Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Louie had never really minded being grounded before.

Perhaps counterintuitively, it wasn’t something that happened to him all that often. From a young age, his uncle had determined that enforced inactivity was a less than effective punishment where his youngest nephew was concerned. Increased chores were the preferred sentence whenever Louie got too far out of line, at least on his own.

Grounding tended to be reserved for trouble all three brothers had an equal hand in, which was part of the reason Louie didn’t mind it so much. The usual lack of TV or video game privileges could be annoying, sure, but ‘sitting around doing nothing with his brothers’ was a perfectly functional definition of Louie’s ideal pastime. Hence, Donald’s early recognition of its ineffectiveness.

In addition to that, grounding was usually deemed unsuitable as a collective punishment on the grounds of fairness. While Louie could handle it with no problem, the absolute opposite was true for Dewey, for whom being confined to the houseboat and bereft of stimulation was akin to torture. The middle triplet always needed to be doing something, and going too long without would drive him crazy. Having his brothers with him usually mitigated the situation, but only for so long.

Louie suspected Della had been the same as a kid.

Maybe that’s why she went the grounding route with me. She figured it’s what would hurt her the most…

Someone must have gone to her after and explained that the punishment wouldn’t have the same effect on Louie, he thinks. Probably Beakley, or maybe Scrooge. He hopes, with everything he has, that it wasn’t Huey or Dewey. He really doesn’t want to think his brothers would do him dirty like that, even after everything...

So then she decided to double down, take the family on the one adventure I’d ever wanted to go on, and leave me here by myself. Well, not ‘by myself’, I guess. She was kind enough to leave the DT-87, helpfully filled with recordings of her telling me what I have to do to stay a part of this family…

A small, dark part of Louie’s brain could admit it was a fairly perfect punishment. If she’d wanted him to suffer, she couldn’t have hit his weak spots any more accurately.

It felt… wrong. All of it. He could admit he deserved something, but this couldn’t be it. Surely, what he’d done hadn’t been so unforgivable, had it? He wished he could just get out of there, so he could go find them, and…

Is that what you really want though?

Louie’s head snapped up at the thought.

Do you really want to go find them right now? Yeah, you screwed up, but was it really bad enough for them to leave you behind like that? You heard Mom Della. There are terms now. You can’t do the one thing that you’re good at, or you’re out of the family. But what good are you to them otherwise? Either way, this is going to end with you getting left behind again. Why would you want to go to them, knowing that?

Part of Louie knows that’s unfair. He knows his brothers at least love him. He knows they and Webby wouldn’t have had any say in what happened to him.

Maybe, but they sure didn’t seem to have any problem leaving you behind, did they?

Louie didn’t have an answer for that.

So, where else could I even go?

Suddenly, there was a deafening roar. The manor shook.

… and that’s just about every enemy Uncle Scrooge has ever made, storming the mansion I’m all alone in except for … Yup, there goes the DT-87. Good job keeping me safe, you stupid tin-can. Can’t use my phone to call for help. Landline! …and it’s blocked, of course it is. OK, Duckworth is still around here somewhere, right?

You’re going to trust a ghost to keep you alive? They’ve got Magica with them, they definitely planned for him. You need to get out of here. Grab anything useful and go! Scheme, idiot!

Louie turned from the window, rushing to his closet and emerging with a green backpack. He quickly stuffed an extra hoodie in it, followed by his khopesh, a roll of bills he’d kept stashed in his mattress, and, after some deliberation, the small sack of golden coins he’d kept under the floorboard. Scanning the room once more, his gaze fell upon his phone on the floor, where he’d tossed in frustration. He started to reach for it, then hesitated.

Useful things, Louie! That thing’s no good to you since Della jammed it with those stupid videos! Only thing it could do is maybe let someone track you! Leave it!

Louie did. It almost hurt physically, but he did. He zipped his backpack up, steeling himself for what came next.

OK, step one: getting out of here. Can’t go out of this window, too exposed. Can’t go downstairs, they’ll catch me in the main hall. What does that leave? Aha! The window at the end of the hall has that lattice running along side it, I can go out there!

Plan in hand, Louie made his way to the bedroom door, pausing to listen before opening it.

Lot of arguing, but it sounds like they’re all still downstairs. OK, now or never.

With that, Louie eased the door open, glancing both ways before stepping out into the hallway. He turned away from the sounds of Ma Beagle and Glomgold yelling at each other, moving as quickly and quietly as he could manage down the hall until he reached his destination. He quickly undid the lock on the window before pushing it open…

… and causing a horrible creaking noise, because why should Louie’s luck change today?

Go, idiot, go! Either they heard that and are sending someone up, or it wasn’t that loud and they didn’t hear it. Either way, there is literally no benefit to you freezing up! Go!

With that, Louie hauled himself halfway out the window, reaching around the sill to the latticework on the other side. Once satisfied he had a good grip, he swung the rest of his body out and onto the wall. Once there, he briefly considered trying to close the window before deciding it wasn’t worth the risk.

The most important thing is getting away. If I can put enough distance between myself and here, it won’t matter if they figure out someone got away.

Louie began his climb down, praying that the lattice would be strong enough to hold him. Moments later, he had his feet on the ground and was running towards the tree line.

Chapter Text

“Argh! What is the point of putting a big-ass wall up around your property if your enemies can just fly right up to your front door, Scrooge?”

Louie had made his way through the woods down to the edge of his uncle’s property, reasoning that going down the driveway would leave him too exposed for too long, even if his uncle’s enemies were more concerned with wrecking the place than watching the road. Unfortunately, this meant he couldn’t just use the gate to exit, which lead to the rather strenuous task of trying to scale the wall.

“Seriously, I get left at home for this week’s adventure, and I still end up having to run for my life from your enemies. Fighting through the woods, climbing walls… WAAAHH!!”

With that, Louie made it over the top of the wall, dropping the last few feet and landing rather gracelessly on the sidewalk below. Grumbling as he got back on his feet, he surveyed his surroundings.

Hmm… I’m close to the bus stop at least. But it’s a weekend, so who knows when the next bus’ll be here? Don’t have my phone, so can’t call for a ride. Maybe I can flag down a taxi, if one comes by? I’ve only got so much money though, and I’ll want to try and make that last until I’ve got something better set up…

In the end, Louie made his way over to the bus stop and collapsed on the bench, reasoning that he could flag down a cab from there if the bus took too long.

Alright, you’ve got a few minutes to take a breath and think. What’s your scheme here, Sharpie?

Sharpie. A slow grin spread across Louie’s face at that thought.

Oh, yes. That’ll do nicely. Now, how to make it work?

Almost as if on cue, a bus came into view, stopping in front of Louie and opening the door. He stepped in, swiped his bus pass, and nodded to the driver, a friendly-looking older dog.

“Afternoon, son. Say, what’s goin’ on up there?” the driver asked, pointing back up the hill.

Louie turned, looking back towards the manor. He winced inwardly at the sight of a large cloud of dust and debris hanging over the grounds.

He turned back.

“Who knows? It’s always something with those McDucks, am I right?”

The driver chuckled. “Sure seems like it. Go ahead and sit down now.”

-------------------------------------

Arriving in downtown Duckburg, Louie went over his checklist in his head.

OK, first order of business: new clothes. If they come to try and drag me back, first thing they’ll be looking for is an eleven-year-old duck in a bright green hoodie. So I should probably not be that.

He made his way down the block to a second-hand clothing store, browsing through the aisles for a few minutes before selecting a yellow Oxford shirt and a dark brown jacket. These items in hand, Louie walked into a changing room, shucked off his hoodie, and changed into his new (used) outfit. After buttoning up the shirt (making sure to leave the top few buttons open, as he’d seen his cousin Gladstone do for years) and putting on the jacket, he turned to have a look at himself in the mirror.

It was weird.

Oh man, it was weird.

Donald had always sworn up and down that he hadn’t purposefully color-coded his nephews, that they’d done it themselves. Louie can’t remember that far back, but he tends to believe his uncle. It’d just been the way things always worked out. Red was Huey, blue was Dewey, and green was Louie. That was just the way things were, the way they’d always been.

Looking into the mirror, it was like there was a stranger looking back at him. A stranger who looked an awful lot like, well, Huey, to be perfectly honest. Except some weird, alternate dimension version of Huey. A parallel quadruplet?

Get it together. You are Louie Duck. You are not a color. You are not a sweatshirt.

He ended up wearing the shirt and jacket out of the store.

OK, step two: phone.

For this, Louie headed down to the nearest convenience store. Buying a new smartphone was out of the question, given the limited nature of his funds, never mind the problems that signing up for a new plan would cause. Instead, Louie would have to make do with a prepaid wireless phone. It wasn’t an ideal solution by any means, and he cringed at how low-tech the phones on selection were, but he reminded himself that, if all went to plan, he’d only need to use it a few times.

The cashier raised his eyebrow when Louie went to pay for it.

Yep, don’t mind me! Just a normal little kid, buying a burner phone!

“I broke mine. Dad says he’s not paying for a new one until my grades go up.”

The cashier shrugged “Whatever you say, kid. Just bring it back when it runs out.”

Step three: contact

Leaving the store, Louie headed for the small park across the street. Sitting on a reasonably secluded park bench, he activated the phone. Once this was done, he took a deep breath and began punching in numbers.

Louie had always been good with numbers. Whether it was a side effect of his greed or just another trait, who could say? The upshot of this, however, was that Louie never forgot a phone number. This was extremely handy at the moment, given that he didn’t have his own phone.

One ring, two rings…

”Who is this, and how did you get this number?”

Louie smiled in relief. He’d been worried she wouldn’t pick-up. This would be much easier if he didn’t have to leave a message.

“Wow, Aunt Goldie. Do you always answer the phone like that?”

“Sharpie! This is a surprise. I didn’t think you’d be wanting to talk to me so soon after that business with the Drake kid.”

“Well, I figure grudges are counterproductive. At least in this case.”

”Hmm. Not at all like your uncle, then.”

“But hey, if you wanted to make it up to me…”

”Make it up to you? Kid, I know Scroogie’s told you enough for you to know that’s not how I do business. But just for the sake of argument, how exactly did you want me to make it up to you?”

“I think this is the kind of thing better discussed face-to-face. You wouldn’t happen to be in Duckburg right now, would you?”

“No, but I’m not far. Alright, you’ve piqued my curiosity. I can come by the manor tomorrow.”

“You can go to the manor, but no one will be there. Can you meet me in town? How about…” Louie quickly scanned the street “… noon at Café Monacrow on Tenth? You know it?”

”I can find it. What’s going on, Sharpie? Why will you be in the city when there’s no one at home?”

“I’ll explain tomorrow. Are you going to come or not?”

There was silence over the line for long enough that Louie briefly worried she’d hung up before Goldie responded.

”I’ll be there. This actually works better anyway. It’s still too soon after the last time I paid a visit to old Moneybags. If I come around to often, he starts to get all sorts of ideas I’d rather not deal with.”

Louie had to chuckle at that. “You’re an evil woman, Aunt Goldie, and I love it. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He then ended the call and let out a large sigh of relief. Really, that had gone about as well as he could have hoped for. He’d been worried he’d need to bring up the fact that he’d saved her life, and he wasn’t sure that was the kind of thing that would work on Goldie O’Gilt. Still, it would’ve been better if she had been in Duckburg, because now he was going to have to work on…

Step four: a place to sleep.

With this in mind, Louie headed towards the harbor, stopping at a hardware store on the way to purchase a flashlight. He arrived at the old amphitheater shortly thereafter, making sure to check the area for any stray Beagle Boys before stepping out onto the stage.

They’re probably all laying low after trashing the manor today, but you can never be too careful…

Satisfied he wasn’t being watched, Louie located the trapdoor and pried it open. Turning on his flashlight, he stepped beneath the stage before shutting the door behind him and heading down the steps to the room he knew lay beneath.

He grinned to himself. Lena’s old room really was the perfect little bolthole. All of her personal effects had been moved out when she had gone to live with the Sabrewings, but Louie knew they had opted to just buy new furniture for her rather than drag the old, broken-down pieces out from under the stage. Which meant that there was still a bed. Add to that the fact that only a few people knew the room even existed, and it was about as safe a place to crash as Louie could’ve asked for. Sure, it would probably be the first place his family would come looking for him, but they wouldn’t realize he was gone until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest. By that time, he’d be long gone.

Satisfied that the room was still secure and suitable for his purposes, Louie deposited his bag on the bed and headed back up. It was getting close to dinner time, and he hadn’t eaten since… when was the last time he’d eaten, anyway? Whatever the case, he needed food.

Seeing as he was already near the harbor, Louie decided to head towards a burger spot he knew of in the area. It was a bit of a hole in the wall, but it also served the juiciest hamburgers in Duckburg. Donald used to take the boys there for special occasions, or at least when he’d had a little extra money in his pocket.

I wonder… If Uncle Donald were here, would things have gone any differently?

His meal completed, Louie began walking down towards the docks. Scarcely aware of what he was doing, he soon found himself standing in front of the slip that had once held their houseboat. He sat down on the dock next to it and stared out over the harbor, watching as the sun gradually set in the west.

It’s funny. For years, this was our whole world, just right here. Then, all of a sudden, everything changed, and now…

Now, the slip was empty.

There’s no going back now.

Chapter Text

There were precisely two people in Duckburg for whom Goldie would come, if called. One of them was a miserable old miser who was generally too proud to reach out himself. It had happened, but not often and not recently. Probably never, ever since he’d started doing his adventuring with a pack of children in tow.

The other, part of the latest batch of said children, was currently sitting at an outdoor table of a small Duckburg bistro, looking lost in his own thoughts.

Louie Duck. If Goldie was being honest with herself, she was still figuring out Louie Duck. She’d been surprised when he’d reached out to her a month or so before, looking to learn from her. No other child associated with Scrooge had ever looked at her as anything other than his on-again-off-again significant other, and the idea of a McDuck kid interested in doing things her way had intrigued her.

Of course, that didn’t stop her from robbing him blind, but she’d learned more about him over the course of their little scheme at that Drake brat’s house. He had a passion for riches that might even surpass hers or Scrooge’s. He had a pragmatic, analytical mind, and a talent for planning. He had no love for adventure for its own sake, only for the rewards it could bring him. He could be ruthless, but was still a bit tender-hearted when it came right down to it.

On one hand, that tender-heartedness had been something of a blessing for Goldie, since it was what drove him to save her. On the other, it was why she refused to feel guilty over making off with the loot herself.

I agreed to teach him. Kid had to learn that particular lesson sooner than later.

OK, maybe she felt a little guilty.

Given all that, she hadn’t expected to hear from him again so soon after. The fact that she had pointed to one of two possibilities. The first was that he hadn’t, in fact, learned that lesson. The second was that he was out for revenge. Of the two, Goldie hoped it was the second. Not that there was any way she thought he would get one over on her, but at least that would show he was learning, and still trying. He had a bright future ahead of him in the shady arts, if he kept at it.

As she approached the table, Louie finally took notice of her, jumping up to pull out the table’s other chair for her.

Goldie raised an eyebrow as she sat down. “Such a gentleman. Scrooge teach you that?”

At the mention of his uncle, Louie’s look darkened for a moment. “Wrong uncle. If I was taking after Scrooge where you’re concerned, I would’ve stayed sitting, glaring and muttering alliterative insults. Which, given what happened last time we met, is probably what I should be doing, but Uncle Donald always tried to teach us manners, and I guess some of it stuck.”

What was that look about?

“Well, I suppose I’ll have to thank him when I see him next. If you’d have come in here acting like Scrooge, I’m not sure any of my usual methods for putting him in a better mood would have worked on you.”

Louie made a face. “Don’t be gross, Aunt Goldie.”

“What’s with the ‘Aunt Goldie’, kid? We’re not on a scheme.”

“Oh, uh. If you don’t like it, I can stop…” he replied, seeming to deflate a little.

Oh, for the love of…

“You know what? It’s fine. But if you ever call me that if front of your uncle, I will end you. Understood?”

“Perfectly.”

“Good, and another thing: if you’re going to call me ‘aunt’, you’ve got to put up with things like this.” Goldie continued, reaching across the table to fasten two of the three buttons Louie had left open on his shirt. “I can see what you were going for here, but you don’t have the chest for it yet, Sharpie.”

Louie scowled, blushing and batting her hands away in a manner so eerily reminiscent of his great-uncle that Goldie was struck by a jolt of déjà vu. He did, however, leave the buttons done.

---------------------------------------------------------

Nodding her thanks to the waiter as he delivered their post-meal coffees, Goldie turned back to regard her lunch companion.

“Alright, kid. As fun as this had been, let’s get to it. Why did you call me here?"

Across from her, Louie took a deep breath, straightening his back and squaring his shoulders, as if he were about to give a speech.

“I need a job.”

Well, not much of a speech, but I’m guessing there’s more.

“Get a paper route. What’s this got to do with me?”

“A paper route? What is this, the fifties? I don’t need quarters for the arcade, I need a job. A job job.”

Well, it seems the kid hasn’t learned his lesson after all. Disappointing…

“Huh. Well, I must say, Sharpie, I’m a little surprised you’re looking to work together again after the way last time went for you. You really are much more forgiving than your uncle.”

“Not really. If you think I’m over having over 200 million stolen from me by someone I’d literally just saved, think again.” replied Louie, with a roll of his eyes. “This is about necessity. I need a lot of money, and I need it quickly. You’re the best person I know for getting that, whether I trust you or not.”

Goldie, narrowed her eyes at this. “OK, some questions. First off, you’re the beloved nephew of the richest duck in the world. Why do you need a lot of money, quickly?”

At this, Louie’s face fell, and Goldie felt her heart fall with it.

It was ridiculous. She’d only met the kid twice before, and only ever spent significant time with him one of those times. She thought she had a pretty good read on him, but not enough to be able to read his face the way she could Scrooge’s. Hell, apart from a few mannerisms, there wasn’t a whole lot of resemblance between the two. Maybe there would be one day, but Goldie hadn’t known Scrooge when he was Louie’s age.

It didn’t matter. She didn’t have to know his face that well to know it should never look like that.

“Look, things at the manor… they’re just not working out anymore” said Louie, visibly struggling to replace his crestfallen look with one of determination. He had just about succeeded when he continued. “That’s why I need a job. One that will set me up with enough money to go and make a life for myself somewhere else. Look, I know you usually work alone, but I’m willing to be you’ve got schemes you’ve had to give up or put a hold on because you couldn’t pull them off alone. Or maybe you could use another set of eyes to check for angles you might’ve missed. Bring me in! We pick a job, split the haul, then go our separate ways.”

Well, that’s certainly a lot to take in. Lot of questions, most of which I’m betting he won’t answer. Better tread lightly here…

“When you say things at the manor aren’t working out… that have anything to do with why you’re meeting me in Duckburg, and you said there’s no one at the manor?”

Louie’s face darkened again. “I left yesterday afternoon, they won’t have noticed I’m gone until later this afternoon, and that’s all you need to know.”

“Well, not all I need to know. What makes you so sure you can trust me this time, if it’s as important as you’re making it seem?”

A laugh. “Who says I trust you? I need you, there’s a difference. I trust myself to learn from my mistakes last time and not let you get the better of me.”

Confidant much, kid? OK, let’s see how far that gets you…

Goldie sipped her coffee. “You know, you’re awfully young to be talking about going off on your own. Even if I say yes, and we pick a job, pull it off, and you manage to keep your cut, how are you planning on living alone as an eleven-year-old.?”

“Why, Aunt Goldie, you almost sound concerned!” Louie replied, a wry grin spreading across his beak. “Besides, I’m almost twelve, not that much younger than Scrooge was when he left home, and if this works I’ll have a several million dollar head start on him. I can make it. I just need the opportunity.”

“I can’t decide if your overconfidence is inspiring or foolhardy.”

“Why not both?”

Goldie sat in silence for a few moments, considering all the information that had been presented to her. She wasn’t getting the full story, that much was clear, but she had a feeling trying to force it out of Louie wouldn’t be productive. No, she’d need to go to another source for that. But in the meantime…

Louie left out an impatient huff. “Look, I came to you because I considered my options and figured this was the best way to get what I need. I do have back-up plans though, so if you’re not onboard with this one, fine. Just let me know so I can get on with the next one. Either way, I’m not going back to the manor.”

With that, he produced a green backpack from under the table and made to get up from his seat. Goldie shot her hand across the table, grasping him by the wrist.

“Calm down, Sharpie, I’m just going over the angles.”

“Well, I need a decision here. Time is becoming a factor.”

Goldie studied his face for a moment.

Kid doesn’t look like he slept well, but then he always kinda looks like that. He does look about ready to bolt though, so I guess that’s my answer for him, at least until I figure out the rest of the story…

She released his wrist, before turning her hand sideways.

Louie studied her face a moment, before breaking into a wide smile. He extended his own arm out, clasping Goldie’s hand.

They shook.

Chapter Text

“I didn’t know you had a place in Duckburg, Aunt Goldie.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Sharpie. And by the way, this is another thing that we won’t be telling your uncle.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, I get it!”

Silence reigned for a moment as they rode the elevator up to Goldie’s apartment, before Louie spoke again.

“So why do you have an apartment in Duckburg? I didn’t think you were here often enough to need a place. Just don’t like hotel rooms or something?”

Goldie chuckled to herself a bit before answering. “I’m actually in town a lot more often than you’d think. It’s just that I don’t always have the time to go and bother your uncle. That always turns into a thing, and sometimes I just need to handle my business in a timely manner.”

Louie made a face at her implication, but refrained from commenting.

Finally, the elevator dinged and opened up right into the living room of Goldie’s apartment. Her young companion’s eyes went wide as he stepped inside.

“Whoa, you’ve got the penthouse suite as your ‘sometimes I crash here on business trips’ apartment? Your landlord must love you.”

“Of course she does,” Goldie smiled to herself as Louie made his way over to the sliding glass door that lead to the balcony, overlooking the harbor “she’s me.”

“What?!” Louie exclaimed, whipping back around to face her. “You own this building?”

“Mmm-hmm. Here’s another lesson for you, kid: stealing things is both fun and profitable, but you always want to have a legitimate income stream for when the taxmen come sniffing around. Real-estate is a great investment, if you know how to pick your locations. I’ve got properties all over the place.”

“Yeah? Like where else?”

“Nice try, Sharpie. Guest room’s down that hall, second door on the left. It’s got a bathroom, so go ahead and get yourself cleaned up. You smell like you slept in those clothes.”

“I actually didn’t…” muttered Louie, though he headed down the hallway anyway to do as he was told.

