Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I’ve always wanted to pilot a robot suit.”

“I know, Webby.” Lena stretched to reach the bag of barbecue chips propped on the wall at the foot of her bed. She could just go over there, but that would mean dislodging Webby, who was laying on her lap as the two watched a movie on her phone set on top of a splintered crate. Lena wouldn’t go so far as to say she’d rather starve than push Webby away, but it would be a near thing.

“But not like Gizmoduck,” said Webby. “I’m not picky but if I had my way, it would be skyscraper tall at minimum. Besides, nobody makes robot suits my size.”

“Have you tried asking?”

This Webby considered, tilting her head just so, allowing Lena to successfully snag the corner of the chip bag, dragging it over the sheets and into her grasp. She made a triumphant noise and plucked two chips out, one for her and another she offered to Webby, who opened her mouth without taking her eyes off the screen. Lena dropped it in.

Once upon a time, Lena had been right next to the chips. Strange thing though: over the course of the movie she got closer and closer to Webby, leaving the bag abandoned. A mystery.

“Doctor Gearloose blocked my number after I kept texting him about alternative energy sources. I don’t think he was interested. Hey, if you had a super power, what would you want it to be?”

“Heat vision. I like the idea of setting fire to someone with a look. You?” Crumbs fell unheeded onto the bed. It wasn’t like Lena used it or the amphitheater bolthole much these days. Webby and Violet had helped to clean up and sanitize the place, though. Webby had been very adamant about having hideouts all over the city. For strategic reasons, she said. And also because if the boys get to have hideouts, then so did they. But mostly strategic reasons.

Pillow forts and movie nights didn’t seem to hold much strategic significance in Lena’s eyes. But she wasn’t about to complain.

So it was a retreat. One of several in Duckburg. The three of them would use them together or individually or in pairs as a way to get away from whatever it was they needed to get away from. Lena had to admit she did feel more comfortable knowing that she had multiple safehouses throughout the city. She couldn’t help feeling that way, with Magica out there somewhere. To Webby it was a chance to get out and experience life beyond the mansion. For Violet, it was a place to pursue her studies away from her caring but also very concerned fathers who were grappling with her sudden turn towards the mystical arts.

But all in all, Lena had to admit she much preferred these movie nights with Webby.

“Flight,” Webby said. “I really like being up in the air. This is a good movie!”

“Classic,” Lena said.

“But what happened to all the vampires? They kind of disappeared. I liked them.”

Lena chuckled. “That was the last movie, Webby.”

“Oh.”

“Would you rather do something else?”

“No! This is good. Sorry. I just… zoned out.” Webby stirred in place and wrapped an arm around Lena’s hip.

“It’s all good,” Lena said, still stroking Webby’s hair with the one hand that wasn’t barbecue-stained. “I could stay like this all day.”

Webby hummed. “Me too.”

Webby in action was something entirely new to behold compared to Webby at rest. She was all motion and focus, none of the girl who babbled about superpowers and vampires while daydreaming on Lena’s lap. She blocked and jabbed and she jumped so high Lena could believe she would fly. She dodged and watched her opponent’s movements with laser-intense concentration. And when the ogre… troll… thing — it was big and green and wore golden armor and beyond that Lena had no idea what it was — put the wrong foot forward and left itself open, Webby bore down on it, low to the ground kicking out its knee in one moment and then spinning in the air the next, a compact lavender meteor. And when she extended one arm with a fist balled up to punch the monster in its jaw as it fell, centrifugal force slowed her spin like a slow motion shot as she put all her weight and force into the punch.

That was the thing with Webby, Lena had noticed. She was small. If she wanted to have an impact, she had to put everything that was Webby into everything she did. No half measures.

And her fist connected, and energy was transferred, and where she had executed a neat pirouette her opponent lurched into a drunken, stumbling pivot at the force of her punch. Webby landed beside it, neat and composed and only the rapid rise and fall of her breath the only indication she had exerted herself.

“Thanks for the save,” Lena said, and that precipitated a whole other reaction as Webby launched into a frantic hug, burying her face into Lena’s sweater.

“Lena! You’re okay! Wait, are you okay?”

“I’m in one piece and everything, Webs.”

“Thank goodness!” Webby stepped back and wrung her hands anxiously.

“Can’t say the same for, uh, this place.” Lena gestured beyond the unconscious creature to the ferris wheel that had spun off its base, or the tea cups wedged up against the half-crushed haunted house. An electrical fire spat from what was left of a ravaged arcade and there were screams off in the distance. They stood at the bottom of a crater surrounded by ruined snack stands. A golden rocket, embedded at the epicenter of the crater, smoldered and its metal surface pinged as it cooled.

“Moon people,” Webby said.

“Moon what?”

“Della told us about them. I don’t know why they’re doing this, she seemed to think they were nice.”

Lena looked at Webby. Webby shrugged.

“You know what? Sure. Moon people.” said Lena. On the ground, the moon person stirred. Lena, never above hitting someone when they were down, kicked it in the head until it sighed and slumped back into the rubble.

Webby climbed atop an overturned corndog stand and held her hand out to Lena. “Coming?” she said.

Lena smiled. It would be reductive to say that Webby was in her element here, but she was standing proud on the smoking ruins of a fairground invaded by a space army.

She clasped Webby’s hand, who hauled her up over the lip of the crater.

“Okay!” Webby said. “Let’s find everyone else and maybe take a few trophies!”

“I call the laser guns,” said Lena.

“Only if I get their armor!” Webby said, and they rode the slope down to the rest of the fair, charging through the smoke and pools of melted cotton candy.

Icy rain came down in waves, slashing through the night, a million little cuts, a million little prisms splitting the oncoming headlights of cars that splashed at Lena as she scurried through the storm along the side of the road. She hunched in on herself, as much as to shield her eyes from the driving rain and passing cars as to protect the bundle she held to her chest.

Even then, she still missed the slope down to the underside of the highway overpass Webby had called her from. She turned around, cursing as she blinked away the rain to find the trail.

She made her way down the slope, nearly losing her footing on the slick grass. Freezing rain ran down her back and crowded her ears even after she made it to shelter.

Under the overpass, Lena gave herself a moment to drip, miserable and cold, on the cracked cement.

“Lena?” The voice was small, faint in the rain. A ghost lurking up in the corner.

“I’m here Web, hold on.” Lena shook herself off then squelched up the steep slope of rough aggregate until she found Webby huddled against the far side of a support column, hidden from the view of passing cars.

Wedged between the sloping floor and the pillar, Webby shivered in her rain-drenched clothes. Lena urged herself forward and came to a kneel, scraping her knees.

“Webby! Are you okay?”

Water dribbled from the tip of Webby’s beak and she took breaths in shivering gulps. Lena reached out. Webby wrapped her arms around her body, but she relaxed enough to take Lena’s hand.

“You’re freezing. How long were you out here before you called me?”

“Well,” she said in stuttering words, “I came from the mansion so…”

“Forget it, don’t worry. Just… relax. I brought you fresh clothes and a couple towels.”

Webby took her hand away long enough to take the bundle Lena held.

“You had clothes for me?”

“I didn’t. The Duckbarn store I broke into did. Don’t look at me like that, it was short notice!”

Webby buried her face into the towel and began drying herself off. “Did you really have to break and enter for it?”

“Hey, if you were on your island survival deal, you would have done the same. Just… with, like, palm trees and… sand, I guess. Anyway life is more important than property.”

“Is that was this is? Urban survivalism?”

“We’re in my element now,” said Lena. “But Webby, what the hell happened?”

“Moon people. They were coming for Della. Everybody’s safe. I think everybody’s safe. We all scattered but I talked to most of them after I called you. We need to fight back!”

“Okay, okay, we will. But first we need to get you somewhere dry —”

“The safehouses aren’t safe. They took the mansion, we have to assume they have all my maps.”

“I already called Violet, she’s coming with her dads to take us to her place. You don’t have that on your maps, do you?”

“No, but —”

“We need to get you warm and rested,” Lena said. “Everybody else is probably doing the same thing. Regroup now, fight later.”

Webby nodded resolutely. “Okay. Right.”

“It’s okay to be a little lost right now,” said Lena. “You don’t have to act brave.”

“I’m not lost, Lena. You’re here.” Webby said with a shaky smile. She leaned forward and gave Lena a peck on the cheek. So quick that Lena almost didn’t credit it, the sensation of it nearly lost against the trails of rainwater running down her feathers. But Webby was hunched back against the pillar and looking up and smiling bashfully. That was the thing with Webby. No half measures.

This was a whole new thing that Lena definitely wanted to unpack but now wasn’t the time. Instead she smiled at Webby, and that seemed to be all the response Webby needed at the moment. She smiled back.

That smile became a good deal firmer several minutes later. Changed into fresh clothes — albeit clothes they had to pick a few bits of broken glass out of — they both felt marginally more capable to take on the situation. It was pretty great, what being dry could do for your mood, Lena thought. And they had a plan. It was a small one, but they’d gotten by on smaller.

When Violet’s family pulled over to let them in, they stepped into the car hand in hand.

“Remember that time when I piloted a robot suit?”

“It was last week, so yeah, still pretty fresh.” Lena, sitting on the floor with her back to the sofa, nudged her head gently against Webby’s, who hummed happily where she lay on the cushions, kicking her legs excitedly in the air as she recalled the carnage.

“I fired so many missiles!”

“And then you let me shoot the laser,” said Lena. “I appreciate that.”

“Aw,” said Webby, “it was nothing.”

“That squadron of moon rockets didn’t think it was nothing.”

“Ha ha, yeah!”

The mansion was slightly worse for wear. A few new holes in the roof, some rooms pulverized and the windows that had been blown out let in an uncomfortable autumn breeze. Lena didn’t let it bother her, and Webby practically basked as if she were in the full light of the summer sun. Coming out the other side of a space invasion could put things in a new perspective.

“Though if I’m being real, that whole thing with Della and Donald probably did more to get them to surrender.”

“Oh, yeah, sure. But still, I piloted a robot!” Webby laughed and flopped back onto the sofa. She looked up at the ceiling and sighed. “I love this.”

“Getting chased out of your home by space aliens? Slumming it in alleyways in a guerrilla campaign against an army with ray guns?”

“No! I mean… yes? I mean… going through all that. With everyone. With you. Face the unknown. Fight it. Make friends with it. Then watch it date Della.”

“Penny is pretty adorable with her,” Lena said. “Their whole deal.”

“I know!” Webby said giddily. She reached out with her hand and Lena took it. Penumbra and Della hadn’t been the only ones to find one another in the fighting.

“I honestly don’t know how you do it, though,” said Lena. “I mean, I’m used to slumming it but if I lost all this,” she gestured at the room around them. “After having lived in it for years I’d… I dunno, fall apart. Guess it’s all that training you do.”

Webby hummed thoughtfully, free hand idly playing with a tuft of Lena’s hair.

“When Donald and the boys left, I still had the mansion, but it did feel like I was losing my home,” she said. “Like, home isn’t just the walls around you, I think. It’s… people. But this time didn’t feel the same.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Webby said, mildly exasperated. “You were with me. Whether we’re in the mansion or that awful pit you used to live in —”

“Hey, I have some sentimental feelings for that pit.”

“Or we’re running from an alien invasion, it didn’t matter. You were there.”

“Some of those mold stains had names and everything,” Lena said.

Webby giggled. “What I am trying to say is… you are home. Kind of.”

Lena tilted her head back to look up at Webby. “You are so corny. I’m not exactly warmth and shelter, you know.”

“You’re actually very warm. As for shelter… you’re tall enough.”

“Gee. Thanks.”

“You can be my shade on a sunny day, my roof on a rainy one…”

“I should charge rent.”

“Mm. I don’t get much of an allowance.”

Lena twisted around, threw one arm around Webby’s waist and dragged her squawking off the couch. She pulled Webby close against her chest, arms wrapped around her and chin resting on her head. Webby wriggled in close to get comfortable.

“We can work out payment,” Lena said. “You know, hugs and kisses. Long walks on the beach. Sharing milkshakes at the… malt shop? I don’t think those are a thing anymore but —”

“Now who’s being corny?”

“Whose fault is that?” Lena said, poking Webby in the ribs. Lena drew her arms tighter and sighed. “Well. Who cares about being corny? Welcome home, Webby.”

Webby settled in and sighed. “Good to be here.”

Chapter Text

“Huey! Dewey! Louie!”

Webby found the triplets in the north wing study. They sat on a rug, huddled together and hunched over some terrible object on the floor. She couldn’t make much of it out, but it was glowing and there was a good chance it was incredibly dangerous, exciting and mysterious.

“Oh, hey Webby,” Dewey said. An unearthly glow highlighted his features as a toxic green light spilled from the artifact. An insistent humming with no discernible source rose in volume. “You want in on this? We found it in the laundry room under some old towels. It has ancient writing and I dunno! Looks fun!”

“I translated the artifact,” Huey said. “It might not be accurate though…”

“The important thing is that it’s either going to give us unlimited power or unlimited chinchillas, and we’re willing to flip that coin,” said Louie.

But Webby was hardly paying attention. She zeroed in on the artifact. She had a look of grim determination in her eyes, a checklist to stick to and a fire extinguisher in her hands.

“What, uh, do you plan on doing with that — aaaa!”

“Not today!” Webby said and she sprayed them down and coated the artifact in a layer of fire suppressant.

A great deal of noise, confusion and activity filled the room.

Once the dust settled, Huey, Dewey and Louie were left coughing and sprawled across the floor as Webby stepped over them and picked up the artifact, now dark and silent. Webby let out a breath.

“Sorry boys. For the record though? Chinchillas. You missed this accent mark over the third syllable, Huey.”

Huey looked mortified. Louie shrugged. “Still could’ve found a buyer and turned a profit.”

Dewey clapped his hands over his head. “Whyyyyyy did you do this terrible thing? Webby!”

“Lena’s coming, I’m having a sleep over!”

The triplets groaned.

“You do this every time!” Dewey said.

“What are you even trying to prove?” said Huey.

Webby tossed the extinguisher aside and put her hands together beseechingly. “I’m sorry! Just… one night? One night without infinite tiny animals or blood curses or time paradoxes?”

“You know,” Louie said, standing up, “I remember when you first started freaking out like this. I was so happy to see you say ‘no’ to adventures that I wasn’t even going to point out the outrageous hypocrisy of it all, but now it’s starting to cut into my quest for profit and a guy can only take so much of that.”

“Can you blame me?” Webby said. “Literally every time — EVERY TIME — I have a sleepover with one or more friends something supernatural happens! I’m starting to think I actually am cursed but how do you even research sleepover curses? No one’s written that book! I’ve checked!”

“That’s because your not cursed. Our lives are just awesome like that!” Dewey said.

“Yes, I know, and on any other day I’d be right there with you,” said Webby. “But I’m determined to, just once, have a normal night. I’ve been researching for this. I got a book from the McDuck archives that explains how to have the perfect sleepover and I’m making full use of it! I wrote a list based on it and we’re going to hit each item and have an amazing night!”

“Normal is pretty overrated,” said Dewey. “We’ve lived that life. Nothing special.”

“Well to me maybe normal IS special! It’s certainly rare!” Webby said. She bounced on her feet impatiently. If she had realized she would be asked to formulate a consistent logical framework on the significance of sleepovers she would have spent a few hours brainstorming her thesis statement.

Louie caught her eye and he gave her a long, probing look before sighing.

“Well boys, looks like we’ll have to toy with powers beyond our knowing on a different day. What say we stay up past midnight in the den and fall asleep face first into a bowl of pretzels during a movie marathon?”

Huey and Dewey looked at each other, shrugged and made noises of agreement.

As they collected themselves Webby picked the artifact up off the ground and put it on a nearby mantle. It would probably be safe there. At least three other trinkets on that same mantle were also dangerous objects of unknown power and they hadn’t exploded yet.

Then the door behind her opened.

“What is going on down here?” Granny said as she stood before the doorway. “Who’s using a fire extinguisher? Someone has to clean that up, you know.”

Webby stood up straight reflexively at the sound of her grandmother’s voice. She spun around to face her.

“Ask her,” Dewey said as the boys weaved around Granny and out of the room. “It’s sleepover night.”

“Oh. Yes I see.”

Webby felt her shoulders sag. This conversation again.

Granny closed the door behind. “Trying to have a ‘normal’ night, are we? I feel like we’ve been through this with your friend Violet, Webigail dear.”

“Granny, this isn’t the same. I’m not trying to hide who I am. This is about having a normal night for the sake of a normal night! I just want it to be an actual sleepover full of actual sleepover things. For the novelty.”

“One would think you’d have gotten the hang of it by now, you’ve certainly had the practice.”

“I know! It’s actually kind of frustrating!”

“I’ve no doubt. Why do you insist on going through all this trouble? I would think after all you two have got up to you’d be accustomed to a brush with danger. A headlong plunge into the unknown.”

“I’ve been there, Granny! And so has Lena. More than I have, honestly. I want her to have a break! No dreamscapes or extra-dimensional portals. I want her to feel like she doesn’t have to do that thing where I see her flinch at a shadow but she tries to play it off like it’s nothing and does… kind of… that smile that’s a little off and doesn’t reach her eyes and you can totally tell because when Lena smiles for real it’s like you stepped off a busy street and found this secret garden full of flowers and butterflies and little fountains that babble with clear water and —”

Webby stopped midramble and looked up at her grandmother, who was giving her a curious look.

“The point is,” Webby said, pushing away that sensation of butterflies in her stomach, “I have planned an uneventful night good, normal activities and if that means I have make a list and also personally shutdown every summoning ritual going on in this mansion, I’ll do it! That’s not unreasonable, don’t you think?”

“I think Lena’s very fortunate to have someone like you, Webby.” Granny said. “But I also think you should not adhere too rigidly to a checklist during what is meant to be leisure time.”

“It’s fine. I found a brand new book all about sleepovers! I got it from Quackfaster. She said it’s the rarest, most expensive book on the subject ever printed! I had to swordfight her for it! I’ve read it for weeks and prepped in advance! This time we’re going to do it right!”

“Well. If you must.”

Granny looked down at Webby who — realizing it, had made a defiant stance: her feet wide, her pose solid, her bill jutted out pugnaciously as she awaited her grandmother’s judgement.

The corners of Granny’s eyes crinkled as she smiled, deep and sincere. “You’re a very good person, Webby. And you’re young. Sometimes I forget what either of those is like.” Granny stooped down to retrieve the discarded extinguisher and when she stood straight she looked at Webby. “You know, that ‘be yourself’ advice I gave you before still stands. Take it from an old spy. Presenting a front is exhausting.”

“Trust me, Granny. I’m prepared for this,” Webby said firmly.

“Very well, but try not to worry too much about how this night ‘ought’ to go, Webigail. Try enjoying yourself instead. That’s what sleepovers are for, I imagine. And for heaven sakes, ease off the fire ex — oh, you’re already gone.”

Granny was talking to an empty room, Webby having already moved on to snuff out any other paranormal happenings. Beakley sighed.

“She’ll figure it out.”

“Lena I am so excited I could explode, we’re going to have the best sleepover ever!”

“I dunno, I’m fond of that one where I came back to life.”

“Difficult to top but I love a challenge!” Webby said. She burst through the door to her library and somersaulted into the center of the room. Lena sauntered in after her and propped herself up by her elbow on a nearby shelf.

“So on a scale of 1-10, how hard are you gonna knock my socks off with the list of things we’re gonna do tonight?” Lena said.

Webby gawked. “What makes you think I have a list?”

“Literally every other time —”

“Ihavealist!” Webby shouted giddily. She brandished several pages of paper with printed text and checkmarks.

“Well would you look at that,” Lena said dryly. “All right, lay it on me.”

“Preeeesenting the Vanderquack 25-point plan to a perfect overnight stay at the McDuck Manor!”

Pulling a chair to the center of the room, its legs squeaking over the hardwood, Lena sat down. “You’ve got my attention.”

“First, we greet our guests with ale. I actually have to skip that one because, you know, laws. I have apple juice instead.”

Lena tilted her head as if she were not quite sure what she just heard. “Interesting, proceed.”

“Then we go out to the countryside and seek the nearest jousting match to pass the time.”

“Okay,” Lena said, one eyebrow raised.

“Then a feast of roast tongue, fish eyes and meat pies. Followed by more ale. Which. You know —”

“Apple juice, yup.”

“Yeah, you get it. Then we retire to the town to witness a theater play! The book recommends plays that don’t offend the sensibilities of the reigning monarch but I figured we could just go see that new monster movie?”

“Daring of you to go off-script but I’m willing to follow you on this journey,” said Lena.

“Nnnng I know I could just explode! Okay. Then there’s a second course of rabbit, sugared almonds and various tarts and custards served with more apple juice.”

