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Saying goodbye to Webby and Mrs. Beakley is just as hard as it was saying goodbye to Uncle Donald. They stay an extra ten minutes. Webby gives each of them plenty of hugs.
Then they finally pile into the van and hit the road.
Louie might be crying just a little.
_______________________________
“Wonder what he left for us this time,” mumbles Huey, staring out the window with his feet up on the dashboard.
Dewey is driving. Louie’s in the back, sleeping or something.
“Wonder where we’ll find it,” Dewey says back.
“He’s good at guessing where we’ll stop at,” says Huey, turning up the radio a tad. He won against Louie in rock-paper-scissors, so it’s on a rock music station.
Dewey thinks for a moment. “Maybe he’s nearby. Watching us.”
Huey moves around until he’s laying sideways across his seat. “Creep,” he says.
“It’s just a thought,” Dewey tells him. “It doesn’t mean he actually is.”
“I know.”
“...What will we do after this?”
Huey blinks at his brother. “After what?”
Dewey inhales, exhaling heavily. “After we find him.”
Huey’s quiet, thinking. “Go back home,” he then answers. “Live our lives.” It’s not too hard a question.
“...What if I’m wrong?” Dewey suddenly says.
Huey frowns. “Wrong about what?”
Dewey gulps, chewing on his lip. “What if we find him and... I still have this gaping hole inside me? What if meeting him isn’t the key to closing it?” he asks.
Huey sits up. “Dew, you don’t need him to fix you. You don’t need anyone to fix you.”
Dewey blinks his eyes quickly, controlling his breathing.
“No matter what happens, it’ll be okay,” Huey continues, “Even if it’s not what you pictured. This is just us finding our roots. We did the growing by ourselves. We don’t need him closing holes for us.”
Dewey nods, sighing shakily. “It’s still a big deal,” he says.
Huey turns back to the window. “It is... it’s our dad. Of course it’s a big deal.” He’s still a mix of anger and fear, but he’d already come to the conclusion that they needed to do this. So he’s not angry and wondering inside for the rest of his life.
Dewey wants to know who he is—in case it’s too late one day, because nobody lives forever (not even Uncle Scrooge did). Huey wants to know if he loved them or not—it tears him up inside every night.
And Louie... Huey’s not sure what Louie wants. He knows he wants to know why he left them, but they all do.
“Hey,” says Louie suddenly, sticking his head through the curtains. “Wanna pull over? I made hot chocolate.”
And just like that, the air is a bit lighter, Huey and Dewey’s earlier conversation forgotten.
“Isn’t that supposed to be a winter treat?” Huey teases his brother with a grin, as Dewey starts to pull over.
Louie pouts. “Whatever. I wanted hot chocolate,” he says and returns to the back.
Dewey parks and turns the engine off. Then they undo their seatbelts and go have hot chocolate. They don’t think about anything other than the chocolate in their mouths. It’s nice.
_______________________________
They arrive in Duck Leaf a few days later. It’s a ridiculously huge city and it’s so loud, it gives Louie a headache.
“Where should we look first?” Huey asks, behind the wheel.
Somebody cuts him off at a red light.
“What the hell?! Jerk!” Huey snarls, honking the horn until Dewey tells him to cut it out.
Yeah. The city sucks.
“We should fill up first,” says Louie, as he fiddles with the radio. This time he won against Huey in rock-paper-scissors, so he’s looking for something playing classical music. Or literally anything to drown out the traffic.
“Kay,” says Huey, “I’ll find a gas station—hey! IDIOT! What the hell do you think—!”
Some more driving and yelling later, Huey finds a gas station.
Huey’s all riled up and Dewey doesn’t trust him not to snap at people, so he goes in to pay.
“This place is so big. Where do we even begin to look?” wonders Louie, leaning on Huey’s chair and rubbing his head. He swears, his brain is throbbing. “What are we even looking for this time?” he sighs.
“I don’t know!” Huey exclaims.
“Okay. Calm down,” Louie says, squeezing his eyes shut.
Huey takes a deep breath. “Sorry. Damn city,” he growls quietly.
Louie is familiar with ‘road rage’ Huey, so he doesn’t take the outburst personally. His head just hurts.
A moment later, Dewey comes back with a slip of paper in his hand. He looks bewildered.
Louie raises his eyebrows at him. “Is that seriously from Dad?”
Dewey nods numbly.
Huey groans. “He is scary good at this game.”
_______________________________
An address is scribbled on the note. ‘Duck Pearl Avenue’, ‘#103’. ‘She’ll help you... probably’. Is what it says.
They ask someone at the gas station where Duck Pearl Avenue is, then start driving again. Dewey tells Huey where to go, while Huey yells at traffic.
“Who do you think lives there?” Louie asks, munching on a sandwich. His head doesn’t hurt as much anymore, the ache behind his eyes dulling to a much less noticeable sensation.