-----------------------------------------------------------

He reemerged a few minutes later, freshly showered and changed back into his familiar green hooded sweatshirt. Watching him walk back into the living room, Goldie belatedly realized that their earlier lunch was the first time she’d seen Louie wearing any outfit that wasn’t at least partially green.

Coincidence? You’ve only met him a few times. Or was he looking to not look like himself, in case someone was looking for him? Something to look into…

As he approached, Goldie motioned for him to take a seat next to her on the couch. Spread out on the coffee table in front of her were three manilla folders. Louie glanced at them, then at her, before taking his seat beside her. Once he was settled, Goldie began.

“OK, Sharpie, here’s the deal: in each of these three folders are the details of a scheme I could never quite crack. All of them have a window of opportunity coming up soon. If you can work out a feasible plan of action for any of the three of them, then we’re in business. If not, well, you said you had back-up plans.”

Louie nodded, a determined look settling on his face. “Can I have a pencil, and something to write on?”

Very professional, Sharpie. Getting right to it. I like that.

Goldie headed back to her office, returning moments later with two pencils and a legal pad. She set them on the table next to Louie, who was already engrossed in one of the files. She glanced at her watch.

“Alright, I wasn’t expecting my day to go this way, and I do have a bit of work that still needs to be done, so I’ll leave you to it. I’ll be in my office, and under no circumstances are you to disturb me, except for maybe a fire. And this building has a sprinkler system, so just don’t do it. Understood?”

Louie sat up and gave her a sarcastic little salute. She just rolled her eyes and mussed up his hair before heading back to her office.

----------------------------------------------------------

Goldie hadn’t been lying. Not this time, anyway. She hadn’t planned on being in Duckburg today, and definitely hadn’t planned on taking in her sometime-partner’s runaway nephew, so she had to spend a couple of hours on the phone attending to various business concerns.

Having accomplished this, she turned her mind to the next item on her agenda. Goldie O’Gilt may have been a semi-amoral thief, but she was also a professional. She didn’t act on partial information, and if there was one thing she was sure of at the moment, it was that her dear ‘nephew’ Llewelyn wasn’t giving her the full story. So, in order to cover all of her bases, she was going to have to talk to someone who would, or would at least fill in the pieces she was missing.

Patting herself on the back for her foresight in having her office soundproofed, Goldie dialed the number. A rather haggard sounding voice answered.

"Who is this?!”

“Wow, Scroogie. Do you just never answer the phone like a normal person?”

A deep, bone-tired sigh from the other end. ”Goldie, I… I cannae with you right now. Me mansion’s in ruins and…”

“And let me guess: you’re missing something. Or maybe someone?”

Silence over the line. But only just for a moment.

”You devious devil woman! Did you kidnap Louie?! Put him on the phone this instant!”

“Easy Scroogie, don’t go spitting all over your spats. When have you ever known me to kidnap one of your kids?”

”Gladstone in ’97, when you were going after that Leprechaun King’s horde!”

Damn, she walked right into that one. Still, she was innocent this particular time.

“Oh, that doesn’t count. Gladstone’s not even your nephew, technically. And anyway, I didn’t kidnap Sharpie. He came to me. And from the sound of things, it’s a damn good thing he did!”

Scrooge is silent for a moment. She can almost see the look on his face as he starts to piece things together. Finally, he responds.

”When? When did he come to you? And how did he find you?”

“He called me yesterday, asked me if I was in Duckburg. I wasn’t, but I said I could meet him at the manor today. He said that no one would be there, and that I should meet him in town instead. Now I know why. Hopefully he wasn’t there when whatever happened happened.”

”No,” replied Scrooge, sounding pained ”he was here, at least when it started. Is he alright, Goldie? Is he hurt?”

“He’s not injured, I can tell you that much, though I don’t know if I’d say he’s alright. I’ve got a couple questions for you though, now that you mention it. Care to tell me why the kid said he left the manor yesterday afternoon, but no one would miss him until this afternoon?”

“He’d been grounded. We went on a wee adventure, then had to stop by the bin to settle my wager with Glomgold. We only just got back a few minutes ago.”

Goldie gave a little frown at that. “So who was watching Louie?”

”Err… pardon?”

“I’m not expert on parenting, but I’m pretty sure you don’t just ground a kid, then leave them alone all weekend. Who was watching him?”

A beat. ”Duckworth.” Another beat. ”And the DT-87.”

“… That seemed like a much better idea until you said it out loud, didn’t it? Did you not even try calling him the whole last day you were gone?”

”Goldie, will you please put him on the phone?”

“Hmm, about that, Scroogie. I’m not sure that would be a good idea right now.”

”What?! Why in blazes not?!”

Of course. Of course Scrooge would think this was something he could just step in and fix. For the sharpest duck in the world, the old man could be surprisingly dull.

“Because every time I so much as mention your name his face turns into a thundercloud? Reminds me of someone I know actually. Because he came to me looking for a job to make himself enough money to go and start a life somewhere else? Because he said, and I quote, ‘Either way, I’m not going back to the manor’. Whatever you’ve got to say, Scroogie, I guarantee you the kid doesn’t want to hear it. In fact, I’m pretty sure he’d bolt if he knew I was talking to you.”

A sigh. ”Well, where are you then? Or can we meet you somewhere?”

“You’re not getting it, Scrooge. I wasn’t kidding when I said his angry face reminded me of someone. He’s got his shoulders set like you did back in the Klondike, when you were going to do what you were going to do, and you weren’t going to listen to anything anyone had to say otherwise. You drag him home now, and he’ll run off again the next chance he gets.”

Scrooge is silent for a few moments before letting out another sigh. ”Is it that bad then?”

Goldie shrugs. “You know him better than I do, but then I know you better than you do. Speaking of, I did have a question for you. Does the kid ever wear anything that isn’t at least part green?”

She can almost see his confused blinking at her apparent non-sequitur. ”Er, no. Not as long as I’ve known him. Why?”

“Well, he turned up for lunch today in a yellow shirt and brown jacket, so make of that what you will.”

A few more moments of silence followed. ”So, what do you suggest we do then?”

Goldie smiled to herself. All according to plan…

“Well, the way I see it, this goes one of three ways. First, Sharpie goes his own way like he intends to. As much as I admire his drive, I’m not totally comfortable just releasing an eleven-year-old into the world, even one as talented as he is. Though he did bring up that he’s not much younger than you were when you left home, so be prepared to defend yourself there at some point.”

”It was a different time!”

“Honestly Scrooge, even I know that argument doesn’t work on kids. Second, he stays with me, and we travel the world conning chumps out of their cash, one scheme at a time.”

”Over my dead body. Which I will booby-trap.”

“Such a sweet-talker. But, as much fun as that would be, I’m not really looking to adopt right now. So that leaves us option three: he stays with me a few days, just long enough to cool down, and I use my considerable manipulation skills to convince him that he wants to go home. I don’t know what else has been going on over there, and I’m sure I still don’t have the full story, but at that point it’s up to you all to work on. That acceptable to you, Moneybags?”

Another pregnant pause, during which Goldie envisioned Scrooge collapsing into whatever chair was nearest and least-destroyed, pushing up his glasses to rub at the bridge of his nose.

Finally, he spoke. ”Please be gentle with him, Goldie.”

Goldie frowned. “It’s generally not my habit to be too cruel to children, but I if I’m too nice to him, then he won’t want to leave.”

”I know, only after last time… he doesn’t often let it show, but he’s a sensitive sort, and this year has been hard on him. Just…”

“I’ll be careful.” she says, finishing for him. “As it happens, I like this one, Scroogie. I’ll take care of him.”

”Thank you, lass.”

-----------------------------------------------------

Goldie entered her living room to find her erstwhile protegee hard at work. Two of the files on the table were closed, with several sheets of yellow legal paper sticking out of both. The third was open, with Louie shuffling around its various pages while taking notes on the pad. He looked up as he heard her approach.

“Hey, Aunt Goldie. Finished with your business?”

“For the moment.”

“Anything interesting?”

“Nothing you need to know about, Sharpie.”

Louie narrowed his eyes at her at this for a moment, before shrugging and going back to his notes. “Just give me a few minutes and I’ll be done with this last one.”

“Take your time, I’m going to make myself a drink. You thirsty?”

“Pep, if you’ve got it.”

Goldie did, in fact, have a can of Pep in the back of her fridge, which she brought out alongside her own bourbon neat just as Louie was putting the finishing touches on his third plan.

She sat back down on the couch beside him. “Ok, kid. What have you got for me?”

“Well, I’ve got ideas for all three, but I really feel the best about this one.” Louie replied, handing her the first file.

Goldie raised her eyebrows. “The Jade Bengal? You really swing for the fences, huh Sharpie?”

“I do, I really do. See, I know you’d written this off because El Toro and his men all know you on sight, but I think we can actually use that to our advantage if we just…”

As Louie excitedly walked her through his plan, a pleasantly warm feeling started to spread through Goldie that had nothing to do with her drink. It was nice, having an apprentice to share this with. She’d never thought it would be, but it was.

You know you can’t keep him, but there’s nothing to say you can’t enjoy this while it lasts.

Chapter Text

It had been, Huey thought, one heck of a day. Even by the Duck Family’s standards.

Adventuring? That’s any day that ends with a ‘y’. Fighting off all of Scrooge’s non-Greek god enemies? A little less normal, but nothing that out of the ordinary either. Doing both in one day? Now, that’s got to be a first. And it’s only the middle of the afternoon.

Shaking his head amusedly at the thought, Huey surveyed the scene before him. Della, Mrs. B, and Gizmoduck (whose timely arrival had broken the stalemate and sent the villains running) were off to one side giving their statements to Officer Cabrera, Scrooge was conferring with a rather stunned looking Zan Owlson…

You’d think she’d be used to this kind of thing, having worked for Glomgold.

… Webby was helping Launchpad get the limo ready to drive them all back to the manor, and Dewey…

Wait, where’s Dewey?!

Huey’s momentary panic subsided somewhat when he caught sight of his younger brother, seated up against the wall of the Bin some distance away from everyone else. Still, that by itself was un-Deweyish enough to cause some worry. This was exacerbated by the expression on the blue triplet’s face: a small frown and slightly narrowed eyes, staring vaguely over the bay towards the city.

Huey jogged over towards him, unwilling to chance anything else going sideways that day.

“Dewey! Are you alright?”

The triplet in question startled slightly at the question, before looking up at his older brother with a bit of a rueful grin. “Oh, yeah. Sorry, just kinda spaced out there for a second.”

Huey looked his brother up and down, trying to detect any injuries. “Are you sure? You want me to get Mom or Mrs. B?”

Dewey rolled his eyes. “They already checked me over, Huey. You were sitting right next to me, remember?”

“Oh, yeah. I guess I was.” replied Huey, somewhat sheepishly. He leaned up against the wall, sliding down to take a seat next to his brother. “Are you sure everything’s ok, though? It’s not like you to be all quiet after a fight like that. Usually, you’re bouncing off the walls until we have to get Webby to restrain you.”

Dewey shrugged. “Just thinkin’, I guess. That so hard to believe?”

“Considering the source? Yes.”

Huey got an elbow to the ribs for that little comment, but Dewey was smiling, so he figured no harm done. The brothers sat in companionable silence for a few moments before Huey spoke again.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I dunno. It’s just… Did all this kinda feel…” Dewey gestured with his hands in front of him, as if he might pluck out the words he was looking for out of the air. “… wrong to you?”

Huey frowned. “You mean getting attacked by all of Uncle Scrooge’s enemies at once? I don’t know about ‘wrong’, that’s the kind of thing that just happens to our family.”

“No, not that. That was fun! I mean, Louie would’ve hated it, but…”

Oh. Of course. How did I not figure that out?

“… but he wasn’t here, and it felt wrong.” Huey finished for his brother.

The thing was, Huey had felt similarly all weekend. Frankly, he always felt that way whenever the three of them weren’t together. It probably isn’t healthy, he suspects, but he’s never been quite able to relax when he doesn’t have both of his brothers in his sight.

If he can’t see them, he can’t protect them.

He knows this annoys Dewey and Louie, so he does his best to keep it under control. He reminds himself that his brothers are plenty capable of taking care of themselves. Most of the time, anyway. He also tries to remember that their care isn’t his responsibility alone. They have Uncle Donald, Uncle Scrooge, Mrs. B, and now Mom. He knows there are times when he needs to defer to the adults in taking care of his brothers.

This weekend had been one of those times. The adults had made their decision, and they all just needed to live with it. So, Huey would push his anxiety deep down, where he kept all the other emotions he couldn’t afford to let out. He could do it. He had lots of practice.

Dewey, in contrast, rarely ever had an emotion he didn’t let the whole world know about. It surprised Huey then, that he’d failed to pick up on what his younger brother had been feeling.

Or maybe you just weren’t paying close enough attention…

Huey shook that thought off as quickly as he could, refocusing on Dewey, who had started speaking again.

“I felt it all weekend though. Like, when we met the Hobo King, I literally turned around ‘cause I wanted to see the look on Louie’s face, and he just wasn’t there. Or when we were floating down the river of Pep, I couldn’t really enjoy it. All I kept thinking was ‘man, Louie would just love this’. Didn’t feel right, doing it without him.”

Huey sighed. “Yeah, I get it. I really do. But Mom decided he needed to be grounded; it wasn’t up to us.”

“Yeah. But why though?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I mean, I know the Timephoon was bad, but was it really that much worse than anything else we do, like, all the time?”

Huey just stared at him. “Did you miss the part where we were all almost stranded in time?”

Dewey shrugged. “How many times has Scrooge almost gotten us all killed? How many times have I? Give me a choice, I’d rather be stranded in time. Dead is dead.”

Huey took a moment to process this. Dewey was… making a disturbing amount of sense.

And apparently, he wasn’t done. “But ok, sure, say he deserved to be grounded. Why’d we have to do Big Rock Candy Mountain this week? That wasn’t the plan until the other night, and that was like, the one adventure he really wanted to do. It just kinda seems… mean.”

No. No that can’t be. Because if it was, and I just let it happen… No, it’s fine. Louie might be a little mad, but he’ll get over it. We’ll get home, everyone will hug, and everything will be fine. Now, you reassure your other brother of this so he doesn’t have to feel bad anymore.

Huey took a deep breath before responding. “Look, Dewey, I know it seems like a lot, but Louie will get over it. Besides, his plan with the Time Tub wasn’t about adventure, it was just about greed. He’s got to learn not to let that take precedence over everything else.”

Dewey looked back at him like he’d grown a second head. “Hue… you do realize we’re leaning up against a gigantic building built to hold all the treasure Scrooge has come away with over the years? I don’t think anyone in this family can throw stones about greed. Besides, he kinda hates most adventures. He just does them because we all do.”

OK, that’s a point. Or two.

While Huey puzzled over what to say next, Dewey continued. “I tried calling him on the way here. He didn’t pick up.”

Huey frowned. That was a little odd. Louie always had his phone on him. “Did he send you right to voicemail?”

“Nope. It rang all the way through.”

Welp, sounds like he is plenty mad. How are you going to fix everything now, smart guy?

“He’s probably just sulking. The DT-87 hasn’t reported anymore schemes since yesterday. Listen, we’ll just get home, everyone can hug it out, we’ll give him his souvenirs…”

“You think he’ll want those?”

“What?”

“I mean, I don’t think I’d want some little trinkets to always remind me of the family adventure I got left behind for.”

Huey was saved from having to come up with a reply by his mother’s arrival.

“There you two are! C’mon, it’s time to go home and get your brother!”

Della reached down and hauled her eldest two sons up by the arm, then herded them back towards the limo where the rest of their family was waiting.

Buckling himself into his seat, Huey caught Dewey’s eyes once more as the car’s engine came to life and they started down the road towards McDuck Manor.

It’s going to be fine. We’re the Duck Boys.

Chapter Text

Huey hated being wrong. Hated it.

Being wrong meant working off of bad information. Working off of bad information led to mistakes. Mistakes led to people getting hurt.

Therefore, Huey put a lot of time and effort into being wrong as little as possible. His brothers might tease him for his dedication to the Junior Woodchuck Guidebook, but the lessons it contained enabled him to approach almost any conceivable situation with a plan. Following said plan enabled him and, by extension, his family to navigate any number of dangerous situations and come away in one piece.

Unfortunately, the current edition of the JWG lacked a “What To Do When Your House Has Been Destroyed With Your Little Brother Inside” section.

The last few minutes of their limo-ride had, predictably, devolved into a state of general panic once the manor had come into view. There was Uncle Scrooge, muttering ancient Gaelic curses under his breath in between yelling at Launchpad to get them home faster. Mrs. Beakley, whispering reassurances to Webby, all the while sharing concerned looks with Scrooge that completely undercut any comfort she meant to give. Della, attempting to do the same for Huey and Dewey, but pretty clearly fighting a losing battle with utter panic.

Huey could relate.

And Dewey…

Dewey just sat there, utterly still in a way that would’ve terrified Huey were he not already scared out of his wits, staring up the hill at the manor.

He’s going to lose it. If anything’s happened to Louie, he is going to just lose it, and I won’t be able to do anything about it, ‘cause if anything’s happened to Louie…

It took every bit of self-control he had, but Huey hit the brakes on that train of thought so fast that any passengers on said train would have been violently thrown forward. He couldn’t start thinking like that. Louie was fine. Louie would be fine. Louie had to be fine…

The limo pulled up in front of the manor, and before it had even come to a complete stop, Dewey took off like a shot out of the door and up the front steps. Huey would have been impressed, had he not been right behind him. The brothers had almost reached the remains of the front door, when Scrooge managed to catch up to them, grabbing Huey by the shoulder and hooking Dewey’s collar with his cane, the pushing them into the arms of Mrs. Beakley and Launchpad, respectively.

“Lads! We’ll nae be able to help your brother if whatever did all this gets you too! Now, get ye behind me!”

Frantically grasping at the last shreds of belief he had in the adults in his life to handle the situation, Huey obeyed, standing with Mrs. Beakley next to Webby, who grasped his hand so tightly he would have been concerned about broken bones were he not already in a total panic. Dewey, never one to stand down even when ordered, resorted to punching, kicking, and biting in a thus far futile effort to free himself from Launchpad’s grasp. Meanwhile, Della, looking every bit a panicked as Huey felt, stepped past them to come up behind Scrooge.

“Uncle Scrooge, how did this happen?” she asked, an edge to her voice Huey had never heard before. “Where is the DT-87? Where’s Duckworth?”

“Uh, Mr. McDee?” Launchpad cut in over the still-thrashing Dewey, pointing at a bit of wreckage over by the pool. “I think that’s the DT-87 over there. Well, part of it, anyway.”

Scrooge narrowed his eyes. “On your guard, everyone. Anything that could get past that robot and Duckworth is nae a thing to be trifled with.”

With that, Huey’s uncle stepped through the doorway, followed by Della, Mrs. Beakley, Huey, Webby, and finally Launchpad and Dewey, whose struggling now included the kind of language Huey would be reprimanding him for under any other circumstances. As they entered, Huey’s gaze fell upon a medium sized stone laying on the carpet near the entryway. He was about to point this out when Scrooge noticed it himself.

“A ghost-banishing amulet. Magica has been here. Curse that malevolent mage...”

“Magica? Magica DeSpell?” If it were possible, even more color drained from Della’s face. “Scrooge, if she was here, and she got to Louie…”

Whatever their mother was about to say was interrupted by a yelp from Launchpad, indicating one of Dewey’s flailings had hit home. The blue-clad triplet hit the ground, then took off at a dead sprint across the foyer towards the stairs. Without a thought, Huey shrugged Beakley’s hand off his shoulder and took off after his brother, barely registering when Webby followed suit. None of the three looked back when the adults called out for them to stop, instead making their way up the stairs and down the hallway, with a very specific destination in mind.

The door to the triplet’s bedroom, like most of the doors they had passed thus far, appeared to have been ripped off its hinges. Huey skidded into the room on Dewey’s heels, eyes darting back and forth in a frantic search for any sign of their brother. Webby entered right after, and the distinctive sound of a metal foot banging against the floorboards told him that Della was close behind.

Ok, assess the situation: room’s a mess, looks like someone rifled through everything quickly, will have to check later to see if anything’s missing. No sign of Louie, which is bad. No blood or pulled-out feathers, which is good. How do we find out if he was here when whatever the mansion was attacked?

Suddenly, an idea hit, and Huey turned to Dewey, who was making his own scan of the room. “Mattress.”

Recognition flashed behind Dewey’s eyes before he nodded. “Floorboard.”

Ignoring the confused look on Webby’s face, Huey knelt down on the floor, feeling across the floorboards until his finger caught on a specific spot. As he pried the board up, he could hear Dewey behind him untucking the sheets from Louie’s bed, about to reach into the slash in the mattress they both knew was there. Neither reacted when Della burst into the room, breathlessly admonishing them for running off before asking if there’d been any sign of Louie.

Finally, the floorboard came loose, and Huey felt himself relax a little at what was inside.

Or rather, what wasn’t inside.

“Huey?”

Huey closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, trying to will his heart rate back to something resembling normal. “The coins are gone. How about the mattress?”

Some of the tension bleeds off of Dewey at his brother’s words, though he still looks like he might explode at any moment. “Cleaned out.”

A look of confusion joins the panic on Della’s face, though Webby’s reveals a look of realization. “He took the money out of his hiding places? So you think he might’ve gotten away on his own?”

Huey nods, turning towards his mother and surrogate sister. “At least at first. He wouldn’t have given up his stashes if someone was trying to take him.” He turned back towards Dewey “How much money do you think he had in there?”

“Hard to say.” Dewey shrugged. “A couple hundred, maybe? He had a pretty big roll, but a lot of it might’ve been ones.”

“Wait, where did Louie get a couple hundred dollars from? And why did he have it in his mattress?” asked Della, looking very much out of her depth.

Dewey glanced at Huey before replying. “Allowances, bets, selling things he picks up on adventures. It’s Louie; he’s always working an angle.”

“As for why in the mattress, he picked it up from Uncle Donald. He always kept emergency money hidden away in case something bad happened. Once Louie started getting money of his own, he did it to.” Huey supplied. “He calls it his Oh Shit Stash.”

Did you just curse in front of your mother?! Wait, it doesn’t look like she noticed… Right, more important things happening.

If anything, the look of confusion on their mother’s face deepened. “Why would Donnie have needed to… nevermind, not the issue right now. So, you think your brother took his emergency money and left? Where would he have gone?”