“Lots of ale in this… book, did you say?”

“I know right? But Quackfaster vouched for it.”

“I want, like, a window into her life.”

“So, after that we, um, have a conversation about the latest farthingale fashion?” Webby said this with a good deal less certainty.

“Oh, I know all about that. You know, I’ve never been a fan of whalebone, much prefer my farthingales to be made with synthetic structural supports.”

Webby slowly nodded at this. “Oh. Okay, yeah, yeah. So next, uh… we tour the pillories? Hm. That’s kind of awful now that I think about it.”

“Pink, can I take a peek at that book you mentioned?”

Looking at Lena then shrugging, Webby handed off a book, thick and yellowed and stained. The spine creaked as Lena cracked it open and flipped through the pages. She closed the book and looked at the cover.

“A Succeſsful Chronicle of the Morally Upſtanding Noblewoman’s Overnight Activities While a Gueſt During the Reign of Queen Mary the Firſt,” she said. Lena looked at Webby over the book.

“It’s got everything you need to know about… uh…” Webby had made a good try of speaking that sentence with conviction, but was losing steam as she barreled on. “Entertaining and… proper etiquette and… I’m way off track, aren’t I?”

“Quackfafter — I mean, Quackfaster gave you this?”

Webby sighed, shoulders slumped. “Yeah.”

“Seriously, one of these days we have to make a study of that woman. My running theory is that she’s a time traveler. From, like, the 1790s. Got here on a steam-powered time machine and decided to stay.”

Putting her palms to her face, Webby groaned. “I just wanted a normal book about normal sleepover stuff! I made her promise me a book with no magic or curses and this is what she gave me! Why does this keep happening?”

Lena stood up, walked over to Webby and put her hand on her shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay, Webs. Seriously.”

“Okay? How can this be okay? I got so obsessed about having a non-exciting sleepover that I just created a detailed itinerary for us based on how people lived during Tudor England!”

“Yeah, you did,” Lena said. She picked up the checklist from where Webby had let it fall. “It’s kind of awesome, actually.”

“How is it awesome? We don’t have pillories! And we’re certainly not doing bear-baiting. I don’t even know why I put that there!”

“Where?”

“It’s number fifteen on the list.”

“Oh wow, yeah.”

“I just… really wanted this to work.”

“Webby, you don’t have to make a list or read a book to know how to keep me entertained. We can just chill. Or do whatever!”

“But I want to do this properly!”

“Whose standards are you trying to meet here, Webby? Proper according to what guideline?”

“I don’t know, social standards?”

Lena retrieved the book and held it up. “I have in my hand a book of etiquette that comes from a society whose idea of a good time was to chain a bear to a pole and then make it fight dogs. Societal standards are fine for, like, not getting murdered on the street but beyond that we make our own rules.”

“I don’t think that’s actually true,” said Webby.

“Well, it’s what I tell myself.”

“Is that how you justify that time you stole that barrel of old pizza grease from Funso’s, poured it into ten paint cans and hid each can in the vents of the Billionaire’s Club?”

Lena sighed in fond remembrance. “One of my better pranks.”

“Uncle Scrooge keeps complaining about how it still smells like a slaughterhouse in summer, you know.”

“Ha, yeah. Good times.”

“Well, this has been a waste,” Webby said as she gestured at her list. “I had this whole day planned and I never even stopped to notice how ridiculous it all was.”

“What? No. Look, you had the right idea when you subbed in apple juice; all we have to do is adapt it to the times. I mean, we’re not going to find a jousting tournament, but I’m sure we can find some jousts in all the old timey knight armor Scrooge has in storage. And we can get some desk chairs for horses. And ride them down that one wing of the mansion that nobody ever goes to. Boom, instant tournament with a risk of serious injury. Record it and we’re going viral.”

Webby immediately lit up. “Oh gosh, that sounds so fun! Maybe have mops instead of actual jousts? For fewer impalings?”

“Yeah okay. We can lower the stakes. And as for this food, I mean, half the fun of cooking is improvising. That’s another thing I tell myself. Instead of fish eyes, uh…”

“Oh, agar-agar with grapes maybe? I saw a cafe selling something like that when Scrooge took us to to Japan to find a sunken Mongol fleet.”

“Only got a bit of that but it sounds good,” said Lena. “As for the pillory… I could always put Huey in a headlock.”

“We can workshop that one,” Webby said, now too excited to discount the idea entirely. “Okay! We can do this! We can go down the whole list and just… make it better and less awful! Less animal abuse. Speaking of which, about that bear-baiting… how many robots do you think we can get our hands on in short notice and is it ethical to make them fight to the death?”

“I don’t know but I am stoked to find out,” Lena said.

Webby jumped up and down, giddy.

“And hey,” Lena said, suddenly serious. “I’m down with just hanging out, you know? You don’t have to go around blasting people in the face with fire extinguishers for my sake. Unless you’re recording it and you send that video to me.”

“Oooh,” Webby said. “Louie told you, didn’t he.”

“He did. For the record, I think it’s very funny. But please don’t stress out for my sake, okay?”

Whatever Webby had done to have someone who was willing to go down these rabbit holes with her, she doubted she deserved it. But she was never going to take it for granted. She nodded vigorously, mostly to dry the happy tears out of her eyes before they started falling. “Let’s get started, we’ve got so much to do. You’re the best, Lena!” She said all in a rush as she grabbed Lena by the hand and dashed out the door and into the hallway. How could she have wasted so much time bemoaning her lot when Lena had made it so obvious that today was, in fact, going to be amazing? She had jousting to do, kitchen experiments to perform, movies and possibly headlocks and robot deathmatches! It felt like too much to keep in her head all at once. She needed to write it down, she needed to—

“We should write our own book of sleepover activities!” Webby said between breaths. “We’ll have illustrations for the magic summoning circles!”

“Hell yeah, Pink! Be the new normal!” Lena said, raising her other hand into a fist.

“To the new normal!” Webby said, raising her own fist as she careened and bounced off the walls, their laughter trailing them as they went.

Chapter Text

With both her hands occupied, Webby kicked at the metal door. It swung out on its hinges and she stepped onto the smooth tiles of the rooftop. She saw Lena against the rail, silhouetted by the city lights below.

Lena looked back at her. “Got the stuff?”

“Yeah, but —”

“Hot cocoa?”

“Um, yes.”

“With marshmallows?”

Webby shot Lena an offended look.

“Of course you’ve got marshmallows,” said Lena. “I shouldn’t even ask. Blankets?”

“Blankets, pillows, even a few extra layers if we need them.”

“Always thinking ahead.”

“Lena, there’s no way we can see the meteor shower from here!”

Lena came to Webby and helped to carry the bundle of fabric she had under one arm, the other occupied by a shopping bag full of snacks and a thermos of hot cocoa. Lena led her across the roof.

Duckburg at night sprawled below them. Even from the top of one of its tallest office buildings, the sound and light splashed against the skyscraper like waves breaking against a cliff.

“We’d have a better view if we went back to the manor,” Webby said. “But even there the light pollution is bad enough that you can’t really see much at night.”

Lena spread the comforter over a clear spot near the edge of the roof. From there, they had an unparalleled view of the main thoroughfare that ran down the center of the district. On either side of it, more office buildings vaulted up towards the sky, their shapes cut through by the halogen and neon light that blasted into the night and drowned out the stars.

Moving with purpose, Lena arranged the rest of the bedding into a cozy perimeter and stood within it. She turned back to Webby and took the bag of cocoa and snacks from her. Setting it to one side, she took Webby’s hand and led her into the blanket pile.

“Damn, Pink. Your hands are cold. Here. Warm them up.” Lena had gathered a small collection of cracked mugs. She selected one and poured cocoa. It steamed in the cool night air. She held it out for Webby, who took it in two hands.

“Are you listening to me?” Webby said.

“I heard you.” Lena settled down in the center of the blankets. “Come on, sit. You’re gonna miss the show.”

Webby pouted and remained standing for a moment, then relented. She settled beside Lena, who pulled the heavy blankets around them, swaddling them up against the night’s chill, leaving their hands and heads exposed. Then she poured her own mug.

Their breaths and the vapor from the steaming mugs caught in the city illumination like cotton candy wisps.

Lena put her mug to the side and nudged Webby. “This is nice.” Somewhere down on the street, a man shouted a string of expletives at a honking car.

“It’s very nice,” Webby said. She pushed back against Lena. “But it’s not exactly a meteor shower.”

“Oh, you’d rather watch a bunch of falling rocks than spend time with me,” said Lena.

“Don’t start getting jealous over rocks, now,” Webby said.

“I could do that,” said Lena. “I could definitely get jealous over space rocks.”

“The boys found a perfect place to watch at the old Junior Woodchuck campground.”

“I’ve got a way better view than the boys do,” Lena said.

“Not that I don’t appreciate the flirting, Lena. I do. But I was actually looking forward to this! It’s supposed to be the biggest meteor shower in a hundred years!”

Lena only smiled. “That’s the thing. I’m not flirting. Do me a favor, close your eyes.”

“If this is going to be the fake hand prank again, I’m going to be upset,” Webby said even as she played along.

“Just trust me.” Lena tilted her head like she was listening to music only she could hear. She closed her eyes and found Webby’s hand, holding it tightly. She hummed, slow and lilting. There was a sensation that hit the both of them, a feeling of breaking through water into fresh air. Webby shuddered and her grip tightened but her eyes remained closed.

When Lena opened her eyes, they were coated in a swirling, miasmic black.

“Okay,” she said. “Now open them.”

When Webby did, she gasped.

“Oh, Lena… what did you do? This is incredible!”

Webby’s vision had changed. From her perspective, the city lights were still there, but they were… interrupted somehow. Like the city and the sky were elements of two different photographs that were composited together. And with that, the night sky was free to shine. Shine as it did before the first foundations of Duckburg had ever been poured into the ground. Webby craned her neck up, supporting her head on Lena’s shoulder as she followed the vaulting arch of the galaxy as it spanned the night sky, speckled with stars. Her mouth hung open as she watched streaks of light slash through the dark in droves — the meteors, burning up in the atmosphere.

Webby laughed in delight and bolted up from where she sat, nearly upending her mug. She wavered a little as she made her way to the rail. “Whoa, it’s all swimmy!”

“Careful, you’re basically wearing shadows as contact lenses. Might take some getting used to.”

“Do my eyes look all black and inky like yours?”

“Can confirm, your eyes are very badass.”

“This is so cool! We’re so cool! I have to take a pic—”

“You’re missing the show,” Lena said.

Gripping the rail, Webby leaned forward and craned her neck up. She made a small sound.

It started as a few streaks here and there, so fast and so brief they burned out before Webby could focus on them. Then the bright trails picked up in frequency, arcing overhead in long sputtering streaks of sparking green and white that left afterimages in Webby’s vision. They came from the east, springing from the city like fireworks that seared hot light overhead, through the band of the Milky Way and then vanishing to the west, beyond the bay and over the sea.

This went on for nearly a quarter of an hour, with Webby lost in the sky and Lena propped up in layers of bedding nursing her cocoa.

“This is great,” Webby said in a breathless voice.

“It hasn’t even started yet.” Lena dug into the snack bag and grabbed something at random. “Just keep looking up,” she said in response to Webby’s quizzical expression.

The meteor shower picked up, the growing frequency of light trails barely noticeable at first until it became this laser light explosion of color that blossomed over the stars like a veil of dazzling sequins had been pulled across the night sky and just kept going. Individual meteor trails of varying colors and vibrancy flowed together, shooting into the sea and giving the sky a depth that made it all so much bigger in Webby’s eyes. Like the unthinkable vastness of the distance between her and the stars had been made real and tangible by the way the meteors traced out the boundary of the Earth’s atmosphere with brilliant tracks of gleaming light.

An hour into the shower and meteors blazed in a light show that only Webby and Lena could see. They could hear the city below and all its residents outrageously unaware of the spectacle above them as the sky shimmered with meteors moving in waves and dazzling cascading arcs that punched the breath out of Webby’s lungs with the way they flared and faded and she could see the smoke they left behind as they ignited the air around them.

“Your sight is veiled in shadow,” Lena said, coming up beside her. “They’re seeing light too faint to reach your senses unaided.”

“That makes no sense,” Webby said faintly, eyes still locked above.

“Hah. Yeah, that’s magic for you.”

“Do you see like this all the time? Is this what it’s like for you?”

“Ah, not really. Only when I do my hocus pocus.”

“It’s amazing.”

Lena to the horizon. Meteors moved like undulating, chaotic streamers, and the city lights were like a second set of constellations. Above it all, the galaxy spun. “Yeah, it’s not bad.”

An hour later, the meteor shower had trickled to a close. The sky was shot through with a few stray trails, but Webby and Lena had shifted their attention to the stars. They were laying on the pile of bedding, looking up. Lena was pointing.

“See how those stars there make kind of a backwards ‘3’ shape?”

“Not really,” said Webby.

“It’s kind of under the one that looks like a house?”

“Are we talking like a ranch house or a tract house?”

Lena laughed. She let her hand fall back above her head. “Ah, never mind.”

They remained in companionable silence for a time.

“I love the stars,” Webby said.

“Yeah.”

“I used to spend so much time reading about constellations,” said Webby. “The big heroes and monsters that were so important to ancient people that they put them in the sky. And then I’d read about how sailors used stars to navigate. That meant so much to me when I was alone, stuck in the mansion. I could look up at them and I’d see mythical monsters and legendary heroes, or I’d imagine steering myself to faraway places, and…”

Whatever else she was going to say, she stopped. The trailing silence of her sentence boomed between them. Lena swallowed, and opened her mouth.

“When I was… back… When Magica was with me, we moved around all the time.” Lena paused for a moment before resuming. “And so I never really had a sense of, like, permanence. We’d go here and there. All over the place to find any magic thing that would help her get revenge on Scrooge. So… yeah, I didn’t have many friends, obviously. Or, like, a sense of home. But I had the stars. And they were, like, always there. And I could be in a new town in a new country and nothing would be familiar and Magica had just given me some vague orders in that real hostile, sarcastic way that she does, and I’d be scared and alone. But I could look up at the stars and they’d be the same stars that were there the night before and the night before that. And… that helped. It helped that I could find something that was always there.”

She felt something brush her hand. Webby clasped onto it, and they gave each other a look. Webby radiated sympathy. Lena smiled back.

“Kind of funny,” she said. “We were both lonely but in, uh, different ways.”

“Yeah,” Webby said, the word sounding thick in her mouth.

“Better view than the Woodchuck camp,” Lena said.

Webby smiled at her. “Yeah. It’s kind of. I don’t know.”

“Less bugs?”

“No! Not that. I mean, about us looking to the stars. It’s, like, fate?”

“It’s cosmic.”

“What does that even mean?”

Lena shrugged and squeezed Webby’s hand. Webby squeezed back.

“Hell, I don’t know.”

They laughed, and they looked up to the stars.

Chapter Text

When she could help it, Webby never took elevators. Or escalators or ramps or moving sidewalks or those animal-shaped coin-operated electric scooters they had at the mall although that last one was really, really tempting. The giraffe was simply too cute. Instead she walked whenever possible. Every step was an opportunity to move, to use her legs, to burn the boundless reservoir of energy that kept her going.

The stairwell that took her to the fourteenth floor of the building where she shared a studio apartment with Lena was no exception. She took to the stairs two, three, sometimes four at a time. If she was feeling particularly energized she could clear entire flights with a wall jump and a somersault. The narrow, mildew-stained cinder block walls would echo with the sound of her breathing and her acrobatics. The noise of her passing could be heard beyond the stairwell and on their second day living there a resident had complained to the building super about ghosts haunting the stairwell. Lena thought it was the funniest thing ever. Webby tried to make it a personal challenge: to ascend as quickly but also as quietly as she could.

Today, Webby stomped through the entrance of the apartment building. She trudged past the stairwell and stopped in the elevator lobby, knees bent slightly, shoulders slumped and her head hanging. She had been dressed in business attire, a dark, professional jacket and skirt and a white blouse. She had draped her jacket over the crook of one elbow and she swayed with fatique. She looked up only when the elevator dinged upon arrival, and she walked in at a slow shuffle.

Inside, she pressed a button on the panel, then shook her head and cursed silently before jabbing her finger into the correct button.

As they slid shut, the stainless steel doors reflected her flat, tired eyes and frowning expression back at her. Her eyelids sagged.

No stairs today. No stairs ever. No anything.

Webby was tired.

She let out a sigh that lasted from the elevator to their studio apartment. There were a hundred different things that Webby wanted to do and they were all a variation on the theme of laying down and shutting out the world and what a cruel thing it was that she was mere inches from home and there was still so much she had to do before she could even think of relaxing. She had to find her keys, unlock the door, change out of her awful clothes, walk to the couch. She didn’t even consider the bed. That was a whole six feet further away. It was too much to ask.

This is it, she thought grimly. This is what a normal life is. Paychecks and invoices and feeling like this. I should have been a superspy like Granny.

Webby wrestled the keys out of her jacket pocket and turned the lock. She pushed the door and it swung away.

Into an infinite black void that no light could escape.

Webby squinted at the yawning, limitless darkness. It was inscrutable and looking at it too long induced a vertigo that made Webby’s senses lurch.

She smiled.

“Oh, thank goodness,” she said.

The darkness twisted and boiled. Ribbons of shadow shot out from its depths and coiled around her like a boa constrictor, restraining her and lifting her bodily into the air. Her arm was lashed to her side causing her jacket to slide to the floor. Webby was pulled in, and vanished.

A moment later, smaller tendrils collected the jacket, the keys, and then closed the door behind them.

“Hey, babe.”

“Lena! I thought you were still out teaching!”

“Came back early.”

“Why?”

“Eh, because.” Lena’s voice was everywhere and nowhere, sourceless and coming from every direction. It reverberated with power, but it still carried the same casual tone that was quintessentially Lena.

Webby bobbed in the darkness, embraced by a thousand arms cradling her over infinite space. She was looking up at two points of light, Lena’s eyes glowing radiant blue in the murk.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here,” Webby said. She was so tired that her neck lolled back and she felt something soft supporting her. A pair of shadow limbs had pushed a pillow beneath her head.

“Rough day at work?” Lena said.

“The roughest! We had a complete security breakdown at the Other Bin!” Webby said. “I think I’m starting to hate that place. A manticore tried to eat me. Then some pixies tried to stab my eyes out. The unicorn tried to impale me again. I nearly got sucked into three different kinds of portals. And that was before lunch!”

“Oh, I’m sorry you had to go through all that,” Lena said. She brushed a hand against Webby’s cheek and Webby nuzzled against it.

“I hate my job,” Webby said, her voice tired and defeated. “I’m going to quit. I’m going to throw my special security badge into Louie’s face and walk right out of his stupid fancy office.”

Lena made some more sympathetic noises and rocked Webby in her web of shadows. A pair of hands massaged her shoulders, and another ran shadowy fingers through her hair. Webby sighed, then sniffed at the darkness. “What’s that smell? It’s good!”

“I’m cooking.”

Webby’s eyes widened. “At the same time?” Lena’s control over shadows was really coming along. “You’re… getting good at this.”

Lena’s eyes looked pleased. “Practice practice. Oh, also. Forgot to tell you: our furniture arrived.”

Webby groaned. “They didn’t leave it all in the lobby did they?”

“No, it’s all here. Haven’t unpacked it yet. Figured we could do that together. But if you’re tired that’s fine, it can wait.”

“No, no! I… Well, we’ll see how I feel.” Webby closed her eyes as Lena rocked her slowly. “Did our loft bed come in?”

“We now have one queen-sized loft bed. Assembly required.”

“I am so excited about the loft bed,” Webby said sleepily.

“I know you are.”

“We are going to have so much extra square footage to work with now. We’re going to put things underneath that loft bed.”

“That is the plan, yes.”

“Think of how efficiently we’re going to use our living space, Lena.”

“It’s going to be a brave new world, Webby.”

Webby hummed.

“How are you feeling?” Lena said.

“Is it… okay? If I stay here? Like this? A little longer?” said Webby.

“It is totally okay.”

In the dark, like twin moons, Lena’s eyes watched as she held Webby tightly with countless shadowy limbs, and Webby drifted dreamily in the darkness like a ship on a placid midnight ocean.

Later, Lena had gathered up all her shadows. In place of the inky black void was their fairly run-down studio apartment. A small pyramid of boxes stacked near the entrance waited to be unpacked and assembled. For now, the two sat on the couch, eating over the coffee table. Webby had been quiet through the meal, chewing thoughtfully at the rations Lena had prepared. She had changed into her sleep clothes and luxuriated in comfort. Eventually, their meal far along, she looked at her wife.

