didn’t know where she was.
But the board of directors would have his head if he produced that as proof that Della was still alive. He needed something more concrete. And those vultures would never have accompanied him up the mountain to see for themselves.
“I don’t see anyone,” Huey said, frowning. “Shouldn’t we at least have seen Mom?”
“She’s not dead,” Scrooge said and then excitement pushed at him. “She’s not dead! I was looking in the wrong place! If we can get a clue as to where she is, maybe we can find her ourselves!”
He jumped up and down and for a few seconds, he was elated.
“But if she’s not dead, then where is she?” Huey asked.
“That I can’t tell you, lad,” he said. “But this is good news.”
“If we can find her…” Dewey said and then his attention caught on something else. “Webby?”
Webby had collapsed to her knees too and was scrutinizing her reflection. Mrs. Beakley stood behind her and the young girl had gone utterly still, entranced by whatever she saw and heard. She reached trembling fingers out toward them, disrupting the water and the image.
“Webby, we can find my mom!” he said, oblivious to her mood. “Webby!”
“What’s going on?” Huey asked, torn between his own thinking of the logistics of both finding Della and how she’d managed to stay alive and Webby’s strange reaction.
“It’s all right, Webby,” Mrs. Beakley said in a tone that indicated she was trying her utmost to prevent an outcry. She placed a hand on her shoulder and Webby’s lower beak quivered.
“What’s the matter, lass?” Scrooge asked. He was too thrilled about Della’s being alive to fully comprehend what was going on with her. Then again, until the boys had come along, he’d seldom see hide nor feather of Webby. She wasn’t allowed to come near him and Scrooge didn’t know how much she knew or didn’t know about her parents if that was who she saw in the reflection.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Webby demanded, jumping to her feet. Whatever she’d done before had temporarily dispelled the lake’s magical effects.
“Tell you what?” Huey asked. “Who did you see?”
Webby was twisting the friendship bracelet around her wrist, which was something she’d started doing when she was agitated, he’d noticed. Webby didn’t appear to notice. She was worked up about something. What had she seen in the reflection?
“My parents,” Webby said and a sudden hush filled the cave. Louie, who had been fiddling with his phone in lieu of anything more interesting to do, since the lake hadn’t revealed anything to him or his brothers, looked up and almost dropped it. He fumbled, shoved it in his pocket, and approached her.
“What about your parents?” Dewey asked. The air grew tense, pregnant with expectation. Scrooge found himself holding his breath for a few moments and then scoffed at himself. He was being ridiculous. Still, there seemed to be something Webby was holding out on saying. Huey, Dewey, and Louie surrounded her like a protective shield.
“My dear, I didn’t tell you because…” But Mrs. Beakley had nothing to back that up with. It seemed that despite her illustrious career as a spy she was intimidated by her granddaughter. Or perhaps there was guilt present because her gaze darted about the cavern instead of looking back at Webby.
Webby stared at her and ground her beak together to keep from crying. Alarmed, Scrooge moved closer to her too.
“We’ve got this,” Dewey assured him. Webby looked torn between fight or flight; she was quivering with suppressed emotion.
“Because I didn’t think you needed to know,” Mrs. Beakley finished. “I didn’t think it was relevant to your studies and because, quite frankly, it doesn’t matter.”
“It doesn’t matter?” Webby repeated. “I’ve been spending all of this time trying to find Della Duck with the triplets and you thought I wouldn’t care about my own parents?”
Her voice was low as if she were fighting the impulse to scream.
“You’ve never asked,” Mrs. Beakley said delicately.
“Because you never let me!” Webby objected. “And who else was I supposed to ask? Duckworth?”
“I, uh, think perhaps we ought to be going,” Scrooge said, attempting to little avail to defuse the situation. No one budged.
“What really happened to my parents, Granny?” Webby asked and the triplets moved as one to hug her. Her voice broke. “Why didn’t they want me?”