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The worst part was, he didn’t know what to feel. Relief? Betrayal? Happiness? Exhaustion? Pride? Sadness?
He felt all of those things.
And it left him paralyzed.
A part of him, a part he had fought against for so long, wanted to revert to anger. Anger was simple. Anger was familiar. Anger had helped him through many difficulties.
But anger also had caused a lot of situations to turn disastrous.
Had almost cost him his boys.
Her boys.
Donald slumped further into his old armchair, taking a deep breath, trying to sort out the jumbled mess of emotions and the thoughts they accompanied and failing miserably. Not that that was anything new.
All he seemed to do was failing. He was failing at finding a good job. He was failing at keeping the bad jobs. He has been failing his boys all their lives.
And now he was failing to make sense of his own mind.
He should be inside the mansion, celebrating their victory against the moonlanders.
(Not that you had been of any help.)
He should be inside and hug Della, show her all the pictures of her boys and tell her all the stories connected to them.
(She has been inside the boat. She has seen the pictures. She has been here for months while you were stuck uselessly on the moon and that damned island. She already knew all there was to know.)
He should be inside and keep watch over his boys and Webby, make sure they went to bed. Sleep was very important at such a young age.
(They just stopped an invasion. Let them have fun. Don’t ruin their victory. Besides, their mom is back. Why should they listen to you? It’s not your job anymore.)
Donald shoot up and started to pace around the small room, his hands clenching and unclenching. He needed to do something. Needed to break something. Or at the very least scream!
(They would hear you and like always you would ruin their good mood! Don’t you have any control? Why do you always have to be so selfish? Grow up!)
He forced himself to keep still, forced himself to take deep breaths, forced himself to count from ten downwards.
(It’s no wonder they never want you around! You are a miserable, useless duck! What good did you ever contribute? You make everything worse! Just look at ‘your’ boys. They started to thrive! And they only could because you finally left the picture. You should have left them with Scrooge from the very beginning! How happy they could have been! How fulfilled! They never would have had to worry about food or clothes! They would have been cared for properly!)
Distantly, Donald could feel his knees hitting the floor and tears streaming down his beak.
(They never even missed you! Della came back and you were forgotten! Not even Della cared! She had her boys! What use did she have for a useless brother who always was in her way, always a downer?)
A silent sob escaped his throat.
(Finding you was an accident!)
“Shut up.”
(You are not wanted. You are not needed. You never were!)
“Shut up!”
(You should just leave and let them live a happy life!)
“I know!”
His thoughts came to an abrupt halt and Donald slumped into himself. Sobs wracked his body and he desperately wanted to keep them contained. But like always he failed. He tried to clamp his beak shut with his hands but he couldn’t breathe.
(Why should you keep breathing?)
(Because Scrooge would throw a fit about the bill, duh.)
(And you care why? Not like he cares about you.)
(He cares about money.)
(Bet he pays all of Della’s bills. He always loved her. Remember how happy he was when you finally left for the navy?)
(That was the only thing we were ever good at.)
(If you define getting tortured and almost dying good, then yes, sure, that’s the only thing we were ever good at.)
(Fine. We were good in college, though.)
(…)
(I mean, we had friends.)
(Who must miss us oh so much, considering all the attempts to get back into contact.)
Donald hit his head hard against the floor and just to be sure, he did it a second time and a third. He sat up and rubbed his aching head, trying to suppress his latest bout of insanity. He really couldn’t spare the money for another round of therapy.
(You still have to pay for the anger management sessions.)
Donald groaned. He was way too tired for this. Maybe that’s how he should feel. Tired.
He fell back down and just lay there, staring at the ceiling.
At least he had stopped crying. He would count that as a win.
Maybe he should move out, back to the harbor. The boys clearly didn’t need nor wanted him around. Della never really needed him, she just kept him around because he was family and now she finally had a better one. Scrooge never had wanted him. Mrs. B and Duckworth would rejoice to be rid of him once more. Launchpad probably wouldn’t care either way. Webby might miss him somewhat but only because her view of his family was a bit warped, thinking that everyone of them was a hero and an overall competent and skilled individual, clearly she hadn’t spent a lot of time with him yet.
And it would be the best if she never has to.