“This… was too perfect,” she said.

“It’s just well-preserved spaghetti.”

“No, I mean you being here.”

Lena shrugged and gave Webby a sly look.

Webby pursed her beak. “You knew I was in a bad mood.”

Looking away, Lena shrugged. “Well, Louie might have texted to let me know that you weren’t having the best time. And I might have called it an early day and headed home before you.”

Webby groaned into her plate. “Nooooo, Lena, don’t tell me that. If you tell me that, I might have to forgive Louie for being an awful boss.”

“Like you weren’t going to anyway.”

“Ugh. I know. But still. I wanted to be angry at him for a little longer.”

“You want me to slash the tires on all his limos? I know some people who can make that happen.”

“Why is it that you’re so endearing when you’re being a horrible vandal?” Webby said.

“Don’t ask me, you’re the one who married me. Horrible decision.”

Webby leaned against Lena and laughed. “We both know you married me because that way they’d have to let you in to see me whenever I get put in a hospital.”

“Whatever, it’s not like I can’t sneak in!”

“Then you won’t have the doctor telling you how to nurse your sweet, innocent spouse to life!” Webby said, giving Lena puppy-dog eyes.

They traded barbs, even as they gathered up the dishes and washed them. When they returned to the couch, Webby stretched out and looked up at Lena, who sat on the armrest near her head.

“Still,” Webby said. “Best horrible decision I ever made.” And she looked up at Lena’s eyes, like twin lanterns shining from the top of a lighthouse, guiding her home.

Chapter Text

This all seemed like such a good idea to Lena.

That was a week and seven thousand miles ago. And, most crucially, ten thousand feet down on solid, horizontal earth.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Lena said. She could barely make out her own words over the howling wind. She was suspended over a limitlessly dark, mist-cloaked crevasse by a single rope that swayed alarmingly. “Think about what a Bad Lena Move this was. Think of that. It’s better than thinking about how no one’s ever going to find me if I fall right here.”

The wind picked up and spun her slowly around. She tightened her grip on the rope, more to keep the shaking out of her gloved hands than to make any serious attempt at climbing. She didn’t know how much climb was left in her.

“And now falling is all I can think about. Awesome!” She laughed with a hysterical, raw edge. The breath that carried her words condensed in the cold air and froze against her beak. Snot ran down her nostrils and she snorted at it noisily as she clutched the rope and closed her eyes and tried to fight down the panic.

Then the rope jerked upward and she kicked her legs out in surprise. Bit by bit, she was pulled over the lip of the glacier until Lena felt solid ground beneath her.

She planted her hands into the snow and they sank in as she looked up. A pair of heavy boots blocked her view. Lena’s eyes went up higher. The figure before her was wrapped from head to toe in a layer of climbing gear and cold weather clothes. Only a stray lock of golden blond hair had slipped out over their goggles.

“What in the frozen wastes did you think you were doing down there, kid? Sightseeing? Get a move on unless you’re looking to make yourself into a permanent fixture!”

Goldie O’Gilt stood with her hands on her hips, the frigid altitude completely unheeded. She radiated annoyance that even the glacier’s chill could not overpower. The feeling, as far as Lena was concerned, was entirely mutual.

“You know, if you were to actually help your climbing partner instead of complain, we could have been there and back by now!” Lena shouted over the wind. She got on her feet, brushing the snow off her parka.

“I anchored your line, was that not enough for you? You want to sit in a lounger while I haul you up a mountain?”

“Yeah that’d be real nice, think you can get on that?”

Goldie shot Lena a baleful glare. Lena returned it.

“I oughta hogtie you and push you down the nearest slope. Maybe you’ll roll back to camp.”

“Yeah,” Lena said. “You do that and see how long you last up here cuz I’m the only one who knows where we’re going.”

They stood like that, staring each other down, for longer than was probably wise given the environment. Lena felt a little dribble of snot form in one nostril, but dealing with that was second to making sure that this woman understand that freezing to death was preferable to losing a staring contest.

With a shift of one shoulder, Goldie moved first. “As excited as I am to have a conversation that makes me want to put a pickax through my own head, I think we’ll have to table this little disagreement. We need to make progress before nightfall. If you can make progress.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Lena said. She moved past Goldie to look at the next rise ahead.

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

Lena ignored her and, finding a pool of shadow where a rock outcropping stood out in the low setting sun, she gestured. The shadow deepened, took on depth beyond the surface it was cast on. She reached wrist-deep with her gloved hand and when she withdrew it, she was holding tight to a black stone.

Spidery glyphs, like scratches on the surface of ice, glowed on the surface of the stone with an otherworldy violet light. Lena barely registered Goldie saying something about this being the reason why she didn’t work with kids. Ignoring her, Lena concentrated on the runes.

Shadow runes weren’t read so much as listened to as they babbled in the reader’s head. It was up to the reader to have the kind of mental fortitude it took to be whispered at. Also she had to kind of stare past it like one of those 3D illusion prints. Theoretically anyone could do it, but it was a trait Lena just… had. Another reminder of what she was.

But it tipped me off to this, so… kinda worth it?

Behind her, Goldie was tapping her foot, the snow crunching with each tap.

Yeah, that remained to be seen. This could all just easily be —

The stone grew heavy in her hand and the runes pulsed in intensity until it almost hurt to look at. Its whispers skittered over her brain like fingers trying to find purchase in a rock face.

Finally.

“This is the right one!” The excitement in Lena’s voice was impossible to hold back.

“You sure this time?” Goldie said.

“Sure!”

“Finally.”

Lena pushed the stone back into the shadows before turning around. “It should be just over this ridge! Or… under it, maybe. We’ll have to work that out.”

Goldie nodded. “That’s just dandy, but it’s too late in the day to go any further. We’ll return to base camp and bunker down for the night. We can come for it in the morning.”

A part of Lena wanted to argue the point. They were so close. They could just grab it and go. Sooner the better. There’d be less opportunity for Goldie to stab her in the back for it.

The rest of Lena wanted to come back from this whole thing alive, and knew that nightclimbing on the Tibetan Plateau was a good way to make sure that never happens.

Descent back to base camp was made calmly but quickly. They followed the markers they had left once they deviated from the route taken by most of the other climbers. They were subtle, the markers. Only someone who knew where to look would find them. Goldie’s idea.

“Wouldn’t want anyone jumping our claim,” she had said. Lena would never admit it out loud, but she was surprised at how quickly Goldie took to the climb. Especially since she was old. Like, way over a hundred, if she remembered Webby’s breathless accounts of Scrooge and Goldie absolutely ruining one another in some place called ‘the Klondike.’

Whatever that was.

Flying halfway around the world with an inveterate con-artist and Scrooge’s occasional hate-flirt was not in Lena’s list of top ten things she could be doing with herself. But that was before she started wracking her mind over what to get for Webby’s birthday. They went through this every year. What do you get for someone who had everything she could ever want? Something only Lena could find. Something pulled out of shadows and magic. Something that led her here to the roof of the world.

Transportation wouldn’t be a problem. Launchpad was willing to fly for literally any reason. She needed someone to watch her back, though. Since this was meant to be a surprise, Webs was out. Scrooge, Donald and Beakley would never approve the expedition. Lena could already hear them going on about how “wildly irresponsible” it would be or how she was “courting death.” Della was a possibility, but she’d bring the nerds in with her because she was committed to doing everything with her kids and Lena needed them back in Duckburg to keep Webby occupied. Violet would be game, especially if she knew what Lena was here to get. But she needed to stay for the same reason as the triplets and also she was more accustomed to climbing library ladders than hostile, deadly glaciers.

There was a point when Lena realized how slim her pickings were and she was starting to give serious consideration on how she could trick Ma Beagle into tossing Lena a few spare sons to pull her up a mountain or something when Goldie O’Gilt just came right up behind her and gave her a tap on the shoulder.

“You going after something valuable?”

“What? How did you —”

“You think I don’t recognize a prospector looking for some kind of investment for their expedition? You’ve been walking back and forth across Duckburg and come up empty. Let’s talk.”

There were a few finer details to hammer out, a sidelong conversation with Scrooge that led to an extended rant-slash-story detailing some outrageous plunder involving him, Goldie, a fabled lost city of gold somewhere in the Amazon Basin and several thousand previously undiscovered and extremely venomous species of animal and plant. By the end of it, Lena had to concede that Goldie sounded exactly like the person she needed and also exactly like the person most likely to run off with the treasure.

Well, living adjacent to the McDuck clan had taught her that sometimes you have to make that bet. Sure, Scrooge went on — oh how he went on — about being smarter than the smarties, but Lena had seen dozens upon dozens of situations where he and his family basically rolled the dice on their own lives and came out the winner more by luck then any careful plan. So this was probably going to work. That kind of reasoning wore thin the further she got from Duckburg.

Back at the base camp, it was small comfort. They got there barely before dark, the last of various climbers trudging in from their treks. The light of campfires and buzzing halogens powered by chugging generators threw stark shadows that faded into the pitch darkness and jagged peaks beyond the camp boundary.

They pulled back their hoods and stowed the layers of fabric protecting their faces. The cold down here was… still damned cold, but compared to up there it was bracing. Coming off the glacier it was practically welcoming.

“It’s got all the danger of Neverest without the tourist trap scammers,” Goldie said as they sat at one of the benches of the large meal tent at the center of camp. “Why aren’t we warming up in the plane?”

“Launchpad’s gone off to help some old boyfriend fight a ghost? Or the boyfriend is the ghost? I forget.”

Goldie shook her head. “That oaf.”

“He’ll be back.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about, I’m worried about spending another night in a tent that smells like an outhouse and feels like a meat locker.”

Lena said nothing. The meal tent was basically a long pole with a canvas draped over it. Benches in long rows held a scattering of tired, ragged climbers huddling over steaming bowls of food for warmth. Like Goldie said, it had none of the tourist distractions of Neverest. Quackni Glacier wasn’t as tall as Neverest, but it was much, much meaner. There was nothing to lend it any glamour that would draw the casual climber. It was just a mean pile of rocks and ice that had a reputation for treacherous cliff faces that claimed more climbers than Neverest even when less people attempted the climb. The only mountaineers who dared its spires and chasms were the hardcore ones who committed themselves to scaling anything and everything on the planet that was taller than an anthill. No one came here to treasure hunt. There was no treasure to hunt.

Then Lena came.

She put one hand on the table so that it cast a shadow from the lantern light. From it, she pulled forth the black rock with its eerie purple runes.

“You gonna keep staring at that thing even when we’re not climbing?”

“Feel free to find your own entertainment, Goldie.” Lena said. Using her name seemed to get under Goldie’s skin.

From the corner of her eye, Lena saw Goldie, elbow on the table, her chin resting in her hand. A lazy smirk on her beak. “I think I already have.”

“Great.”

“Talk to me. What’s your stake in all this?”

Lena raised a sharp eyebrow. “You’re asking me this now?”

“Thought I had you figured, but now I’m not so sure. What’s your angle, kid?”

“Non-Euclidean.”

Goldie made a big production of the sigh she let out. “So much sarcasm. This is another reason I don’t work with kids.”

“You worked with Louie.”

“That was mostly to get Scrooge’s goat.”

“You always make your decisions based on how much they annoy Scrooge?”

Goldie narrowed her eyes. But then her earlier expression returned and she leaned on the table again.

“At first I thought you were a fellow treasure hunter. Being one of Scrooge’s little hanger-ons, I figured that was a safe assumption.”

Lena’s hand twitched. “I am not a hanger-on.”

“You’re definitely not a treasure hunter,” Goldie said. “You don’t act like one. You don’t have the look.”

“And you’ve got people all figured out.”

“A certain breed of people, sure. They get that glint in their eyes. It was true back in the Gold Rush, it’s true today. They see their fortune in the rocks. But you don’t have it. Still chasing rocks, but that’s not greed in your eyes.”

“What is it then, Goldie? What am I?” Lena’s voice betrayed the curiosity she had tried to hide. Lena couldn’t help but wonder how some people might think of her. Maybe it was a shadow thing. Or a person thing.

Goldie’s grin grew wider. “Oh no, I want to hear you say it.”

Lena sighed, immediately regretting carrying this conversation on for as long as she had. “Whatever. You get your share and that’s all you need to worry about.”

“Sure. I’m not above going out of my way for some pretty rocks. Known for it, in fact. But this is a lot of effort for something that isn’t even gold.”

“I already told you, what we’re after is rarer than gold, it —” Lena stopped short and her eyes went to the scattering of diners all around them.

“They’re here for the climb, kid.” Goldie said. “They’re not equipped to haul anything down this ice cube except their own backsides. Go on. Explain it to me. I’m old and I need reminding. It’s tough to wrap my brain around all this shadow magic stuff.” In the dim light, Goldie’s green eyes glittered. How had Lena not noticed the golden flecks scattered through her pupils until now?

Lena made a face at her, then relented. Heedless of Goldie’s reassurances, Lena edged in close and spoke in a low voice.

“Okay. Okay, look. There are… places on this world where the barrier between the Shadow Realm and our realm are… thin. Frayed, like fabric that’s been roughed up. It’s not a hole, it’s just thin. Duckburg has one, there’s another in Vesuvius. A few other places. Somewhere on that glacier is another. And sometimes in these places, something leaks through.”

“A thin place between worlds.”

“Right.”

“So what causes something like that to happen?” Goldie said.

“I don’t know. Something. What’s it matter?”

Goldie shrugged. “Oh, nothing I suppose. Only if I were on a boat and the captain told me there was a leak in it, I’d want to know the how and why and if we’re in trouble. I guess I feel the same way if we’re talking about reality itself.”

“Well, talk to whoever’s in charge of reality, lady! I’m just telling you the what! All I know about them is that they exist and you can use special runestones to locate them.” Lena gestured at her black stone.

“Alright, alright.” Goldie held her hands up. “Don’t let me stop you from explaining.”

Lena shot her a glare before clearing her throat. “So. Stuff leaks. It has to be a certain rate of leaking or whatever. If the place is too thin, then it’s no good. If it’s not thin enough then it’s no good. We’re talking just right. I’ve only seen it once, personally. It’s like… sap. From a tree. It oozes into existence, and then it hardens. And then you can collect it.”

Goldie leaned in. “And what is it?”

“I don’t know what the official, like, scientific name is for it. I always thought of it like shadow crystals. I used to have an amulet made from it.” Lena’s hand went over her heart. What passed for her heart. “Not anymore.”

“Ah,” Goldie said. “So that’s the thing. You had a magic geegaw and lost it so now you want another one. Makes sense.”

“No!” Lena said fiercely. For as much emotion she had bound up in that amulet, it had hung around her neck like a heavy weight, a constant reminder of the witch she was bound to. At least now it was out of sight. “I’m not doing this for power. I’m… I’m going to give it to someone.”

“That girl you’re always running around with? The housekeeper’s kid? Bah.” Goldie waved her hand as if shooing a fly. “Don’t look so surprised. It’s hard not to notice how you two are basically a package deal. But all this? Listen. If you’re looking for her attention, give her flowers. Or you follow her across a continent and steal everything of worth that she owns. One of the two. Both if you’re feeling sentimental.”

“Yeah, I don’t exactly expect you to understand when your most enduring relationship is a 100-year old grudge.”

“Shows what you know, kid. Look, you don’t need to do all this for some silly infatuation. You want to get her something? Get her something she’ll like. She’s into lost treasures, right? I’ve got a selection of very nice cursed idols she’d like. Even a non-cursed one. Some people prefer those. Less trouble for you, and I can take all those crystals off your hands. A good deal if I’m any judge.”

Goldie reached into her parka and produced a figurine that shone with a thick golden luster. It was squat and ugly and Lena was pretty sure it belonged in the cursed category.

“No. Thanks.”

Shrugging, Goldie put the idol away. “Have it your way. I’m just here for the riches. You said that this shadow crystal stuff was more valuable than gold.”

“I said it was rarer. There are maybe two or three places on this planet where the conditions are right for them to form. You’ll have to figure the market value for yourself.”

“Magical shadow crystals,” Goldie mused with a faraway look. “I’ll find a use for them.”

Lena snorted. “Sure.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Goldie said sharply.

“You’ll just taunt Scrooge with them until he chases after you. Isn’t that what you always do?”

“Not. Always.”

“Rich of you to get on my case about treasure hunting for someone else’s sake when that’s, like, your thing. I mean, I heard the stories. Seems like you could get gold with a lot less trouble if you weren’t constantly finding some way to rope the old man into your plots at the same time.”

Goldie stared at her for a moment, then opened her mouth. “Scrooge doesn’t know how to tell a story unless he makes himself the center of the action, and you can —” Whatever icy, cutting rejoinder she was about to go into was interrupted, however, by food.

One of the locals arrived with two dented metal bowls of the lentil and rice soup with goat dumpling that was the base camp staple. Lena shifted her attention to hers immediately, thanking the server. She inhaled. Lena loved it. She loved the smell and the hot steam that rose off the surface and the taste. She wasn’t sure if it was genuinely good or the hostile environment that made it seem good in comparison. Either way she couldn’t get enough. It was nourishment and comfort and warmth.

Goldie looked down at hers with a flat expression.

“This is slop,” she said.

Lena let her spoon clatter to the bowl and turned on Goldie. “Do you think you could do better?”

With a glare, Goldie rose up from her seat. “As a matter of fact, yeah! I know I can!” She stood up from the bench. Bowl in hand, she marched over to the sad little kitchen at the far end of the tent.

Second-hand embarrassment flooded Lena and she nearly stood to go after Goldie. Then she relented.

Let her have her “I want to talk to your manager” senior moment, Lena thought. I just want her out of my hair even if it’s for a little while.

Alone, she looked at the stone again, which was getting to be a habit. Like when she used to worry at her amulet when she was nervous. She hoped Webby wasn’t worrying. She could be like that. Webby worried after Lena in a way that was sweet as hell and, in her heart of weird, magical, kind-of-an-amulet heart, Lena craved. Maybe it was the feast of attention after the famine of neglect, but there it was. Being around Webby was like having the sun shine down. The pleasant kind of sun with just the right breeze that made Lena want to find the tallest spot in Duckburg and raise her arms to the sky and bask as much as she could. She wished she was there right now. Duckburg, with Webby.

But… she needed to do this. Go this far, climb this high.

Do this one thing.

On her own. Because as much as she loved the sun, Lena needed a little time in the dark on her own. She had been too used to that kind of life for too long to not abandon it completely.

Lena frowned and submerged the stone into shadow once again. She checked her phone. There was no reception here, but it still told the time.

The last video Violet sent her before she got out of signal range showed Webby being sufficiently occupied. It looked like she was fighting a skeleton, which was cool. Just… maybe fighting a little listlessly. Not as much force in the swing of her mace as it crushed the skull into powder.

It hadn’t really occurred to Lena until that moment that Webby would actually miss her. Like, miss miss her. There was missing Lena because she was banished to the Shadow Realm, then there was missing Lena because she was physically somewhere else in the world and that latter one had never really registered with her.

She could practically hear her friends groaning at her for being oblivious. She missed Webby. She wanted to be back, and the force of the feeling was all the more surprising because until recently, she didn’t have anything to be back to. So… homesickness. That was a new, sucky thing to feel.

Lena was about to drown this feeling in soup when a climber jostled her table, sending her bowl teetering.

“Hey! Watch where you — what? Hey!”

Mountaineers and locals appeared at either end of her picnic table and, without fanfare, bent down and lifted it up. Lena steadied herself where she sat as the table was dizzily rotated and then set back down in a new spot.

While she had been lost in thought, everyone else had apparently decided to rearrange all the tables into an oblong circle that followed the edges of the tent. There was music in the air, a style that Lena could not immediately place. Additional lights had been brought in: portable work lights hung from anything that could support their weight, spotlights brought in from the camp perimeter, a few torches and lanterns.

“That’s it, boys,” came an annoyingly familiar voice somewhere in the center of all the activity. “Bring some light in here. The way some of you have been carrying on in this gloom you’d think we’re at a funeral! What’s that, Reggie? One of the climbers today never made it back? Well, I guess we have an excuse for a wake, then! Speaking of which where is that Sang and his still? Barclay, you get a few of those yak over there and you help him drag it up to where those stools are, that’s going to be our bar. Now get a move on. The rest of you: I hear music, I see a dance floor, but I don’t see dancing! What’s the matter? Frostbite get your toes?”

That was about all Lena had to hear before she decided she didn’t want any part of whatever Goldie was cooking up. She was just about to successfully creep along unnoticed on the edge of the tent when Goldie found her.