Huey frowned. “I’m not sure. Maybe the Sabrewings? Webby, can you check? Where else…” He turned to Dewey. “Doofus Drake?”

His brother scoffed. “After last time? No chance. You really think he’d go there if he was in danger here? I know you and Boyd are cool now, but I think Louie’s still got some trauma from when he almost bludgeoned him to death.”

“When he almost what?” Apparently, Della hadn’t heard that story.

“Lena and Violet haven’t heard from him.” Webby interjected, looking up from her phone. “What about Gladstone?”

“Maybe, but he would’ve called Uncle Scrooge to let him know he had Louie, right?”

Wait. That’s it. ‘Called’

Huey turned back towards his brother. “Have you tried calling him again since the flight back?”

“No, I haven’t. “ replied Dewey, his eyes wide with realization. Quickly, the blue triplet produced his phone, hitting the redial button so hard Huey could’ve sworn the screen bent a little. He raised the phone to his ear, as the rest of the room waited with baited breath.

Bzzzz!

Huey met his brother’s gaze, sure the wide-eyed shock he saw there was reflected on his own face.

Bzzzz!

Huey hit the floor, eyes darting furiously back and forth, searching for the source of the buzzing.

Bzzzz!

There, underneath his desk, a familiar green smartphone sat, and incoming call flashing on its screen. Huey reached out and grabbed it, the numbly turned back to face his brother. “He… left it?”

Dimly, Huey was aware that the agitation that had subsided in Dewey after they had found the money missing was now back full force. “That’s… no. No way. He would never… why? Why would he leave his phone?”

“Here, let me try something.”

At this, Huey removed his hat. He didn’t often have reason to go through his brothers’ private things, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and he and Louie looked similar enough that this just might work. Schooling his features into the best impression he could manage of his brother’s heavy-lidded face, Huey cued up the phone’s facial recognition.

Dewey made a face. “Ugh. How does it not freak you guys out doing that?”

“Fair’s fair. He pretended to be me to try and fool the DT-87 yesterday.”

“Of course, he did.” Despite the circumstances, Dewey managed a small chuckle, turning towards Della and Webby. “He used to do that all the time in school. Drove our teachers nuts. It was hilarious.”

Despite the obvious worry emanating off of every inch of her, Della looked intrigued. “Really? And it worked?”

“Sometimes. Louie can do a great Huey, but Huey’s not much of an actor. Can’t lie to save his life.”

“Hey, I can lie! I’m just… better at telling the truth. Now, be quiet. I need to concentrate if this is going to work.”

As if on cue, the phone’s facial recognition software detected a match, unlocking itself. Huey heaved a sigh of relief, shifting his thoughts towards what he could check that could give him any clue as to where his brother had gone and why he’d left his phone. Before he could open up any applications however, a video started to play.

“Ethics is concerned with how your actions negatively affect those around you.”

Huey’s eyes shot up from his brother’s phone, and fixed themselves on the person appearing in said video. “Mom?”

Chagrin joined worry on Della Duck’s face. “I didn’t want him to just spend all weekend watching TV on his phone, so I might have had Gyro upload a bunch of videos of me reading from a book on Ethics.”

Huey frowned, looking back down at the phone. “I can pause it, but it’s not letting me do anything else.”

“Well, yeah. I didn’t want him to just be able to get around them. Kinda would’ve defeated the purpose.”

“Hang on a second.”

Della and Huey both turned at Dewey’s interjection, and Huey’s blood turned to ice at the expression on his brother’s face.

It was the same expression he’d had in the limo.

“Are you telling me you bricked Louie’s phone before we left him at home by himself all weekend?”

Their mother cringed, before reaching out to Dewey. “Honey, I just wanted to make sure his punishment stuck.”

Dewey stepped back from her touch. “By making it so he couldn’t call us if something went wrong?! And something did go wrong, in case you haven’t noticed!”

“Duckworth and the DT-87…”

“Fat lot of good either of them did! I knew it! I knew this was wrong as soon as we left, and I didn’t say anything, and now Louie’s gone, and…”

“Dewey!” Huey interjected, desperate to jump in and stop his brother before he said something he couldn’t take back. “Dewey, you’ve gotta calm down. We’re all worried, but we’ve got to find Louie. Everything else can wait until then.”

He placed his hand on his brother’s shoulder, using his thumb to trace circles there in a way that used to soothe Dewey when they’d all been younger. He glanced around the room, to Webby, who frankly looked a little shell-shocked, and to Della, who seemed torn between wanting to reach out to her sons and afraid of what would happen if she tried. The expression on Dewey’s face didn’t soften any, but he didn’t seem primed for another outburst at least.

Ok, deep breath, I can work with this.

“So, here’s what we know: we can guess Magica was here, because who else would have an amulet that banishes ghosts? If she was here, that probably means all of Uncle Scrooge’s other enemies were here too, since they were all together today. But when they came to the vault today, none of them mentioned Louie at all. If they’d kidnapped him, or done… something else, they would’ve said so, right? They’d have no reason to do something to him and not throw it in our faces. So, the question is: was Louie here when they attacked, what happened to him then, and where is he now?”

“He was here, he managed to get away without the villains knowing he was, and he’s with Goldie O’Gilt at the moment.”

The occupants of the room’s heads all whipped around at once at the arrival of Scrooge McDuck, looking every bit of 160-some-odd years-old and tailed by Launchpad and Mrs. Beakley.

Della found her voice first. “He’s with Goldie? As in your ex, Goldie? How? Why?”

Scrooge sighed. “As for how, the lad stole her card out of me rolodex a few months back, struck up something of a friendship with her. It all ended in tears, as things with Goldie usually do, or so I thought. As for why…”

Scrooge paused here, and looked over Huey, Dewey, and Webby, as if trying to pick his next words based on their presence. After a moment, he produced a credit card and thrust it towards Launchpad.

“Launchpad, take the children town to the Drake Grand, get a handful of rooms. We’ll not be able to sleep here until things are cleaned up. Della, Beakley, and I will be along.”

“No.”

The collected group’s faces all turned to Huey at his declaration. Launchpad looked somewhat confused, but that wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Mrs. Beakley looked like she wanted to scold him for backtalking his uncle, but was also annoyed enough with said uncle herself that she wouldn’t. Della… well, Huey’s mom looked like she might break down at any second.

Dewey…

Dewey stepped right up next to Huey, fixing all the adults in the group with a hard glare.

Webby…

Webby stepped up to Huey’s other side, at once fearless in the face of any challenge, and at the same time clearly terrified of defying her idol and grandmother.

Someone was missing, but they would find him again. They would be whole.

But not if they kept being lied to.

“No. You don’t get to lie to us about this. Or keep things from us. We’ve already seen where that road goes. Where is our brother?”

Scrooge considered the children for a moment before replying.

“I don’t know.”

“WHAT?!”

Very vaguely, Huey was aware of Dewey and Webby grabbing his arms as he surged forward, about to go for his great uncle’s neck. He’d thank them for it when he calmed down. Maybe.

“Lad, he’s safe! I’ll swear on me whole money bin tae that.”

“How do you know that if you don’t know where he is?!”

“Because while Goldie O’Gilt is a perennial pain in my pinfeathers, she’s not the type who would hurt a child. She’s a treacherous thief, and will likely break the poor lad’s heart again before all this is done, but he called her when he needed help, and she helped him. Is helping him. And she’s never been one to share her hideaways with me. So, I don’t know where he is, but I trust that he’s safe.”

Huey narrowed his eyes. “Not good enough. Did you talk to him?”

“Huey…”

“No. Did. You. Talk. To. My. Brother?”

“No, I didn’t, because he doesn’t know she called me!” Here, Scrooge ran a hand across his face, swearing once again in Gaelic. Huey supposes he’ll have to learn the language at some point.

The old duck took a seat on the lowest bunk. Louie’s bed.

“Your brother is right cross with us, lad. He went to Goldie because he was alone when the villains attacked the manor, and he told her he’ll nae come back. We will fix this. I swear to you we will. But if I know your brother, and myself, and your ma, and your uncle, I know he’ll need some time.”

At this, the old duck looked up to his niece, who was trying (and failing) to hold back tears.

“We’ve taken worse damage than this in the past, and always come back better for it. It’s taken time, but we will be whole again. I promise.”

Silence through the room for a moment. Della goes over to sit next to Scrooge on Louie’s bed, leaning in for a hug as he wraps an arm around her. Webby moves over to Mrs. Beakley, who smooths her hair even as she keeps sending significant glares Scrooge’s way.
Launchpad mutters something about getting the car ready and beats feet out of the room.

Huey turns towards Dewey, only to find his brother has his gaze fixed on Della and Scrooge.

“You’d better be right. You don’t get to lie to us again.”

With that, Dewey turned tail and followed Launchpad down the hall.

Chapter Text

Years ago, a conversation with Ludwig Von Drake had introduced Scrooge to the concept of ‘repetition compulsion’. According to the good professor, this concept described the unconscious tendency of a person to repeat tragic or traumatic events from their past, and could take the form re-enacting said events. More often, however, the compulsion manifested itself by a person putting their self in a situation where a similar event was likely to occur.

At the time, Scrooge had dismissed the idea as academic twaddle, certainly not applicable to him. He was Scrooge McDuck, after all. He was not about to entertain the notion of his own subconscious working against him.

Now, he rather suspected his old friend would have a thing or two to say about his current predicament, were he alive to see it.

Because here I am, all these years later, right back where I was. Curse me kilts…

‘Dealing With a Runaway Nephew’ was a hell of an event to keep repeating, but somehow, he’d managed it.

As close as they’d been, Donald and Scrooge had not had the easiest relationship through the younger’s adolescence. Both were stubborn as mules, and in possession of the same evil temper. Combine that with the rather traumatic situation that led to the twins coming to live with him in the first place, and things between nephew and uncle were rather combustible, at least until they each learned how to handle the other.

It was quite a journey to get to that point, however. More than once, arguments between them had deteriorated into outright shouting matches, with all the grace and tact one would expect from a grieving child and an old man with no child-rearing experience. On one of these occasions, after both had yelled themselves out and retreated to their respective rooms with emphatic door-slams, Scrooge had gone up to check on his nephew, hoping to mend fences now that they’d both gotten it out of their systems.

The sight of an empty bed and an open window had terrified him more than any monster, sorceress, or eldritch god he’d ever faced.

The next few hours had been spent in a blind panic (coupled with the nagging thought that, since Donald was proving adept at evading any and all attempts to locate him, perhaps Scrooge shouldn’t have taught him quite so much adventuring yet) before the phone finally rang late in the evening.

On the other end was the indominable Elvira Duck, née Coot, sounding equal parts bemused and disappointed. Yes, she had Donald, he was safe at the farm. No, she didn’t know how he’d gotten there, but would be sure to find out once he’d calmed down some. Yes, Scrooge was a thick old goat for letting things get so far out of hand. No, he should absolutely not come to the farm yet. Yes, he’d messed up badly. No, he hadn’t ruined everything, not if he learned from this. Yes, he absolutely should apologize, but only when Donald was ready to hear it.

It was a week before Donald turned back up at Scrooge’s door. After the door was opened for him, Donald stalked into the house, refusing to look at or even acknowledge his uncle in any way, before being tackled from the side by and equal parts elated and incensed Della. After a few moments of sibling squabbling, Donald stood and brushed himself off, shooting Scrooge a quick glare, before telling his sister that she and Scrooge were a little less annoying than living with Fethry full-time. He then turned tail and marched back up to his room.

A few minutes later, Scrooge knocked on his nephew’s door, receiving a muffled ‘It’s open.’

He opened the door to find Donald sprawled face-down on his bed. “May I come in, lad?”

Donald turned his head to the side to peer at Scrooge, but otherwise didn’t move except for a small shrug. “It’s your house.”

Scrooge sighed inwardly as he sat down on the edge of the bed. He should’ve known his nephew wouldn’t make this easy for him.

He’s his parents’ son, after all…

“Donnie, I’m sorry.”

Donald remained perfectly still for a moment, before slowly sitting up, turning to regard his uncle with a look that somehow managed to be hopeful and suspicious at the same time.

Feeling a surge of hope, Scrooge continued. “I should nae have lost my temper like that. Donnae matter how upset I was, there was no call for it, but more than that…” he gulped “Listen to me, lad. As much as I’d like to say otherwise, I cannae promise you and I won’t fight again. You’ve got all the temper of your ma and your da, and I’m, well, me.”

At the mention of his parents, Donald’s face began to harden. Scrooge rushed to continue, praying he hadn’t just ruined everything.

“But despite all that, or maybe even because of it, you and your sister are the dearest things to me in this world. I could nae take it if something happened to you. And if I did anything to make you doubt that, if I ever do anything to make you doubt that, then I’ve failed you utterly. And that’s what I’m truly sorry for.”

A beat, a breath, then suddenly Scrooge’s arms were full of sobbing duckling. In between sobs and gasps for breath, he could make out Donald’s own apologies, promises to be good, and assurances of his love for his uncle. Scrooge simply held his nephew tight, tracing reassuring circles on his back until the cries subsided.

“I promise you, Donnie. I promise you that no matter where we go, no matter what we do, you’ll always belong here in this family. Our adventures may take us to the stars themselves, but family is the greatest adventure of all, and there’s no one I’d rather share it with. I promise.”

Things would never be perfect, that much proved true. Donald would still rage. Della would still be reckless. Scrooge would still be Scrooge. Sometimes, it would lead to another blow-up, and Donald would take off again. The calls from Elvira would continue, though as time went on, they eventually started coming from Eider, in whom his mother’s bemusement was replaced by exasperation.

He never stayed away as long as that first time. A day or two, sometimes three, if the preceding fight had been a bad one. Then he’d come home, march right up to his uncle (or his sister, depending on the origin of the fight), they’d hug, and then they’d sort out whatever bit of business needed sorting. Scrooge was never entirely able to shake the worry he felt for his nephew during these events, but Donald always came back.

Until he didn’t, you old fool. Until you’d screwed up badly enough that he walked out, didn’t return for ten years, and then only because he had no other options.

Now, here they were again.

Chapter Text

Watching Huey and Webby head down the hallway after Dewey, Scrooge noted the worried, longing look on Della’s face and came to a decision.

“You should go with them, lass.”

This earned him a surprised look from his niece. “But… don’t we need to plan for what comes next? How we’re getting Louie back?”

“Aye, but that can wait for the morning. We know the lad is safe, and we cannae get him tonight anyway. For now, that will have to be enough.” Scrooge replied, forcing what he desperately hoped was a reassuring smile to his face.

Oh, aye. Yew know he’s safe now, don’t yew? Yew’ve only no idea where the lad slept last night. Anything could’ve happened to him before Goldie found him, and yew’d nae have been the wiser. But by all means, yew keep telling everyone everything will be bonny in the end!

“Besides,” he continued, willing the voice in his head to just shut it already “we need to be sure to be there for the children right now. They’re going to be very upset about all of this, but it will be worse if we let them stew on the feeling. Dewey, especially.”

Aye, yew’d know that, wouldn’t yew? Great Dismal Downs, yew surely have a lot o’ experience letting yer nephews down, aye Scrooge?

For her part, Della nodded once, taking a deep breath to steel herself to the task. For a moment, she seemed ready to head down the hallway…

… until she released that breath, and appeared to visibly deflate doing so.

“I… I have no idea what I’m doing. Again. What if… what if I say the wrong thing again, and make this all worse?”

Filing that second ‘again’ away for future reference, Scrooge laid a hand on his niece’s shoulder. “You’ll tell them the truth, lass. You’ll tell them we love them, and their brother as well, and that nothing will ever change that. You’ll tell them that we made a mistake, but that we’ll do everything in our power to make it right. It may take some time, but we’ll get Louie back, and we’ll promise to do better going forward. All of us.”

Oh, Scrooge… Do yew just never learn?

---------------------------------------------------

“Now that Della and the children are gone, I would like to reiterate my objection to this plan of yours to allow Louie to stay with O’Glit.”

There were some benefits to maintaining a friendship with someone for over sixty years, Scrooge supposed.

For starters, after that amount of time, it is generally easy to guess what that person will do in a given situation. That’s how Scrooge knew, without having to say anything, that Beakley would follow him to his office when he retreated there after Della left with Launchpad and the children. That was why she was currently seated across what remained of his desk from him.

The desk itself was mostly intact, save for some rather vulgar things about Scrooge that had been carved into it. His money was on Glomgold, though he supposed he couldn’t rule out the Beagle Boys either. The multiple misspelled words could really go either way.

He sighed, removing his glasses and cleaning them, before replacing them and regarding his former SHUSH partner. “Would any part of this objection differ significantly from when you first voiced it not half an hour ago, Bentina?”

Beakley narrowed her eyes at him. “No, but I find reinforcement and repetition to be quite effective when dealing with children. No matter their age.”

Scrooge rolled his eyes inwardly, refusing to take the bait. “Then consider your argument sufficiently reenforced. I stand by my decision. Whatever your thoughts on Goldie, and they are something else you don’t need to reiterate, I trust her in this. I am very aware of her character, but she won’t let any harm come to Louie. I trust you’ve heard the story of their first little escapade together?”

“Oh yes, of course. She managed to summon up the decency to stop an eleven-year-old from being bludgeoned by a robot. By all means, let’s nominate the woman for sainthood. I trust you remember how that story ended? With that same eleven-year-old weeping on the stairs because she broke his heart? I’m sure that’s exactly what Louie needs right now, given the circumstances.”

Scrooge frowned at that. “Still, he went back to her when he needed help…”

“Your nephew indeed…”

“… And she did help him! He’s got a roof over his head tonight, which we cannae say for sure he had last night! And I’ll thank you to keep your opinions about my relationship with Goldie separate from the ones about her and Louie!”

“Oh, they’re certainly separate. Louie’s a child, and a first-year psychology student could suss out the reasons for his attraction to Goldie. You, on the other hand, have over a century’s worth of reasons to be cautious of the woman, and here you are trusting her with your nephew at his most vulnerable. How can you not see this is madness?”

“BECAUSE I DONNAE KNOW WHAT ELSE TO DO!”

Silence reigned for a moment. Beakley had seen Scrooge lose his temper more times than she could count, but this was different.

She had only ever seen the helpless look on his face a handful of times, and those had all been in rather dire straits.

For his part, Scrooge took a moment to get his heart rate under control before continuing.

“Do yew remember when Della and Donnie first came tae stay wi’ me? Yew were still workin’ fer SHUSH then…”

Beakley nodded slowly, surely noting how pronounced Scrooge’s brogue had suddenly become. It usually took a lot to bring it out so strongly.

“Donnie… Donnie had a terrible rage in him. Still does, but he was jus’ a wee bairn then, and I dinnae know a thing about children. We fought and he… he ran off on me. Curse me kilts, but I was nae’r so frightened. And then, bless her sweet soul, Elvira called me. Told me Donald had made his way back to the farm. Still don’t know how he managed that. But the dear woman, she told me… she told me I could fix it, but only when Donald was ready fer it tae be fixed. He was like Quackmore, like Hortense, like… me. He’d nae listen tae a word I said afore he was good and ready. So, I waited. It near fecking killed me, but I did it. And he came back tae me.”

Beakley sat for a moment. She’d known of this incident, of course (SHUSH agents didn’t miss things like this about their partner), but she’d clearly never truly realized the extent of it.

Finally, she ventured “Goldie O’Gilt isn’t Elvira Coot.”

Scrooge snorted. “No, and thank heaven for that. Elvira wouldn’t have put up with me near as long. But, to your point, no, she’s gone. I’m not even sure if the boys know Eider…”

Something tae ponder later, Scrooge.

“But Louie isn’t Donald either. Donald… Donald is a hurricane. He rages, but it passes. It may take years to repair the damage, but it can be done. Louie is different. Louie is determined, and he plans. He may have left the mansion at the spur of the moment, but after that he set a goal in his mind. Goldie was kind enough to tell it to you: he doesn’t plan to come back. And the longer we wait to find him, the further along he will get with that plan. After a certain point, there will be no getting him back.”

“For the sake of argument, what do you propose we do then?”

“We find them! I may be retired, but I was once the greatest agent SHUSH ever had, and I have enough contacts still active to find Goldie O’Gilt. We find Louie and we bring him home. There will be yelling, there will be accusations, and there will be crying, but he will be here.”

“You’re that eager to find yourself hogtied in the pantry again?”

Beakley narrowed her eyes at that, and for a moment Scrooge was grateful she was not magical in any way.

If she were, he’d surely be made of stone, or in flames.

“Out of respect for our long friendship, and the fact that you are in a very stressful situation, I will let that slide.”

Scrooge rubbed a hand across his face, trying to find the words to communicate what he really wanted to say.

“Beakely… you’re right. Louie isn’t Donald. Somehow, he ended up with too much of me in him. But I cannae help but look and see history repeating itself. You said Louie plans? I did too, at that age. Still do. And when I decided to leave my family, I left and didnae come back for decades. But you know what would’ve been worse? If Fergus had come after me, trying to drag me home. I’d have never stayed. Goldie saw that in Louie. I don’t know how we’re going to fix this, but I do know, in my bones, that if we push to hard the lad will be lost to us. And I cannae take that again.”

Silence once more. Finally, Beakley spoke up again.

“Donald left and came back many times. Why are you so sure this time is different with Louie?”

“Because the times Donald left, it was either childhood trauma rearing up, or teenage angst gone wild. This feels different. This feels like the last time, when he left for ten years and only came back when he had no choice.”

Beakley considered this a moment. “You know, it really is a bit of awful luck that Donald’s been gone through all of this. Have you thought to call him?”

“I did, when Della first came back.” Scrooge sighed “But I thought that he’d more than earned his vacation, and that she’d be here when he came back. I didn’t account for… this.”

“Had he been here, we might’ve avoided a lot of this.”

“Yes, but since it happened, I’m glad he’s not here.”

“Pardon?”

Another sigh from Scrooge. “If he were here, this wouldn’t have happened. But if he came back now, he’d take the boys and we’d never see them again. Any of them. That’s why we have to be careful. If we scare Louie off further, and Donald comes home… that’s it for this family.”

He slumped lower in his seat, suddenly wondering if his stash of scotch had survived the home invasion.

“I… I thought I was doing the right thing. Della, she’d missed so much, and the boys had missed out on having a ma. I didnae see, though. I wanted it for them, for her, so badly that I missed how they might not be ready for that. Donald would’ve seen. He’d have known. And Louie would still be here.”

Chapter Text

“Sharpie, this is easily the stupidest show I’ve ever seen, and I’ve been watching TV for as long as it’s existed.”