“Someone nice, hopefully?” Dewey answers unsurely.
Louie frowns down at the note on Dewey’s lap again. “And by ‘help’, do you think that means ‘help us find Dad’?”
Dewey and Huey then speak at the same time.
“I’m wondering what the ‘probably’ means.”
“Why do you call him Dad?”
Louie blinks. It takes him a moment to figure out who said what.
He turns to Huey. “Uh... because he’s our dad?” he says.
Huey rolls his eyes. “I know that, but...” he hesitates, “Why don’t you call him Jack?” he asks.
Louie swallows, not wanting to start anything. “It feels wrong,” he replies.
Huey doesn’t look at him, but Louie sees the way his eyebrows narrow.
“It feels wrong to call the guy who abandoned us by his name?”
Louie bites his lip, knowing this is going to turn into something. “He’s still our father—“
“Biological and that’s it. Uncle D’s more our father than him.”
“Yeah. But it’s disrespectful to call your parent by—“
“Oh yeah, some parent he is!”
“I want to call him Dad, okay! Let me have that!”
Huey falls silent.
Dewey doesn’t say anything.
Louie turns to stare out the window.
It’s awkward.
“Turn here,” Dewey then says.
Huey turns and after driving for a little bit more, Dewey says, “We’re here.”
Huey parks by the curb in front of the apartment building Dewey tells him to.
It’s quiet for a moment.
“...I like calling him Dad,” Louie mumbles. It makes him feel closer to him, in a sense.
Dewey gives Huey a look.
“...Okay,” Huey says finally, tone soft.
Louie smiles at him. Huey smiles back.
“Alright, let’s go inside,” says Dewey, pushing the door open.
_______________________________
Dewey checks the address one last time, then looks up at the apartment number.
“This is it,” he says, taking a deep breath.
Having no idea what to expect makes nervousness and excitement swirl in Louie’s gut. He’s always been like that.
He knocks.
“Louie!” Dewey cries, tone edged in fear.
He’s also always been impulsive.
“I’m coming!” exclaims a feminine voice on the other side.
“Sorry,” Louie murmurs to Dewey.
Dewey runs twitchy fingers through his hair, clearly not ready at all for whoever they’re about to meet. He doesn’t like things fast. He needs time to think and feel properly. Processing tricky emotions is harder for him.
But it’s too late.
The door opens.
“What do ya want?!” demands a grumpy-looking woman.
She suddenly freezes at the sight of them.
Louie waves at her. “Hi.”
She blinks and... she looks a lot like Huey.
“Are you Jack’s boys?” she asks.
Hope sparks in Louie’s chest. “You know our dad?” he asks.
The lady grunts and crosses her arms, beak scrunched up in a scowl.
“I’m his sister.”
Oh. That explains why she and Huey almost have the same face.
_______________________________
“The flippin’ bastard!”
Louie might’ve flinched at Marlene’s unnecessarily loud cussing, as she made them all tea, if he wasn’t used to Huey doing the exact same thing before he’s had his morning coffee.
“That jerk! That little fuck... Jackass!”
Dewey cautiously leans forward and whispers, “Do you think she’s talking about Da—Jack?”
“Maybe,” Louie whispers back.
“Kind of sounds like it,” says Huey.
There’s one last angry huff, then Marlene comes out of the kitchenette and sets the tea on the table.
“Thanks,” Huey says, picking up his tea, blowing gently at the steam.
Dewey and Louie say ‘thank you’ as well, and uncertainly reach for their cups.
“Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome,” Marlene grumbles and sits down, her beak still scrunched in a glare.
Louie thinks that might just be her normal expression.
“So? You looking for your asshole of a father?” she asks.
“Yes,” Dewey answers, sipping his tea.
“And the damn jerk’s been running from us,” Huey grunts, his own beak wrinkling in a scowl.
“‘Course he has, the coward!” Marlene growls. Then she starts muttering.
Louie looks between the two of them. The resemblance—particularly in personality—is uncanny. Genetics really are something.
“Anyways, what do you want from me?” Marlene then questions, downing all of her hot tea in one gulp and somehow her tongue doesn’t burst into flames.
“Uh...” stammers Dewey, “to tell us where to go next, I guess?”
Marlene blinks. Then her glare turns murderous.
Dewey freezes like a deer caught in headlights, thinking he’s done something wrong. It’s all over for him now. At least he had a nice life. See you soon, God.
“Tell you where to go next, my ass!! That bastard’s done making you kids run around!!” Marlene shouts and stands up, nearly knocking her chair over.
Dewey braces himself. Then Marlene turns back into the kitchenette, and Dewey is very pleased to find he’s not dead.