“There you are, kid. Look at you, skulking around the edge of a party. It’s like I’m dealing with a discount Scrooge here. Come on, loosen up those limbs!” Goldie seemed refreshed; it was like she hadn’t spent all day climbing a big as hell cliff. She had a relaxed, confident smile and she approached Lena with the same kind of authority that had let her rope in an entire camp of strangers thousands of miles from anywhere familiar to follow her orders. Her eyebrows were arched and the extra light danced in her green eyes that shot Lena a look that was a dare and a challenge. She stood against the light and shadow like the world rotated around her, feet apart and arms crossed.

Back in Duckburge, the way Scrooge went on about what a pox Goldie was on his life, Lena had wondered why he even bothered.

I think I get it now. Also, I’m staring. Lena blinked and shook her head to clear it. It’s when you’ve let your guard down, that’s when she gets you, Scrooge had said.

“What’s your game, Goldie?”

Goldie scoffed. “I wish you’d relax. I’m not about to cheat you out of a present for your sweetheart. I don’t scam kids.”

“What about that Drake kid?”

Goldie shrugged, and on a certain level Lena respected how easily Goldie could move past getting caught in a lie. She was like ‘ah, well, you caught that one, let’s move on to the next one’ without missing a beat.

“Okay, I don’t scam kids unless they’re really rich. Or they have something I want. Or I really want to. Look, there’s no game. This place is being run like a morgue, so I’m livening it up. You need to move in this kind of cold. Also, I’ve improved the food. The secret is a little extra salt and some red pepper. Well, a lot of salt, actually. Eat! Dance! But absolutely no alcohol for you. Don’t let it be said that I’m not a responsible adult. That said, it’s an important lesson: someone always has a still hidden away somewhere. You just have to know how to ask.”

The people were getting raucous. A few were getting out on the dance floor. Garish neon parkas cast aside as the temperature rose. The music in the air was some kind of jangly electric guitar and keyboard, put to a beat with a nasal singing voice. Probably local pop.

“Where did you even find music?”

Goldie gave her a look as if she had just asked for instructions on breathing. “It’s the 21st century. Everyone’s got music on some damn gadget or other.”

Lena mulled this over. Her initial reaction was to say ‘no’ but…

She had been at worse parties. And under worse circumstances. And in worse moods. And she knew Goldie was right. Sometimes all it took to get out of a funk was to just… move around. Lena felt like she could either dance or break something. Ideally both. It was better than this sad pit Lena had fallen into.

She affected a detached expression, but she followed Goldie all the same.

The rest of the night was a bit of a blur for Lena, and she was probably the only sober person there by the end of it, so it must have been more like a smear for everyone else. She danced, taking her cues from some of the locals who knew the moves to whatever it was they were dancing too, and she was stepping in and out of the crowd with the ease that her legs remembered. And all the while, Goldie was on the edge of the impromptu party, drawing the wallflowers and the surly ones in. At this altitude, and this remoteness, surliness looked a lot more hostile than it did at ground level, but that never seemed to stop Goldie. She marched up to every gloomy face with easy confidence and drew them into the celebration like it was the most natural thing in the world to be here, in the dead of night, an island of light surrounded by cold, howling glacial winds. Dancing on the roof of the world, shouting into the icy wastes.

And Lena spun with everyone else, and though she had been at worse parties under worse circumstances and in worse moods, she found she could not lose herself in celebration like she once could. Maybe something had changed. Maybe she was the one that changed. Maybe not having Magica clinging to her shadow meant that she didn’t feel the need to cast aside her troubles for an evening. Maybe she wished Webby was there.

Maybe a little bit of everything.

Still, the music was nice. And she spun.

The cold quickly reasserted itself some hours later when Lena walked out of the mess tent with Goldie leaning heavily on her shoulder. While Goldie had been serious about prohibiting Lena from any drinks, that did not apply to Goldie herself. Lena was mildly annoyed and she scrunched her face at the cloying smell of bathtub gin on Goldie’s breath. Getting her up to climb in the morning was going to be a whole project.

Still, it wasn’t all that bad of a way to spend a night. Lena’s limbs felt loose and ached pleasantly.

“I don’t understand,” she said. “How did you set all that up so fast?”

Goldie roused herself enough to stand mostly upright. “Hm? Oh. That? That was easy. Ran a saloon up in the Klondike. Up north. Way up north. This was, oh… ages ago. Winters there were brutal. This place doesn’t come close. You learn how to keep the fire in the hearth, kegs full of beer, butts in barstools and coin in the register real quick when you have to do it in temperatures that will freeze a body up in minutes.”

“Well, looks like you still got it,” Lena said with grudging respect.

“I never stopped. My saloon is a hotel now. Don’t stop by there much, but I make sure it keeps running.”

“Is it worth it? Can’t get much business there.”

“There’s a certain kind of person who stays in a place that remote. They’re either looking for something or running away from something or both. I like those kinds of folk.” It was probably the most sentimental thing Lena had heard Goldie say up to this point.

“So that’s where your money goes? All that stuff, like, goes into a hotel?”

“Mm, I have a few other projects. And it’s not like I don’t have some socked away for myself either. I’m not hurting for funds. Once you have enough of it, money and treasure and lost artifacts just becomes a way of keeping score.”

“Yeah? Who you competing against?”

“What? No one!”

“I don’t believe that. What would the point? Bet I know who,” Lena said with a sing-songy voice.

Goldie shoved Lena along. “Just walk me to my tent, brat.”

Lena smirked, and though Goldie dug an elbow a little harder into Lena’s shoulder than she needed to, Lena felt like she had won something. She turned her head to let out a yawn. She foresaw her own problems with getting out of bed.

“You sure you good to climb tomorrow?” Goldie said.

“I’m not the one with a hangover in my future.”

Goldie put a hand to her head. “I admit I may have overdone it. Make sure not to leave without me. Oops!” She stumbled in the snow, but righted herself before she could bring herself and Lena down.

“You’re lucky we found the place,” said Lena. “It won’t take so long to get there now.”

“As good a time as any for a celebration, then,” said Goldie. “You sure you’re reading that thing right, though? That… rock… magic… magic rock whatever?”

“Uh, yeah? Pretty sure.”

“Only ‘pretty’ sure, huh?”

Lena heard the skepticism even underneath the alcohol and got annoyed. “Well, unless you can read shadow runes, ‘pretty’ sure is the best you’re going to get.”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s the moonshine talking, but I still think it’s just spitting out random pictures. Like a magic 8-ball.”

“Ugh, just… look.” Lena shoved Goldie away, who fell heavily onto the snow. Lena might have felt a little bad about that, but she wasn’t about to be questioned by someone who couldn’t even stand up on their own. Out in the dark it was easy to pull the stone out of the shadows, one flick of her wrist and it was there, resting in her open palm. Goldie got her feet under her and stood, bracing her hands against her knees.

“Here. See how the runes change? It’s like a compass, I guess. When I move it —”

“I don’t see it.”

“Well look closer! Hey, watch it!”

“Whoa!”

Goldie’s hand slipped off her knee and she face planted directly into Lena, who tumbled to the ground.

“You idiot!” Lena stormed, spluttering through the snow in her mouth.

“Sorry, sorry, that was on me,” Goldie said. “Sang has… some good stuff. By which I mean awful, awful stuff.”

“Ugh!” Lena pushed off the ground with both hands. And it took a moment for her to register it was with both hands. She had dropped the stone.

She sifted through the snow, the cold creeping into her gloves and numbing her fingers.

“You need a hand,” Goldie said. She lurched up onto her feet.

Don’t let her know! “I don’t need help from you! You can barely stay upright!”

Lena scrambled through the snow before she felt her thumb brush up against something solid and heavy. She closed her hand around it.

Goldie held out her own hand. “Come on, let’s get you up.”

Angrily, Lena shoved the stone back into its pocket dimension and swatted at Goldie’s outstretched hand. “I’m fine, I said! Let’s just… get back to our tents and sleep. We need to finish this tomorrow.”

Blinking blearily, Goldie shrugged. “Works for me. G’night, kid.”

Lena huffed as she got up to her feet and watched Goldie shuffle slowly off to the line of individual tents.

“You’re in the yellow one!” Lena called out. Goldie waved one hand and veered course away from the wrong tent, towards her own.

“Seriously,” Lena said to herself as she entered her tent, shaking off excess snow before zipping the entrance closed.

Her insulated sleeping bag beckoned, and after a day of climbing and night of dancing, all she wanted was sleep. Tomorrow, it would all be worth it.

Mornings were bright like the glint of a knife at this altitude. Thin clouds and white snow meant sunlight blasted through tent fabric as if it wasn’t there. So waking up was always, always, just… awesome.

Lena hated it.

“I’m gonna die,” she groaned, her mouth dry. She rubbed her eyes and struggled to sit upright. “I wanna die.”

This will be the last time. Then you’re on the Sunchaser back to Duckburg. Or whatever landmass Launchpad ends up nosediving us into.

That this was a comforting thought had only served to highlight how strange life had been for Lena.

Bleary eyed and semi-blinded, Lena fumbled for her protective eyewear. She donned the least amount of layers tolerable, and made way to the base camp’s line of outhouses. She was barely aware of the people around her. That was generally how mornings were around here and even more so since Goldie decided to convert the mess tent into a makeshift saloon. More than a few grumbles about savage hangovers could be overheard.

Once that was over, Lena was able to pay a bit more attention to the world around her. Goldie. She was going to be a hassle. Still, Lena couldn’t climb without her. She looked for, and found the yellow tent. Against the white snow it was like the golden tooth in a smile.

And Lena saw the footprints going out the tent and off to the edge of the base camp.

A yawning pit instantly opened in Lena’s gut.

There were possible explanations for this. Goldie was stretching her legs or… or…

Lena ran out of possible explanations. There was no reason for Goldie to go directly from her tent to the base camp’s exit. Towards the glacier. No reasons that were good.

She broke into a jog. The snow crunched under her steps, too loud. Even the sound was cold. Numb and sense-squelching. She checked around the tent. No signs of struggle. The entry flap had been neatly zipped up. One set of tracks. So, not a kidnapping.

A mean little voice in Lena’s head wondered how long it would be before she came to the inevitable conclusion. She opened the tent. There was space for one sleeping bag, empty save for a single sheet of paper. Lena picked it up.

And when Lena took her shaking hand and reached into the shadows, she barely registered the glittering, golden idol she pulled out before she fell to her knees, feeling like the ground had opened up below her.

Goldie heaved herself up over lip of the glacier. She made a satisfied sound. Going solo on a climb like this was dangerous if it were anyone other than Goldie. The risk was worth it considering the good time she was making.

It was nice to be reminded how much further she could go when she didn’t have anyone holding her back.

The whole situation with the kid was a bit underhanded, if she was forced to admit it. But it was for the best. She clearly didn’t appreciate what she was hunting for. Goldie’s way was much better. The kid’ll be upset for a while, then Launchpad will pick her up and Goldie will have gotten away with the loot and arranged her own transportation. Quick and easy and all thanks to some acting and…

She reached into her parka and pulled out the black stone.

…a little sleight of hand.

The purple runes skittered across the surface of the rock. Goldie smiled.

“Almost there.”

Shadow runes weren’t read so much as listened to as they babbled in the reader’s head. It was up to the reader to have the kind of mental fortitude it took to be whispered at. It was like those Renaissance paintings where the artist hides a skull for the careful observer to see. Theoretically anyone could do it, and Goldie was no stranger to ancient, mystical languages.

How else was someone supposed to treasure hunt solo?

Orienting herself, she stowed the stone and readied her pick. Only a little further.

And as she turned, she saw a black spot on the edge of her vision.

She could have dismissed it as a consequence of the thin atmosphere. Oxygen up near the top was… dodgy! It could make one’s vision swim.

But she’d been at this for over a hundred years now and she knew better.

Near the edge of the cliff now, Goldie could see a dark shape move swiftly over the crags of the glacier. It was like the shadow of a very small cloud, except there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Nor airplane or bird. And it was coming for her.

Very fast.

Lena wasn’t really sure she could do this?

But she was angry.

Apparently, that helped.

She glided over icefalls and floes. Traveling was so much easier this way. In the Shadow Realm, the glacier wasn’t so blindingly bright and also she could move very fast. Like those tulpa things.

There were a few of them, on the edge of her vision, peeking out from the rocks and surging alongside her like a wildfire in the distance. What was it they were? Manifestations of emotions? There were a lot of them.

So maybe she was very angry.

Lena hit a vertical surface. She raced up the side.

What Lena was going to do when she caught up with Goldie was something she hadn’t really thought of yet. She could feel the stone, though. Like a tug on her essence. She was practically falling towards it, and before she could really hold back and think about what she was doing, she was right in front of Goldie, who was taking a step back, but far too slow.

So Lena leaped out of the shadow, the shockingly bright real world asserted itself and she closed her eyes. Physics did the rest though, and she arced like a comet right into Goldie’s midsection.

It was a good tackle, if Lena wanted to take a moment to appreciate the art of it. Shoulder in the midsection, excellent follow through, a lot of momentum. Lena felt and heard the air leaving Goldie’s lungs as they slammed against the glacier wall.

Then she heard a crack from the wall, and ice fell around her in a great sheet, and they both tumbled into some unknown darkness.

Lena landed on her chin painfully, and stars went off in her vision. She sprawled over a rough surface. As the glacier crumbled around her Lena lay still, wishing that at least one thing could go right, just once.

After some time, the slide subsided and a fresh new silence prevailed. In the darkness, Lena could see Goldie stirring by the purple light of the rune stone.

“You sobered up pretty quick,” Lena growled.

Goldie coughed as she turned over. “Please, I can drink people ten times my size under the table and then sing an entire set without missing a note or a beat. Did you have to hit me so hard?” The affront in her voice was somehow more aggravating in that moment than anything else about their circumstance. It gave Lena energy enough to put a foot underneath her and stand up.

“You,” she said in a voice that boomed alarmingly in the ice cavern, “don’t get to complain after you robbed me! And you could read shadow runes this whole time? You… were… using me! Until you had the chance to take the whole thing for yourself!”

In the darkness, Goldie shrugged.

“Well, what can I say? I’m Goldie O’Gilt. Now, I know you’re riding an adrenaline high off that stunt you just pulled, but don’t do anything I’ll make you regret, kid.” She felt along the rough ground for the stone.

Lena held out her hand. “Yeah? I’m Lena De Spell.” She hated saying it, but was glad to see it pay off. Goldie knew enough to hesitate at the last name. “And if you think you can scare me, I’ve got bad news: I’ve known scarier. I am scarier.” The black stone melted in the darkness, out of Goldie’s grasp. It reappeared in Lena’s grip.

Goldie looked up at Lena, and for a moment, she didn’t say anything. Her eyes shifted, looking around.

“Okay,” she said at last. She arranged herself to sit cross-legged in front of Lena. “I surrender.”

“What? This is a trick.”

Hands outstretched and palms out to show they were empty, Goldie shook her head. “No tricks. You got me. Besides, I’m right where I want to be.” She raised her arms and gestured around her.

Lena took a step back, fists raised defensively as she looked around. Had she been in a less pissed off state of mind, she might have been a bit more concerned that they had trapped themselves in a glacial hollow with the entrance sealed up. But nobody’s perfect.

Save for the part of it that shared its wall with the glacier the cavern was conical, and from the floor to the apex was a pebbled, rough surface of minerals. Like the inside of a geode.

The minerals gleamed with a black-purple sheen.

Shadow crystals. Lining the walls and the cave floor.

“I don’t believe this,” Lena said.

“I know, they’re prettier than I thought they’d be,” said Goldie.

“No! That… this was too easy! You can’t expect me to believe we just accidentally fought our way into treasure!”

Goldie stood and dusted off her hands. “Happens a lot. If I told you how many times I found a haul while in the middle of a fistfight, I’d… well, I’d be talking instead of taking. Gabbing instead of grabbing.”

“Yeah, I get it.”

“Not that it helps much, seeing as how we’re stuck,” Goldie said.

“Seriously? I thought finding shortcuts and stuff was kind of your thing.”

“I’m sure an idea will come to me.”

“Well I’m not stuck. I can just shadow my way out of here.”

“Oh? Gonna leave me here to freeze, then?”

Lena wanted to make a show of considering this even though there was never any question. But she was too tired for even that. Instead she plopped down on the ground in front of Goldie, legs crossed in front of her, hands propping her up as she leaned back.

“No. Even if you deserve it. Besides, I need someone to carry these back to the plane.”

“Aw, come on, kid. It wasn’t anything personal,” Goldie spread her arms out. “It’s just part of the game.”

“Unlike you, I’m not doing this to keep score in some imaginary game.”

Goldie let out a dry laugh. “Okay. Fine. Meanwhile, we should start packing all this up.”

“Soon. I’m tired. It’s still morning.”

“Tired?” Goldie said. “I’m still ready to go and I woke up earlier than you.” She crossed her arms and had a satisfied expression.

“I am so glad I was never this proud of stabbing someone in the back.”

“Oh, you’re no fun at all. This is so much more entertaining when it’s Scroogey.” Goldie reached out and took hold of a shadow crystal. With a little effort, she managed to work it out of the wall with a ting. “We’d go back and forth fighting over something as precious as this. Probably blow up the top of the entire glacier somehow. Dynamite’s my preferred method, but I’ve been known to improvise. It’s going to knock him right out of his stupid, adorable little spats, when he finds out I have shadow crystals.”

“Wow. You really are just doing this for him, aren’t you?”

Goldie’s eyes darted at Lena with a sharp look. Then her expression softened. “Oh, I suppose there’s no point hiding it. The loot is nice, but yeah.”

“Seriously? All this? You could probably just… go up to him and kiss him. Or. Or punch him. Whatever it is you two get into. I’d rather not know.”

“Kid, the day I take advice on my relationships is gonna be a colder day than this one. Especially from you.”

“And what am I that you can’t take advice from me? Young?”

“You’re an idiot in love.”

“Hm. Pot, kettle, black.”

“I would have thought you’d be a lot more smug,” Goldie said. “Getting me to admit I’m doing this for the same reason you are. You don’t go this far unless you have obsession driving you.”

Lena flexed her fingers, hands opening and closing slowly. Fist and open palm.

“I’m not doing this for Webby,” she said.

The cavern filled with expectant silence.

Fair, I’m not exactly getting away with saying nothing after that.

“Webby brought me back to life. But I don’t owe her anything. I know that. I know it because it’s true and I know it because everyone keeps telling me. Like I’ve forgotten. Whenever anyone sees me do anything for her, they always say ‘oh, you don’t have to do that’ and when they don’t say it with their mouths they say it with their eyes. Do you know what it’s like to have your motives constantly questioned?”

“Absolutely,” Goldie said automatically. Lena shook her head.

“When I do something for Webby, it’s not to repay some debt. It’s because I want to do something for Webby.” Lena gestured at the cave. “Nobody asked me to do this. I’m not doing this because I owe anyone. I want to do this. So that when I give her one of these stupid, dumb, crystals, it’s so that I can make her understand how I feel. I’m doing this for myself because I want her to know that my motivations have nothing to do with some imagined debt. My actions are my own. This is me.”

Lena reached out and wrenched another crystal from the wall. It glowed purple in her hand as she regarded it, running her thumb over the smooth surface.

“This is the heart of me. Nothing less, nothing more.”

The light faded as she put the crystal down.

“And giving her one of these rocks will do all that?” said Goldie.

“She’ll understand what it means.”

“Might consider using your words, next time.”

“That’s rich, coming from you.”

“I suppose that’s true,” said Goldie. “So. It turns out you’re doing this for yourself after all. It’s like I always say: you don’t do something like this unless you have selfish reasons.”

“Oh, come on!” Lena said. “Not two minutes ago you were talking about how we’re both doing this for somebody else!”

“That was before you admitted your real motivations. I was right all along.”

“You’re infuriating. Scrooge would add years to his life by keeping you out of it.”

“As if the old codger needs to live any longer than he’s going to.” Goldie said.

Lena snorted and stood up. “I think there’s been enough of this. We actually do need to get out before we, you know, die.” She turned to face the ice slide and held out her hand. She closed her eyes, shutting out the world and concentrating inward.

She could feel it, the amulet that became her heart. Made from the same stuff that lined the walls of the cavern. It pulsed, and something that was not blood moved through it.

And the ice slide exploded outward, spraying across the blank glacier landscape like a shower of meteorites. Lena stepped out, donning her eye protection as she approached the edge of the cliff.

Crossing her arms, she surveyed the expanse of the glacier below her as Goldie came up from behind.

“We found the treasure and came out alive,” Goldie said. “Nice day in my book.”

“Sure,” Lena said. The edge of the glacier fell away at the horizon, leaving nothing but blue sky. “Top of the world.”