Their scheming concluded for the evening, Goldie and her young apprentice had ordered some food delivered (Louie had surprised her by asking for gyros, a personal favorite of hers as well. She wondered idly to herself where he’d picked up the taste for them), and settled down in front of the TV to unwind. Unfortunately for Goldie, Louie had snatched up the remote as soon as they’d sat down, so she now found herself watching a show so inane she wouldn’t believe it existed if she wasn’t currently watching it.

“Seriously, kid, what’s the appeal to you here? I wouldn’t have taken you for a carpentry or upholstery enthusiast.”

Rolling his eyes with a chuckle, Louie paused to lick a bit of stray tzatziki off his bill before replying.

“You’re thinking about it, Aunt Goldie, which means you’re watching it all wrong. You’ll never understand the appeal of Ottoman Empire if you make an effort to figure it out.”

Goldie narrowed her eyes at him. Her young charge had taken on a certain smugness she wasn’t sure she liked directed at her. “You a philosopher now, Sharpie? The Storkcrates of trash TV?”

She had expected and offended reaction, maybe a light verbal jab in return. She had not expected the thoughtful look that appeared on Louie’s face.

“Huh, maybe. Maybe that’s something else I can do: see things for what they really are.”

“A useful skill for a schemer to have.”

His face fell at that, returning to the brooding look he’d taken on whenever his family was mentioned that day, only this time overlaid with a kind of melancholy that made parts of Goldie she’d never even known existed want to hug him.

“Yeah. That makes sense. It always comes back to schemes with me.”

Part of Goldie felt a growing discomfort with the direction this conversation was taking. It sure seemed like they were about to start talking about things like feelings, never her conversational forte. Maybe she should just steer the conversation back to the ridiculous TV show they were both now ignoring…

The other part of her couldn’t help but recognize an opening to get to the bottom of what was really going on with her new partner, and in the process figure out just what Scrooge wasn’t telling her about the whole situation.

Anyone who knew Goldie O’Gilt could’ve predicted the outcome.

She gave Louie a light elbow to his side. “Hey, what’s that look about? Since when are you so down on scheming? Because we definitely just spent the whole afternoon and most of the evening working on a scheme, and you seemed plenty into it then.”

He shook his head in response. “No, no, I’m still in, 100%. I need this job. And even if I didn’t, I love scheming. It’s just… it was nice to think for a second I might have something else I can do. I’m always scheming; it’s my thing. But maybe, if there were something else, I wouldn’t have to be doing it all the time. It gets exhausting sometimes.”

He gestured back to the TV, which was either wrapping up the episode of Ottoman Empire they’d been watching, or starting another one, Goldie couldn’t tell.

“That’s why I love this show: the stupid is a feature, not a bug. It’s ridiculous, low-stakes nonsense that I can just zone-out to and let my brain switch off. It lets me feel normal for a little while.”

Goldie gave a low whistle. “Damn, Sharpie, you’ve got a lot going on under that green sweatshirt.”

Louie rolled his eyes. “I really don’t, that’s the problem. Weren’t you listening? It’s all schemes.”

Before she could even register what she was doing, Goldie found herself scooting across the couch closer to Louie and throwing an arm over his shoulder. He tensed slightly at the contact, but didn’t move away. She took a deep breath, and began.

“Look, kid, I can’t have my partner in this scheme all mixed- up in his own head like this, so let’s talk this out. First, I can get wanting to feel normal from time to time, especially in that family of yours, but you need to understand something: you are not normal. Your family just doesn’t do normal. That’s not the world any of you live in.”

He scowled up at her. “Yeah, I know. It’s friggin’ exhausting, and all I’ve got to survive in that world are my schemes, and they’re not enough! What if I want off? What if I don’t want to be a part of that family anymore? What if I can’t? What if I want to be normal?”

Goldie blinked. Once. Twice.

You may be a wee bit out o’ your depth, Goldie-lass

Shut up, Moneybags. I’m pretty sure this is all your fault anyway. And I’m Goldie O’Gilt, I’ve never once been out of my depth.

If ye say so…

“Well, there’s a lot to unpack in there. Let’s just put a pin in the first couple of things and start with the last one. I know you don’t want to be normal.”

“Oh, yeah? How do you know that?”

“When normal kids run away from home, they go join, oh I don’t know, the circus or a gang or something. You ran away and went to your great-uncle’s international jewel thief of an ex, and not even to go live with her! With a business deal, with a scheme. You chose to do all of that yourself, and it’s about as far from normal as you could get. And you wanna know something else? If you were normal, I wouldn’t have shown up. Why would I have bothered? But I did, because you’re not. You are extraordinary, Sharpie, and I mean that literally. You are more than normal.”

Louie ducked his head and flushed slightly, but he was smiling now. “Normal kids run away and join ‘the circus’? Could you be any older?”

She cuffed him lightly on the back of his head. “Mind your manners.”

“Why?”

“Damned if I know. I don’t even know why I said that. Probably because you keep calling me ‘Aunt Goldie’.”

“Oh well, then”

Goldie felt Louie relax into her side. They sat in companionable silence for a few moments, as she tried to figure out how to address the rest of his little tirade. Finally, she decided to start with the part she knew best.

“Now, as for scheming being all you can do, I know that isn’t true…”

“How would you know that? It’s literally all we’ve ever done together besides eat.”

“Because no one is ever just one thing. Sometimes you can trick some people into believing they can only do one thing, that how you get goons, for instance, but I know you’re way to sharp for that. You may not have figured out everything you can do yet, but you’re also only 11. Why would you think what you are now is all you’ll ever be?”

Louie looked unconvinced. Goldie gave a short huff of frusteration.

“You don’t believe me? Fine, for the sake of argument, let’s say you’re right. Let’s say scheming is your only talent. What so wrong with that? You love scheming, you said so yourself just a minute ago. You telling me you can’t find a way to make that work for you? That is, in itself, scheming.”

“Yeah? And what happens when I can’t do that anymore?!”

Caught off-guard by his sudden outburst, Goldie was slow to react when Louie roughly pushed himself off the couch. She looked on in stunned silence as he paced back and forth in front of the TV, fingers running through his hair. After several passes, he whipped back around to face her.

“What would you do if someone told you that you couldn’t scheme anymore?”

Whatever she’d expected him to say, it hadn’t been that. For his part, Louie resumed his pacing.

“Sharpie,” she began in a low voice “why did you say you wouldn’t go back to the manor?”

He shook his head impatiently at her. “Answer the question.”

“I’d tell them to go to hell.”

A wet laugh. “Yeah? And what if it was someone you couldn’t tell to go to hell?”

“There is no one I couldn’t tell to go to hell for telling me not to be myself.”

He stopped his pacing then, slowly turning back toward her, the look on his face betraying both epiphany and terrible realization.

They just stared at one another for a few moments until Goldie finally broke the silence.

“Who told you to stop scheming, Louie?”

It wouldn’t have been Scrooge. She knew the old miser would prefer if his nephew kept his schemes above board, but he valued the boy’s sharpness of mind too much to ever tell him to stop. Beakley could be insufferably uptight, but she would have tried to redirect Louie’s talents towards more constructive ends rather than stop them completely. Donald wasn’t in country at the moment, and besides, he would never. That left…

Louie gulped. “Mo-, Della.”

“What did she say?”

A sniffle. “She said that my schemes… that they only lead to bad things for my family, and that if I wanna stay a part of the family… I gotta stop.”

Wow, Della. Projecting much? .

Goldie herself had never been close to Della. The twins had come to live with Scrooge during a particularly contentious time in their long relationship, so she hadn’t been around much. When she had been around, she’d been drawn more towards Donald, preferring his prematurely crotchety cynicism to his sister’s exuberance. Still, she knew that Della’s disappearance had effectively destroyed Scrooge’s family, and that Scrooge had not been anything close to himself until Donald and the triplets had reentered his life. Her return must’ve felt like the final piece of the puzzle being put into place.

At least for Scrooge, but for Louie?

He never would have known a world with a mother in it. He would have had, perhaps, some idea of what he should have felt. Maybe just enough to be confused about why he didn’t feel that way.

For her part, Della wouldn’t have known her children. She wouldn’t have known how central scheming was to her youngest son’s sense of self.

(Of course, that being said, Goldie had figured it out after meeting the kid twice, so maybe Della was just a little slow on the uptake.)

All she would’ve seen were her own mistakes reflected in her son’s. Goldie could see how that would lead to a reaction like that, especially from a mom who didn’t know how to be a mom. It was understandable.

That didn’t make it ok though.

Nothing that made Sharpie, her Sharpie, look like this was ok.

Slowly, Goldie rose from the couch and made her way to Louie, kneeling down to look him directly in the eyes and placing her hands on his shoulders.

“Louie, look at me.”

He did.

A deep breath. “Listen to me: do not ever let anyone ever tell you not to be yourself. If they do, you tell them to go to hell. I don’t care who they are, or who they think they are.”

A beat, and then Goldie O’Gilt found herself being hugged more tightly than she’d been in many years.

-------------------------------------

A few minutes later, after they’d both calmed down some, Goldie and Louie were seated in the kitchen. Goldie had miraculously found some hot chocolate mix in the back of one of the cabinets, and both were enjoying a mug while Louie recounted the events that had led him to leave the manor.

“… so then they just blow open the front door like it was nothing, and there was no way I was sticking around by myself to face down all of Scrooge’s enemies. So, I went out the window, climbed down, and headed for Duckburg. That’s when I called you, and you know the rest.”

“Impressive.” Goldie nodded “You improvised when you had to, then made plans as soon as you had the chance. That’s some pro-level scheming.”

Louie smiled wide at her praise, seemingly recovered from the emotional display of a few minutes’ prior.

A thought occurred. “Hang on, if you weren’t at the manor, and you weren’t here, where did you sleep last night?”

He shook his head, though the smile never left his face. “Nope. Not giving up my hideout like that. Who knows? I might need it again.”

“You think you’ll need to hide from me?”

“I’ve learned not to assume anything where you’re concerned.”

“As long as you’re learning something.” A sip of hot chocolate. “So, about your long-term plans…”

A suspicious look. “What about them?”

“Look, Louie, I’m not saying you ever have to forgive your mom, I don’t know if I would, but when all of this is said and done, you’re really going to bail on your family for good?”

“They bailed on me first. Weren’t you listening?”

“Kid, they went on a trip while you were grounded. Not smart, and probably not legal on Scrooge and Beakley’s part, but you’re really going to leave them forever over that?”

“Ugh, you really weren’t listening. OK, lets go over this again: first, they left me behind right after I watched them all disappear into time. They just went along with Della’s plan, even Scrooge! They chose her over me. Second, they chose to go on the only adventure I’d ever wanted to go on while I was grounded. It didn’t just happen to work out that way, they made their plans after I was grounded. Third, I don’t hear anything from any of them all weekend except how much fun they’re having and how well they’re getting along without me. That they didn’t need me. Well, I don’t need them either.”

OK, convincing him he wants to go home after all this is not going to be quite as easy as I told Scrooge. I may have to improvise here…

With that, Louie finished the last of his hot chocolate and set his mug on the table with a yawn.

“Ugh, it’s been a long day. I think I’m gonna turn in.”

He got up from his seat and came around the table, stopping to wrap the still-seated Goldie in another big hug.

“Thanks, Aunt Goldie. For everything. I had other ideas if you said no, but I don’t know how many of them would’ve worked out this well. So, thanks. I mean it.”

He gave her one last squeeze, then turned and trotted down the hall to her guest room.

Goldie stared after him for a brief moment before getting up, putting both their mugs in the sink, and heading for her office. Locking the door behind her, she made for her desk, opening the top-right drawer and shuffling through the several cell-phones it contained. Finding the one she was looking for, she began to type.

You are an ass, and your niece is an idiot

She hit send. A few moments later, a reply came through.

Louie told you a bit more, did he? I take it he’s still just as mad?

He did, he is, and I’ve got half a mind to keep him after all.

It was a few minutes before she got a response.

Please, Goldie. This family has been apart for so long. Please give me a chance to put us together again.

You understand he’s not going to be talked into going back, right? Getting him back to you is going to mean breaking his heart again. You get that?

An even longer gap. Finally:

Please, Goldie

With that, Goldie tossed the phone back in its drawer. She’d let him marinate in that for a while.

She leaned back in her desk chair. Was she doing the right thing here?

Granted, doing the ‘right thing’ wasn’t typically a great concern for her. Goldie O’Gilt did what Goldie O’Gilt wanted.

What did she want here?

Intellectually, she knew she couldn’t keep Louie. She was no mother, and the life she lived was no life for a child.

Oh, because the kid’s actual mother is doing such a bang-up job, and life with Scrooge is all that different from what you get up to?

She shook that thought from her head. No. No attachments. That’s how she’d always operated. The idea of keeping the kid was ridiculous, and besides, it would mean the end of whatever it was she and Scrooge had.

But that’s the thing, isn’t it? You’ve always gotten Scrooge to forgive you. It won’t be the same with Sharpie. You double-cross him this time, and he won’t forgive you for it. So, you need to decide: what does Goldie O’Gilt want?

For the moment, she had no answer.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Louie was roused from a rather pleasant dream by the feeling of something cold and damp smacking him in the face.

Waking with an indignant squawk (one which would have drawn laughing comparisons to his uncle, had any members of his immediate family been present), he peeled what was, in fact, a damp washcloth off of his face. Seeking the source of this unprovoked attack, he turned to see the retreating form of Goldie O’Glit exiting his room.

“Get yourself cleaned up, Sharpie. Breakfast is in 5 minutes.”

Grumbling to himself, Louie complied, heading to the bathroom. After completing his morning ablutions, he returned to his bedroom, changing back into his yellow oxford before heading down the hall to the kitchen.

Breakfast was a rather simple affair, consisting of bagels and cream cheese with orange juice.

“I don’t generally do breakfast,” offered Goldie, by way of explanation “but I know enough to know you’re supposed to feed kids. Growing boy, and all that.”

Louie shrugged. “It’s fine. Uncle Donald’s really big on a good breakfast, but honestly, I usually don’t get all that hungry until lunchtime. Is there any coffee?”

She nodded, pouring him a mug alongside her own. Turning around, she hesitated before handing it over, however.

“Wait. Are you even supposed to have coffee?”

An eyeroll. “Are you seriously asking me what I’m supposed to be doing?”

“This isn’t going to stunt your growth, is it? Be a shame if you ended up all short like your Uncle Scrooge.”

“Uncle Scrooge and Uncle Donald are basically the exact same height, so I think genetics will do the job, not caffeine. Now, gimmie.” Louie replied, making grabby-hands at the coffee.

Goldie handed the cup over with a chuckle, and they ate in companionable silence for a moment.

Finally, Goldie glanced at her watch and stood up. “OK, Sharpie: here’s the deal: I’ve got some business that needs handling, so you’re on your own for the day. That said, I don’t want to leave my partner totally in the lurch, so here.”

With that, she produced three items from her pocket and set them on the table in front of Louie.

“This is the number of the cell phone I’ll have on me today. Don’t call the number you used before; your uncle has that number, so I’m not turning it on while we’re on this job. Do not call this number unless there’s an emergency. It’s none of your business where I’ll be today, but I won’t be in Duckburg, so if you do call, it had better be important. Understood?”

Louie replied with another sarcastic salute. Goldie tried (and failed) to conceal her amusement with the gesture and continued.

“This is a key to the apartment, if you want to go out and get some air today. But be careful. I don’t think your uncle will put out an Amber Alert on you, since all that would do is announce to his many enemies that one of his beloved nephews is in the wind, but the cops may still be on the lookout for you. And let me be clear: you get picked up, and you have not been with me. Last thing I need is kidnapping on my record.”

“But you didn’t kidnap me, I came to you.”

“Just don’t get caught, alright? Last thing, here’s a credit card. If there’s anything you think you’ll need for this job, go ahead and get it. Just be advised that I will know immediately what you buy, and that you’ll pay me back every cent out of your cut of the Jade Bengal job.”

“You know, it could be argued that you owe me like, a ton of back-Christmas presents, so…”

“Nice try, Sharpie. I’ll be back late, probably after dinner, so order in some take-out. That I won’t charge you for.”

“So generous. Have a good day, Aunt Goldie. Make lots of money for me to inherit!”

Goldie just laughed at that, cuffing him on the back of the head before taking her leave.

For his part, Louie took it upon himself to clean up after their little breakfast, putting away the cream cheese, and loading the cups and plates into the dishwasher. After that, he made his way into the den, turning on the TV and flipping idly through the channels. After a few minutes of this, long enough to ensure that his surrogate aunt was really gone, he got up and made his way back to his room.

Arriving there, he dug through his backpack, eventually finding a single piece of yellow legal paper he’d torn from the pad Goldie had given him the night before. Written on this piece of paper was a phone number.

With a deep breath, Louie punched in the numbers and hit ‘Call’.

------------------------------------------

His morning task completed, Louie set about the rest of his preparations for the job ahead. They had two days, but he felt there was no sense in putting off anything that couldn’t be accomplished that day. He wasn’t going to let anything derail this scheme; there was just too much at stake.

In conference with Goldie the night before, they had determined that she already possessed all the tools necessary to pull off this particular job. However, this still meant Louie would need to get himself outfitted. With this in mind, he headed for the local military surplus store. There, he picked himself out a black knit cap, black sweater, and a pair of black tactical gloves.

If the old lion working the store’s register was in any way suspicious of a young duck making these purchases, it didn’t show on his face as he rang Louie up.

Next, Louie made his way down to Duckburg’s industrial port. Arriving there, he made his way past the train depot and the container ship berths to his ultimate destination: the seaplane docks.

Having spent most of the first decade of his life living across the harbor from Duckburg’s port, Louie had a better understanding of what went on there than your average 11-year-old. The comings and goings of the ships, trains, and planes that frequented the facility had essentially been the background noise of his childhood and, having a sailor for an uncle, he was familiar with what those noises meant, and how they’d changed over time. He knew, for instance, that the seaplanes that plied their trade from the port were merely a fraction of the great fleets of decades before. The rise of container shipping had decimated the air-cargo business, being able to move greater amounts of cargo at a fraction of the cost. He knew the few air-cargo companies that remained in business targeted customers who were less concerned with cost than with speed and, often, discretion.

Louie was a sharp kid. He was able to discern that such a niche business would likely have workarounds to the kind of scrutiny he was trying to avoid, and that the pilots who were still in the business would likely be less concerned with rules and regulations. It so happened that this was exactly what he would need.

Arriving at the docks, Louie located the harbormaster and, a few questions later, was directed towards a large, old-fashioned, yellow seaplane. As he approached, he spied a large, brown bear in a brown aviator’s jacket, watching as the plane was being unloaded.

“Excuse me, are you the captain of The Sea Duck?”

The bear turned toward him, his face registering some surprise at being addressed by a child, given their location. “I am. Captain Kit Cloudkicker, at your service. What can I do for you?”

Louie extended his hand. “Louis Gadwell. I was told you operate out of Cape Suzette?”

The bear shook his hand. “I do. I’ll be headed back there in a couple days, as a matter of fact. Got my next cargo coming in on the train Wednesday night at, let’s see…” He flipped a few pages on the clipboard in his hands. “… 10:45 at night. So, assuming it gets here on time and we get it loaded without any issue, I should be in the air by midnight.”

That’s… perfect. Almost too perfect. Could life actually be this easy for once?

Louie nodded, taking care not to let his excitement show. “I see. Do you, by any chance, ever take passengers along with you on your runs?”

Captain Cloudkicker’s eyebrows shot up for a moment before a thoughtful look came across his face. After a moment, he replied, this time in a much louder tone of voice.

“Well, we could potentially arrange something like that. Of course, all passengers on cargo vessels need approval from the Port Authority. Why don’t you come on board and I’ll explain the process to you?”

And there it is: the catch. I knew this was too good to be true.

With that, the pilot turned back into his plane, gesturing for Louie to follow. They made their way up to the cockpit, the bear sitting down in the pilot’s chair and indicating Louie should take the copilot’s. Just as Louie was frantically trying to think of a way to explain that he couldn’t exactly be registering with anyone, Captain Cloudkicker spoke again.

“Sorry about the performance back there. Have to keep up appearances, you never know when a port official might be eavesdropping. I’m going to go ahead and guess that if you wanted to be registered or anything like that, you wouldn’t be trying to hitchhike on the docks. That right?”

Louie let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. “That’s right. So, is that the kind of thing you do? Pick up hitchhikers?”

The bear grinned at him. “It is. Against regulation these days, of course, but I’m old-school. Only thing is, since it is against regulation and I’m running a certain amount of risk, I’ve gotta ask for a small, uh, consideration from my passengers.”

Louie nodded. He’d expected as much. “Seems fair. How much are we talking about?”

“Anyone coming with you, or just you? Any cargo?”

“Just me, and no cargo. Just a couple of bags.”

The captain gave a thoughtful hum. “Well, the going rate for a ride like this would usually be around three hundred. But, since this will be a night flight, the inspectors will probably be less thorough. Plus, you’re kinda small, so it shouldn’t be a problem to hide you if I need to. So, with all that, I think I could do it for two.”

Well, better than I thought it would be, but still more than I can afford right now. Two hundred would pretty much clean me out, and I still might need cash if things go wrong. Time to haggle…

With a deep breath, Louie played his hand.

“Ok, so that’s a more than fair price. Trouble is, that’s a little more cash than I have on me right now, but I’ll have access to more in Cape Suzette. So, if you can wait on the money until after we get there, I’ll pay you double.”

“Well, that sounds like a fine idea, kid, but the trouble is I’ve heard it before. May have even used lines like it back when I was your age. How do I know you’re not just going to dash off on me as soon as we dock in Cape Suzette?”

Damn, I’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this.

“I guess you don’t, but I can offer collateral.”

With that, Louie opened up his pack and drew out the khopesh. The captain gave a low whistle.

“Damn, kid. That’s a mighty fancy knife. Where’d you steal it?”

“I didn’t!”

The bear just looked at him.

“Ok, fine. Technically, I guess I stole it,” Louie admitted “but nobody’s coming after it, I can promise you that.”

“Hmm.” replied the pilot, taking the khopesh from Louie and weighing it experimentally. “Well, I’m no expert, but seems to me this thing’s worth a bit more than four hundred bucks.”

“It is, and that’s why I’m going to want it back. That’s how you know I’ll be good for the money. Can I trust you not to just run off with it, knowing it’s worth more than what I owe you?”

The captain’s face took on a confused look. “Wait, you’re going to leave this thing with me?”

