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He'd become aware of his nephew's sudden frequenting of his archives when Quackfaster complained to him about the tome of mythical creatures and poisons that he'd borrowed a few days prior. When he'd confronted Gladstone about it, he noted the anxious fidgeting and tight grin he wore as he promised to return it.
"What do you even need it for?" He'd asked; and suddenly, Gladstone was even more jittery.
"Oh nothing, nothing, just....curiosity! Gotta run before she has me drawn and quartered!"
And that had been the end of that.
But then he started paying attention; checking the cameras, talking to Quackfaster, and yes, Gladstone had apparently become a common sight in the musty room. Usually just straight to the Archives and out the doors, with an occasional stop by the mess hall.
Since when had Gladstone become interested in his collections and biographies? That was more of a Webby deal. Not to mention Gladstone had never shown particular interest in his ventures, at least not that he knew of.
So what use did he have for visiting? Upon checking with Quackfaster, though, he found that Gladstone had actually been digging through his magic and medicinal collections.
Curiosity piqued, Scrooge finally decided it was time to confront him.
He pushed open the doors to the Archives with a soft creak. Quackfaster looked up from her desk, with piles of weathered books around her and numerous supplies to fix and care for said books. She merely pointed towards the back of the room, before looking back down at her work. Scrooge chuckled quietly, before following her direction and making his way through the massive labyrinth of shelves.
He found Gladstone sat at the small table, face set in a scowl as he poured over the thick tome he had in front of him. Several other books were stacked up around him, and his phone was on and set up beside the open book. He must not have heard Scrooge's approach, as he didn't even acknowledge him as he walked up. Not until he cleared his throat at least.
Gladstone jumped, head flying up in panic; he settled somewhat at the sight of Scrooge, but still appeared anxious as he hastily tried to hide the open book.
"Oh, h-hey Big Money! Wasn't expecting to see you around here!"
Scrooge quirked a brow as he took a seat across from him. Taking in his appearance, he was clearly exhausted, with heavy bags under his eyes, and his hair which he usually kept in pristine curls, was messy and uneven. It only added to his concern.
"This is my personal archive, why wouldn't you?"
"Well, you know I just...wasn't..."
"I suppose you wouldn't, seeing as you've been sneaking about to get in here."
"I wasn't sneaking, I was…visiting…without telling you."
From the way he sighed and looked away, he wasn't buying his excuse either. Scrooge glanced at the collection of books, ranging from worldwide home remedies to mythical beings to the occult; an odd assortment for sure, and his puzzlement must've shown. Gladstone cracked a tight grin, calmly shutting the open book and pushing it toward the others.
"Just some light reading, ya know?"
"I see, any particular reason why you've chosen such...particular subjects?"
Gladstone didn't answer, instead choosing to gnaw at his lower lip and fidgeting with his sleeve. Scrooge cocked his head curiously, and glanced at the pile again. He then caught sight of the phone, and one thing in particular caught his eye, a name.
Liu Hai.
Gladstone followed his gaze, noticing the phone, and quickly snatched it away, stuffing it into his bag.
"Why the blazes are you lookin' up anything about the monstrous moocher? I'd have thought you had enough of him!"
"Believe me, I have..."
"Then what is all this? All these magic and medicine books and all this sneaking around—what are you looking for, lad?"
"Nothing, okay," Gladstone snapped, abruptly standing and snatching his bag, "sorry for disturbing your book hoarder, I'll just find something else—"
"Hold it!"
Scrooge quickly followed him, catching him by the arm.
"I don't mind you being here I just want to know what you're after!"
"It's nothing bad, it's just research! Can't a guy have a hobby?!"
"Research for what? What does any of this have to do with Liu Hai?!"
"Everything!"
"Why?!"
"BECAUSE I NEED THEM TO GO AWAY!"
He jerked his arm free, holding it close as he fell into a tense silence; Scrooge studied him for a moment, puzzled.
"....need what to go away, Gladstone?"
Still he remained silent as he rubbed at his arm, eyes looking everywhere but Scrooge.
Scrooge eyed his movements, noting the almost angry force he was using; a second later, realization clicked, and the curious frown softened into a concerned scowl. He held out his hand silently, and Gladstone started at the movement. He finally met Scrooge's gaze, wincing despite its soft nature.
He put his arm back out with clear reluctance, letting his uncle take hold of it in a loose grip. He turned it over, and pushed up the sleeve of his black turtleneck sweater that he'd been wearing for quite a while, Scrooge was now realizing.
And the reason why became clear.
A set of puncture wounds traveled around his forearm, partially covered by the sleeve, curving to form a crescent shaped scar. They were pale green in color, but were quite prominent against his feathers.
He'd known of the marks left from Liu Hai's feeding sessions, thanks to Donald shouting his ears off after the trip. He assumed Gladstone likely had similar ones, and confirmed it when Donald mentioned only having seen them, but he wouldn't go into detail. It wasn't his place, he'd said.
Even knowing all this, the sight was still a shock. But he maintained a calm composure; reacting any other way would only further upset Gladstone.
He finally looked up, and found Gladstone staring at them, though the distant look told him his mind was elsewhere. Far, far away… He only responded once Scrooge placed a hand over them, blocking them from sight.
"So, is that what this is about?" Scrooge asked quietly. Gladstone gave a shaky nod, tugging at his collar anxiously.
"...it's been weeks since the last time...but they're still there! I don't get it, Don only had his for a few days, but mine haven't even faded! Back then I figured it was just because he was doing it so often, but now… I-I thought maybe..."