It turned out the ex-boyfriend wasn’t the ghost. Launchpad had a lot to say on the matter of the rebellion, but Lena was not hearing. It had been a long day and she planned on spending her time on the plane asleep.

Goldie kept close to the crate of shadow crystals they had hauled on board. Planning a betrayal? Defending against a betrayal? It was hard to tell. All in all, Goldie was not… completely terrible, but Lena couldn’t help but find the scheming and the long cons to be so incredibly tiring. This whole experience, at the very least, made her feel so glad those days were behind her.

And if she were to ask Goldie what she got out of all of it, all she’d get would be ‘I’m Goldie O’Gilt.” Maybe that was enough for Goldie, but Lena was not her namesake.

As Lena came up to the crate, she could hear the crystals colliding with each other as the Sunchaser’s engines rattled the plane. Goldie endeavored to look disinterested while simultaneously watching her every move.

Pushing the lid aside, Lena looked down at their haul. She picked one crystal out. A good size, good symmetry. A receptacle for powerful magic.

She was going to wrap it up and give it to Webby. And Webby would understand. If she didn’t, it was still Lena’s choice in the end.

As for the rest…

“I only need the one,” Lena said. “You can have everything else.”

Goldie’s eyes bulged. “What? Have you lost your marbles? You’re going to give me a crate full of the rarest and most mystical material on the planet?”

Lena shrugged. “You want Scrooge’s attention? With the kind of trouble you can make with all these, he’ll be chasing you around the world for years.”

Making a thoughtful sound, Goldie tapped her finger against her beak. “That’s certainly one of many applications I can think of.” She gave Lena a shrewd look. “No take-backs now. Don’t tell me you’re going to regret this.”

“I don’t have time for regret,” Lena said. “And I know what I want. But you owe me.”

Goldie closed the crate and leaned against it. “I just might at that, Lena. I just might.” And she winked, and Lena rolled her eyes.

Lena thought of Webby, and the crystal in her pocket thrummed in time with her heart.

Chapter Text

Thoroughly lost in the mansion, Lena crossed the main foyer for the fourth time when something awful happened. She was surprised she had made it this long.

“Gangwayyyyyaaaaaaugh!”

She skipped back away from the stairs as a blur of blue and gray bumped down the steps. A wave of heat and the sound of metal grinding on metal filled the hall and the whirling blur tore through rugs and scraped over hardwood, making an absolute nightmare of the floor. It hit a grandfather clock, hard, and from the explosion of dust, wood and clockwork Lena saw…

… Dewey riding a large nightmare robot thing. Or it could be a set of cursed ancient armor? It could really go either way. It was big and metal and spiked and running around on big stompy metal greaves. Beakley was going to flip at what this thing was doing to her floors

“Down boy,” Dewey said as he rode the back of the monstrosity like this was a rodeo. “Down! Hey!”

Lena inched towards the cover of a nearby chaise lounge. “You need… help?” she said.

“Oh, hi Lena, didn’t see you! No, I’m good. Meet my new best friend! Just gotta break it in and show it I’m in controoowhoa!”

The construct lurched, found its footing and galloped down a hallway. Lena watched Dewey, his arm raised, whooping over the din of his steed. He was probably going to be okay.

“Hey, um, hi!”

A woman jogged down the stairs. She stumbled and stopped once she hit the ground floor and put her hands to her knees and huffed.

“Hoo, did someone add steps to this thing while I was gone? Never mind. I don’t think we’ve met. I’m —”

“Della,” said Lena. “I know.” Lingering around Webby during her exile in the Shadow Realm had given Lena a window into that whole family drama. It should have been nice to know that someone else in the manor was readjusting to a new life, but Della seemed intent to make up for lost time by flying her immediate family into as many new dangers as she could find rather than actually taking it easy. Which, hey, no judgment. As a coping mechanism, Lena wasn’t sure her approach of roaming the halls of the manor as if she were still a shadowy ghost was any better.

“Oh, great! Then you know my kids? Um. Happen to see one? About so tall? Riding the Siegebreaker of Syracuse? Last great unfinished invention of Archimedes?”

Lena pointed the way. “Looked pretty complete to me,” she said.

“Yeah.” Della laughed. “Scrooge is going to be real upset about that. Thanks! Hang on, Dewey! Seriously, hang on!”

Bounding off, Della left Lena at the foyer. The sound of her pursuit and the distant crash of the Siegebreaker echoed off the high ceiling.

“Nice… meeting… yeah whatever,” Lena said. She looked around. She could check upstairs. Again. For all the times she had come to the mansion on stealth missions to track down that stupid dime, she had thought she’d have it easy finding her way around.

Well. Not like she had anything better to do.

“And so she said to meet her in fifteen minutes at the drawing room in the western annex and before I could ask for, like, directions she was halfway across the mansion. Webby can really move when she wants to. It’s actually kind of cool. I mean. Whatever. So any idea where I’m supposed to go? Or what a drawing room is? Or an annex?”

Duckworth, dusting off a chandelier, looked down from where he hovered near the ceiling. Lena clasped her hands behind her back and bounced on the balls of her feet. It was hard to tell where she stood with Duckworth. On one hand, he seemed to regard her as a house guest who over extended her stay and looked down on her. But the others assured her that he seemed to consider everyone who was not Scrooge as a guest who had worn out their welcome. She liked to assume that she had something in common with the ghost butler, in that they were both incorporeal creatures at least some of the time. But it didn’t seem like he was really interested in making friends.

“Yes I suppose I could see how you’d be confused,” Duckworth said and he said it in that way where she wasn’t sure if he was being genuinely helpful or kind of a dick. “You will want to go back downstairs and you will see double doors to your right. Enter and you should pass the auxiliary trophy room. Then hang a left at the breakfast room and you’ll pass a pantry, the dining room, another pantry, then the pastry kitchen. Opposite of that you will find the north-facing viewing room.”

“The north-facing viewing room?” said Lena.

“Correct. The north-facing viewing room.”

“What is it… uh, what does it view?”

“The north, presumably.”

Lena mentally put a check mark next to Duckworth just being a dick.

“You’ll see French doors leading out to the sculpture garden. Go through and you’ll be in the western annex beyond the guest swimming pool. The drawing room will be the room adjacent to the greenhouse lean-to.”

“Oh.” Lena felt a little dizzy.

“You can’t miss it.” Duckworth’s eyes shifted from Lena to the chandelier, which he resumed dusting with an ectoplasmic feather duster.

“Okay. Great. Thanks.”

“Of course.”

Wondering if she could somehow kill dirt so that the ghost of filth would hound Duckworth into the afterlife, Lena walked away.

She had tried to follow Duckworth’s directions. Really, legitimately did try. It was a lost cause though and she knew it and by the time she opened the door to the same storage closet three times, she had given up. Lena was lost. It would take an expedition to come and find her. They would need preserved foods and camping equipment. At least two would vanish into the dark spaces of the mansion never to be seen again. There would be talks of making a movie out of the ordeal. Until then Lena could only wander the halls of McDuck Manor. She sighed. She wished Webby were here. At least then she’d have someone who could take her mind off her whole weird situation. Lena had been spending a lot of time in her own head lately and it was… not cool.

I’m back. That’s what Lena had said the night she had been pulled from the Shadow Realm. Except it wasn’t like that. It was more like… I’m… back?

Not a statement. A question. The doubt weighed on her as she patted down her own body in search of the strings attached, the shoes yet dropped, the caveats and the hidden clauses. It took a while for I’m… back? to become I’m back!

When it did, when she finally convinced herself that she wasn’t going to suddenly evaporate, when Webby stopped clinging to her side as if letting go would cause her to float away like a balloon, things were great. But it wouldn’t take long before I’m back! was replaced with now what?

There should be a therapist who specializes in patients dealing with existential and ontological crises all at once. Returning to life and having a life for the first time was too much to deal with for one person or shadow or… or whatever.

It helped that Webby was there. Webby was being… good. Very good. Always there to help Lena for literally any reason and that… that was good…

But…

That’s what friends are for! To help! Webby would say and Lena could not pinpoint the exact time when a mental construct of Webby started occupying her head to say all the Webby-as-hell things she’d say when real Webby wasn’t there to say it. Chalk it up to another thing she’d love to hash out with a hypothetical therapist. Instead she was left to debate this with imagination-Webby.

Sure, Lena would respond, But friends shouldn’t be freeloaders, which I am.

Lena you radiant knucklehead, you’re going through a big adjustment and we’re supporting you! That’s not freeloading. Besides, there’d need to be a hundred more of you living in this mansion before Scrooge would even notice there was an extra mouth to feed!

And somehow that made it worse in a way that Lena couldn’t fully articulate. It was a good thing that these arguments only ever happened in her head. In real life Webby just smiled at her like a blast furnace that radiated joy instead of heat yet warmed Lena’s heart all the same and oh, no, please don’t be like this. Not now. Lena had given up on finding the drawing room and just wanted to find a place where she could mope but now she was picturing Webby smiling and that knotted up her emotions in a way that she couldn’t properly vent her feelings. Too much going on in her head and —

She’s MINE!

Then there was that. That was another thing she had said that night.

Because what better way to reunite with her best and only friend after months of exile?

Neither of them had ever really addressed it. It just kind of… circled in her head. It made the back of Lena’s neck tingle just thinking about it.

She wondered and dreaded how it made Webby feel.

It was mortifying. But it didn’t feel wrong. Not in the moment, and not afterward. That was the thing. There were moments, then there was the rest of life. And it came right back to the whole ‘life’ deal and how she had all this time now.

It felt right, but it also felt…

She needed to sit down. And not in some plush ridiculous chair in a room full of chairs probably called the sitting room or something like that. This place, this whole mansion was vast and empty and she still felt it pressing down on her.

She needed the sky.

When she found the foyer again, Della and Dewey were standing amidst the ruin of a shattered Siegebreaker, slightly bruised and singed but none the worse for wear.

“Hey!” Lena said as she jogged past them. “When you see Webby, can you tell her I had to go?”

“Uhhhh, go where?” Dewey said.

“Just… out! Okay? But tell her not to worry I’ll be fine!” Lena did not wait for a response and as she pushed open the large doors and dashed across the lawn, a part of her hoped Webby would forgive her.

Another part that spoke truths Lena would rather be ignorant of knew that she would.

Seeing the amphitheater again in the fading daylight, Lena’s hand went to her neck, where the amulet had rested for so long. The absence of that weight was going to take some getting used to. Even more so knowing that the thing was inside her now. Glowing where normal people had, you know, an actual heart.

Again, there was a lot to deal with.

Lena skipped down the long rows of seats, picking up speed as she did so and when she hit the edge of the flooded orchestra pit she did so at a run and then a jump. She cleared the water and her sneakers skidded across the decaying wooden planks that extended from the amphitheater stage.

At least she could still clear that gap. There was no reason to believe that she couldn’t, it was just a relief was all. Some things hadn’t changed.

The old stars and moon swayed over the stage. They had been through her little room. Webby had said as much. But the trapdoor was closed so someone was conscientious enough to shut it even in the middle of an invasion of shadows. Lena couldn’t help but smile.

But she wasn’t going in. Not just yet. The night was cool and pleasant, the breeze was strong and it pushed through the moon and the stars and her hair. She hugged herself and closed her eyes and smelled the sea. The wind picked up and she huddled against the foot of a column, tugging her sweater of her knees as she sat. She held her chin up and thrust her face into the breeze like it could lift her worries up and carry them away like a plastic bag tumbling through the city.

“I’m back,” she said to herself, and the wind took her words from her mouth before it could reach her ears.

Chapter Text

Webby kicked out the vent cover. It fell to the floor with a metal clang and a plume of dust. She turned herself around and poke her head out of the wall. She scanned the room.

It was abandoned and musty, windows boarded and the scuffed wood floor covered in a fine layer of grit. Blank white walls bare save for a few patches where fixtures had been wrenched off. A yellow and aging "Everything Must Go!!!" sign sagged in a corner. Satisfied, she braced her hands against the wall, pulling herself out of the vent and executing a neat flip, rolling across the floor.

She looked around again and dusted herself off.

Just enough of the midday sun streamed between the gaps of the boarded up windows to make thing visible. It threw weak, fuzzy shadows across the floor and walls. It cast a shadow from Webby as well. A dark, well defined shadow with sharp edges.

Webby turned to face it.

“Okay,” she said aloud. “We’re here.”

Her shadow blurred, and then snapped into focus like a camera finding its subject. Which was Lena, now standing next to Webby as if she had been there all along.

“Condemned building,” Lena said approvingly. “I’m into the vibe.”

Rolling her eyes, Webby walked back to the vent. “It’s not condemned, it’s just closed down. Used to be a video rental store, then a mattress store. Now I think it spends a few months a year being a rug store.” She crouched and jumped up, grabbing the edge of the open vent with one hand. She heaved herself up and grabbed an old rucksack she had brought with her. She landed on the floor heavily, her bundle in hand. “I could see it from the tallest tower in the mansion and I’d write in my journal every time it changed shops. It was like watching a tree lose and grow leaves as the seasons change.”

“You got that?” Lena said.

“Yup!”

Lena walked the length of the room, her sneakers scuffing through the dust. “Webby Vanderquack’s secret hideout,” she said.

“I used to have a whole bunch back at the mansion,” said Webby. She set the bag in front of her and opened it. “But now that there’s more people living there I had to do a little relocating. I found this place. I’m the only one who can fit through the vents, so it’s kind of perfect.”

Circling around to Webby, Lena bent over and put a hand to Webby’s cheek. Webby leaned in. Then Lena shifted her hand down to Webby’s shoulder, where a small metal screw had tangled itself into the fabric of her sweater vest.

“You fit, huh?” Lena held the screw out for Webby to see.

“Ha! I told you I was still growing!”

“Never doubted you.” Lena flicked the screw across the room. “So what’s the occasion, Pink? Are we gonna break stuff?”

“Only if we do it wrong,” said Webby. She pushed the bag away. In her hands were her MP3 player and a stereo dock.

“Oh,” said Lena. “Oh, no. This is about that charity ball, isn’t it?”

“Are you still nervous? You don’t have to go.”

Lena put her hands on her hips and huffed. “I am not nervous.”

“I saw the look on your face when Duckworth said how the evening would go. I figured we could practice. If you want.”

“Yeah, well, balls are lame anyway. They’re the lame party. We can’t even drink most of the stuff they serve. We could bounce. Find something a little more exciting.”

“Lena…”

“I know, I know. You don’t want to miss this chance for some primo Scrooge-watching action.” Lena crossed her arms. “Who knows, maybe this time he’ll stash caviar in his pockets and bruschetta under his hat.”

With a sigh, Webby stood up and walked past Lena. In one corner of the room was a wobbly, overturned stool. She went to it and set it upright. “That’s not what I meant.” She set up the player on the stool. “I know you think it’s lame. And yeah, I think so too. But… I also think it would be nice, you know. For a change.”

“What, you want to waltz around with other old goons?”

Webby spun around, her mouth stuck in a grimace. She held one hand up, finger pointed as if to punctuate what she was about to say.

Then the words caught in her throat, and her shoulders sagged. “You know what? Forget it. You’re right. This is a bad idea.” Her words were short and terse, each final syllable cut from her mouth as if cleaved by an axe. She picked up the music player, held it in both hands.

And then Lena was there, as close as a shadow. “Whoa, Webby, whoa. I’m sorry, okay?”

“You aren’t.”

“I am. I was being a jerk. I get like that.”

“I know you do.”

“I didn’t realize I was going to upset you like that. I wouldn’t have done it otherwise. I’m sorry.” Lena rested her chin on top of Webby’s head. There was a moment where Webby tensed, then closed her eyes and relented. She settled against Lena and exhaled.

“Why is this so important to you?”

“No reason,” Webby said.

“There has to be a reason.”

“You’ll think it’s dumb. And don’t say you won’t. You already think the ball is dumb.”

“A bunch of old rich people talking about how old and rich they are is dumb. But if you’ve got something you want to do, you know I want to hear it.”

Another exhalation. “I just think it would be nice.” Webby said. “I know you don’t care about this sort of stuff. But. I’d like to. See you.”

“Go on.”

“And I’d like to be seen. Two of us. Together. You know. Fancy limo. Nice clothes. Dancing. Smiling and waving. I think it’d be nice. Show you off. And. Stuff.” Webby retreated into herself with each word, hunching over and pressing into Lena’s body like she could disappear into a tiny Webby singularity.

“You… want to show me off?” Lena wrapped her arms around Webby and swayed slowly side to side.

“Yes! Not in… a way that’s weird or anything. I want to be able to say, hey! Here’s my girlfriend! And she’s amazing and cool and the best ever and anyone who can’t see that can choke on my fist!”

“There’s not a lot to see,” Lena said. “Not much to show off. I’m, like, a hobo.”

“You’re amazing. That’s what you are. I’m a housekeeper’s granddaughter, Lena. We’re both going to be looked down on.”

“And you want to go to a place where that happens?”

“I want to stare them down and step on their throats! I mean. If the situation calls for it. I’m willing to play it by ear. Anyone who tries to be snooty with us hasn’t done a fraction of the things we’ve done, or seen a fraction of what we’ve seen. They don’t have the right. I just want to, I don’t know. Do that thing where we’re together, and sweeping across a ballroom floor. And everyone’s getting out of our way because we’re too busy looking at each other to notice them.”

“You’ve been reading your grandma’s books again.”

“The way they describe gowns is really, really interesting, Lena.”

Lena’s hands glided up Webby’s arms to her shoulders. She pulled away and spun Webby around. “If we’re gonna be queens of the prom then I guess we should practice.”

Webby’s eyes glittered. “You mean it?”

“You’ve made a compelling case, Webs. I’m on board. Let’s get real sappy.”

“Are you being sarcastic?”

“Nope. Sincere statement.”

“Yes!” Webby pumped one fist and spun back around to set up her music.

“But why here? We could practice at the mansion.”

“You get embarrassed when people see you dance. I figured it would be better if it was someplace where we knew it was just us two.”

“That’s… no! I don’t!” Lena said indignantly.

“Yes you do, I watch you constantly,” Webby said as if this objection was absurd on face value. She pressed play. Chamber music filled the room.

“Wish we could dance to something with a bit more bite.” Lena grumbled. "I can't mosh to this."

“There’s always next time,” Webby said, words a bit hopeful. She held her arms out. Lena took her position, one hand in Webby’s outraised hand, the other on Webby’s shoulder. She shifted closer as Webby’s other arm encompassed her waist.

“Next time,” Lena said.

“I might not be the best practice partner,” said Webby. “I mean, short and all.”

“I don’t plan on dancing with anyone else,” said Lena. “Have you ever gone to a dance before? I mean, danced at a dance?”

“Never had the opportunity,” said Webby.

“Really? No… school dances or whatever? Like they have on those shows?”

“Homeschooled. You?”

“Shadow creature from beyond the material realm.” Lena followed Webby’s lead in a basic box, the tips of Webby’s feet nudging Lena’s sneakers into the steps.

“Come on,” said Webby. “You weren’t in the shadow realm all the time. You can’t expect me to believe that Beagle party was the only party you ever crashed.”

“There might have been a few.”

“Any fun?”

“Eh. For what they were, I guess.”

“And what were they?” Webby said.

“Parties that didn’t have you.”

A blush crept up Webby’s face. She locked eyes with Lena with grim determination, refusing to look away bashfully. “You can’t distract me with flattery.”

“Aw. When’d you catch on?”

“I’ve gotten better at dealing with you. When I say ‘three,’ hold your arm out and step away, okay? One, two, three.” Webby mirrored the move, then she stepped in and spun underneath Lena’s other arm, guiding her through an open break and a turn.

Lena’s eyes widened. “Whoa! Wait, you can actually dance?”

Webby put her hands back in position and they returned to their pattern. Lena only stepped on Webby’s foot once. “I never said I couldn’t. I just said I haven’t been to a dance.”

She smiled when Lena gave her a scowl. She led Lena through the steps again, the break and the turn. Lena caught on quickly and Webby added further variations to their dance.

“How do you even know to do this?” Lena said.

“I’m raised by a British spy,” said Webby. “Acting like you belong in a ballroom is Spycraft 101 for her. Don’t look at your feet, look at mine.””

Lena renewed her concentration, following Webby’s guidance. It wasn’t a surprise, how quickly she picked up the moves. But Webby marveled all the same, smiling and giddy as they practiced and she watched Lena as they fell into lockstep.

“What are you thinking?” she said after a few more repetitions. “You’re quiet all of a sudden.”

“Just… thinking,” said Lena. “There’s a lot that I’ve missed out on.”

“So have I,” said Webby.

More steps, more turns and the occasional dip that had a fifty/fifty chance of leaving them tangled on the floor. But they would laugh, and pick themselves up, and come together again. Their feet swept through the dust, outlining the progress of their dance.