“Unfortunately, I’m going to have to, if we’ve got a deal. I’m going to have a lot going on that night, and I’m not going to be able to lug that thing around. I was also going to leave my pack with you, but there’s noting really valuable in there.”

“Kid, I don’t mean to pry into your business, but are you in some kind of trouble? If I’m reading the situation right, your plan is to leave basically everything you own with a total stranger. I’m not planning on running off on you or anything, but this seems like a pretty desperate move.”

Hmm, this guy seems genuinely concerned. Maybe if everything works out right I’ll break him off a little more for his help.

“Captain Cloudkicker, I can imagine how this must look.” Louie began, putting on the most reassuring smile he could muster. “The truth is a very long story, and I really couldn’t tell you all of it. Just know that I have a lot riding on getting to Cape Suzette. If making that happens means trusting you with more than the cost of the flight, then that’s a calculated risk I’m willing to take. I can tell you more when we’re in the air if you’re still interested, but for now it is what it is. Do we have a deal?”

With that, Louie extended his hand towards the pilot.

The pilot stared back at him a moment before extending his in kind.

They shook.

“Kit.”

Louie blinked. “Pardon?”

The bear grinned. “Call me ‘Kit’. We’re not all that formal around here. I don’t think my dad ever went by ‘Captain’ once in his life.”

Louie grinned back, “Alright, ‘Kit’ then.”

“So, here’s the deal: you get here by midnight on the 24th, and you’ve got yourself a ride. I can’t wait around for you though, so if you’re not here by then, I’m gone. Got it?”

“Got it. See you in two days.”

With that, they both stood, and made their way to the plane’s exit. Louie was just about to step through the hatch when he felt Kit’s large paw land on his shoulder.

“Ah, Lou, hold up a sec.”

Louie turned around to see Kit regarding him with a somewhat chagrined look on his face. He raised a questioning eyebrow.

“So, I know we have a deal and everything, but the thing is…”

Oh no, tell me he’s not backing out. Please tell me he’s not backing out.

“The thing is I’m gonna feel like a real heel if I have to take off before you get here and I still have your fancy knife and pack, so here’s what I’ll do. If that happens, I’ll stash ‘em in the space between that generator and that hanger over there. Ya see? That way I won’t be leaving you with nothing.”

Louie nodded his understanding.

Wow, he really is a good guy. I’m definitely gonna have to do right by him if everything goes to plan.

“Kit, can I ask you something?”

“Sure, kid. What’s up?”

“Why are you doing all this? I mean, I’m super grateful and everything, but you don’t seem like the ‘anything for a buck’ type, or like you need four hundred dollars that badly. So why get involved, especially when I know the optics of all this aren’t great?”

Kit gave him a lopsided smile. “Solidarity, I suppose.”

“Solidarity?”

“Yeah, solidarity. It seems like a lifetime ago now, but there was a time when I was a hitchhiker kid too. I know how much a little help can mean to someone who really needs it.”

Chapter Text

For all his lectures to his nephews about the hard-work and responsibility it entailed, Scrooge McDuck could at least admit to himself that the benefits of being the world’s richest duck far outweighed any downsides.

In this instance, it enabled him to hire a large construction crew on very short notice, and it gave him the means to impress upon them the need for haste. The combination of these two factors would see his mansion repaired by week’s end. Then, he could move his family back in, where they belonged.

Where they all belonged.

Despite nominally directing and supervising the manor’s rebuild, the old duck found himself most preoccupied with his wayward youngest nephew. His conversation via text with Goldie the night before had put him more ill-at-ease about the whole situation then he had been before, which was certainly saying something. While he had expected that Louie would confide further in Scrooge’s on-again-off-again ex, he had not expected the level of vehemence he’d received from Goldie in turn. That she would take his nephew’s side was unsurprising, but the level of anger she seemed to be sending his way seemed out of proportion to the situation, at least on her end.

Then again, perhaps I’m reading too much into this? You can only get so much out of plain text…

As if in answer to his unspoken request, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Fishing it out, his eyes widened when he saw the number of the incoming call. He quickly turned to Beakley, asking her to take over supervising, Without waiting for a response, he made his way over to a more secluded area of the grounds, opening his phone as he did so.

“Did ye get the feeling I was thinking of ye, lass?”

A low chuckle on the other end of the line. “Are you implying there’s ever a moment that you aren’t thinking of me? Scroogie, I just can’t believe that.”

Scrooge rolled his eyes fondly at this, even as he knew they had business to attend to. Really, if there was one bright side to this whole terrible situation, it was that it had led to more regular contact with Goldie O’Gilt than he’d had in decades. Usually she went months, if not years between appearances in his life. Maybe, once Louie was safe at home, she would come around more often now? Perhaps they could finally see if…

He shook that thought from his head. There were more important matters at the moment.

“How is he, Goldie?”

“Better today than last night, at least when I left.”

“You left him?!”

“Seriously, Moneybags? Are you rebuilding your house out of glass over there?”

“I… No. I’m sorry, lass. But he’s alright?”

He can just hear her rolling her eyes at him as she responds “He’s fine, I’ll be back with him in a few hours, and he’s got my number if anything comes up. But, as unbelievable as it sounds, I do have responsibilities to take care of that don’t involve your family’s drama.”

“Responsibilities? You?” Scrooge couldn’t help but snort at the thought.

“I know, I know. We live in sad times. So, do you want to hear the plan or not?”

Scrooge hesitated for a moment.

He did, and he didn’t. He knew it would take a scheme to get Louie back. He knew they needed him back, and soon, if this family would ever be whole again. Beyond that, he just wanted his nephew back. He loved Louie and planned to make sure the lad would never have any cause to ever question that again.

And yet…

Their conversation from the night before weighed heavily on his mind. Being with Louie, Goldie would have a better read on his emotional state than anyone else. If she said things were bad enough that getting him back to the family would take breaking his heart again, he was inclined to believe her. He trusted that she would be as gentle as she could, but Scrooge had been there for the aftermath of the last time. This would be worse, and he was in no rush for his nephew to go through that.

But what were their options? This couldn’t be allowed to go on much longer.

“Alright, lass.” Scrooge sighed. “Let’s hear your plan.”

---------------------------------------------

“Yew know, I really did hope that your plan to get Louie home wouldn’t involve making him party to felonious theft. Foolish of me, I suppose.”

He can hear the smile in her voice when she replies, and he feels a familiar ache at the sound. “I am who I am, Scroogie. For what it's worth, the object in question was looted from a Bengal temple, so it’s not as though it’s really stealing. Think of it as liberating it from its captors, if it helps you.”

“Hmph. Better than nothing, I suppose. So where do we come into it?”

“After I cause the commotion in the main hall, making sure everyone can see me there, Sharpie swaps out the idol with the fake I’m having made today. Once that’s done, he slips back into the air ducts, while everyone sees me leave without having stolen anything. The air ducts lead to a vent at the back of the building, where I’ll meet Louie. The vent itself will pop open from the inside with a little force, so Sharpie should be able to do that himself. Problem is, there’s a set of iron bars on the outside of the vent to keep anyone from getting in that way.”

“Or out.” Scrooge observed wryly. “So, you’ll meet him there to pry the bars open?”

“That’s the plan. Or, that’s the plan as far as he knows. What’s actually going to happen is I’ll have him pass me the idol through the bars once the vent is open.”

Scrooge frowned. “Why would he do that? You may be getting on well right now, but he’ll not have forgotten you leaving him behind before.”

“He won’t want to, at first, but this is where my having experience on him helps. See, we’ve got this whole operation timed out so we make out getaway just before the 10:45 train passes behind the building. That way, we cut ourselves off from anyone who might be coming after us. So, after he kicks out the vent, I make a big show of trying to get the bars off. I can’t do it. I tell him I need him to push from inside also. Still nothing. Then I tell him to pass me the idol so he can put his whole weight behind it. He’ll refuse, but then we hear the train coming. We’re running out of time. He’ll hand it over then, and I make my exit. I cross the tracks, the train comes. That when you show up. Bring that pilot of yours; he’ll be able to rip those bars right off. At that point, the game’s over. I’ve won, and you can take him home to lick his wounds.”

“That’s quite a scheme, Goldie-lass. I don’t suppose you considered any variants that would leave the lad with less wounds?”

A silence on the line followed, long enough that Scrooge briefly wondered if they’d lost connection before Goldie spoke again.

“Scrooge, whenever we’ve fought, or whenever I’ve done you wrong, which hurt worse: when it was about the gold, or when it wasn’t?”

“When it wasn’t.” Scrooge surprised himself with how quickly the answer came out. “When it was about the gold, I could fixate on that, tell meself that was what I was upset about. When it wasn’t, there was no pretending.”

“Well, there’s no gold involved in why Louie’s mad at you all right now. Best thing I can do for him right now is give him some gold to fixate on. If being mad at me over that will make him a little less mad at you, well, I’m willing to take that bullet.”

“Lass…” Scrooge began softly “Even when it was about the gold between us, that was never all there was there. I remember the last time with Louie… It’ll be the same with him.”

“ I said I’m willing to do that for you, Scrooge. I’ll be honest, it’s going to hurt like hell, but I’ll do it.”

There was silence for another moment as Scrooge cast about for a response to that when Goldie continued.

“That said, Moneybags, let me make something very clear: I will do this once. Anything like this ever happens again and I’m keeping him. You all don’t get to screw up like this again.”

Scrooge frowned. There is was again, that odd feeling he’d gotten from their conversation the night before.

“Goldie, obviously no one wants anything like this to happen again, but I cannae promise that Louie won’t fight with his ma or I. Great Dismal Downs, the lad’s not even a teenager yet. His uncle used to run off to his grandmother’s at least once a year.”

“You doddering old fossil, are you being serious right now? Do you really expect me to believe…”

Goldie trailed off at that, a kind of realization creeping into her tone that Scrooge found deeply unsettling, given the circumstances.

“Goldie?!”

“… You don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?! What do you know that I don’t?”

“Did Della not tell you what she said to Louie?”

Chapter Text

All things being equal, Dewey supposed that their video game console’s having survived the attack on the mansion was an objectively good thing.

However, because the world was a cold and unfeeling place, all things were not equal. Events had conspired to bring his best friend, his older brother, and even his own mother in league against him. Truly, a pitiable state of affairs.

Look, it wasn’t as if Legends of Legend Quest was a bad game, exactly. He could see why it was Huey’s favorite (and apparently Mom’s too), and yeah, in a lot of ways it was exactly the kind of thing Webby would get super-into, but it was very decidedly not Dewey’s thing. He could totally get behind the whole ‘fighting giant monsters’ part of it, it was just all the boring ‘questing’ and ‘gaining valuable XP’ bits that made his eyes glaze over.

It didn’t help that the stupid game really brought out the boring and bossy parts of Huey.

This was all bad enough, but, like everything else lately, it was made way worse by a certain notable absence. If Louie had been there, Dewey would have stood a chance of convincing the others to play something simpler, more exciting. Like a fighting game, or a racing game. Something that didn’t take for-ev-er…

(Sad to say, he’d never gotten his little brother to come around on sports games. One of these days…)

So, so sum up: Dewey was bored. Something needed to happen very soon to make him not bored, or he was going to have to take matters into his own hands. Given that past experience taught him that other people tended to not like his solutions for boredom, it would probably be better if something happened.

Although, the time the houseboat almost sunk that one time totally wasn’t my fault, and anyway we’re in a hotel, so there’s no way I could make it sink. Unless…

Fortunately for the structural integrity of the hotel, Dewey’s thoughts on the matter were interrupted by the timely arrival of one Scrooge McDuck. He perked up at this. While Dewey might not be exactly happy with is great uncle (or his mother, as the small voice in the back of his head kept trying to remind him) at the moment, the old duck was not boring, at least.

“Uncle Scrooge! Is the mansion fixed? Did you find Louie? Is there an ancient treasure that if we don’t find it right now will doom the world to a century of darkness? C’mon, anything to save me from dying of boredom while the nerds play their nerd game!”

Said nerds gave no notable reaction to Dewey’s outburst, save for Della who looked up and blew a raspberry at him. For his part, Scrooge offered a chuckle, a tired seeming smile, and a pat on the shoulder.

“Patience, lad. We’ll have the manor and your brother back by week’s end.”

Dewey frowned at that. “Seriously? When have you ever known me to be patient? And why isn’t Louie back now, again? Just tell Goldie to bring him home so we can all make up already! This is getting ridiculous!”

The old duck had no answer for him there, it appeared, offering only another pat on the shoulder before turning his attention to his niece.

“Della, may we have a word?”

Dewey’s mother looked up again at that, before nodding and telling Huey and Webby to keep working on whatever it was they’d been doing in the game (the two of them were apparently in some kind of zone, having barely looked away from the TV during this whole exchange). She then got up and crossed the room to where Scrooge and Dewey were standing, ruffling her son’s hair before following her uncle into the next room and closing the door behind her.

Yeah, no. That’s not happening. You two don’t get to go off and have secret talks like this, not now. Time for some super-spying.

With a backwards glance towards the two remaining gamers, Dewey crept towards the closed door and pressed his ear up against it. Concentrating very hard, he could just make out the sound of his uncle’s voice, low and serious, and his mother’s, questioning at first, then clearly agitated and upset. The door was too thick, and they were talking too softly, to make out much more than their tones, however.

Not good enough, I need to hear more. This sounds important, whatever they’re talking about. Now, how to do it… Wait! Didn’t Huey have something for this in his guidebook? ‘When through the walls you need to hear, a glass will make the voices clear’! That’s it! I just need a glass! And also to figure out a way to purge that stupid Woodchuck rhyme from my head!

With that, Dewey made for the suite’s bathroom, grabbing one of the glasses from next to the coffee maker that for some reason resides in every hotel bathroom. Returning back to the door, he set the glass against it and resumed his eavesdropping. With this new aid, he was now able to make out his great-uncle’s words.

“… a much bigger problem than I thought at first, lass, and time will only have made it worse. This needed to be fixed immediately when we got back. If I’d have known this was the root of it, I’d have pushed harder with Goldie.”

“You know I didn’t mean it like that, Scrooge! It’s just, with everything that happened, and losing you all again, I just couldn’t…” Dewey could hear the tears in his mother’s voice, and it took everything in him to not rush in and hug her. He needed to hear more. “But he has to know I didn’t mean it like that, right? I would never…”

“He doesn’t know that, Della. That’s the crux of it.” replied Scrooge, cutting his niece’s protestation short. “I know that, because I know you, but he doesn’t. And frankly, lass, you don’t know him either, or you wouldn’t have put it like that.”

Dewey felt his blood turn cold at that. What could his mother have said to his brother that would prompt that disappointed tone in Scrooge’s voice? It had to have been bad…

Almost involuntarily, his eyes flicked back over to his other brother. Specifically, his hat. More specifically, the green smartphone he knew was still stashed underneath.

The recordings…

But now Scrooge was speaking again, so that investigation would have to wait.

“Neither of you were ready for something like this. I should’ve seen that and stepped in.” Scrooge let out a tired sigh before continuing. “Neither of us are blameless in this, and I’m sure Donald will remind us of this fact loudly and at length if he comes back and this isn’t sorted. What comes next is critical. We need to make it absolutely clear to Louie when we get him back that no one’s place in this family is conditional, and that nothing will ever change that. There will be plenty more work after that if we’re to rebuild, or really, just build your relationship with the lad, but…”

Whatever Scrooge was about to say next was cut off by a loud crash as his middle nephew burst through the door like a blue bullet.

“What did you say?! What did you say to my brother?!”

In an instant, Huey and Webby appeared behind him, alerted by the sound of the door slamming, but Dewey was barely aware of them.

His eyes were fixed on his mother.

It made no sense. Della Duck was a hero. Sure, she made mistakes, like taking the Spear of Selene, or leaving Louie by himself, but no one was perfect. But she couldn’t possibly have said anything to Louie like Uncle Scrooge was implying.

Heroes didn’t do that. Moms didn’t do that.

Did they?

Suddenly, Huey was grasping his elbow. “Dewey? Dewey, what’s wrong? What happened?”

But Dewey could only look at his mother. At Della.

You didn’t. Tell me you didn’t. Please.

For her part, Della squeezed her eyes shut for the briefest of moments. When she opened them, there were still tears, but also a look Dewey couldn’t quite place. Some weird combination of resignation and determination.

She took a deep breath.

“Huey, do you still have Louie’s phone?”

Chapter Text

”…if you want to be a part of this family, you’ve gotta stop.”

Silence reigned in the hotel room, as Della reached over to the smartphone on the table to stop the video.

Dewey couldn’t breathe.

She didn’t. She couldn’t have. There's no way…

But she had. She had, and they all knew it now.

Dewey scanned around the room, desperate to find something to fixate on that wasn’t the sound of his own blood rushing through his head. Scrooge was sat on the edge of the bed across from Della, looking older and sadder than he’d ever seen. For her part, Della was clearly forcing herself to meet her sons’ gazes, even if it was obvious that the greater part of her wanted to curl up into a ball.

He looked to his left then. The look on Webby’s face was one he’d only seen once before, when Scrooge had snapped that she wasn’t family, and that their business was none of hers. A look of someone seeing something they believed in shatter.

No one believed in the McDuck family more than Webby, after all.

Dewey turned to his right, to his older brother, and instantly the mess of emotions coursing through him solidified into concern and alarm.

Huey was twitching.

He’d seen this before, of course. You don’t spend your life right next to a person without seeing the gamut of emotions and reactions from them. This particular reaction from Dewey’s eldest brother wasn’t exactly common, but when it did happen it was usually bad. Real bad.

It was far more common for this twitch to be found on Uncle Donald’s face. The difference was, Uncle Donald’s twitch was generally followed pretty quickly by an explosion, after which everything could be sorted out with a cooler head. Huey, on the other hand, never let himself explode. Dewey wished he would, actually. It would probably be a lot healthier.

No, what typically happened when Huey got himself this mad was that he would spend the next week or so in a state of teeth-grinding anxiety, snapping at anyone who got too close, but refusing to just blow up and get it out of his system. Instead, he’d need to be brought down gradually by calm words and gestures. Unfortunately for their current situation, Dewey was much less skilled at this than either Uncle Donald or Louie, neither of whom were available at the moment.

Which was, of course, the root of the whole problem. Which meant it was up to Dewey.

OK, so Louie and Uncle Donald aren’t here, so let’s focus on Huey not giving himself a stroke for right now. Then we can deal with all of… this.

Slowly, he reached out his arm and found his brother’s shoulder, rubbing small circles into his back the way Huey had done for him the night before.

To an outside observer, there would have been no noticeable change in Huey’s demeanor. Dewey however, was able to feel a small bit of tension bleed off his brother. Not enough to spare their mom what was coming, of course, but maybe enough that he wouldn’t give himself an ulcer in the process.

Dewey would take the small victory, under the circumstances.

“How? How could you say that to him? There is nothing he could do that would make him not my brother, not part of this family!” Huey spat, fixing Della with what was probably the angriest look Dewey had ever seen him give. Given that Dewey himself was the recipient of the majority of Huey’s angry looks, traditionally, this was saying something.

Not wanting Huey to take lead on this by himself, he stepped in. “Even if there was, that’s not something you get to decide, mom or not! Who is or isn’t a part of this family isn’t up to you! But how could you, anyway? Like, how is that something that would even cross your mind?”

After taking a deep, shaky breath, their mother responded. “The first thing to know is that I know what I said was wrong. No one’s place in this family is conditional, and even if it were, I’m the last person who would be able to make that call. It’s just that after what happened with the Timephoon, I was so scared and angry that, in trying to get my point across, I said some things I didn’t mean.” Della looked back at them with an expression of such guilty regret that Dewey felt his anger ebb, if only slightly.

It did not have a similar effect on Huey. “This isn’t about something you said to him at the spur of the moment! You sat down and made a recording! Seemed pretty calm and composed about it too! You had enough time to do all that, but not to consider what you were actually saying?”

Tears were falling freely from Della’s eyes now, but she managed a dark chuckle at that all the same. “Huey, if I’ve seemed ‘calm and composed’ about anything since I’ve been back, I promise you it’s all been an act. I have no idea what I’m doing when it comes to you kids. All I know is that, by some miracle, I got a second chance, and I’m terrified of blowing it. Or that I’ve already blown it.”

She looked back towards her uncle then, for just a moment, before continuing. “I thought I’d lost you all again, with the Timephoon. Then, after it was all over, when Louie tried to just move us all past it, all I saw was me. I saw me because that’s exactly what I would’ve done in his place. Just tried to play it off like it was no big deal. But, if there’s anything I learned from being stuck on the moon for ten years, it’s that things like that are a big deal. Getting out of it is never a guarantee. I didn’t learn that before I got on the Spear of Selene, and it cost me everything. Cost me you.”

Dewey frowned at that. “I mean, did you learn that though? You and I trashed the seed-vault, almost got ourselves, plus Uncle Scrooge and Glomgold, killed, and we kinda just rolled past that. And honestly, that could’ve gone wrong in a lot more obvious ways than the Time-Tub thing. So why was it so much worse when Louie did it? Is it because he didn’t do it with you?”

Della startled at that, looking like she needed a few moments to process that thought.

Huey was not inclined to grant her that moment, however. “That’s it, isn’t it? You don’t even know Louie. That’s why you don’t have a problem telling him to change who he is.”

Their mother’s eyes went wide with hurt. “What? I don’t…”

Huey made a frustrated noise, shrugging Dewey’s hand off his shoulder and beginning to pace. Dewey shared a concerned glance with Webby and allowed him his space for the moment.

“No, you don’t, and that’s the whole problem! You don’t even know how bad what you said to Louie was, because you don’t know him! Bad enough to suggest his place in the family isn’t secure, but if that was all it was, he could probably get past it, if only because he’d know deep down it just wasn’t true. But you told him he has to give up scheming.”

A look of realization crossed Scrooge’s face (one that Dewey was fairly sure was mirrored on his own). Huey’s eyes darted back and forth between his mother and his uncle before he continued.

“He doesn’t like to let it show, but Louie’s never been exactly the most secure person, and it got worse for a while after we moved to the manor. He doesn’t like adventuring, no the way the rest of us do. He didn’t think he brought anything to the table, and was really down about it. Didn’t know where he fit into the family. Until…”

Here Huey trailed off, looking meaningfully at his uncle, who took the hint.

“Until he managed to save the family using his wits, his ability to see the angles, to plan. To scheme. Afterwards, I took him aside. Told him he reminded me of you in that way. After that, he’s still no real fan of adventure for it’s own sake, but he’s never doubted his place in this family.”