Donald heaved a big sigh and closed his eyes. He didn’t feel like moving and all in all the floor of his boat was quite comfortable – at least more comfortable than the beach had been. It will probably take him months to get the sand out of his feathers.
The door to his boat banged suddenly open. “There you are!” A short pause. “Why are you lying on the floor?” Donald blinked his eyes open and turned his head around. Mrs. B stood barley two feet away from his head, her eyes sweeping over his form, expression unreadable.
Donald quacked something under his breath that not even he could make out and simply closed his eyes again.
Only to get grabbed by the scruff of his neck and hauled into the air. Mrs. B was giving him a decidedly unimpressed stare. “I understand that it can be rather overwhelming to be around other people after a long period of isolation.” She placed him back on his feet but kept their eyes locked. “And considering the… lively nature of your family it is also quite understandable to opt out of a victory celebration after the most recent events you had to endure.” Donald’s face twisted up in confusion, making her pause in her speech. “Have I been wrong in my assumption that you needed to be alone for a while?” Her stare turned piercing.
Donald gulped and opened and closed his beak a few times before finally settling for a shrug. He almost took a step back when Mrs. B’s eyes narrowed even further, seizing him up again.
An oppressive silence settled around them. Donald could feel a few droplets of cold sweat glide down his back and with every second his heartbeat grew louder and faster.
“I’m not needed! Della is back. Scrooge can take care of everyone! He’s a good caregiver! I should have never taken the boys! Scrooge would have been so much better for them! And now they have Della, too! She’s the best at everything! What was I ever thinking? Look at them! They’re so happy now! I… I…” New tears streamed down his face. “I’m useless. The boys are my whole life. I’m nothing without them. And they’re so much better off without me. They finally can have the life they always wanted. With their mom. With Scrooge. Without me.”
“Okay, stop.” Mrs. B’s voice was stern. Donald did as he was told. What was he thinking? Of course she had better things to do than listening to his incoherent whining. If she even understood a single word. Not even the boys understood him most of the time.
“Donald Duck!” He flinched at the sharp tone and looked up. Mrs. B’s expression had turned gentle, surprising Donald. “Now that I have your attention, please sit down and I’ll make us a cup of tea.” She went over to the cupboards and rummaged through them. After she had searched them all she heaved a sigh and turned towards him. “I suppose a glass of water will have to do.”
Stunned by the turn of events Donald could only sit down at the table and wait for Mrs. B to join him. As soon as a glass stood in front of him, he took it between his hands just to keep his hands from fidgeting.
Mrs. B sat opposite from him and took a small sip of her own water. “I won’t pretend that I understood all of that. So please correct me if I’m wrong but it sounded like you are under the impression that your nephews don’t need you anymore since Della is back in their lives.”
Donald nodded but couldn’t help adding: “They barely needed me with you and Scrooge around.”
She gave him another long look but this time it was more contemplative. She took another sip. “Huey has your temper. Yet he can rein himself in. He is very rational, brave, kind and he has a healthy dose of confidence. He can take charge of any situation and solve every problem placed in front of him.
“Dewey is very ambitious and quick-thinking. He can even keep up with Webbigail, which is no small feat I may add. He recognizes and acknowledges when he is scared and he faces his fears head on. He can be a little single minded but when the situation calls for it he takes a step back and helps the people around him.
“Louie has a self-serving nature, yet he cares deeply about his family and won’t let anything bad happen to them. He is very resourceful and can figure out the most well constructed plans I have ever seen. Nothing gets ever past him.
“They are all rather independent and never back down from a problem. They are very aware of their limits and seek out help if they come across a situation they can’t handle.
“Were you a bit overprotective of them? Some may say so. Were you restraining them? Only if there was a need for it. You raised them as best as you could. And I can say with full confidence that you raised them very well. You know them inside and out. You support them in everything they do.
“In short, you can be very proud of them and in return you should have a little pride in yourself since without you Huey, Dewey and Louie wouldn’t be who they are.
“Also, I recently learned that you named them, and between you and me, I think you did them a favor.”
A laugh escaped Donald’s throat and he nearly choked on his tears. He still didn’t know what to do, so he squeezed his glass tighter.
“You might be needed less but I assure you, you are still needed.” At those words Donald looked up in disbelieve and was met with a firmness that broke no argument. “Children grow up and as parents it is our duty to let them but no matter how much they grow, they will always be our children. They will always need you and you have to be there for them when the time comes.”