“We’ll make up for it,” said Webby.

“Together?” Lena said.

“Absolutely.”

Chapter Text

It was only after the fact that Webby had learned that Della inconveniently eavesdropping on a family meeting led to a snowballing sequence of events where a giant, ancient, vengeance-driven automaton ripped up the mansion grounds, nearly crushing the McDuck clan in the process. Butterflies flapping their wings, fire hurricanes in Duckburg. That kind of thing.

So when Uncle Scrooge called for a meeting over the whole… whole Lena thing, Webby made sure that security was tight. Such that there’d be no nonsense leading to some similar tragic misunderstanding.

It gave her something to do. She very much needed something to do.

Security drones at every corridor junction, programmed to recognize Lena and immediately ping Webby’s phone. The drones were concealed. Webby was sure that painting them a terracotta red and putting random vegetation on top made them look like perfectly innocuous potted plants that hovered several feet over the floor.

Sound canceling devices placed at acoustically critical points within the room as well as several rooms adjacent. Proofing against some ‘Lena hears a sentence out of context causing her to run away, convinced she wasn’t wanted’ scenario.

Windows blacked out with polarizing film. There was a non-zero chance of, say, Huey making a visual presentation of unscreened material and it would just take one chart saying “Lena: Asset or Liability” to send her packing, never to be seen no matter how hard Webby looked. And Webby would look. On every mundane Duckburg chore or globetrotting expedition. She would strain to scan through every crowd just for a glimpse of Lena.

Webby would absolutely not have that.

It occurred to Webby, around about the third application of polarized sun filtering film, with Duckworth in the background griping about how unsightly it all looked, that she was treating Lena like an easily startled woodland creature.

It also occurred to Webby that maybe the comparison was not as unkind as she had reflexively thought. She was very tired.

She had just gotten Lena back.

Then she ran away.

Webby liked action. She liked chasing down problems, facing them head-on. Bull by the horns, tiger by the tail, vampire by the fangs. That kind of thing. But this was a delicate situation and one that she had clearly blown once. It was the only explanation. Why else would Lena leave? No. Subtlety would have to work where direct action didn’t. So she needed outside opinions.

She needed a family meeting.

They’d find the solution. They’d done it so many times before. Webby was hoping they’d figure it out without the plane crashes and diabolical traps and ancient prophecies. That was bound to happen at least once.

“Alright everyone, gather around,” Scrooge said as he settled into his seat at the head of the table.

“Shouldn’t we be looking for her?” said Huey. “I mean, it’s dangerous to be out on your own like that.”

“Lena’s tough,” said Louie. “There’s even odds she’ll be head of the Beagles by the end of the week.”

Webby opened her mouth to respond when she was interrupted by a crash outside. She frowned. The noise cancelers weren’t able to keep up with whatever was going on beyond the doors.

“Stupid machine! I’ll ‘intruder alert’ you! Augh! Why I oughta —”

A security drone barreled through the doors, Webby’s plant decorations sliding off it leaving a trail across the floor as it careened through the room. Della clung to it. Holding on with one hand on a propeller strut and the other in a fist hammering on its camera lens, she brought the drone down on the dinner table where it skidded to a screeching halt in front of everyone.

Panting, Della looked up at them, untangled herself from the dead machine, dusted herself off and climbed off the table.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said. “Somebody forgot to add me into the security system.”

“Ach, yes, I’m sorry Della,” Scrooge said. “Completely slipped my mind. You were gone when I upgraded to drones. I’ll get around to it.”

“Don’t bother, I like being shot at on my way to the kitchen. Reminds me of the moon. That was sarcasm. We still do that on Earth, right?” She pulled up a chair between her boys and Scrooge. “So, what’s up?”

“Webigail here is worried for her friend,” said Scrooge. “I feel I owe the girl, so I’d like to help as well.”

“Lena, right?” said Della. “Sorry, if I knew there was something going on I would’ve stopped her when I saw her.”

“Probably for the best that you didn’t keep her against her will,” said Webby. “She’s been… it’s best that you didn’t.”

“Well, we can’t just leave her on her own,” said Huey. “Like I was saying, we should go out and find her.”

“If she wanted to be around us she wouldn’t have left,” said Webby. “I think if we go out looking she’ll probably make herself even harder to find.”

“She’ll probably come back,” said Louie. “I mean, we’ve got a literal mansion here and she’s got, what, the clothes on her back? She knows the door’s open. I say we wait. This will probably take care of itself by the time she gets hungry.”

Webby wanted to pull her hair and also maybe punch Louie in the arm. “She’s not going to come back because she’s cold or hungry, Louie! She has been cold and hungry before. And she may just have the clothes on her back, but it’s her clothes.”

Louie looked at Dewey. Dewey shrugged.

How could she make them understand that Lena could survive without all the creature comforts they had so quickly taken for granted once they had moved into McDuck Manor? That Lena had, in the past, needed to be scared senseless by her literal worst fears before she finally decided that she should open up to another person and ask for help? Someone like that wasn’t going to crawl back the moment her stomach growled.

Webby looked to Dewey with the intensity of a spotlight. Dewey’s eyes were wide and his mouth worked as if he were fumbling for words to say. “Mmmmmmaybe we can… text? Her?”

“Dewey. She does not have a phone.” Webby leaned heavily on the table and closed her eyes. “I…”

She felt a firm hand on her shoulder. She looked up, and there was Granny, giving her a gentle look.

“Webigail, dear. I know you’re worried, but try not to let that control you. We can work this out.”

“Right.” Webby recalled the meditative breathing exercise that Granny taught her. Breathe in, count. Breathe out, count. “Okay.”

She looked up and her eyes fell on Della. She was still an enigma to Webby. She thought that Della’s sudden arrival would immediately lead to her wrapping up the mystery of the missing member of the McDuck family. A few interviews, some passive observation, a hair sample or two. Lena’s own return had interrupted all that and Webby couldn’t help but feel a little sheepish. It wasn’t like her to not know nearly everything about someone sleeping under this roof.

“So…” Della said. “I barely know this girl so I don’t feel qualified to weigh in, but —”

“You’d like her,” Dewey said. “She’s very, you know, into weird situations and stuff like that. Likes to have a good time. You’d never think she was created by Magica de Spell of all people.”

“Okay, she sound pretty cool — wait, what? She was created by Magica? And you just let her… roam around?”

Dewey looked at Webby, who opened her mouth, then returned to her breathing exercise. This was why she had wrapped the place up in layers of security. Best to just let it run its course.

To his credit, Dewey rose to Lena’s defense. “Well, yeah, but she’s definitely not backstabby at all anymore. I mean, she took a magic zap for Webby and that’s gotta count for something.”

“And she’s alone? Magica is a lady who knows how to hold a grudge, she could be in trouble!” Della said.

Webby’s heart split between gratitude and fear. This was a better reaction than she had hoped for, but she also hadn’t considered how vulnerable Lena might be to Magica at the moment. Oh, how could she have forgotten —

“Magica’s not in play at the moment,” Scrooge said. “After that whole business I had my magic wards renewed by my top warlocks. If that mendacious mage was going to make her move in the city, I’d know. She’s probably off somewhere, gathering her strength, so on and so forth.”

Webby looked around, hoping to find some consensus. Finding none.

“So… what do we do?” Huey said. He was looking back at her.

“I… I…” Webby didn’t know. Even after all this, she could only think of one thing to do, and every second thought she had told her that it was the exact wrong thing and she wasn’t used to doubting herself like this and it made her freeze.

“Perhaps we should sleep on it for the time being,” Granny said, her presence behind Webby meant to be reassuring, but Webby was too wrapped up in thoughts chasing themselves to really feel it.

“But—” she began.

“Lena is a resourceful girl who can look out for herself for one more night,” Granny said, her voice soothing. “Perhaps things will be clearer to you in the fresh light of a new day, yes?”

How could that even be? Webby thought to herself. The only light she could ever picture Lena in was moonlight. Silver accents and deep shadows. The crook of a smile occluded by night, eyes that twinkled with mischief and galaxies.

“I’ve no doubt she’ll turn up again, lass,” Scrooge said, standing up from his chair. “She’s done it before, hasn’t she?”

And how much of that was luck and circumstance? How many more times could Webby just trust things to work out in her favor?

She stared at the dark oak of the table, polished so that she could see herself in it. The spectacle was so bad she had to close her eyes to it. Her family filtered past, making noises of encouragement at her that she barely registered until the last of them had exited.

At least she had assumed.

“So you gonna go get her, kiddo?”

Webby’s eyes snapped back open. In the reflection, she could see Della standing at the head of the table, leaning on Scrooge’s seat. And beside her, Dewey, giving Webby an encouraging smile.

“I… don’t know. I don’t even know if she wants to see me.”

“There’s no way that’s true,” said Dewey.

Webby sighed. She certainly hoped it wasn’t. “Still…”

“Remember when I tried to stop investigating what happened to Mom? Back on Ithaquack? You were willing to find the answer, no matter how bad that answer might be. You wouldn’t let anything stop you!”

The memory caused Webby’s beak to twitch into a wry smile. “I definitely let you stop me.”

Dewey waved her words away. “Okay, yes, but besides that, you were unstoppable!”

“I think you know what to do, Webby,” Della said. “I’ve seen that look before. You’ve known all along, haven’t you? You need to go find her.”

“But what if she doesn’t want to come back?” Webby said, her voice shaking. The tears were definitely coming. Her guts were a small tight ball as she finally spoke her fears.

“I didn’t say bring her back. If she wants to, great and if not… at least you know. But either way, you two need to talk about this.”

“You believe that? Even after finding out she worked for Magica? Was made by Magica?” Every possible reason to object to this spilled out of Webby’s mouth. She wanted, no, needed someone to shut them down. To tell her that her way was the only way. Maybe it wasn’t fair to put this on Della, but she stayed behind and Webby needed someone to tell her this was okay.

Della shrugged. “Look, I don’t have the full story on this whole situation. I’m still learning whether or not my own kids have allergies. But I’ve been doing this whole adventuring gig since before you were born. You think I can’t put together what’s going on?”

She held up one hand and counted off on her fingers. “Let me guess: you, sheltered, not a whole lot of social experience, but you know how to disarm a bomb and survive in the wilderness for months. Her, been places and seen things you could only dream about, talks to you in a way nobody else does, like you matter in a way you never thought you would. But then it turns out she’s been working the long con on you, and this beautiful thing you thought you had was a lie. But uh-oh, while she was working the long con, you started to matter to her in a way she didn’t expect, and the lie became the truth just in time for you to be tragically separated. But now she’s back and she’s not sure how she can face you after all the deception and tricks and you just want her back. That sound about right?”

Webby’s mouth hung open. “Yes? Maybe? I don’t know! I think so! Did someone… how did you know all that?”

Della winked. “I told you, been doing this for a while. Now go find her. You know her better than anyone else in this house. If anyone can do it, it’s you.”

It felt like the right thing to do. It was the right thing to do. Everything in Webby’s being bent towards that one conclusion. She had always been the one to choose action over inaction. Bull by the horns, vampire by the whatever. Webby was already out the door, doubts cast aside in favor of the chase, the action, the answers.

“You really got her going,” Dewey said, staring after Webby.

“Yeah.” Della crossed her arms and leaned against the table. “I’m a pretty good mom.”

“You told a child to run around the city alone at night,” Dewey said.

Della winced. “That’s… a good point. Should I be worried?”

“If it were anyone else? Sure. But Webby basically bites trees in half for practice.”

“Still… maybe we tell Beakley, okay? Kid deserves the best protection. Come on, Dewey.”

“Why me?”

“Because I don’t think Beakley’s going to murder me in the presence of one of my kids.”

Chapter Text

The hawk revolved around the high sun, a black silhouette cut out of the pale blue sky. Its outstretched wings were buffeted by air currents as it glided in slow, lazy circles.

Then a sharp whistle pierced the plains and the sky and the hawk tucked in its wings and rocketed down towards the earth.

Its trajectory took it towards a figure atop a horse galloping across the field of tall grass. Webby braced herself one-handed on the horse’s harness and stretched out her other hand, where she wore a thick leather gauntlet. The hawk spread its wings and flapped them to slow its descent as it reared up with its talons outstretched, latching onto the gauntlet. Webby’s arm wavered under the impact of its landing, but she held it steady and the hawk ruffled its feathers as it settled onto its living perch.

Webby whooped and brought her horse down to a trot as she returned to camp.

Camp was a cluster of round, peaked yurts of billowing white fabric in the center of a broad, unbroken plain of grass, with only a winding dirt road connecting the camp to civilization somewhere beyond the immediate horizon. People criss-crossed the camp grounds, at one purpose or another.

On the edge of the settlement, a line of folding lounge chairs had been set up underneath a free-standing awning. Lena sat, cross-legged and the back of her chair all the way up, offering her an uninterrupted view of the field sprawling out before her. In the next chair over, Beakley laid back and reached over to a nearby table where her hot milk tea steamed in its mug.

Commanding her horse to slow as she approached the chairs, Webby stood up in her stirrups and held the falcon out. It craned its head curiously. Nictitating membranes flicked over its eyes as it sized up these two new people as possible prey before discounting them and ducking its head under one wing, preening at the feathers there.

“Did you see that?” Webby said breathlessly, eyes wide and a smile plastered on her face. “He listened to me! And… and… now he’s here! On my arm!”

“Dude, that was pretty awesome,” said Lena. She fidgeted in her seat before giving Webby a nod.

Webby, somehow, beamed even harder. She was so excited she vibrated where she stood. Her free hand was combing through the mane of her horse, and it was likely she wasn’t even aware of doing that.

“Yes, dear,” Beakley said. “Very well done, I believe even your instructor was impressed.”

“Where, um, is she?” Webby said.

“Said something about getting you more stuff to practice with,” said Lena.

Webby boggled at this. “There’s more? How could there possibly be more than this? I’m hunting with the lord of the sky. I should name him. Can I name him? Bird Murderer. Birderer. Killwing. I love him.”

“You should definitely name him Killwing,” Lena said.

All three shifted their attention when another horse and rider came up to them. Webby’s instructor had returned, and in her hands, held out for Webby to take, was a bow and a quiver of arrows.

“If you can hit the targets, we might move on to flaming arrows,” said the instructor.

“Oooo-hoo-hoo-hoo-haaaaaaa,” said Webby.

She bounced up and down. Killwing, still on her arm, bobbed along. Webby looked to the others. If happiness were radiation they’d need protective gear.

“Go on, have fun,” said Beakley. “And remember your training.”

Webby puffed out her chest and even through her broad smile there was a look of steely determination. “Yes!”

With a subtle gesture of her wrist, Webby launched Killwing into the air. He returned to the sky as Webby and her instructor went off into the plains.

Lena stretched her arms as she watched. “I gotta say, Teatime,” she said with practiced nonchalance, “I had my doubts about this Mongolian vacation but… looks like Webby’s really into it.”

“It’s not a vacation, Lena. McDuck has a —”

“I know, I know. A curse to break or a prophecy to fulfill or a treasure to steal, blah blah blah. The point is, he and all the others are out there, getting bitten by… snakes or whatever and we’re here. I mean, you’re the one chilling out with a drink in her hand.”

“Yes. Well. Someone has to hold the fort while everyone is out there,” Beakley said. She cleared her throat, but did not put the drink down.

“Yup. We’re really breaking our backs here.”

Beakley rolled her eyes but said nothing.

“Not that this isn’t fun to watch, but aren’t you worried about her?” Lena said. “I’m not, like, an expert or anything, but this seems like a lot.”

“Not at all,” said Beakley. “These are veteran riders teaching Webigail. If anything, she might be too old. These are skills they teach their children at a very early age. Still, it appears my own training has helped to compensate, if only a little.”

“Oh. Okay.” Lena’s shoulders fell and she settled back into her chair.

With a curious look, Beakley raised an eyebrow. “Have you been worried for her this whole time?”

Lena whipped her head around with her mouth agape. “What? No! I know she’s tough! I mean… she fought a unicorn! Why would I?”

“That would explain why you’ve been so tense since Webby got on that horse.” Beakley said with a small smile.

“That’s… I mean… that’s totally reasonable! Can you blame me?” Lena threw her hands up. “Horses are… messed up!”

“I’m sorry, ‘messed up’?”

Sitting up, Lena gestured with her hands to illustrate her points. “They’re like, huge monster things! All… big hulking lumps of muscle and bone, with legs that can punch a hole through your skull. And all that power is being controlled by a brain the size of a wad of gum! Like, no thank you! Are you laughing?”

Beakley’s shoulders shuddered as she held a hand over her bill. “Oh, forgive me Lena. I suppose it would be foolish to discount the notion that an accident might happen, but I assure you she’s safer on that horse than on a plane flown by Launchpad.”

“I… yeah… I guess that’s true,” Lena said, somewhat deflated. She crossed her arms. “I’m just not used to all this… nature stuff. Animals.”

“Hm. City girl, are you?”

Lena shrugged and said nothing. Beakley sipped at her tea and looked off into the plains, where Webby let loose an arrow that hit a straw target. In the distance, they could hear her cheer.

“Webigail is quite fortunate to have someone like you worry after her,” Beakley said.

Still silent, Lena pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her chin between them. She stared out moodily. She grunted.

“I had been concerned that the mansion was not a place for a young girl like Webby,” Beakley continued. “But needs must, and the years passed. Then she started making friends and she’s been changed ever since. I’m glad you’re here.”

“I thought you didn’t like me,” Lena said, still staring straight ahead.

“I suppose you did not make the best first impression, no. But whatever circumstances led you to be here, I am grateful that this is how events played out.”

“Well,” said Lena. Then she fell silent as if still unsure what to say. They watched as Webby rode her steed through the grass and loosed more arrows. The wind carried the sounds of each thunk as she hit the targets.

“Well,” Lena resumed. “Someone has to hold the fort while she’s out there.”

“Indeed,” Beakley said. “You’re really breaking your back, there.”

Lena let out an involuntary snort of laughter as Beakley nursed her tea.

While Webby unleashed terror on a bunch of straw targets, her instructor had assembled a rudimentary tent out on the field. She waved Webby over and spoke to her. She nodded eagerly and broke out into a gallop back to the camp.

“She’s going to let me practice with flaming arrows!” Webby said excitedly with a smile that threatened to split her head. “You gotta watch!”

“Oh I’m here for that,” Lena said.

“How are you feeling, Webigail?” Beakley said.

“Like I could conquer all of Eurasia!”

Lena smiled. “That’s the spirit, Pink.”

Webby giggled. “I’m about to put some hurt on the yurt!” She nudged at her horse, who reared up and swiveled around. “Yah!” said Webby, and was back out on the field.

“I don’t think I’ve seen her this happy,” said Lena.

“Oh, I have. A few times.” Beakley smiled warmly at some memory. Lena waited, but Beakley said nothing. Whatever she was recalling remained unsaid.

They sat in silence, and watched. In time, Killwing was circling a thin black plume of smoke rising over the plain and the sound of a single excited whoop was carried on the wind.

Chapter Text

It all started — as it often did — with a sleep over.

Lena woke in the middle of the night. It was very possible she would always be a light sleeper. She sat up in her bedroll to the sounds of the old mansion settling in the cool night. Breathing gently beside her, Webby dozed under her blanket, one arm peeking out, hand splayed towards Lena and the other arm hidden under her pillow where her concealed dagger was. Lena smiled fondly.

They had set up the projector in Webby’s library for movie night and had fallen asleep to the glow of some old monster flick, the two of them eventually passing out amid the remains of junk food and games. All in all, a successful night. Maybe a bit too much Pep, though. Lena stood and made for the bathroom, moving silently so as not to wake Webby, stepping between soda cans and popcorn bags. At least she could put her amazing night vision to work.

There was the temptation to wander. Even after all this time, the mansion seemed to unfold before Lena like a puzzle box. She was pretty sure that the halls and rooms didn’t actually move around, but the first few times she had come to the mansion she was under a certain amount of… duress which served to heighten her impressions of the winding corridors and the rooms upon rooms. The only parts of this place that seemed concrete in Lena’s memories were the parts that led back to Webby, and after a few minutes she was back there, thoughts of exploration pushed aside. Webby still lay sprawled on the floor, her breathing soft in the dark.

Lena picked her way through the litter back to her bedding when the projector screen caught her eye. It was a massive negative space in the gloom, a white square amid the dark book shelves. It swayed slightly like a pendulum weight and as it moved, Lena caught a hint of paper tacked to the cork board behind it. She cracked a wry smile.

Webby’s Scrooge board. Lena’s smile grew more fond, because really, who does that? Who deduces the course of an entire life out of newspaper clippings and rare archive photos and the connections and relations woven between them?