Della looked like she was about to be sick. “And I told him he had to stop.”

“Yeah. You did.” With that, Huey turned and stalked out of the room.

Dewey nodded for Webby to follow his brother. As she did so, he turned back to his uncle.

“We need to talk to him. Huey and me. Like, yesterday.”

Scrooge gave a sad smile at that, before reaching into his coat pocket. Pulling out his cellphone, he turned on the speaker before dialing a number. The line immediately went to a recording stating the number’s mailbox was not set up.

“Goldie’s way of controlling communication. She only ever turns the phone on when she wants to talk to me, at least when something like this is going on. We’re a bit at her mercy at the moment, I’m afraid, so our best option for the moment is to keep to her plan. It’ll get us back your brother in two days’ time. If it helps, know she’s almost as mad at your mother and I on Louie’s account as you lot are.”

Dewey deflated a little at this. “Well, I’m glad he’s got someone, at least. But it should be us.”

With that, he turned and left the room, in search of Huey and Webby.

Chapter Text

Something was wrong.

Actually, Bentina Beakley supposed, that was something of an understatement. A great many things were wrong, and that was what brought them to their current situation. Still, there was something wrong specifically with the plan she was currently discussing with Scrooge and Della to retrieve her employer’s wayward nephew. Or rather, something was missing. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

So, she said as much.

“I don’t like this, Scrooge.”

Scrooge sighed, with the air of one having grown weary of relitigating the same arguments over and over. “So you’ve said, Beakley, loudly and at length, but we’re well past the point where Louie having stayed with Goldie was a matter for debate. We’re getting him back tomorrow evening, after all.”

Beakley shook her head. “While I stand behind my objections to allowing that woman so much time with an impressionable young man who’s heart she’s already broken once, that’s not the issue at present. We’re missing something with this plan to get Louie back, and I fear it’s to do with Louie.”

“What do you mean?” cut in Della, the look of worry that had been present on her face for days deepening. “Do you think Louie’s in danger or something? Should we be trying to get him back now?”

“In an ideal world, perhaps, though I don’t know that he’s in any immediate danger. I’m willing to trust your uncle’s assertion that Louie is at least physically safe with O’Gilt.” Beakley allowed, nodding towards Scrooge. “My concern is that we have no idea what he has planned next. We know from O’Gilt that they made their plans Sunday night, but that these plans only go as far as the heist itself, tomorrow night. We also know, thanks to O’Gilt, that Louie doesn’t intend to stay with her after the job is complete. We can assume the boy has a plan, it’s Louie, after all, but we have no idea what it actually involves.”

Scrooge frowned at that. “Well, assuming their scheme went to plan, they would still need some time to, er, monetize the idol before splitting up. I’ve no idea how long that would take, though I’d assume Goldie would have connections ready. Could be the lad’s not thought any further ahead than that.”

“Scrooge, this is Louie we’re talking about. He’s had two days since they first made up their scheme, and he’ll have had one more before they enact it. Do you really believe he’s not schemed any further?”

Scrooge’s frown deepened. “Goldie’s not mentioned anything else…"

“Alright. Assuming she’s being as upfront with you as you believe she has been, all that means is that he hasn’t told her. Which raises the question…”

“You think he’s scheming against Goldie?” asked Della, eyes widening in realization.

“I think it’s a distinct possibility.” Beakley nodded. “It would explain why there appears to be no plan for after their scheme, which we can all agree would be most un-Louie-like. He hasn’t told Goldie the plan because it involves double-crossing her, which would have the added benefit of providing him with a bit of vengeance for her double-crossing him at the Drake house.”

“Wow. My son is just never going to have healthy relationships with women, is he? Uncle Scrooge, do you have the number of Donald’s therapist?”

“Er, yes,” replied Scrooge, sharing a look with Beakley “I’ve got it around somewhere. Back to the matter at hand though, Bentina, do you really believe Louie could be putting one over on Goldie as well? After all, he’s an eleven-year-old lad, not a FOWL agent.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Louie’s at least twice as clever as the average FOWL field agent.”

------------------------------

“So, kid, tell me something…”

Goldie and Louie were back on the couch, watching yet another episode of Ottoman Empire as they munched on their take-out dinner (Chinese this time). As the show went to commercial, Goldie decided to ask a question that she’d been wondering about for the last couple days, before the trash TV turned both their brains into mush.

“Depends on what you ask.” Louie replied, fishing the last bits of his beef fried-rice from the carton.

Goldie rolled her eyes, setting her own carton down on the coffee table and leaning back into the couch, regarding her young protégé. “You said the other day that you had other plans if I’d said ‘no’ to you. What were they?

He looked at her suspiciously, so she continued. “C’mon, Sharpie, we’re far enough into this scheme that those other plans can’t possibly still be in play. Just tell me.”

Louie continued to peer suspiciously at her for a moment before shrugging. “Honestly, I was bluffing a little when I said that. I didn’t really have plans so much as ideas.”

“Tell me anyway.”

Louie tossed his own carton onto the table and sat back. “Well, if this all hadn’t worked out, my next idea was Ithaquack.”

“Ithaquack? But doesn’t Zeus…?”

“Hate Uncle Scrooge with the passion of a literal wrathful god? Yep. That’s why it’d be the perfect hiding spot. All I’d have to do was talk a little trash about Uncle Scrooge and I’d be golden. Zeus would let me live like a king there as long as I wanted just to spite him.”

“Hmm, not a bad plan, though if teaming up with your uncle’s enemies was on the table, you could’ve just stayed home.”

“Eh, no thanks. Magica’s a little… murder-y to team up with. And this would’ve been less of a team-up and more of an extended Greek vacation. Trouble was going to be getting there, though. Didn’t have quite enough money, so I would’ve had to figure something else out.”

Goldie nodded at that. “So, what were your other plans then?”

“After that? Gladstone.”

“Ah, I should’ve guessed.”

“Yeah, there’s all sorts of possibilities when he’s around. Could’ve even used him to get to Ithaquack, now that I think about it. But it would’ve been a bit of a risk, going to him.”

“You think he’d have taken you back to Scrooge?”

A nod. “It’d probably have been a 50-50 chance. My best play would probably have been to ask him to help me find Uncle Donald.”

“Speaking of Donald, have you thought about what you’re going to say to him when he gets back?”

A look of guilt flashed across Louie’s face then, mixed with something else Goldie couldn’t quite identify. He took a deep breath before replying.

“He’ll be my first call, once I’m set up. He’ll… he’ll be mad, but he’ll get it too, I think. If anyone could understand why I had to go, it’d be him.”

Chapter Text

“Lovely seeing you this evening, Ms. O’Gilt, but maybe call first next time?”

It had, in fact, been a lovelier evening than the large bull currently escorting Goldie to the front door of his mansion was aware of, at least as far as she was concerned.

“The pleasure was all mine, of course, Anthony, though I can’t say the same for some of your other guests.”

The scheme had gone off without a hitch, and part of Goldie regretted that it would likely be some time before she’d be able to work with her partner in it again, if ever.

“Goldie, you tried to lift Tommy’s wallet.”

Louie’s plan had been almost elegant in its simplicity. He had snuck into El Toro’s mansion with the kitchen staff while Goldie had made a grand entrance at the front door, making sure the bovine mob boss, his security, and all his party guests’ eyes were on her. She then kept their attention as she worked through the party in the main ballroom, while Louie was able to make his way unseen toward the side room where the priceless Bengal idol was displayed. Then, at the planned time, Goldie engineered a small commotion by purposefully getting caught trying to steal the wallet of a dog well known in the Duckburg underground for his temper.

“’Tried’ nothing.” Goldie replied, producing said dog’s gold pocket watch from her bag. “That was just a feint so he wouldn’t notice me lifting this.”

El Toro shook his head bemusedly “You never do change, do you Goldie?” He sobered then, casting a hard look down at her. “But then at least I know you’re not foolish enough to try and steal from me, yes?”

The general ruckus caused by Goldie’s distraction had given Louie just enough time to sneak into the idol’s room, switch it our for the replica Goldie had commissioned that week, and duck into the nearest bathroom undetected. This bathroom contained a vent large enough to allow him access to the mansion’s air duct system, which he was currently making his way through. Meanwhile, Goldie was being escorted from the party by its host, clearly not in possession of any idols, and having stolen only a token item for appearances sake.

She smiled back up at him “Oh, Anthony, I know you’re not foolish enough to believe I’d let you catch me if I did.”

--------------------

Moments later, Goldie stealthily made her way around to the back of the property, up against the railroad tracks that would, in due time, cover her escape. After a quick scan of the area to confirm she wasn’t being watched, she pulled out her phone and began to type.

You in position, Moneybags?

The reply came back almost instantaneously, as if the recipient had been staring intently at his phone, waiting for just this message.

She was fairly certain he had.

We are. We’ll move in as soon as the railroad gates come down.

Goldie nodded to herself, opening up another contact and typing out a second message.

How’s it going, Sharpie?

The reply this time was less immediate, for reasons that were obvious, but made a small part of her worry anyway.

Slowly. These ducts are way creakier than we expected. Trying not to make noise.

She frowned at that. They really hadn’t expected that. The plans for the mansion indicated the whole HVAC system had been replaced the year before, so the ducts really should have been fairly sturdy and silent. She typed out a reply.

Be careful, but time is a factor. That train comes by before we’re clear and our get-away is cut off.

As if to punctuate Goldie’s statement, a train whistle sounded off in the distance. She swore silently to herself. Her having the idol in her hand before that train came through was critical to both her scheme with Louie and with his uncle. They still had a minute or two, as the train wouldn’t be moving quickly at grade in a populated area, but it was a long train. Once it came through, the road would be impassable for several minutes.

After a few tense moments, over the hum of the air flowing out of the vent, she heard a thud come from inside the duct. Her phone buzzed again.

Aunt Goldie, we have a problem. I’m not going to be able to pop this vent.

What? Why not? Louie, the train is coming!

It’s too strong for me to put my shoulder into, and the slats are too sharp for me to try and kick it out! Use the prybar you used to get the bars off!

Goldie winced to herself as she approached the absolutely-still-in-place bars and hissed through the vent behind at her partner-in-crime. “Louie, the bars won’t come off from this side! You’re going to need to punch them both out from your side!”

Her phone buzzed again.

No talking! I think someone heard that!

Oh, they were screwed. They were so screwed. The plan was quickly shifting from “How do I get away with the idol?” to “How do I get Louie and the idol?” and fast approaching “How do we get out of this alive?” El Toro’s men were not to be taken lightly, and if one of them found Louie in the vent…

Suddenly, a bell began ringing. For one heart-stopping moment, Goldie was sure it was an alarm going off, but the reality was slightly less bad: the railroad gates were lowering.

They were out of time.

Her phone buzzed again.

Aunt Goldie, I think someone’s coming!

A long black limousine (Oh, very inconspicuous, you old sourdough!) pulled up. Scrooge and Della emerged, followed by his driver. The train approached.

Goldie came to a decision.

“Goldie, what’s going on. Where’s Louie?”

“New plan. Muscles, get those bars off. Now. Della, take the keys, keep the car running, and be ready to peel out of here the second everyone is in the car. We’ll need to get past a house full of mobsters who may or may not know something’s happened, so be prepared to forget everything you ever knew about traffic laws.”

“Already done,” Della replied “but where’s…”

“Stuck inside. Now let’s go.” Goldie pushed the driver towards the bars. To his credit, he didn’t question his orders, immediately setting to tearing them away from the wall, while Goldie waited with the crowbar to remove the vent.

Scrooge had a thunderous look on his face. “Goldie, I swear tae ye, if any harm comes to the lad…”

“You can lecture me later. Now move!” Goldie pushed past him just as the driver removed the last bar, setting the crowbar to the vent and wrenching it open.

There was no one there.

The train lumbered past.

From the car, Della yelled at them, asking what was going on.

There was no one there.

Scrooge was going to kill her.

She was going to let him.

There was no one there.

“Hey, what’s this?”

The driver was reaching for a small card sitting just inside the duct. Goldie came to just in time to snatch it first.

It was a business card, on the back of which someone had written “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice…”

She flipped it over.

The front of the card read Louie Inc

The train lumbered on.

Chapter Text

“I’m going to kill him. You all can have what’s left over when I’m done, but I am going to murder that pint-sized little pickpocket! To steal from me, Goldie O’Gilt! The absolute gall of that scrawny little scrounger…”

After a quick search of the immediate surroundings had determined Louie was no longer in the area, Scrooge had decided they should regroup back at the manor. The grip he’d held Goldie’s elbow in as he led her back to the limousine indicated that her attendance was not optional. The ride back to Killmotor Hill had passed mostly in silence between Goldie’s seething, Della’s worrying, and Scrooge’s…

Well, come to think of it, Goldie really didn’t know how to describe the look on her old partner’s face. The old miser was clearly trying to keep his expression unreadable, but something was trying to break through. She just couldn’t determine exactly what it was, and anyway, she had other things in mind as she strode through the front doors of his mansion.

“Oh, if he thinks he’s won… No one gets the better of Goldie O’Gilt. This isn’t the end, not by a long shot! I’m going to find him, and when I do…”

“As touching as your obvious concern for the lad is, my dear,” Scrooge cut in, drily “I believe we need to remain calm, keep our wits about us. Louie’s already outfoxed us all once tonight; if we get ourselves all worked up and acting rashly, we’ll only make it easier for him to keep doing so.”

“If nothing else, I’d appreciate if you stopped threatening to physically harm my son.” Della sent a watery glare in Goldie’s direction.

It was not well received.

“Don’t you start with me on anything related to taking care of kids.” Goldie spat, jabbing a finger first a Della, then at Scrooge. “Either of you. You’ve got Sharpie so mixed up right now, I’m amazed he can walk in a straight line. It never crossed my mind he was together enough to pull off something like this, not with the way he’s been talking all week.”

“But he was together enough to help you steal from a crime-lord?!” Della shot back.

“Yes. That’s the one thing he can always do. Even if he’s a mess otherwise, the boy can still scheme. Helps take his mind off of everything else. You really don’t know him, do you?”

“Enough!” Scrooge cut in before Della could reply. He glared back and forth between the two of them, as if daring one or the other to continue.

“Now then…” he began, before being cut off by a voice coming down from the top of the stairs.

“So, Louie out-schemed you all, huh?”

Goldie turned, cursing herself at not having heard anyone approach, to find four figures standing at the top of the landing. Standing in front were the blue and red triplets, together with Beakley’s granddaughter. The red one (the one who spoke, she guessed) stood in the middle with his arms crossed, glaring down at the adults below. Behind them stood Beakley herself, sending an extremely ‘I told you so’ look down at her employeer.

Scrooge found his voice first. “Beakley. Children. What’re you doing back here already?”

“The workmen called this evening, shortly after you and Della left, to inform us the bedroom wing had been completed.” Beakley replied, still clearly carrying on a second, silent conversation with Scrooge. “I felt the children would benefit from sleeping in their own beds tonight. I take it Huey is correct, however?”

Scrooge winced slightly, shooting a quick glance at Goldie before replying. “We’ve had a slight setback, yes, but we will have Louie back soon enough, only…”

He was interrupted by the blue triplet making the sound of a buzzer going off. “Nope. Sorry, B-team, we know you all tried your best. Now it’s the A-team’s turn. C’mon guys, let’s go figure out how to get Captain Lost found again.”

The children shuffled down the hall at that, Beakley following behind after shooting one more significant glance at Scrooge. Scrooge watched them go, deflating a little as they passed into the hallway and out of his sightline. Sighing tiredly, he turned back to Goldie.

“I know you said Louie dinnae share any of his plans for what came next with you, but if you had to guess, what will his next move be?”

“For tonight? I think he goes to ground. I know he’s got at least one hideout in Duckburg, it’s where he slept the first night after he left the manor, but he never told me where it was. My bet is he goes back there, if for no other reason then he’ll need somewhere to stash the idol.”

Scrooge nodded. “So you don’t think he’ll get far tonight?”

“Not likely. It’s late, and a young duck like him would be pretty conspicuous on a night train or a red-eye, assuming they even let him on. I think he waits for daylight, then tries to blend in with a crowd. Assuming his plan is to leave Duckburg sooner than later, that is.”

“So we’ve got a few hours, then.” Scrooge turned to his niece. “Better try and get some rest while you can then, lass. We’ll want to start looking for him bright and early.”

For a moment, Della looked like she would argue, but then tiredness hit her with a force that was practically visible and she nodded, shooting one final glare at Goldie before heading up the stairs. Scrooge watched her go for a moment, before turning and heading for his study.

Goldie only hesitated for a moment before following him in.

As she entered, she found her ex-partner busying himself in his liquor cabinet. Clearly, he’d expected her to follow him, as he emerged with a bottle of scotch and two tumblers. He poured them each a measure before handing Goldie hers, and sitting down behind his desk. For her part, she took a seat across from him, and they spent a few moments in silence, sipping their drinks.

In the low light, she almost missed the small smile that flitted across his beak for a split second.

Oh, you miserable old miser…

“You’re proud of him.”

It was not a question

Scrooged stiffened at that, fixing her with a hard look. “My nephew is out there, alone in the city, sleeping who knows where, with an incredibly valuable stolen artifact, and all sorts of people who would have no problem harming him for it.”

The look broke into a wide grin. “Yet, I find meself prouder of the lad than I’ve ever been of anyone.”

Goldie rolled her eyes. “You really need to gain some perspective.”

“He stitched you up good, O’Gilt!” Actual laughter now. “At eleven years old! Bless me bagpipes, but the lad is going to go far.”

“He’d better go far, because if I catch him…”

“Oh, donnae be like that. You’re still well ahead. That idol’s not worth a quarter of what you stole from him at the Drake manor.”

“Not the point, Moneybags, as you well know…”

Goldie stopped short there, feeling a telltale vibration in her pocket. Ignoring Scrooge’s questioning look, she pulled out her phone, eyes widening as she looked at the screen and answered the call.

“You thieving little brat!”

In a flash, Scrooge was up and around the desk demanding the phone. Goldie responded with a stiff arm, keeping him away. She had a few things to say to her wayward apprentice.

”Aww, Aunt Goldie. That sure is a funny way to say ‘I’m so proud of you, you’re clearly a scheming prodigy’ or ‘I’m sorry for planning to double-cross you, but it sure was resourceful of you to turn it around on me’."

“Goldie! Give me the phone this instant!”

She ignored that. “If you think you’re going to get away with this, you’ve got another thing coming. No one puts one over on Goldie O’Gilt!”

“No one except her dear, beloved nephew, apparently. But honestly, what sort of mental gymnastics do you have to do to justify getting mad at me for double-crossing you when you were planning to double-cross me the whole time?”

“I’m very talented, I find ways. When did you figure it out?”

“Like, right away. I was pretty sure you talked to Scrooge that first night, but I also figured you wouldn’t give me up until after you’d gotten something out of it, so I’d be safe until we’d done the plan. I knew for sure the day you let me go out by myself in Duckburg, though. No way you’d let me do that unless you knew no one was actively looking for me.”

“Very clever, Sharpie, but you know the game’s over now, right? You don’t have any way to fence that idol without bringing El Toro’s people down on you, and let me tell you they are not the kind of people who will go easy on you because you’re a kid. So just tell me where you are. Your uncle is over here having a conniption, your family misses you. Time to come in from the cold. I’ll even cut you in on a share of the profits.”

“Oh wow, Aunt Goldie, that sounds like a great deal. Now, it’s gonna sound like this phone is flying through the air, and then hits something hard, but that’s just because...”

On the other end of the phone, Goldie heart a faint grunt, followed by the sound of rushing air, and finally the line went dead.

Chapter Text

“Okay, we’re Louie: we’ve just stolen an incredibly valuable artifact, and outsmarted Mom, Uncle Scrooge, and Goldie O’Gilt while doing so. What’s our next move? Ideas, people!”

It was encouraging, Webby thought, to see Huey back in ‘take-charge’ mode. The eldest triplet had spent most of the last week alternating between uncharacteristic sullenness and bouts of snappishness. Part of it, she knew, had been his genuine concern for his brother, but she also suspected her friend had hated the feeling of being sidelined in the whole matter while the adults made all the plans to get Louie back.

Things would be different, now that they had decided to take matters into their own hands. She just hoped it would be enough.

“Well, he’s gonna need to sell the idol next, right? He’ll need money, and anyway, it’s Louie. He didn’t steal it for sentimental value.” Dewey replied, shooting a quick smile at Webby that told her he’d noticed the positive change in his brother as well.

“Right. How would he even go about doing that though?” Huey began to pace. “It’s not like he can just go down to the pawn shop, like he does with the little things he usually swipes from adventures. That idol’s worth millions, apparently.”

“Ms. O’Gilt might know.” Webby supplied. “She must have had a plan for selling the idol herself. Maybe Louie just found out what it was and decided to beat her to it?”

“Maybe…” Huey seemed doubtful. “But Louie’s apparently been two steps ahead of the adults this whole time. Going right to Goldie’s contacts would be a really obvious move. He hasn’t done what they expect this whole time, why would he start now?”

“Maybe that’s how we find him.” Dewey cut it. “The adults have been trying to guess his next move, and they’ve been wrong every time. Maybe if we can figure out what he’s already done, then we can figure out where he’s going next.”

“But we know what he did. He escaped from the manor when the villians attacked, went to Ms. O’Gilt, then they planned the heist…”

“No, wait!” Webby broke in, struck by realization. “He didn’t go right to Ms. O’Gilt after he left the manor. He didn’t meet her until the next day, Uncle Scrooge said so! So, he must’ve spent the night somewhere in town. If we could figure out where that was, we might find a clue as to where he went next. He might even have gone back there, since Ms. O’Gilt said she didn’t know where it was.”

“That’s an idea,” Huey frowned, furrowing his brow in thought “but it leaves us right where we were when we first got back to the mansion. Where would he have gone? Who does he know in Duckburg who wouldn’t have told us where he was? We ruled out Doofus Drake. Gladstone would’ve told Uncle Scrooge, if he was even in town. Lena and Violet said…”

“That’s it!” Dewey’s eyes lit up in triumph. “Lena!”

“What do you mean? Lena said she hadn’t heard from him.” Webby paused for a second, as a thought occurred. “Or do you mean she could track him somehow with her magic?”

“No! Or, wait. Maybe? But that wasn’t what I meant. Remember where Lena stayed before she went to live with the Sabrewings?”

