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Dewey woke up on the floor of Funso’s a little disorientated. The last thing he remembered was this super weird part of the game where he and Launchpad were falling off a lighthouse and it had felt so final that-
Wait.
“Did we beat it?” He asked, jumping to his feet and tearing off the VR glasses to see if it was true. And it was. “We beat the game!”
Finally! After so many tries (and so much pocket money wasted) he’d finally won! Had anyone beaten Double-O-Duck before? He bet that they hadn’t! This was huge! He could barely contain his excitement.
“Wait ‘til I tell Huey that I-” No, that wasn’t fair. He turned back to Launchpad- “you beat the game.”
Launchpad hadn’t gotten up yet. That was weird- unless he progressed to a new area? He did do most of the work, after all. Still… something felt off to Dewey.
“Hey Launchpad, you okay?”
Feeling very nervous all of a sudden, Dewey approached his big friend (who was still lying on the dirty tiles) and shook him gently.
“Launchpad, hey, c’mon, wake up! I don’t care if you’re in the middle of a game, are you alright?”
No response. Dewey shook him harder. Still nothing. Hold on… was he even breathing?!
Dewey’s lower beak began to wobble. Launchpad wasn’t waking up and he was the only other person there… what was he supposed to do? There was nobody else- or was there?
So Dewey did the only sensible thing he could think of.
Unable to stop the tears of fright from falling, he yelled into the arcade.
“UNCLE SCROOGE!”
Luckily, the Scrooge was already approaching him along with his Webby. He looked very disheveled, but upon hearing the scream he straightened up and ran towards him, Webby close behind.
“Are ye alright, lad? What’s wrong?”
Dewey had begun to hyperventilate, so simply pointed a shaky finger at Launchpad on the floor. “He’s not waking up!”
Scrooge’s weariness seemed to vanish in an instant and he immediately rushed to check Launchpad’s pulse.
In the meantime, enveloped Dewey in a warm, reassuring hug. “Why are you all wet?” She whispered, but Dewey knew Webby well enough to be able to tell that she was mostly asking herself.
And since he’d been all wrapped up in his excitement of winning and then the shock of Launchpad, he’d completely forgotten to notice that both his and Launchpad’s clothes were soggy and cold.
But why on earth would they be wet?! The last time Dewey could remember having anything to do with water was when he was falling into the sea after Launchpad got hit with that giant ray gun thing. But that was just in the game, wasn’t it?
...Wasn’t it?
He wriggled out of Webby’s grip to see Scrooge kneeling beside Launchpad, his face grave. Dewey didn’t want to ask. He didn’t have to.
“We need ta get him to a hospital, now.”
Launchpad was in a coma.
And Scrooge should’ve been able to deal with that fact relatively well, seeing as he’d dealt with tragedies before. Decade-long tragedies.
But there was just something about seeing Launchpad (the duck that had secretly become somewhat of a surrogate son to Scrooge during his years of isolation) lying in a hospital, unresponsive and hooked up to all sorts of machines, that made Scrooge tear up.
Because he never had to see Della on the moon, he could assume that she was thriving somewhere, somehow, because nothing could stop Della Duck. And yet Launchpad’s body was right in front of him, his beak twisted in a permanent frown.
He’d always assumed that Launchpad must’ve been indestructible with how frequently he crashed, and though he did often come into work with fresh cuts and bruises, it was never anything serious.
And now Launchpad was in a coma.
There always seemed to be someone in his hospital room. Donald took the children at least once a day, although if it were left up to Dewey then he would spend every second in there with his best friend.
Dewey had informed them about what went on in that so-called ‘game’ of theirs, and Scrooge had listened on intently. He didn’t show the children the footage that had arisen. It was a short video filmed out of somebody’s window in Duckburg, showing a giant red blast being emitted from the lighthouse and a duck-shaped silhouette in the middle of it.
Launchpad-shaped.
As well as the children, Scrooge was somewhat surprised to see Fenton visit quite frequently too. He would bring a book and rant to his comatose friend about all sorts of things, mostly Gizmoduck related. Sometimes he even managed to bring Gyro. Whether that was just for company or because Gyro wanted to check on Launchpad, Scrooge couldn’t tell.
The other person that visited a lot was someone who Scrooge only recognised after seeing him the third time. It was that actor-fellow, Doofus something-or-other. Drake! That was it. Drake Mallard. Actor-fellow and, apparently, Launchpad’s close friend.
So close that he would spend hours by the bed, disclosing quite personal information as well as holding his hand and getting emotional as he spoke words of reassurance to both himself and poor Launchpad.
Scrooge knew all of this because he hardly left Launchpad’s side. He felt responsible, and since no amount of money could wake someone from a coma, he was going to be there when it happened.
However long it took.
He woke up after being in a coma for a month, they told him.
When he did wake up, there were two ducks next to him. One was old and sounded weird, the other was darker and had fluffier hair.
He asked them what his name was. They said it was Launchpad. It was a weird name but felt familiar. Was that good?
Then the little one asked him to tell him their names. Which Launchpad found weird… shouldn’t they know their own names? Well, he guessed that he didn’t know his name, so they might’ve forgotten too.
Only problem was he had no clue.
He told them as much, and they’d looked heartbroken. Had he done something wrong?
The old one whispered something to the other one, who ran out of the room. Then he edged closer to him and looked at him gently.
“Lad, my name is Scrooge McDuck.” He said softly in that weird voice of his. “You sometimes call me ‘Mr McDee’. Does that sound familiar to you at all? Even a little bit?”
Launchpad shook his head honestly. The old duck’s- Scrooge’s- head hung forwards and he began to cry.
Launchpad later learned that the other duck’s name was Fenton. That too was unfamiliar.
Next came a whole bunch of different people wanting to meet him. It was kind of overwhelming. They all told him their names desperately in a way that they expected him to remember them.
That little blue duck in particular (Louie? Or was it Huey?) was especially determined to get him to remember. And Launchpad truly wished he could, but he just couldn’t remember a thing.
Another duck, who introduced himself as Drake, hugged him as soon as he saw him. It was nice to be hugged by Drake, even though he was a stranger. Launchpad didn’t want to upset him so he stayed quiet. Drake told him that he missed him and wasn’t going to waste any more opportunities, and was even going to stay in Duckburg for a while. That didn’t make any sense to Launchpad.
Then the doctors told him that Launchpad lost his memory. Drake never did hug him again.
Scrooge spent a lot of time with him. The doctors told him that it was a huge honor to have Scrooge McDuck visit so often, but Launchpad didn’t understand why.
Then Scrooge McDuck showed him a video of a lighthouse, a bright red light, and a bigger duck protecting a smaller, familiar duck as they plummeted down into the ocean together.
“That was Dewey.” Scrooge told him solemnly. “I know you don’t remember but… thank you. For saving my nephew. And I’m sorry that I couldn’t save you.”
And Launchpad finally understood why Scrooge McDuck felt indebted to him. A little. He couldn’t think clearly, and doubted he ever would be able to again.