The answer was Webby. Webby did that. Webby did a lot of things that most people don’t.

The Scrooge board didn’t seem to see much use these days. At least, Webby never saw fit to trap Lena into another lecture on the life and times of the dude. And Lena never saw whatever additions Webby had made to it while exiled in the shadow realm. Hanging out with Webby on the daily was nice but following her into her room without her knowledge would have been, well, really damn weird. Those times she’d leave to amuse herself with whatever new disaster was unfolding. More often than not she’d go find Launchpad, who was basically a demolition derby with free admission. He invented entirely new ways to destroy things and that was incredible.

Odd of Webby not to refer to the board for some new mystery. Well, the old man could only have so many question marks hanging over his head. The whole Della deal seemed to resolve the biggest one.

Lena looked down at Webby, the sound of her breathing a gentle rhythm in the stillness. She approached the projector screen and, as quietly as she could manage, rolled it back up to the ceiling where it locked in place.

After another quick look over her shoulder at Webby, Lena stepped back to see what new mystery Webby was currently chasing down.

And she nearly had to clamp her hands over her beak to keep from exclaiming out loud.

Her eyes pierced the dark easily and all the same she had to blink and rub at them before she was convinced that what she was seeing was real.

It was her.

Lena stared at a picture of herself, glued onto a sheet of paper. Some candid thing that she didn’t even remember Webby taking. Probably on one of her many sleepovers/spy missions. Her face in profile, her expression schooled into a disaffected neutrality. God, what was she even looking at in this picture? Impossible to tell. Lena had worked so hard to keep up a poker face back then. Looking at the picture now, it just made her look sad and tragic in a way that Lena absolutely hated.

It took a moment, but Lena was coming to understand what she was looking at. The last mystery Webby was working on was pulling Lena out of the shadow realm. There were references to every instance of mythology across the world that so much as mentioned the word ‘shadow,’ all linked together with strings that highlighted themes they shared. There were cycles of the moon and shadow monster sightings and book titles. A small map pinned at one corner that looked like Webby’s attempts to track Magica’s movement up to her climactic battle with Scrooge (and Webby wasn’t too far off which, of course she wasn’t).

At the top of the board was a banner that read “OPERATION BRING BACK MY BEST FRIEND AND WE’LL LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER,” plastered with heart and lightning bolt stickers. Scribbled below the banner was a brief statement: “NONE MUST KNOW!!” underlined in red marker.

Which did make Lena feel a tiny bit bad about seeing all this. It was kind of like looking at a journal entry. So that probably made them even? She was willing to accept this line of reasoning.

Webby had done her best to fill in the blank spots in Lena’s life, but it was a rigged game. There wasn’t much to find. Her picture only had two connecting threads. One was a drawing of Magica — complete with devil horns because apparently Webby was not above artistic license. The other led to another sheet of paper with a selfie of Webby affixed to it. She was sitting at her bed, eyebrows knit together in an awkward expression, framed by the badly dated wood paneling that covered her room.

The research here wasn’t nearly as exhaustive as her work on Scrooge, and Lena could see signs of frustration in the little scribbles Webby made as she quickly ran out of leads to go on. A hand-written checklist that started out with specific goals became a lot of question marks and vague guesswork. An aborted attempt at building a De Spell family tree. A list of magic users with their names crossed out and “DEAD END” written in increasingly angry writing.

How much longer would she have carried on like this? Lena thought. How far would she have gone before giving up?

Lena’s attention went back to her picture. Webby had written something underneath. Tight, neatly written, all in bullet point. Probably pre-frustration.

LENA: KNOWN ATTRIBUTES

• Mysterious!
• Shadow-ish-y???
• Noble
• Self-sacrificing
• Funny
• Best friend!
• Heart of gold
• Pretty eyes cool!!
• I miss her a lot

She could debate if she deserved half the stuff Webby was writing here, but it still made Lena’s heart skip a beat.

Behind her, Webby breathed. In and out.

Lena looked over at Webby’s picture. There was a pen left on a shelf nearby. An idea formed.

Webby woke with the sun and the sound of her casting off her covers roused Lena. They woke, cleaned up the room, had breakfast, fought a painting possessed by a poltergeist. All the while, Webby had noticed that Lena had this… smile to her. It was the smile Lena wore when she knew one vital little thing that Webby didn’t and was just waiting for her to find out. But she never did. It set Webby’s mind racing. So much so that she become preoccupied and before she knew it, it was time for Lena to go.

“You can stay longer, you know. I mean. If you want.” Webby looked away, one finger reflexively going up to brush at her bangs.

“Of course I know that, Pink,” Lena said with a chuckle. “You tell me every time.”

It wasn’t that Webby wanted to keep Lena in the mansion against her will. Obviously that would be wrong. But if she occasionally walked by an unused room and noted its dimensions and thought in the privacy of her own mind how Lena might find the view from the window particularly beautiful and how it wasn’t too far from Webby’s room? If something like that ever crossed her mind, it was her own business.

“I mean it, every time,” said Webby. She definitely did do that, and had marked down five different rooms as Lena-appropriate.

“I know, but sorry Webby. I’ll see you on the weekend, though.”

“Okay, that’s good too!”

Lena hefted her bag onto her shoulder. Just as she was about to turn away, she stopped.

“Oh, hey.”

Webby tilted her head.

“I saw your chart. About me. Last night.” Lena said.

Caught by surprise, her eyes wide, Webby’s mind raced. “Which one?”

“Um. The one behind the projector?”

“Oh. Oh!”

“Are there —”

“Yeah! That one. That. Only one! Yeah, that’s, ha ha, a little embarrassing.” Webby hunched her shoulders in.

“Why’s that?”

“It’s just… you were gone and I didn’t know how to process that I guess, so I did it in the only way I really knew how. Make it into a mystery. Uncover clues. Find connections.” Webby stopped playing with her hair, her hand migrating to scratch at the back of her neck. “It didn’t really pan out.”

“Sure it did. I’m here.” Lena stepped in, put a hand around Webby’s shoulder and pulled her into a loose embrace. Webby settled in against Lena and sighed. The comforting physical reality of Lena chasing away the memories of pacing in front of that stupid cork board, staring at the few tenuous connections she had made as if she could will them into showing her an answer — any answer — concerning Lena’s fate and how it could be undone.

If it could be undone.

“I’ll take it down,” Webby said. “Like you said, you’re here.” She tightened the hug as if to confirm this.

“Well, before you do, why don’t you give it one last good look?”

Webby pulled away and looked at Lena. “Why?”

Lena gave her that enigmatic smile again. “Just do it. Okay?” Then she let go and before Webby could get anything else from her, Lena was out the door and heading towards her ride.

Standing at the doorway, Webby watched. The sun was angled just so. It caught Lena in this perfect light that picked out the streak in her hair, the easy grace of her walk, the color in her eyes.

With a start that shook her from her reverie, Webby caught herself before she fell into the neighboring hedge. She had to stop doing this whenever Lena left. Granny was starting to talk out loud about installing a net to catch her.

It was only after Lena had gone that Webby actually recalled her words and the secret smile she was wearing. What could it possibly mean? Just about anything! That was the thing with Lena. She was the best at pranks and tricks and it was so much better now that she wasn’t employing that skill towards destroying the McDuck family from within!

When Webby returned to her library she stowed the projector screen, letting it fly up towards the ceiling with a snap. Her eyes immediately went to Lena’s picture. Webby had taken it in an unguarded moment. It had struck her as a bit sad. Something unexpressed and furtive in it. It all made sense after the whole Magica thing, but at the time Webby had thought it made Lena look beautiful in this tragic way. Webby had made a lot of assumptions about Lena that, after the fact, was probably insensitive.

So every day, every moment that they could be together was this opportunity to learn about the real Lena. Which was wow and Webby needed to stop staring at this picture.

Beyond that there wasn’t much else to see. It didn’t look like much had changed. Still the same bare bones research, the books on the shadow realm her only real lead. Even then, it was chance that she meet Violet, allowing the two of them to open a path for Lena. And…

Webby stopped. Oh gosh…

The last place she had looked — thought to look — was her own photo. It was just there for the sake of completion, because without it the board felt unbalanced. Very important, a well-balanced board. But now…

Lena had written something underneath Webby’s selfie.

WEBBY

• Brave
• Ass kicker
• Like seriously I saw you punch a crocodile it was amazing
• Smart as hell
• Toughest person I know
• But also good and kind and patient
• and a better friend than I deserve
• but I’m glad you are
• Also I think your eyes are pretty. Bam. Said it. Not taking it back

A squeak, small and tight in her throat, escaped Webby’s mouth. She could feel the warmth of the blush creeping up on her.

She clapped her hands on her cheeks and hopped from one foot to the other as if the floor had suddenly become hot.

“Oh gosh. Oh gosh. Oh gosh oh gosh ohgoshohgosh!”

It was several more days before Lena was back at the mansion again. When she arrived, Webby was practically vibrating. She was excited about something, which, obviously. Lena had never known Webby to not be excited about a sleep over. But there was an extra layer on top of that, some secret sauce that Webby was incapable of concealing. Maybe she had found an extra-cursed magic book and had big plans for ripping reality a new one.

They had been walking and talking, going down the list of all the things they’d do over the course of the night, when Webby stopped at the door to her library.

“You go ahead,” she said. “I’ll go see if Granny’s got the snacks ready.”

Lena watched Webby race down the hall, one eyebrow raised. She felt like she had a pretty good bead on her friend’s varying levels of excitement. This was a bit above the average, Lena thought as she walked into the room. And she could swear that Webby seemed a little red. Workout? The girl never stopped moving.

It took a moment for Lena to notice anything different about the place. Then she saw the board. Still up. Not… taken down. Lena had almost convinced herself that she had forgotten what she had done. She had woken up in the middle of the night and it was just kind of a prank. A “write glowing mushy schmaltzy stuff and really mean it” kind of prank. That what she told herself, anyway. The next morning she had to wait until the very last moment she was in the mansion before telling Webby to check it out because just thinking about it had kind of left her an embarrassed, self-conscious mess. It took all her discipline to keep it cool that day, and she had sort of hoped to leave it at that.

Judging from the additions under Lena’s picture, Webby had other ideas.

• Fierce!
• Loyal
• Braver than me I mean you had to face so much alone and none of us even knew
• But I promise you’ll never face anything on your own as long as I’m here
• Also I really just like the sound of your voice in general!

That last one clearly had the markings of a sentence that had been agonized. Lena smiled and felt warmth creep up her face. This was so goofy. And corny.

And… it was good.

She saw no reason to stop a good thing.

She strained to listen, and when she determined that Webby was still out there, Lena grabbed the marker and went to Webby’s picture.

When Webby returned, Lena concealed her smile when Webby’s eyes went to the board only to see the projector screen pulled down.

“Got the snacks?” Lena said. “Get comfy, I’ve got the movie ready to go.”

And once they had settled in together, Lena bent down to whisper to Webby. “Might want to double-check your research,” she said. “You never know, might find some new information.”

Even without seeing Webby’s face, Lena could feel the force of her smile and as the movie played they pressed closer together.

It became this unspoken thing. Lena wasn’t sure what to call it or how long it could go on. Surely Webby would run out of nice things to say the next time, or the next, or the next. But no. Lena wasn’t running short either, but of course she wasn’t. It was Webby. She was so

• Generous
• Caring
• Strong
• Extremely well-armed
• Cute

Maybe Lena had a better command of words than Webby did, and there were moments when Webby’s entries would falter in describing Lena as her vocabulary was outpaced by the wellspring of her feelings. But she made up for it with exclamation points when she wrote about how Lena was

• Creative
• Compassionate
• Tall
• Clever
• When I said ‘tall’ I didn’t mean it in a superficial kind of way? I guess I kind of did, though, but, not, I mean, you know

Lena did know, and was more than happy to return the sentiment and she was fully aware that they were getting absolutely sickening about this and did not need her friends to say as much.

“This is utterly ridiculous. Surely you realize that?” Violet had said to Lena, on a day when all three could sleep over. Hiding this whole thing from Violet would have been impossible. Especially with the way Webby kept staring holes into the screen. It would have been a knock against Violet if she didn’t see what was going on.

“I mean, maybe?” Lena said.

“Do you intend to carry on with this ritual into some indeterminate future or is there a conclusion you are working towards?”

“Ooh, are we gonna girl talk? Shouldn’t we be doing each other’s nails at the same time?”

Violet narrowed her eyes.

“I mean, we have to run out of writing space eventually, right?” said Lena.

“That is not what I meant and you know it. Do you intend to establish a more than friendly relationship with Webigail? I’d be hard-pressed to believe that such an overture would not be returned.”

“Nope.”

An expression of faint surprise flitted over Violet’s face. “Truly? That’s a surprise.”

Lena lay back on her bedroll, she sighed. “It’s not like I haven’t thought about it. But…”

The idea had surfaced in the clutter of Lena’s thoughts, every now and again. It led her to lie awake some nights, staring up at a ceiling. She regarded the thought like a gem wrenched fresh from the earth. Its luster hidden, the rough facets giving no hint to whatever brilliance might be lurking underneath. It churned in her head, rattling like a rock tumbler.

Whatever this thing was, it wasn’t ready for that. It was still unpolished.

“I just want this to be… the thing that it is,” Lena said. A bridge that let them meet halfway because they were both dealing with their feelings. That this applied to Webby as much as it applied to her was something Lena was just beginning to realize as she talked about it to Violet.

“The writing is literally on the wall,” said Violet

“As long as Webby’s okay with keeping it on the wall, then so am I,” Lena said. “It’s just… a fun thing.”

“It seems like a bit more than a ‘fun thing’ but if you say so.”

“We need more pillows, pass me the ones from the shelf.”

Violet looked at her, said “utterly ridiculous” again and slid pillows across the floor.

Working absently, arranging them into a movie viewing nest, Lena felt an unexpected knot in her chest. Because they actually were running out of writing space. They were both writing in the margins in cramped, small letters, having filled their respective pages. And though Lena was happy to realize they had both run out of physical space before they ran out of superlatives, it still meant this whole weird… game… thing… whatever… was going to end sooner than she had wanted it to.

“Hey, Violet?”

Lena and Violet looked up to see Webby standing at the door. Even as she asked for Violet, her eyes went to Lena, then it went up to the projector and she was bouncing on her feet and Lena smiled because Webby probably wasn’t even aware she was doing that. For Webby, nonchalance was always just a suggestion.

“I got the snacks ready! Could you help me bring them over? Lena can stay here and… set up the projector. And the… stuff behind the… projector. Which has nothing to do with the projector but maybe she can take a look. Just to make sure. Because who knows! Right? Ha ha!”

A suggestion she rarely took to heart. Violet gave Lena a flat look. Lena shrugged.

And when she was left to herself and Lena snapped the screen up to check the cork board, she smiled at the two fresh sheets of paper, with her and Webby’s pictures. And this time Webby had taken the liberty of adding a few new details. A new picture of Lena, from happier times. Recent times. Lena remembered it. The ice cream shop. The whipped cream and cherry topping of a sundae peeking up from the bottom of the picture. Webby and Violet on either side of her. Both their photos were decorated with a border of heart-shaped skulls. Their names in a calligraphic flourish in pink gel ink.

There were already several entries under Lena’s picture.

• Warm
• Beautiful
• Magic

And next to that an envelope, taped to the board, with Lena’s name on it.

Lena plucked it free and opened it. It was her old page, every blank space crammed with Webby’s handwriting, each word a glowing compliment. Lena sighed, folded the page up and tucked it reverently back into its envelope. She pressed it to her heart, smiled, and reveled in how “utterly ridiculous” she was being, because when Violet was right, she was right. Then she tucked the envelope into the sleeve of her sweater.

Webby had left a pen on the cork board. It dangle from a string held in place by a thumbtack. Lena picked it up, pressed the tip underneath Webby’s picture.

She smiled. And she wrote.

Chapter Text

Prior to being condemned decades ago, the Duckburg City Temple of Fine Arts had been one of the most cursed stages on the West Coast. Reports of actor injuries, accidents all the way up to fatalities marked the old amphitheater out as an outlier among its Dionysian counterparts.

But even the physical outrages did not account for its reputation as a cursed place. Stage hands and actors alike would speak in hushed tones of paranormal deeds in the shadowed corners of the place. Voices with no source, doors that would open and shut on their own or move altogether. A particularly alarming tale of a lost orchestra member who climbed through a window that opened up to a city that was not Duckburg and who wasn’t found until several months later, wild-eyed, gibbering and skittish. Eye witness accounts claiming that their formerly charcoal gray plumage had a shock of white running all through it and their words jumbled and painful to the ear, like they were speaking backwards.

A younger, more naive Violet would have rolled her eyes at such accounts and insist that only the statistical data bore any relevance concerning the peculiar nature of the Temple stage. There was no need to gild the lily with fanciful ghost stories.

Ah, younger, more naive Violet. Who didn’t even carry a tome of mystic rituals in her backpack. Sometimes when she looked back at that past version of herself she had to shake her head and chuckle. Imagine not being able to recognize a classic fairy gate. Or ley line whispers. Or poltergeist activity. Yes, six months ago Violet truly had the wool pulled over her eyes.

Current Violet knew things. Her brush with the Shadow War had left her with tantalizing hints as to the secret history of Duckburg and her methodical investigation served to lift away the veil. The Temple of Fine Arts, for instance, was a textbook example of a location of power with a ley line running through it. Also a textbook example of how the McDuck Public Art Trust was profoundly failing the city’s need for accessible performing arts spaces but that was another issue entirely. It was actually a fascinating place with a rich history forgotten to anyone except those who were willing to do the research — and Violet was always willing to do the research.

It gave her grounding, to see that sweep of history. To know that she stood on top of something bigger than it seemed, that she was — however insignificantly — contributing to the strange history of a strange place.

Even if that contribution was chasing down an angst-ridden shadow.

Violet picked her way through the rows of audience seating towards the stage. In the gloom of night, she could still make out a hunched figure among the shattered columns. Could be Lena. Could be a feral coyote. Every time Violet left the apartment one of her Dads would ask her if she packed her little mace spray thing in the same breath they’d ask if she remembered her keys. And of course she did remember. They didn’t ask her about her additional protection. The Norse rune stones that lined her wrists or the intricately scrimshawed vampire bat fang ring she had recently acquired. Of course, they didn’t know about those.

Parents, they just wouldn’t understand.

So armed, Violet felt confident enough to approach the figure in the dark as it sat underneath the prop moon and stars dangling from the crumbling proscenium. When it raised its head and Violet could make out Lena’s profile against the moonlit bay, she knew she had found her quarry.

Building speed, her backpack jostling on its straps, Violet bounded down the steps. As she approached the stage, she opened her mouth to call out. “Le—” was all she managed.

In all her research, absolutely none of it had bothered to mention that the bay had overtaken the theater and that the entire pit was flooded. In the night she hadn’t realized what she was rushing towards until she saw the tiny ripples of the stagnant water catching the moonlight, and by then it was too late.

She let out a surprised squawk before her momentum tipped her over the edge with a splash.

“Come on, you baby. It’s not that bad,” Lena said as she draped a towel around Violet’s shoulders.

A droplet of water collected on the tip of Violet’s tapered bill. It coalesced into a large droplet that fell as she broke into a shiver.

“Need I list the many waterborne illnesses that one could contract? The brain eating amoeba, perhaps?”

“Any brain eating amoeba would have to eat up a lot of that big brain of yours before anyone notices anything different.” Lena stood in front of her, arms crossed.

Violet narrowed her eyes. She wasn’t sure if she should take that as a compliment or not. That, however, was not as objectionable as the cloying mildew smell from Lena’s towel. “Where did you get this?” she said.

“My hideout.” Lena jerked her thumb back towards the trapdoor in the rear of the stage. “You’re not the first person to get dunked,” she said with a shrug.

“The odor is abhorrent.”

“Well damn, sorry princess. Didn’t think to let it air out. Guess I shoulda known some nerd was gonna try to drown herself in front of me.”

“You called me princess and nerd in the same breath.”

“Okay?”

“My name is Violet.”

Lena sighed and rolled her eyes. “Fine — Violet — why are you here?”

“That should be obvious. Webigail and I are looking for you.”

With a start, Lena looked around her, wide-eyed. “Is she here?”

“No.”

Lena sagged.

“Sorry to disappoint,” Violet said sardonically. “But I’m sure she will be soon. This is the most obvious place to find you and the only reason I showed up first is because I live nearby.”

“You… live close?” Lena tilted her head, as if the idea that Violet actually came from somewhere was something that hadn’t occurred to her until now.