“The room under the stage in the amphitheater! That would’ve been perfect!” Huey’s eyes lit up, clearly elated to finally have a solid lead. “Let’s go check it out! Webby, call Lena and Violet, see if they can meet us there. Who knows, maybe Lena can track Louie?”

“How? Louie’s great and all, but he’s not exactly magical.”

------------------------

“I can’t track Louie. He’s not exactly magical.”

Lena and Violet had been willing to meet them at the amphitheater to investigate, but it seemed Webby’s earlier doubts had been well-founded.

“Be that as it may,” Violet cut in “we’ve come all this way at this hour, so we can certainly assist you to the best of our abilities.”

“Thanks, you guys. Any help we can get at this point.” Dewey replied, prying open the trapdoor on the stage that led to the room below. Accomplishing this task, they descended the stairs, guided by the lights of their cellphones.

Lena grimaced as they entered the room. “Ugh, I can’t believe I used to sleep down here.”

“Just remember that you don’t have to anymore.” Webby smiled up at her friend, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.

Lena smiled back, before looking back up to survey the room. “Well, someone has recently. I guess Louie’s as good a candidate as any. The bed and a couple of other things have been moved. Someone was snooping.”

“Someone who enjoys the cool, refreshing taste of Cherry Pep?” Dewey produced an empty can from where it had been tossed in the corner.

“Okay, so we can be reasonably sure Louie was here. The question is ‘when?’” He looked back over to Lena. “I know you said you couldn’t track Louie, but could you give it a try? See if you can sense anything?”

The young witch rolled her eyes. “Fine. Dewey, bring that can over here. Though, seriously: I’m probably not going to find anything.”

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and held her hand over the can in question, which began to faintly glow as it rose up from Dewey’s hand. When she opened her eyes, they glowed as she scanned the room.

None of the other’s were able to perceive what she saw then, not being magically inclined themselves. They did, however, notice her eyes widen gradually as she scanned the room, reaching their widest as they passed over Huey and Dewey. Finally, after a few moments, she closed her eyes again and the can clattered to the floor.

Webby and Violet rushed to her side as she took a deep, shuddering breath to steady herself. When he eyes opened again, they were their normal color, but fixed with a strange intensity on the Duck boys present.

Huey found his voice first. “What happened? What did you see?”

“He was here.” Lena took another deep breath before continuing. “Louie, I mean. He left a… I guess ‘trail’ is the best word? It’s faint, so I think it’s probably from the first night he left, but it’s definitely there.”

“I thought you couldn’t sense anyone who wasn’t magic.” Dewey was confused. “So how did Louie leave a trail?”

“I don’t know. But whatever it was, it’s coming off of you two too.”

Dead silence reigned.

Predictably, Dewey broke it.

“Wait, are we magic?! That is sooo cool! How does our family keep getting so much cooler?!”

Huey was having some problems, however. “But we’re not though/ We’ve never been… Maybe it’s some sort of residue from something that happened on one of our adventures?”

Lena shook her head at that. “I don’t think so. Whatever it is, it’s the same for all three of you, as near as I can tell without Louie being here. It’s subtle, but it’s definitely there. Almost as if…”

She trailed off, before a look of realization came to her face. “It’s genetic, I think. Something that was passed down. That’s why it’s the same for all three of you. I can’t tell whether it’s a family hex, or maybe you’ve got a magical ancestor. It might not even be something you can access, at least consciously. But it’s enough that I can see it when I do a scan.”

Silence once more, as everyone in the room processed this.

Finally, Violet spoke up. “Alright, we are all clearly thinking the same thing, so I’ll be the one to say it: what do you two know about your father?”

Dewey and Huey merely stared blankly, first at Violet, then at each other.

Eventually, Huey shook his head, as if to clear the thought. “One mystery at a time. Lena, you said Louie left a trail. Is it something we can follow?”

Lena shook her head in turn. “Maybe if he’d been here last night, but not now. It’s weak, and it takes a lot to be able to sense it. I could maybe take you to the next place or two he went, before I ran out of power, and that would still put us days behind him. Maybe if we found a place he was at more recently, but even then, I’d probably lose it as soon as he got in a car or something.”

“So, this is a dead end.” Huey dropped his head. “I was so sure we could do this where the grown-ups failed. He’s our brother! How can we not find him?”

Webby walked over to him then, placing a conciliatory hand on his shoulder. “We’ll find him, Huey. And look at it this way, we got farther than the adults did in finding him on our first try.”

“Yeah! Plus, and I feel like we just kind of blew right by this, apparently we’re magic. That’s got to be important, right?” Dewey obviously felt this fact deserved more attention.

“I did say it was subtle, right? That it was something you might not even be able to access? Because I want to be very clear about that.”

Dewey just stuck his tongue out at Lena. “How is an actual witch going to sit here and take the fun out of being magic?”

“The ‘fun’? Dewey, you do remember my backstory, right?”

------------------------

Two days later…

There was a buzzing next to Scrooge’s head.

He fumbled about on his nightstand before finding his cellphone, flipping it open without waking up enough to check and see who was calling at this early hour.

“Mhmm. Hello?”

“Well good morning, Moneybags. Is this the first time I’ve ever been up before you?”

“I can only imagine it’s because you’re in an earlier time zone, Goldie-lass. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Scrooge asked dryly. It was rather early after all, and he hadn’t been sleeping well. This had better be important.

“I’m going to guess you haven’t seen the paper yet, Scroogey. You might be interested in what’s on the front page. I suppose you did say Sharpie was going to go far…”

Suddenly fully awake, Scrooge bolted up in bed, intending to yell for Duckworth to bring him the paper. Before he could get the words out, the ghost-butler appeared, paper in hand.

“I anticipated you would be interested in today’s news as soon as you awoke, sir” he intoned, dropping the paper on the bed before floating back out of the room.

Phone forgotten on the bed beside him, Scrooge grabbed the paper, scanning the front page for news of his nephew. He got as far as the main headline.

Shere Khan Announces Recovery of Priceless Bengal Idol

In an instant, he was out of bed and in the hallway, yelling as he went.

“Family! Get yerselves up and ready! We’re going tae Cape Suzette!”

Chapter Text

“When asked how he had acquired the long-lost artifact, Mr. Kahn credited the efforts of, quote, ‘a promising young adventurer who wishes to remain anonymous.’”

Between the roar of the Cloudslayer’s engines and the roaring in her own head, Della could barely make out Huey’s voice as he read from the Duckburg Times article that currently served as their best lead in finding Louie. Apparently, her youngest son had managed to get himself to Cape Suzette somehow, and from there presented the Jade Bengal to the most prominent Tiger businessman in the world. The article made no mention of what financial arrangements had been made between the two, if any, but it had pointed out that speculation as to the idol’s cash value reached well into the tens of millions of dollars.

Somehow, Della doubted Louie had given it away for free.

If she took a step back, she could admit to herself that her youngest son had played the angles to about as well as they could’ve been played. Not only had he managed to outwit herself, Uncle Scrooge, and Goldie O’Gilt, but his selection of treasure to target had been perfect. The idol was incredibly valuable in and of itself, but as a Bengal idol, it also came equipped with a Bengal billionaire who would be incredibly motivated to acquire it, and who had the resources to make it very worthwhile for anyone who could facilitate that.

Louie had made a plan and executed it flawlessly. Part of her was proud of that.

The other part of her was very aware that he’d done all of this to get away from his family. To get away from her. Her son hated her, had schemed his way away from her, and now almost certainly had the resources to keep doing so for as long as he wanted.

She had been unsure if she’d ever be able to make things right with Louie before. Now, she was starting to doubt she’d ever even get the chance to try.

Still, as long as there was a chance, she wouldn’t give up. The moon hadn’t stopped her, there was nothing that would.

… as long as she could ignore the little voice in the back of her head that kept reminding her that it wasn’t up to her, this time.

The plane rumbled on towards Cape Suzette.

---------------------------

“Good afternoon, I am Scrooge McDuck. I need to speak with Mr. Kahn immediately.”

The young panther behind the front desk at Kahn Industries blinked confusedly for a moment at the odd assemblage of ducks currently occupying the lobby, but then made what Della supposed was an admirable recovery, asking them to please take a seat for a moment and someone would be right with them. As they did so, the receptionist picked up the phone, speaking to whoever was on the other end in a low voice.

Moments later, the elevator behind the desk opened, revealing an older, well-dressed panther. He crossed the lobby briskly, extending his hand toward Uncle Scrooge as he did so.

“Good afternoon, Mr. McDuck, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I am Bagheera, Senior Executive Assistant to Mr. Kahn. If you and your family would please follow me?” He gestured to a set of double doors to their left.

He then led them through the doors into a large, well-appointed conference room, gesturing for all present to sit. They all did so, though Della noted with some amusement that Huey, Dewey, and Webby were essentially swallowed up by the size of the chairs they occupied. Once they were all seated, Bagheera sat himself at the head of the table, closest to Scrooge.

Scrooge raised an eyebrow at this, clearly having expected Shere Kahn to take that seat. “Mr. Bagheera, as I stated before, I am here to speak with Mr. Kahn. I do not appreciate being foisted off on his assistants, and if you would be so kind as to tell him so right now, that would be much appreciated.”

If the panther was in any way intimidated by Scrooge McDuck in full imperious mode, it didn’t show. He merely raised an eyebrow in return before replying. “Firstly, it is just ‘Bagheera’, Mr. McDuck. No honorific or salutation necessary. Secondly, while I do appreciate your need to speak with Mr. Kahn, he is not here at present.”

“Oh, isn’t he then? I’ll wait.”

“You will not. Mr. Kahn is in India, and these offices do close at 5pm, so…”

“India?!”

The panther nodded. “You are, of course, aware of Mr. Kahn’s recent acquisition. He and the Indian government share the belief that the Jade Bengal belongs in its place of origin. Before that can happen though, Mr. Kahn is seeking assurances it won’t wind up ‘lost’ once again, considering the expense he went to in acquiring it.”

Scrooge narrowed his eyes at that. “Well, now we’re getting somewhere at least. These expenses: just how expensive were they?”

For the first time all conversation, Bagheera’s composure seemed to slip, if only slightly. Della was impressed, honestly. Maybe she’d ask the old panther if he did meditation, or what meds he was on. Not a lot of people could be this unfazed by Scrooge McDuck in a boardroom.

Still, Scrooge’s last question seemed to exasperate him somewhat. “Mr. McDuck, you of all people should know that I would not be at liberty to divulge that information, any more than any of your employees would be able to do likewise if I was to ask them a similar question about you. Now, unless you have any questions I can answer, I see no further purpose in…”

“Wait!” Della cut in before Scrooge, who was looking fit to explode, could reply. “Listen, Bagheera, sir? Please. I know you can’t break Mr. Kahn’s confidence, and maybe you can’t confirm any specifics on the money or anything like that, but that’s not what’s important. Even if you can’t say it, everyone sitting here knows exactly who Mr. Kahn got the idol from. That’s my son. That’s my son, and he’s out there somewhere, with a million things that could happen to him, and I need to find him. So please, right now you’re our only lead. Is there anything you can tell us? I don’t care about the money, or anything like that. I just want my son back.”

The panther’s gaze softened somewhat as Della made her plea, and he regarded her for a brief moment before replying with a sigh. “The first thing to understand, is that this transaction was conducted in a, well, a very business-like manner, due to your son’s wishes as much as Mr. Kahn’s. He produced the idol, Mr. Kahn paid him for it. Simple. This means that many of the answers I imagine you are seeking, where he came from, where he was going next, and so forth… These are things that weren’t immediately relevant to the transaction. Therefore, I don’t know them, and neither does Mr. Kahn.”

As he spoke, Della felt herself deflating. A quick glance at the children present confirmed they were doing likewise. Even Beakley’s typically impassive gaze seemed to be faltering.

Another dead end…

Yet, evidently, Bagheera was not finished. “That being said, just because I do not have the answers you seek does not mean they are unavailable.” At this, the panther reached into his jacket pocket, producing a business card and handing it to Della (pointedly not to Scrooge, who was still glowering over their conversation). “You son was not alone when he came to Kahn Industries. I believe, if the answers you seek are to be found in Cape Suzette, you will find them here.”

As she stared at the card in her hands, a vague sense of déjà vu came over Della Duck.

’Higher for Hire’. Where do I know that name from?

---------------------------

“Seriously, there is something very familiar about this card.”

As the exited the limousine (how Scrooge had managed to scare up a limo in a new town on such short notice, she would never know) at Cape Suzette’s docks, Della couldn’t take her eyes off of the card in her hand.

“Well, it’s for an air cargo service. Maybe it’s someone you went to flight school with?” supplied Huey.

Della frowned at that. “Maybe… I don’t recognize either of the names on here, though. ‘Rebecca Cunningham, Owner and CEO.’ ‘Baloo Von Bruinwald, Founder and Chief Pilot.’ Nope, nothing there. But ‘Higher for Hire’…”

“You’ll find out soon enough.” Scrooge cut in, pointing ahead of them with his cane. “We’ve arrived.”

Just up the dock stood a small house with a tall observation tower that appeared to double as the office for the business in question. As they approached, Della took notice of an empty mooring for a large seaplane, while two smaller seaplanes were tied up further down the dock. A small hanger that seemed to function more as a workshop, judging by all the spare parts strewn about it, stood next to the house, across from the planes.

Scrooge rapped on the office door with his cane. Moments later, a middle-aged brown bear, with streaks of grey working their way through her long hair, answered.

“Welcome to Higher for Hire, where if you’re buying, we’re flying! Please come in!”

She stepped aside then, gesturing for the large group to file in as best as they were able. Watching her, Della got the distinct impression of a salesperson who didn’t quite know how to turn off her hustle.

“Come in, Come in! Please, sit wherever. I apologize, we don’t usually have such large groups, but I’m sure we can find…Ah ok, here we go! Now then, I’m Rebecca Cunningham, owner and CEO of…”

She trailed off then, as her gaze settled upon Uncle Scrooge. Her eyes widened, and Della almost swore she saw the bears pupils take the shape of dollar signs for a moment.

“Oh- Omigosh. You- you’re Scrooge McDuck! Oh, sir, allow me to say it is such an honor to meet you!” She reached out then, grasping Scrooge’s hand with both of hers and shaking vigorously. “Oh, I’m such an admirer of yours! I can’t imagine what you would need Higher for Hire for, but rest assured we will provide it to the utmost of our ability.”

Scrooge retrieved his hand then and adjusted his glasses, having been a little shaken. Literally. “Er, yes. Well, thank you kindly, Mrs. Cunningham, but I’m afraid we’re not here on that kind of business today.”

“Oh.” Rebecca deflated slightly at that, but made an admirable recovery a moment later. “Well, I suppose that makes sense. I imagine you have enough planes and pilots in your employ that you wouldn’t need to hire us for air cargo. So, what can I do for you today?”

“My son is missing.” Della cut in, suddenly very tired of pleasantries. “My son is missing and we were told we might find some information here.”

It was something to see, how quickly the brown bear’s demeanor changed at those words. Gone was the slightly mercenary vibe she’d been giving off since she’d opened the door, replaced with a look of deep sympathy and… understanding? Empathy?

“Your son? Oh, you poor dear. And I suppose these are his siblings? I’m so sorry. Unfortunately, I have some experience with that as well, so I can guess what you must be going through. I’m not sure how we can help, but we’ll certainly do anything we can.”

Della was thrown for a moment at the bear’s sudden shift, so Scrooge replied instead. “We know the lad was at Kahn Industries a few days ago. We were unable to get any answers there, but we were informed we might be able to find some here.” He motioned for Della to hand over the card to Rebecca, who took it with a small frown and a wrinkle of her nose.

“Kahn Industries? We’ve done some work for them in the past, but not for a long time. They don’t particularly like to pay for services rendered, if they can help it. That’s probably why they gave you this card; it’s an old one. Newer ones have the kids’ names on them. Did they say why they thought we might know something about your son?”

“They said he wasn’t alone when he was there. They didn’t say he was with someone from here exactly, but it was implied.”

“Let me call my husband.” Rebecca walked back over to her desk. “I can’t think of any reason for any of us to have been at Kahn Industries, but it wouldn’t be the first time someone in this house has gotten up to some nonsense behind my back.”

She hit the button for the intercom on her desk. “Baloo? Come to the office. I need you.”

It only took a moment before the response came back through the speaker.

“I know ya do, Beckers, but I’m just one bear. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is not as young as it used ta be.”

Despite the situation, Della couldn’t help but snort at the mortified look on the brown bear’s face.

“Thank you for that, Baloo. I have an office full of guests, but thank you. Now get in here.”

A few moments later, a large grey bear came through the office door, wiping his hands off on a rag and humming a jazz tune to himself.

“Alright, Beckers, what’d ya need? Whoa, looks like we got us a full house in here.”

“Good of you to notice.” The look Rebecca threw her husband some how managed to look both murderous and immeasurably fond at the same time. “Baloo, this is Scrooge McDuck and his family. Someone over at Kahn Industries told them we might know something about their missing… son, or brother, or grandson? Anyway, you haven’t been getting up to anything with Shere Kahn behind my back, have you?”

“Oof, Ya got a kid mixed up with ol’ Kahnny? Been there, brother.” Baloo was shaking Scrooge’s hand now (though judging by the look on the old duck’s face, it was less a shake than a mangle) and looking sympathetically sat the rest of the assembled family. “Wouldn’t know anything about it myself, though. Haven’t had to deal with Stripes for a while.”

“Well, how many other pilots work here?” Della was getting tired of getting nowhere. “Is there anyone else we can ask?”

“Wait, I’ve got it!” All eyes turned to Huey. “We’ve been looking at this all wrong! We got so caught up in what Louie was doing in Cape Suzette, we completely forgot to ask how he got here in the first place!”

He turned to Rebecca. “Mrs. Cunningham, did Higher for Hire have any deliveries in Duckburg last week?”

“Let me check…” Rebecca opened her desk drawer and began thumbing through the files.

“Yeah. Lil’ Britches was there on a two-nighter with the Sea Duck.” Baloo answered before his wife could locate the proper file. “Did a red-eye comin’ back. Got in Thursday morning. Didn’t say anything about any passengers though, and he usually tells me if he picks up anyone interesting.”

Rebecca stopped her search through her desk at that, pinching the bridge of her nose as if fighting off a major headache. “Are you and Kit still picking up hitchhikers? Baloo, you know how much trouble we could get in, and business is bad enough…”

“Rebecca Cunningham, are you seriously asking me to tell him not to pick up someone who needs a ride?”

The two bears just stared at each other for a moment. Obviously, this topic held some significance for the two of them that was not readily apparent to outside observers.

Della neither knew nor cared what it was. “OK, so it sounds like we’ve got our answer. That flight lines up perfectly with getting my son from Duckburg to Cape Suzette. Where is this Kit? We need to talk to him.”

“Actually, yeah, where is he?” Baloo went to look at his watch, frowning. “He had a cargo run this morning, but he should’ve been back by now.”

“He and Molly were going to meet up at Louie’s for a late lunch.” Rebecca supplied. “They should be back any minute though.”

“They what? Are you telling me those kids went to Louie’s without their Papa Bear?” He turned to Della then, shaking his head. “Kids. I tell ya: they’ll break your heart.”

“Baloo!” Rebecca hissed.

“What? What’d I say?”

Chapter Text

“Look, all I’m saying is that, if you’re going to try and use any of Dad’s old pick-up lines, maybe you should look at his success rate first?”

Kit Cloudkicker couldn’t help but grin at his sister’s remonstrations, even has he could still feel some stray drops of the drink that had been dumped over his head trickling down beneath his collar.

“What? You mean married to a wonderful bear who puts up with all of his nonsense, and with two great kids to boot? God forbid I suffer such a fate, Molls.”

Said sister rolled her eyes at him. “Yeah, because that particular situation is likely to repeat itself anytime soon. Agreed on the fantastic kids, though.”

“I said ‘great kids’.”

“And I said ‘fantastic kids’. Don’t argue with me.”

Kit just laughed at that. They really had to do this more often, he thought as he brought the Sea Duck through the cliffs of Cape Suzette. They’d been so busy lately…

We’re all due for a long vacation, not that I didn’t go a long way towards making that happen this week…

“Whoa, check it out.” Molly Cunningham interrupted his thoughts as he brought the plane around to make their final approach towards their slip. “We’ve got a limo parked at the top of the docks.”

“Really?” Kit was tempted to look, but figured keeping his eyes ahead of him was preferable at the moment. “Miss Cunningham didn’t mention anything about any important clients coming by today, did she?”

“No, she didn’t.” Molly replied, frowning out the window. “I think this probably wasn’t planned, or she’d have kept one of us around the office to help her greet the high-rollers. You know she hates doing that with just Dad.”

Kit grimaced, remembering how similar situations had gone in the past. “Well, we’ll find out in a sec. Comin’ in to land…”

Moments later, the two were working to secure the Sea Duck in her slip, when their mutual adoptive father in question emerged from the office and made his way over to them.

“You two are dead to me, you know that? Goin’ to Louie’s without your Papa-Bear, what’s this world coming to?”

He moved to first hug Molly, who responded with a sharp poke to his sizable stomach. “We’re just making up ground, is all. You’ve got decades on us when it comes to visits to Louie’s. Besides, are you really complaining we left you and Mom alone for the morning?”

“Hey now, you just watch yourself, little miss.” He kept his arms wrapped around her, but shifted his gaze to her brother then, who picked up… something behind his father’s eyes.

Not trouble, not exactly, but something’s definitely up.

Baloo looked back down at Molly then. “Molly-girl, I need to borrow your big, brown bozo of a brother for a minute. You mind finishing securing the Duck?”

Molly threw a look at Kit then, who could only shrug in response. “Fine. But he’s buying for all of us next time we go to Louie’s.”

“That’s my girl.” Baloo dropped a quick kiss on his daughter’s forehead before releasing her and approaching his son. He threw an arm over his shoulder and led them, at a suspiciously slow pace, back towards the office.

“Alright, Lil’ Britches, you pick up any hitchhikers this week?”

Kit figured the way he stiffened up under his father’s arm was answer enough. “Why? Who’s in there?”

“Well, Scrooge McDuck for one. Along with what appears to be most of his family.”

Oh. Of course. Of course that’s how this goes. Good things don’t just happen to us…

“Kit, son, I’m not gonna say you did anything wrong, not until I hear you out. But you’re gonna have ta account for yourself in there. Is there anything you wanna tell me before we go in?”

Kit took a deep breath. “No. It’s an… odd story, but I’ve got nothing to hide. I was gonna tell you, only…”

Baloo clapped him on the back. “We can sort that out later. I’ve got you, partner. Always. Now let’s go figure this out.”