His gaze traveled to the stacks of books.
"I thought maybe you'd have something in here, or that I could find something online about him and his magic, just...anything that would make them go away, but I haven't found anything! I just want them gone, I can't stand seeing them every time I look in the mirror or get dressed or when I try to wear something lighter and get stared at everywhere I go— and not even for my good looks!"
Scrooge briefly smirked, before quickly shifting back to serious.
"Why didn't you just tell me, lad, I'd have helped. Would be faster than searching on your own— though I must admit I'm impressed you've managed to navigate this labyrinth without any guidance."
"....would it be less impressive if I said I just guessed which direction to go?"
"Ehh kinda; but that's not important right now. Why didn't you tell me?"
"I...I dunno..."
"Did you think I wouldn't help?"
"No, no, I just....I dunno I just...didn't..."
"Gladstone..."
He rubbed at his neck, clearly reluctant to continue. Scrooge's urgent gaze though, eventually got to him and he let out a heavy sigh.
"I....thought you would think it’s dumb..."
"Why the blazes would you think that? I'm not gonna laugh at you for this."
"It's just for you....this isn't really a big deal."
"Are you mad? Of course your well-being is a big deal to me! You think I'm not gonna understand this? I do, Gladstone, I know how difficult it is to get used to new scars—"
"No, no you don't! Not like this!"
He pulled away again, yanking his sleeve back down.
"Gladstone, I have countless scars from all my adventures! What wouldn't I understand?!"
"This is exactly why I didn’t— I'm NOT like you! I didn't get these from conquering some ancient crossword puzzle or finding the lost treasure of—of Gold Hoarders are Us! I got these from a monster who thought the best method make me behave was by literally eating me alive! I don't get to celebrate this! I don't get to look back and think 'hey, what a fun time that was'! Instead I get constant reminders of how far into my head he was able to literally and figuratively sink his teeth! I—"
He was rubbing at his arm furiously, eyes wide in anger, fear…so much so it had Scrooge wincing at the sight.
“Sometimes I can still feel him…feel his teeth grazing my skin, his hand petting my hair, rubbing my back…guy was really handsy…”
He trailed off, before quickly shaking his head and looking away.
“S-so no…no you don’t get it…”
Scrooge couldn't say much of anything in response, only listen and process his words with a furrowed brow. And realized...Gladstone had a point; he could look back fondly at his adventures, even the ones that left their marks. When the boys or Webby noticed one and questioned him, he was always happy to regale them with the story behind it. A story of triumph and smarts that left them and others in awe of such a daring venture.
But Gladstone didn't get that luxury.
His only brought him horrid memories, and not ones he'd be willing to share with anyone aside from maybe Donald. The only person who could come close to understanding. To an extent, anyway, as even Donald hadn’t had to put up with as much as Gladstone clearly had from Liu Hai.
He was alone.
"...you're right."
Gladstone jerked his head up, shocked.
"...what?"
"You're right, I can't understand how you're feeling," he said again, moving closer and placing a hand on his shoulder.
"I can come home with a new scrape or nick and be perfectly happy with it. I look at them and see the sacrifices I made to beat the odds. But for you...it's different. I can only imagine the pain you went through, how scared you must've felt..."
Gladstone was silent, eyes reddening from the building emotions behind them. Scrooge gave a small smile, squeezing his shoulder.
"I know you're going to need time to work through this; I'll be more than happy to help you, but even if we don't find any method to do away with them..."
He took hold of his other shoulder, making sure he was looking him in the eye. Gladstone, at a loss, could only return it with bewilderment and uncertainty.
"I want you to know I'm very proud of you."
He could feel Gladstone's stunned jolt go through him, and it was quickly followed with a confused tilt of the head.
"I give you a lot of grief for being a lay about and relying on your luck far too much; and you do, ninety-nine percent of the time."
Gladstone managed a weak chuckle at this, he wasn't going to deny that.
"But you proved me wrong here; I'd just assumed you were laying around waiting for us to show up, or for your luck to just pave you a way out. But you didn't, did you? You couldn't; so instead, you took it into your own hands, forged your own way out...albeit a tad messy towards the end but that doesn't change the fact you fought to get out of there.”
He pulled his arm up again, his hold firm but gentle.
"You went through a terrible ordeal, Gladstone, but you survived, and you fought tooth and nail and you won. And that's something to be proud of."
The next few minutes passed in silence; Gladstone's beak opened and shut several times, trying to find words but coming up empty. His eyes lost the battle for holding back his emotions, finally letting them spill out, and with a hitched breath he clung to his uncle in a tight hug. Scrooge returned it, lightly patting his back, and remained there a few minutes more before pulling away again.
"You need rest, lad, you look halfway to the grave."
Another unsteady laugh bubbled up from his stomach as Gladstone wiped at his eyes.
"Yeah I...haven't really gotten much sleep. Lotta late night reading and note taking.”
"I'm sure, but that's not going to get you anywhere; go home, get some rest, take a day or two to relax and get your mind cleared up. If you still want to keep searching just let me know, I'll see if I can scrounge up anything else, alright?"
"Alright, alright, I'm going—"
"AFTER YOU PUT ALL THE BOOKS IN THEIR PROPER PLACES!" Quackfaster's agitated voice rang throughout the archives, and Gladstone quickly turned back to the table.
"After I do that!"
Snickering, Scrooge joined him as he frantically gathered up the pile of books, and helped in returning them to their spaces on the shelves. Both knew the ramifications of a disorganized library when Quackfaster was near…