With a nod, Violet gestured towards the crowd of buildings crowding the docks further down the bay, big blocky things against the night. “One of the apartment buildings down there. See the high-rise with the tarp flapping on top? There’s a leak, apparently.”

“Huh. Seems nice.”

“It serves its purpose. Rats though.”

“Man. I wish I had rats. Maybe they’d eat the cockroaches.”

“So,” said Violet. “Why are you here? And please get to the point. I am drenched and cold.”

Lena opened her mouth. Then seemed to reconsider. Something deflated inside her and she let her arms droop, hanging loosely at her sides. Her shoulders sagged. She leaned against a column.

“I don’t know. I guess it’s just familiar. Guess I needed that. Or. Something.”

Violet made a thoughtful sound. “So you aren’t running away to a remote monastery? Or becoming the star attraction of a traveling magic show? Or on your way to forge a dread compact with dark powers beyond our world?”

Lena looked sidelong at Violet. “Wasn’t, uh, planning on it.”

“I suppose that should be a relief to Webigail,” Violet said, “since those were just a few of the number of scenarios she feared when she called me on the phone to tell me that you had gone missing.”

Lena put a palm to her forehead. “I told Dewey to tell Webby that I’d be back. Or. Or I’d be fine. One of those things. At least I think I said that.”

The skepticism was impossible to keep out of Violet’s voice. “I hope you appreciate how that might not be the most reassuring circumstance under which you could impulsively leave.”

“Whatever. I can do what I want.”

“Most assuredly. But we are free to worry after you. If we want.”

That earned Violet another eye roll. Lena crossed her arms and looked sullen. “I didn’t ask you to.”

“You didn’t need to ask. We are your friends.”

“You barely know me.”

Violet made a noncommittal gesture. “That is only a temporary state of affairs.”

“God, you’re weird. Is it such a big ask that I know one normal person?” Lena rubbed the space between her eyes. “I don’t even know why I came here,” she said, in a low voice meant more for herself than Violet. Then she spoke up. “I just needed to be alone for a little bit.”

“I appreciate the value of being alone from time to time,” said Violet. “So I understand. I shall tell her that she does not need to worry.” Violet shrugged off the towel and retrieved her backpack, which had been left to drip at the base of a nearby piece of broken masonry. She unzipped it and pulled out a sealed plastic sandwich bag that had her phone in it.

Lena stared. “You are kidding me,” she said.

Violet looked at her. “In what sense?”

“You put your stuff in a doggy bag?”

Violet sniffed. “I try to be prepared for any and every eventuality.” She ignored Lena’s whispered ‘weird’ as she took her phone out of sleep mode and brought up her list of contacts.

“Wait!” said Lena.

Finger ready to dial, Violet looked at her. “Yes?”

“Was… Webby upset?”

“Yes.”

“I meant was she angry at me? Did she sound angry?”

“I see. In that case I believe the answer is no.”

Something in the way Lena reacted to that gave Violet pause. “You seems disappointed,” she said. “That’s interesting.”

“It’s nothing.”

Violet switched off her phone and set it on the stage.

“Aren’t you… calling Webby?”

“It won’t be necessary,” Violet said. “Whether I did or didn’t, she should be here momentarily.” She sat in expectant silence, staring out into the bay. The moon was high, and the tide was up. The rocks poking out from the water were tiny ripples. Waves lapped gently against the stage.

“I am not going to talk about this with you,” Lena said after a couple minutes.

“Fortuitous, because the person you should really talk to about ‘this’ — whatever ‘this’ might be — is Webigail.”

Lena groaned.

“It occurs to me,” said Violet, “there we are very similar, but in opposite directions.”

“Ugh. Okay. Fine. I’ll play along. So, Violet, what does that mean?”

“Well. You are a being of magic, whereas I am utterly mundane. You were born from enchanted shadows, I live in an apartment. You have been instructed in the use of items of mystical power, I was taught how to do quadratic equations on a graphing calculator. If there is a spectrum where the two endpoints are magic and non-magic, we would be on opposite ends. Do you see?”

“Okay…”

“We both occupy our own worlds, but we’ve both been pulled into this entire other world, that exists under the skin of the ones we’re familiar with. It’s Webigail’s world, and it’s this exhilarating blend of the two. I’ve always… wanted… to be part of something amazing. Something bigger than me. That would carry some characteristic of my presence in it long after I’ve gone. I want to leave my mark. And now, after learning the things I’ve learned and seen, I think maybe I can do that. And you… she brought you back to the material world! I think, in a way, we both have a chance at a second life.”

Turning to Lena, Violet smiled softly. “Don’t you think?”

Lena looked at her with one eyebrow arched. A moment passed. Then she smiled. Then she laughed. “Pfft ha ha! What! Our situations aren’t remotely the same!”

Violet pouted. “If we use a broad enough perspective, there are similarities!”

“Yeah well if you look at anything broadly enough then you can make them look similar! That doesn’t mean they are! I freaking died, dude! That’s not comparable!”

“Ugh! I am trying to establish at least a modicum of rapport here!”

Lena snorted, and walked up next to her. She picked up the towel that had been left in a pile and dropped it on Violet’s head, rubbing her hair playfully. “Nerd,” she said.

But there was a certain softness to the sound of the word this time around, and when Violet pulled the towel from off her — despairing as she did over the state of her hair — she saw that Lena did not seem as tense as before.

“Fine,” Lena said, flexing her shoulders as if a weight had been removed. “Hashing things out with Webby has got to be better than listening to you go on and on.”

Violet gave her a flat look.

“Thanks though,” Lena said. “I appreciate it.”

“Yes, yes.”

“Lena!”

Violet and Lena looked up. At the top of the audience risers, there stood a small figure, silhouetted in the ambient glow of the city. They waved. It waved back and sprinted down the steps.

“Well,” said Lena. “Here goes.”

“Why are you wet?” said Webby.

Violet gestured around them. “Perhaps you missed that we are encompassed by a considerable moat?”

“Moat?” Webby looked around. “Oh. Ha, ha, that thing? All you need is to do a cartwheel into a handspring into a triple somersault. That’ll clear it easy.”

“Of course,” Violet said, narrowing her eyes. “How ridiculous of me not to have thought of that.”

Webby beamed and nodded. Then she turned to Lena. “So… how you doing?”

“I’m good, Pink,” Lena said stiffly. “I mean. Webby. I’m good.”

“Good,” said Webby, suddenly afflicted similarly. She clutched her hands in front of her. “That’s. That’s good.”

Violet looked from Webby to Lena and back. “Oh for — Kepler’s beard, how did you two even talk to each other before now?”

“Usually a supernatural monster forces us into a crisis where we have to have a sincere discussion about our feelings or we die,” said Webby.

“Worked pretty good so far,” Lena said.

“Well I’m not a supernatural monster but I am here and I am telling you that you have got to talk things over!” Violet said. She pushed the two of them together. Or tried, at least. Then she stepped back.

Lena looked at Webby and picked at the edge of her sweater. “Um. Sorry. Sorry for making you worry.”

“It’s okay!” Webby said quickly. “I’m just glad you’re alright.”

Lena frowned. “You had all these plans and I messed them up.”

“Yeah, but they’re just plans, I mean, no big deal, right?”

Lena’s fingers, picking at her sweater, clenched into a fist. “Webby,” Lena said. Then she took in a breath and closed her eyes. “Webby,” she said again, this time with a bit more control in her voice. “Could you please just be angry at me?”

“W… what do you mean?”

“I mean I messed up. You’re allowed to be upset at that! But you never are! You just… ugh. I don’t know. And I just… ugh.”

“I was a little!” Webby said. “I mean, I was kind of… uh… mad, a bit! But I meant it when I say it’s not a big deal! I thought about how you might be having trouble adjusting and I talked to Della and she had some really insightful things to say and…”

“Yeah, well, it’s great that you’ve talked yourself out of being angry at me before we even had a chance to discuss it, but that makes me feel like we haven’t actually solved anything.”

Webby wrung her hands and shifted her weight on her feet. “Okay. Okay. I can see that. But. I’m still not going to be angry at you because you felt like you couldn’t… couldn’t be there. So.” Webby puffed her chest out defiantly. “So tough luck.”

A snort of laughter escaped from Lena and she slumped against a column, sliding down into a sitting position.

“I betrayed you, you know,” she said.

“Lena?”

“With Magica. That whole deal. We never talk about it. Isn’t that weird?”

Webby crouched down in front of Lena. “That wasn’t you.”

“Yes it was. Maybe not at the very end. But it was me.”

“Not when it mattered.”

“You’re not letting yourself be mad again.”

“That’s not what this is. You’d have to do something that would make me mad. And it would have to be you doing it.”

Lena let out a long, heavy sigh. She thumped the back of her head against the column. “I don’t think it’s as easy for me to separate out who I was and who I am. I just… when I’m in that mansion… it feels like I’m taking advantage of your kindness. Which is definitely something I’ve done before. And the thought of doing it again is really bad. I hate it.”

“Okay,” said Webby. She closed her eyes and sighed. “Putting everything else aside, do you think this feeling might… pass? Or is there somewhere else you’d rather be?”

Lena gestured around her.

“Somewhere that isn’t a health hazard?” Webby said flatly.

“Thank you,” Violet said some distance away.

“God, can you hear us from there?” Lena said.

“The acoustics of this stage are superlative.”

“Of course. So what? This place is cool! Kind of.” Lena said, though she didn’t sound particularly convinced herself. “No,” she conceded. “I really don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“Okay.” Webby bit her knuckle as she sat and concentrated.

Lena tilted her head, looking at Webby with fondness even as she chuckled. “Pink,” she said, a little sad, a little tired, “I don’t think this is something you can just solve like a mystery or magic curse. Unless you want to hex a landlord, which, I’m open to that.”

For all either of them knew, Webby was prepared to sit there without moving until she conjured up a solution to Lena’s housing situation. But they were interrupted by the sound of screeching tires off in the distance, very rapidly closing on them.

A long, black limo careened into the entrance of the amphitheater, mowing down a row of seats and spilling down the steps in a great calamity of metal and concrete scraping against each other. Webby, Lena and Violet retreated to the trap door as the limo crashed to the bottom of the steps where its grille and front bumper planted into the ground and the rear of the vehicle flipped up. There, it held its position like a gymnast on a bar preparing to enter into their routine. Eventually, gravity took hold and the limo pitched over.

When the dust cleared, it was upside down, battered and making sharp ping noises as its overworked metal cooled. It bridged the flooded portion of the theater with its chassis.

The three girls approached cautiously. Then the driver side door creaked open as it was kicked out and Launchpad extracted himself from the wreck.

“It’s alright! Everybody’s okay!” He said. Then he stooped into the limo. “Wait, everyone is okay, right?”

There was a chorus of grumbles. Launchpad stood back up.

Doors on either side swung open or, in one case, fell to the ground entirely. And out came Scrooge, no worse for the wear. Trailing behind him were Della, the triplets and Bentina.

“I think we found them, Mister McD!” Launchpad said.

“Yes, thank you, well done,” Scrooge said mildly. “Go find a tow truck, would you?”

Launchpad saluted and dashed up the steps.

Scrooge clambered up the limo and crossed over to the stage. He jumped down and adjusted his top hat. “Ah, Violet, Lena, Webby. A fine night to be about.”

“Uh. Yeah.” Lena said. “Hi.”

“See?” said Louie, close behind. “I told you she was fine.”

“You said she’d be in charge of the Beagles,” said Huey.

“Eh. This is probably the same.”

“How?”

“Iunno, some way. I can’t be expected to have a good explanation every time I back myself into a corner, Huey. It’s really on you to just accept it at face value.”

“Guys, shut up!” Dewey said. He pushed past the others and skidded to a halt in front of Webby. “What have you got cooking? Did you find a magic artifact? Are you summoning a demon?”

“Sorry, Dewey,” Webby said. “Just… talking about feelings.”

Dewey straightened up. “Welp, nothing to see here. Back to the mansion.”

“Settle down, tiger,” Della said.

“I uh, this is a lot of people,” said Lena. “Showing up all of the sudden.”

“Agreed,” Scrooge said. “Is all this really necessary?”

Bentina shot him a look that seemed to answer that, as he cleared his throat. “Well. Never mind. It is what it is, mustn’t grumble.” He directed his attention to Lena.

“I understand you’ve gone through a lot, lass. More than most, frankly.”

“Is this where you tell me everything’s going to be okay?” Lena said. That earned her a sharp look from the man.

“I am going somewhere with this, you wee hooligan,” Scrooge said, “just let me finish.” He cleared his throat. “Where was I? Ah, yes. I know you’re not much for staying in my mansion free of charge. I can respect that. There’s a few moochers around here who could stand to follow your example.”

He prodded Louie with his cane.

“Hey!” Louie said. “I’m not a moocher! I’m just… not rich at the moment. But you just wait!”

Scrooge made an unimpressed sound. “At any rate, I’m not here to tell you how you ought to live, but you’ve got enough of my goodwill that if you aren’t satisfied with your living arrangements as they stand, I’ll support any alternatives that might come to mind.”

Lena took a step back. She shot a glance towards Webby and Violet, who both nodded encouragingly. “So. Like. If I wanted the penthouse of the most deluxe apartment complex in Duckburg, you’d just be… down for that? Just have me as a charity case forever?”

Scrooge scratched his whiskers. “Well, I don’t know about that but surely there’s a more economical arrangement we could make that — ack!”

Looming over him, Bentina nudged him with her elbow. “Mister McDuck,” she said warningly.

“Oh, ah, yes, how could I have forgotten,” he said through gritted teeth. He cleared his throat again. “What I meant to say, you see, is that it wouldn’t be charity at all. It’d be compensation.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a printed slip of paper. He handed it to Lena, who took it as if it might bite.

She looked at it.

“This is… a check?” Lena squinted at it. “It’s… that’s a lot of zeroes. What is this? What is this for? I’ve never done anything for you that’s worth this much.” She waved it around in the air and Scrooge watched with trepidation.

“Gentle with that now,” he said. “It has been brought to my attention —” with that he shot a glare towards Bentina. “— that I have, in my possession, a number of powerful and extremely dangerous mystical devices and artifacts that once belonged to your Aunt Magica.”

Lena visibly restrained herself from clenching her fist at the name. It wouldn’t do to crease the check. Everyone listened intently.

“We crossed paths over the years, a curse here, an imminent apocalypse there, all very routine,” Scrooge said. “And there were times when I bested her that I would wind up with some magic bauble or other. Valuable and dangerous. Far too dangerous to just chuck aside. So I’ve kept them locked up in the…” he looked around. “Well, never you mind where exactly I’ve kept them locked up, just know that I have.”

“Okay,” Lena said.

“Well, let it be known that Scrooge McDuck is no thief.” Scrooge said, thumping the tip of his cane decisively on the rotted wood stage.

“What about the idol we took from —” Della began.

“Let’s not get bogged down in the details, now.” Scrooge adjusted his glasses and looked at Lena. “The point is, by right of your… eh… lineage, these things do belong to you and they are quite valuable. So consider that check to be my formal asking price. We can do the paperwork later, bank accounts and such. But it’s yours.”

Lena looked at the check, then at Scrooge. “You’re… paying me for the stuff you took from Magica?”

“Well, broadly, broadly, that’s about the size of it, yes,” Scrooge said. “Minus storage fees, of course. Vault maintenance, expenses accrued from containing powerful magical auras. Then there’s cost of appraisal, depreciation…”

“Mister McDuck was going to charge a finder’s fee until I prevailed upon him not to.” Bentina said.

“It was at a very generous discount!” Scrooge said indignantly. “But… yes. No finder’s fee. Think of it as an inheritance, if you like.”

Lena shook her head. “I… don’t want anything that’s from Magica. I don’t want anything to do with her.”

“None of us get to choose how we get our start, lass,” Scrooge said. “But we can choose where we go from there. Consider this a head start for your own path. It’s yours, and what you do with it is for you to decide. Now, if you want to come back to the mansion, that’s fine. I truly don’t mind having you there. But if you choose to go elsewhere, know that you have the means to do it now.”

“If I may,” said Violet. “We may not be a penthouse apartment, but I know that my parents will be more than happy to accommodate you.”

“Or,” Della said. “We could totally rehab this place! Can you imagine how cool this would be with a little remodeling?” She spun around, arms spread wide. “It’s already kind of cool, we just have to reinforce a few things, run a few utilities and you’ll never want to leave. Just give the word and I’ll get on it. I built a rocket out of a moonwreck, I can totally do this!”

“You could travel the world!” Dewey said.

“The penthouse idea doesn’t sound half-bad.” Louie said.

“Whatever you choose,” said Bentina, “know that you’re always welcome with any of us.”

Lena’s knees trembled and she wiped her face with the sleeve of her sweater. “Okay. Um. Okay. This is. A lot. To take in. So suddenly.”

“You don’t have to make your choice right this moment,” Scrooge said gently. “Sleep on it. Talk with your friends. Talk with us. Make an informed decision. I just wanted to make sure you get this before you do anything… drastic.”

“Like a traveling magic act?” Lena said, glancing at Webby, who went red.

Scrooge chuckled. “Among other things. I was fond of her idea of you starting a school of shadow assassins, myself.” Webby managed to become somehow redder.

“Please let me know if you’re going to do that,” said Scrooge. He clapped his hands together. “Well. With that out of the way, I won’t intrude on your time further. Know that my door is always open. Alright, the lot of you. Let’s give the girls some space, yes?”

Lena caught Bentina’s eyes as everyone moved away. “You put him up to this?”

“I put him up to this. After I was informed that my granddaughter had been sent off into the night, I decided it was about time we addressed this whole unspoken arrangement. How you choose to go forward should be in your hands and yours alone, my dear. But don’t be afraid to ask for help.”

Lena swayed a little where she stood. “Thank you.”

Bentina nodded, and turned away. “Webigail, dear. Whatever arrangements you make for tonight, make sure to inform me. I packed you an overnight bag. It might have survived the crash.”

“Wait, are we walking home?” said Huey as they hopped across the limo.

Lena, Webby and Violet watched them walk off.

“No, seriously, are we actually walking home?” Louie said, his voice distant.

When the last of them left the amphitheater, the girls were still watching.

“Well,” said Violet. “That was very sudden.”

“Yeah!” Lena said. “I guess… it happens that way. Just… congratulations, your have money! Without any warning. That’s. Um. That’s crazy.”

“Indeed,” said Violet.

They turned to Webby.

She fidgeted where she stood, shoulders hunched, somehow even smaller than usual. She looked up at Lena.

“Is it selfish if I say I don’t want you to go?”

Lena was suddenly next to Webby in a few wide steps. There was a moment of uncertainty before she decided to just go for the embrace, and the two fell into it, quickly and naturally.

“I haven’t decided yet,” said Lena.

“But you might.”

“I… it’s possible.”

“Okay.” Webby tightened her hold.

“You’re allowed to be mad.”

Webby let a mildly snotty laugh out into Lena’s sweater. “I’m not, you beautiful fool. I’m just. I’ve always wanted to save you.”

“I’m saved.”

“You’re rich.”

“Yeah, like I said. Welcome to society.”

Webby groan-laughed. Then she sighed. “What I want is for you to stay. But what I want for you is. To be free. To… go wherever. Does that make sense?”

“Kind of? You’re crying into my sweater so it’s hard to make out everything.”

Webby laughed again and punched Lena softly in the shoulder.

“There’s no need to cry, Pink. Nothing’s changed. I’m still here.”

“Okay.”

“And we should take full advantage of that fact,” Violet said, coming up to them.

Webby and Lena parted and included Violet for a quick embrace before separating.

“Any ideas?” Webby said.

“It’s been a night,” said Lena. “I think I want pizza.”

“I know a good place,” said Violet. “They deliver.”

“They deliver to your neighborhood?”

“Of course.”

Lena nodded. “Then let’s go to your place. You said it’s not far. I’m buying.”

“A sound plan, but a check isn’t money you can spend,” said Violet.

“Oh right. Well.”

“My parents will pay,” Violet said. “It’d be worth it just so they can finally see my friends. I think they think I made you two up.”

“Let’s do this,” Lena said, a bit louder than she intended. She scrubbed at her face again. Webby was by her side.

“How do you feel?” Webby said.

Lena shrugged. “Weird. But. Also like I can breathe. This has all been very crazy.”

Webby smiled. A slightly sad smile, but a smile.

“Good,” she said. She turned to Violet. “So,” she said with a bracing breath, “let me show you what I meant by the cartwheel handspring triple somersault.”

“I’m climbing the car.”

“No, it’s easy! Look —”

“Stay back!”

Lena watched, and she followed them. They raided the limo and walked or somersaulted back into the city. It stretched out before Lena with, for the first time that she could remember, the promise of possibility.