“What do you mean?” Louie asks, blinking. He flinches when he hears something crash. Then there’s the sound of running water and Louie relaxes when he realizes Marlene’s just doing the dishes... rather violently. (Like how Daisy does the dishes after a nasty tiff with Kent at work).
“I know how to hunt him down!” Marlene proclaims, scrubbing her teacup in the soapy water. “I’m the one person he doesn’t stand a chance against.”
Eyes widen and faces light up at the table.
“You can help us... actually catch him?” Huey asks in disbelief.
Marlene’s tone is mocking, “He thinks he’s so smart with his little game. But I’m smarter than him! I always have been. He only won that damn Spelling Bee because I helped him study AND HE KNOWS IT!”
“Um, back to Hugh’s question!” Louie says, not wanting Marlene to get further off topic. “Are you really gonna help us?”
“Duh! Thought that was obvious!” Marlene says, drying her hands on a towel.
Then she goes down the hall and comes back with car keys in hand. “Let’s go!”
“Right now?!” Dewey squeaks. He looks down at his barely finished tea.
“But it’s getting dark,” Louie says.
“And we haven’t slept much,” adds Huey.
Marlene pauses and looks like she’s thinking.
“Fine,” she then says, “You guys can stay here for the night. And I’ll take you in the morning.”
Huey looks at Dewey and then Louie. Then turns to Marlene.
“Okay. Thanks,” he murmurs, drinking some more of his tea.
“Bathroom’s not hard to find. Make yourselves comfortable,” Marlene tells them, then heads toward the hallway to go put her car keys away.
She stops suddenly and turns back, her face soft.
“By the way,” she begins, “How’s Bennie doing?”
Louie smiles at her. “Uncle Bennie’s doing okay. We promised to visit him again sometime!”
“...That’s good.”
“Hey, wait. How’d you know we—“
Marlene doesn’t stay in the room long enough for Louie to finish his sentence.
“So that’s our aunt,” murmurs Dewey, extremely overwhelmed by everything that’d just happened.
“Guess so,” Louie agrees. She sure is... interesting.
Huey finishes the last of his tea. He smirks. “I like her.”
_______________________________
That night, Louie can’t sleep. It’s uncomfortable sharing the sofa with Huey, and Dewey, who’s on the floor, keeps kicking the wall in his sleep. He hopes it doesn’t disturb Marlene’s neighbours.
He sits at the table with a blanket around him, gazing out the window at the starry sky.
The day feels like a blur, fast, even for Louie.
They’ve literally just stumbled into the near-end of the game; this road trip that had become their life. It’s exhilarating. And scary.
And Louie’s hopeful.
“What is that noise?” Marlene comes into the room, yawning tiredly, her hair a wild mess.
She frowns at Dewey squirming around, foot, knee, elbow, head bashing into the wall.
“Dew beats things up in his life,” Louie explains.
Marlene hums and sits down at the table with him. “What are you doing up?” she asks around another yawn, laying her head in her arms.
“Can’t sleep,” Louie responds. Sofas weren’t made for starfish sleepers.
“Mm,” Marlene hums again.
Louie looks at her. “What’s our dad like?”
“He’s a jerk.”
“...Could I have a little more than that?”
Marlene sighs and sits up. “He’s not a bad man. He’s just made bad decisions in his life,” she says.
Louie hesitates. “Was leaving us one of those bad decisions?” he asks.
Marlene lays her chin in a hand. “No. Leaving you with your mom’s family was probably the only good decision he’s ever made. ‘Was never father material.”
“But he could be. Now, right?”
Marlene stares at Louie, her face surprisingly gentle. “What do you want from him?”
Louie plays with his fingers. “I wanna know why he left...” he mumbles.
Marlene simply gives him a look. “Is that all?”
Louie bites his lip. “And maybe,” he starts oh so quietly, “Maybe he’ll want to be in our lives after we meet him?”
Marlene is quiet.
Louie averts his gaze.
“That’s what you want?”
Louie shrugs. “Maybe.”
Marlene studies him. “You’re hopeful.”
Louie gives her a small smile. “I’m always hopeful.”
“You know about your mom, don’t you?”
“Yes. She chose the stars over us. But she loved us. And if she were here, she’d be in our lives,” Louie says with conviction. He knows it’s true.
Marlene is quiet.
“I still have this letter Dad sent us. I keep it somewhere safe,” Louie tells her, “I can’t know for sure if his words are true. But I can hope they are. I can hope he does love us. And I can hope he’ll want to be apart of our lives.”
Marlene doesn’t say anything for a moment. Then she sighs.
“You’re a freakin’ hippie.”
“I am not!”
“You are.” She looks at Louie again. “You should get some sleep.”
Louie nods. “I think I’ll go sleep in the van.”
“Keep warm. It’s cold out tonight.”
“Thanks. For everything.”
“Don’t be a sap, kid. Just go!”