Mrs. B took one last sip from her glass. “Now, go out there and make them go to bed before Della has a nervous breakdown.”
X
Chaos. Pure, unadulterated chaos. Della couldn’t remember when it all went so wrong. They all were having fun and enjoying the party and then suddenly… chaos. She didn’t know where to go or even look first. She couldn’t even fully process what was happening. There was a fire. (Launchpad tried to put it out and was just making it worse. Some duck in all purple tried to help him.) Cakes were flying around and Gizmoduck was driving around the room in an endless loop. Uncle Scrooge could be heart fighting somewhere. But all that and more was beside the point.
Huey was starting one fight after another, insulting everyone in sight and throwing around plates or whatever else he got in his hands.
Dewey and Webby were building traps or were outright ambushing people. So far they had captured or knocked out seven people.
Louie, Louie was laughing menacingly, swing around a scepter that turned everything it touched to gold. Where he had gotten it from, she didn’t know.
The worst part was, she didn’t know how to stop them. No matter what she tried they wouldn’t listen. There was a manic air around all of them that she couldn’t seem to break through. She felt useless. For the first time she felt truly helpless.
A hand suddenly squeezed hers. Startled she turned around. It was Donald. He gave her hand another squeeze before letting go. She couldn’t recognize the look on his face.
Then he cleared his throat and a single word fell from his beak.
“Boys.”
Silence.
Della looked around. Everything had come to a halt. She couldn’t believe it.
“Dewey, Webby cut those people loose and apologize. Huey, clean up that mess and do some apologizing, too. Louie put that scepter away and help your brothers.”
A beat. And then: “Yes, Uncle Donald.”
Della’s beak dropped open as she watched her children do as they were told. Slowly, the other guest started to help to bring everything back in order. All the while Della could do nothing but stare.
How had her brother done this? She couldn’t understand. He had just said a single word.
When all was done, the children were gathering in front of her, no, in front of Donald, their heads bowed almost timidly. No, that was not the right word. Embarrassed? Guilty? No. That was shame.
“Good.” Something in the, to her, foreign look softened. “Get yourself ready for bed. I’ll come up in a bit.”
“Yes, Uncle Donald.” Her boys left, leaving only Webby behind, who squirmed around and fidgeted with her hands.
Donald ruffled her hair. “Want me to bring you up?” Webby’s face lit up and she threw herself into Donald’s arms.
Della watched them leave. “How?”
She didn’t expect an answer. “Practice, you’ll get there lass.” Embarrassingly, she jumped a foot into the air. When had her uncle joined them?
“It is late. I would suggest also turning to bed.” This time Della didn’t jump. She looked up at Mrs. B and was met with a surprisingly sympathetic look. Della was too tired to ask what it meant and so just nodded.
Before she went to bed herself she wanted to wish her boys good night. She froze when she reached their door. There was excited but tired chattering, carefree laughter. Slowly she opened the door and peaked inside. Donald was tucking in her boys, kissing their foreheads, listening patiently.
Something about the sight tugged at her heart in an unpleasant way.
Della stepped back. In all her excitement to be back she never had asked, never even wondered.
She turned around and went to her room. Tears gathered in her eyes and when she reached her bed she let them fall.
That was why.
Donald, they called him ‘uncle’, but in reality he was their father.
And she was just the really cool aunt, wasn’t she?
Her bitter laugh was muffled by her pillow.
As were her broken sobs.
X
Donald still didn’t know how he should feel.
He was relieved that his boys were safe and sound.
He still felt a bit betrayed that no one thought to get him when Della had returned.
He was happy that his family was finally whole again.
He was so exhausted he couldn’t get up the strength to return to his boat and had simply collapsed into his old bed.
He felt proud of his boys but refused to feel pride in himself. He was too exhausted to process his ‘conversation’ with Mrs. B. He wasn’t even sure if he hadn’t hallucinated the whole thing.
He felt sad, because he had seen the look in Della’s eyes.
Maybe he really should leave for a while or would that just make things worse?
Donald didn’t know what he should feel. Let alone what he should do.
There was only one thing he was absolutely sure of.
Tomorrow Della and he would fight.