He swung the door open, and Kit was greeted by the sight of his adoptive mother, looking equal parts nervous and protective…

Scrooge McDuck, the richest duck in the world, looking older and wearier than he’d ever seen him in pictures.

A younger, wait, is that Della Duck?, duck, flanked by two smaller…

Oh. Well, shit…

A deep breath. “He used the name Louis Gadwell with me.”

------------------------

“Evening, Captain Cloudkicker. I trust I’m on time?”

Kit, who had been supervising the loading of the Sea Duck, startled at the voice behind him. Turning, he found the young duck from two days before, only this time dressed all in black and carrying a black duffel bag.

“Lou! Where’d you come from?”

Lou gestured at the cargo being loaded. “Came in on the 10:45. We still good to go?”

Kit nodded in reply. “Inspector’s gonna be by in a few, once all this is loaded, so I can’t let you on just yet.” He then nodded towards a large container sitting on the end of the pier. “Why don’t you go hang out down there, behind that crate? I’ll come get you once the coast is clear.”

The young duck nodded at that, vanishing into the darkness.

Some time later, once the plane’s cargo was loaded and the inspector had made his rounds, Kit made his way down to the end of the pier in search of his young passenger. As he turned around the corner of the container, he caught Lou’s end of a phone conversation.

“Oh wow, Aunt Goldie, that sounds like a great deal. Now, it’s gonna sound like this phone is flying through the air, and then hits something hard, but that’s just because...”

With that, the young duck took his phone and hucked into the harbor.

Kit cleared his throat. “Uh, wrong number?”

Lou turned to him with a sly grin. “Nope, just one I don’t need anymore. We ready to go?”

“Yep, you can go ahead and come on board now. You’ll need to hang out in the back with your stuff until we’re airborne, but after that you can ride up front with me if you want.”

“Sounds good. Let’s do this.”

-----------------------

“So, kid. Obviously, you don’t gotta tell me anything you don’t wanna, but it’s a long flight, and I’m curious…”

‘Curious’ might actually have been something of an understatement. The kid was plainly used to air travel, being obviously comfortable in the cockpit of a large plane. He was obviously streetwise, but he seemed a little well-fed for a homeless kid.

“What’s your story, Lou?”

The young duck in question raised an eyebrow at him. “Well, the sort version is that I need to get to Cape Suzette to take care of some business, but you knew that. What else did you want to know?”

Kit shrugged at that. “The long version, I guess? I told you before I was a hitchhiker kid too, once upon a time. How’d you end up here? Any family? Any place to stay? That kinda thing. Like I said, ya don’t gotta tell me anything you don’t wanna, but I was just wonderin’.”

Lou was silent for a few moments at that. Kit had almost decided to give up and direct the conversation elsewhere when he finally spoke.

“I grew up with my uncle, but he’s… not around right now. I was staying in another place for a while, but that stopped working out.”

“What, like a group home?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

Kit grimaced in solidarity. “Yeah, been there. I was in a similar establishment before I hit the road. So, no mom or dad in the picture?”

“Mom was never around. No idea about my dad.”

“Any other family? I did hear you mention an ‘Aunt Goldie’ on the phone back there.”

A laugh. “Not my aunt. Just a business arrangement that ran its course.”

“And that ‘business’ is what’s bringing you to Cape Suzette?”

“Yep. And if this all goes through the way it should, I’ll be set. Just need you to get us there.”

“Hmm.” Well, Kit was dead certain there was more to the story than that, but he wasn’t going to push. If there was one thing he remembered about being a street-kid, it was you always needed to keep your distance from adults who got too pushy…

“What about you?”

“Huh?” He hadn’t been expecting that. “What about me?”

“Yeah. You mentioned you were a hitchhiker once, and you said you’d been in a group home, but you also mentioned your dad the other day. What’s your story?”

It was a pretty obvious deflection, but Kit was unbothered. He never minded talking about his family.

Chapter Text

“Passengers, we’d like to welcome you to Cape Suzette. Local time is 7 am, and the current temperature is, uh, something warm, probably. Please take this time to check around you for your personal belongings before exiting the plane. We know you probably didn’t have a choice of airlines to hitchhike with, but we thank you for choosing Higher for Hire anyway. Please remain seated until the plane has come to a full and complete stop.”

Kit’s passenger in question chuckled at this as he stretched. They’d talked for about an hour or so after takeoff, before Lou had gradually drifted off to sleep, only waking just as they began the landing process.

Yep, definitely a seasoned air-traveler. What is this kid’s deal?

Bringing the Sea Duck into its slip, Kit shut off the ignition before hopping out to secure the lines attaching them to the dock. Lou followed him off once the first line was tied, pack over one shoulder and duffle bag in the other hand. Looking around to take in his new surroundings, he only barely reacted in time when Kit tossed his keys at him.

“It’s gonna take me a few to get the Duck tied down properly,” the bear explained, gesturing towards Higher for Hire’s office “but you’re welcome to go ahead and make yourself at home inside. It’s still early enough that no one should be here yet. Oh, and if you’re feeling particularly ambitious, coffee’s in the upper left cabinet in the kitchen.”

Lou nodded at this, before making his way towards the office. Kit then busied himself with getting his plane secure, before following a few minutes later. His timing ended up being perfect, as he entered the kitchen just as Lou was pouring out two cups of coffee for them.

“Ah! Good man.” He sat himself down at the kitchen table then, Lou taking the chair across from him. They sat in companionable silence for a few moments, sipping their coffees, before Kit decided he needed to address the elephant in the room.

“Alright, kid. What’s your plan from here? I’m not gonna get all loan-sharky with you over four hundred bucks, but what’s your next step? Where ya gonna go?”

Lou just nodded at this, not appearing nervous or caught-off-guard in the slightest. “So, I’ve got a couple of errands I need to run before I can get you your money. You can hang on to the khopesh as collateral while I do this, or you can come with me, if you have time this morning. It’ll probably go more smoothly if I’ve got you with me, and I can break you off a little extra for your time.”

“Hmm.” Kit took a sip of his coffee while he pretended to consider this. The fact of the matter was that he was still curious as to what was actually going on with this kid, so if he had a chance to find out more by going with him, he was going to take it. “Well, the customer who’s receiving the cargo I just brought in won’t be here ‘til noon, so I can give you until then. Meantime, bathroom’s upstairs if you wanna get yourself cleaned up. Just don’t use up all the hot water, ‘cause I’m going after you.”

Lou’s brow furrowed at this. “Wait, do you live here?”

“Sure do. Ever since I was about your age.”

“But, your family…”

“It was just me and Papa-Bear here when I first came to live with him. Bit cramped for the two of us, but I was a lot littler then. He and Miss Cunningham finally made it official when I was seventeen, he moved in with her, and I inherited the place. Well, the apartment anyway.”

“And you never considered moving out, getting your own place?”

Kit shrugged at that. “No, not really. It’s small, but it suits my purposes just fine. Plus, you know, I never really had a home before this one. Wouldn’t feel right leaving it, if that makes sense.”

Lou had a funny look on his face at that, so Kit pressed on. “I mean, I know you’ve been on the road for a while, but has there ever been anywhere you’d go back to if you could?”

“I… yeah, there was one. But there’s no going back now.”

An awkward silence ensued, as Kit kicked himself mentally for asking a street kid about homes. Finally, he decided to just press on to their plans for the day.

“So, after we get cleaned up, what’s our first stop?”

The downcast look vanished from the young duck’s face, replaced with the sly confidence of the night before.

“Where else? We’re going to the bank.”

-------------------------------

The old beagle sitting across the desk from them removed his glasses with a sigh, wiped off the lenses, then replaced them, folding his hands as his gaze shifted back and forth between Kit and Lou.

“Allow me, for our mutual benefit, to review the request you’ve just made of me.”

“If you like.” Lou replied.

“Thank you. You,” the dog began, pointing to Lou first “would like me to open a new account for the purpose of receiving a, quote, ‘sizable wire transaction’. You do not have sufficient funds on your person to open such an account, you do not have a cosigner, and this gentleman,” he turned now to Kit “your…?”

“His driver.” Kit supplied.

“Your driver, yes. Your driver is not involved in this transaction at all. Am I missing anything?”

“No, I think you covered all the main points. Very succinct.”

“Thank you. Now, the facts being what they are, on behalf of Ocean Savings and Trust, I’m afraid I’m going to have to decline…”

“Of course,” Lou cut in “the plainly visible facts aren’t the only consideration.”

The banker frowned. “Young man, I…”

“Mr. Dowling, I can appreciate that the optics of this situation are not ideal. That being said, I’d like you to consider the risk-reward aspect of this. If I’m telling the truth, your bank will have secured a very valuable account. If I’m lying, what have you lost? The ten minutes it would take to set up the account? Consider also: what would I have to gain if I’m not telling the truth? All I would have would be an empty bank account.”

Kit shook his head internally. I don’t know what sort of scam you’re running kid, but I can’t find the angle on it. Neither can the bankman, and I can see it’s driving him nuts. Where are you going with this?

Lou continued. “The long and the short of it is this: I need an account to secure this transfer. If your bank doesn’t want to open one with me, that’s fine. I understand, actually. But then what happens next is I leave here, walk across the street to Cape Savings, and ask them. If they say no, I go to Suzette Life. Someone will agree to work with me, and the valuable account will be theirs. Is it going to be you, or do I need to move on?”

The banker is silent then, though Kit can almost hear the gears grinding in his head.

He’s not actually considering this, is he?

“Assuming we agree to this, when could we expect this transfer to go through?”

“I would actually not leave this office until I had it confirmed.”

Silence reigns for a few moments, before the banker turned back to his computer. A few minutes of typing later, and the printer springs to life. Mr. Dowling took the print out and handed it to Lou.

“Account number is on the top right, routing number just below.”

Wait, did that just work?

Lou just nodded, before gesturing towards the banker’s phone. “May I?”

At the banker’s nod, Lou picked up the phone and began to dial.

“Hello. Yes, it’s me. I’ve got the account information, are you ready?” He read off the account and routing numbers. “OK, read that back to me. Yep, you’ve got it. Half, just like we agreed. OK, let me know when it goes through. No, I’m there now, I want to see that it’s… OK, let me check on my end.”

He looked up then, holding the phone’s receiver to his chest. “Mr. Dowling, if you could please refresh the account?”

The old dog did so. What ever he saw there must’ve been really something, as his eyes grew as wide as saucers and he looked back and forth from the screen to Lou in something like utter disbelief.

For his part, Lou just smiled as he picked the receiver back up. “OK, looks like we’re in business. I’ll see you in an hour.”

-------------------------

Kit managed to get them both to the sidewalk before exploding.

“OK, what the hell just happened back there?!”

“I know, right? Thank God for Cape Suzette’s dangerously deregulated banking system.” Lou had that same sly grin from before, only this time there was something incredulous behind it. It was as if everything had gone according to plan, but part of him couldn’t believe what he’d just pulled off.

“Lou, I’m serious. You just, to all appearances, made I don’t even know how much money appear out of nowhere. That banker was about ready to dance a jig when we were leaving!”

“Yeah, I just made that guy’s year, didn’t I? And it was fifteen million, for the record.”

“Fifteen mil-! OK, Lou. I need you to level with me. How many felonies am I party to right now? I’m not doing time for four hundred bucks!”

“None! That was a completely legal transfer from a completely legitimate businessman!”

“Yes, because so many legitimate businessmen conduct their business by transferring millions of dollars to dummy accounts set up by kids!”

“OK, I can see how that doesn’t look great, but I can explain.”

“That would be nice!”

“Alright, alright! Look, so I made a deal with this businessman that I would procure a certain valuable item for him. That was the business I had back in Duckburg. The only problem is that this particular client has a reputation for not paying if he can find a way out of it. So, after I procured the item in question…”

“’Stole’. You can just say ‘stole’.”

“Fine, I stole it. But the person I stole it from didn’t exactly have any legal right to it either. Anyway, I wanted to make sure I didn’t get shafted on this deal, so we made an arrangement. I’d bring him what he wanted, but I’d need half the money wired to me up front. Now, I have it.”

Kit let out a huff of breath at that, trying to process everything that had happened in the last few minutes. “Man kid, you really are somethin’ else, aren’t ya?”

“So I’ve been told.”

“So, what happens next?”

“One of two things: first, I can pay you out now, and you can wash your hands of this whole business. But I’ll be honest with you: I couldn’t have made it this far without your help. So, if you’re willing to go with me a little further, I’ll make sure you really get what you’re owed when this is all over.”

Kit just stared at him for a brief moment, before breaking out into a wide grin. “This is insane. You are insane, you know that? But I’m with you. I’ve come this far, I kinda wanna see how this all ends.”

--------------------------

“Of course. Of course this is where this ends.”

The two of them were sitting in Kit’s car, parked in front of Kahn Tower. Lou was messing around with something in his duffle bag, while Kit simply stared up at the building.

“Yeah, you been here before?” Lou replied absently.

“A time or two. Good thinking getting half the money upfront. There’s a decent chance that’s all you’re gonna get.”

“Well, that’s worst-case scenario. Which, hey, fifteen mil. Not bad for worst-case. Still, I’ve got a few tricks left if he tries anything. Here,” Lou produced what appeared to be a ball of packing paper from the duffle, handing it to Kit “put this in your jacket.”

Kit did so, as Lou zipped the duffle back up and slung it over his shoulder. They both exited the car and made their way across the street to the tower.

“OK, here we go. Just don’t drop that, by the way, or we're both screwed.”

“Wait, what?”

---------------------------------

Moments later, the pair were being led into the office of Shere Kahn, president and CEO of Kahn Industries. As they entered, Kit made a quick scan of the room, noting the presence of two security guards at the door, a well-dressed, older panther standing to the left of the desk. Seated behind the desk was the tiger himself, who did not deign to rise at their entrance. Instead Shere Kahn raised one eyebrow at the pair, then leaned over slightly to say something to the panther in a low voice. Kit couldn’t make out what was said, but noted a brief look of surprise in the panther’s eyes before he nodded once and said something unintelligible into the microphone at his collar.

The tiger then surprised Kit by addressing him first. “Mr. Cloudkicker. I had not expected to see you regarding this matter.”

“I hadn’t expected to be seen.” Kit replied, honestly. “It’s been an interesting morning.”

“Quite.” Kahn purred. “Your family is well, I trust?”

“They are.”

“You’ll give your father my regards, when you see him next?”

“Of course.”

“Good lad.” The tiger’s gaze turned to Lou then. “And you, young master. I must say, you are not what I expected either.”

“I get that a lot.” Lou replied, with the calm of either someone with ice in their veins or someone who was not quite aware of the level of challenge they were facing. “I only hope it hasn’t made you reconsider any part of our deal.”

“In a way.” The tiger leaned back in his chair then, keeping his eyes trained on Lou. “Based on the terms of our agreement, I know that you are aware of my… reputation when it comes to deals of this nature. Even if you were not, your companion here would have informed you, based upon his own prior experience. Therefore, I must assume you have some sort of contingencies in place, should I attempt to alter the deal.”

“It would seem prudent, wouldn’t it?”

“Allow me to be blunt. On another day, were you someone else, and were he someone else, you might have been correct. Yet your companion has proven himself to a significant obstacle to my plans in the past, and I have little doubt you could be as well, especially should you call in any of the… reinforcements you have at your disposal. Therefore, I have determined that it is in my best interests in this instance to simply stick to the original deal. I am telling you this” the tiger’s voice shifted into a growl here “so that you are not tempted to enact any contingencies or plans of your own. The idol is precious to me, and I will not see it risked over some foolish stunt. Am I making myself clear?”

If Lou was in anyway fazed by this, not a trace showed on his face. “Perfectly. I’m all for keeping this simple. I get my money, you get your idol.”

“Indeed. Bagheera?”

At this, the panther standing next to the desk produced a briefcase and approached Lou. He then opened it, and Kit was sure he felt his jaw clatter on the floor.

He’d known what was in the briefcase, but knowing it and seeing it were two entirely different things.

Once again, Lou appeared unfazed, selecting stacks at random and flipping through them to make sure they were all cash. “Ok,” he said after a moment “looks like it’s all here. Kit?”

What kind of street kid isn’t thrown by seeing that much money…? Oh. Right. That thing I have to do.

With that, he approached Kahn, removing the paper package from his jacket and placing it on the desk. The tiger just stared at it for a moment before slowly reaching out to unwrap it, as if he was half afraid it would crumble to dust if he moved too quickly. The paper fell away, and then Kit saw it.

It was beautiful. A tiger, carved from a solid piece of jade, inlaid with gold, silver, and more precious gems than Kit could even name. Even as it shined in the morning light that streamed through the office windows, it gave the impression of being impossibly ancient, a relic of a world long disappeared.

That was just sitting in my jacket, Kit thought dumbly, before realizing he probably shouldn’t still be standing so close to Kahn’s desk. He turned and made his way back to Lou then, who was finishing transferring the cash into his duffle bag. Task completed, he slung the bag over his shoulder and stood back up.

“Probably should’ve brought this up before, but you did remember the other part of our deal, right Mr. Kahn? At least two days before you announce anything about this.”

“Hmm? Yes. Yes, of course.” Kahn replied absently, still utterly in the thrall of the idol in his hands.

“Alright, then I think we’re done here.”

The panther (Bagheera, Kit supposed) made to lead them out of the office, when suddenly, the tiger spoke again.

“Young master.” Kahn called out, beckoning Lou toward him.

Lou made his way back to the desk. The tiger spoke to him for a moment, in a low tone of voice, before the young duck nodded once, and made his way back to Kit and Bagheera.

“What was that about?” Kit whispered when he was close.

“Uh, financial advice.” Lou replied.

Bagheera led them as far as the elevator, bidding them good day before heading back towards Kahn’s office.

They entered the elevator. The doors shut.

And they exploded.

“Ohmigod, did that all just actually happen?! I think I must’ve just blacked out as soon as we walked into the office. I cannot believe we just pulled that off!”

“Kid, that was amazing! You were stone cold in there! Shere freaking Kahn actually growled at you, and you were just like, ‘yeah, and?’ Unbelievable!”

“Yeah, I think my heart actually stopped for a second there.”

They managed to compose themselves by the time they reached the lobby.

Barely.

----------------------

“Alright. Well, it has certainly been an eventful morning. You’ve got to get back to meet your clients at noon, right?”

Kit looked at his watch and swore. “Yeah, I do. God, I’m running on no sleep and pure adrenaline. Can’t imagine how I’ll come off to them. I’ll try and have Miss Cunningham do most of the face work, I guess.”

“Ok, well then I guess this is where we part ways.” Lou stuck out his hand. “Thanks, Kit. For everything. I know I’ve said this before, but I really couldn’t have pulled this off without you.”

Kit clasped the offered hand. “Anytime, Lou. This was the most fun I’ve had in ages. You sure you need to go now though? I know you’re a millionaire now, but don’t you need somewhere to, I dunno, sleep for a minute?”

“No. Sleep will have to wait. Kahn said he’ll wait 48 hours before announcing he’s got the idol, and I need to be well away from here by then. But that reminds me…”

With that he unzipped the duffel, withdrawing four stacks of bills and shoving them into Kit’s hands.

“What’d we say, $400? Let’s add a few zeros to that.”

“Lou! What’re you…? I can’t accept this!”

“Sure you can. Honestly, I’d give you more, but I don’t know how long I’m gonna need this money to last me, and I’ll need to set some of it aside for seed money. Take it, Kit. I’d say buy yourself a bigger place, but if you’re happy where you are, I dunno, maybe buy your parents something nice. Or take a vacation. Do whatever you want, but you more than earned this.”

“I… Thank you, kid.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Lou reshouldered the duffel. “Take care of yourself, Kit.”

“You too. And hey, if you ever need a pilot…”

“Absolutely.”

They clasped hands once more, the Lou turned, making his way back downtown while Kit turned back towards his car. He was about to get in, when a thought occurred.

“Hey, Lou!”

They young duck stopped about halfway down the block, turning with an eyebrow raised in question.

Kit took a deep breath. “Who are you? Really?”

Lou gave a slow grin at that before replying.

“I’m sharper than the sharpies. You can tell that to anyone who asks.”

Chapter Text

OK, the whole ‘magic’ thing is starting to make a lot more sense, because apparently my brother has legitimate scheming superpowers! That was amazing!

Obviously, Dewey was still concerned for his brother’s well-being and for what this situation meant for the family as a whole. At the moment, however, what he was mostly was impressed.

“And you just let him walk away after that?! An eleven-year-old with fifteen million dollars in a duffel bag? How could you be so irresponsible?”

Though apparently Dewey’s mother did not quite share his sentiment, if the way she’d rounded on her old flight-school classmate was any indication. She was honestly starting to resemble her brother in the ‘frantic anger’ department.

Kit Cloudkicker was unimpressed, however, merely folding his arms across his chest as he stared down the angry duck before him. “Well, given that I’d just watched that eleven-year-old make thirty mil over the course of a morning, I wasn’t particularly worried about his ability to take care of himself. Besides, he wasn’t mine to keep, and if you know anything about street-kids, and I do, you know that if you try and make ‘em stay anywhere they don’t want to, the first thing they’ll do is bolt.”

“My son is not a street-kid!”

“Maybe not,” Kit shrugged “but he played the part well enough to convince someone who was once upon a time, so the difference is kind of academic at this point. Although, I’m just now putting together that he was talking about McDuck Manor when he said he’d been in a group home. That’s pretty funny.”

Dewey let out a bark of laughter at that, drawing the eyes of everyone in the room. “What? That’s, like, objectively funny.”

“Anyway,” Scrooge cut in, clearly hoping to redirect the conversation back to more practical matters “look, Kit, I can understand why you wouldn’t have felt you could, or should, keep the lad. But is there nae anything you can tell us about where he might be headed next?”

Kit tore his gaze away from where he and Della had been glowering at each other to regard Scrooge. “No. All I know is that he asked Kahn to hold off announcing he’d recovered the idol for two days, and that he was going to use the time to put some distance between here and himself. Probably for this exact reason, come to think of it. I’d bet he figured the odds were good you’d be able to trace him here. Would explain why he didn’t have me fly him to wherever he was headed next. I’d have done it, if he’d asked.”

“I should hope so,” Della put in, acidly “four hundred grand should buy more than a flight and two car rides.”

At his mother’s words, Dewey felt the temperature in the room drop about twenty degrees. All the members of the Higher of Hire family stiffened noticeably, and Uncle Scrooge and Mrs. Beakley winced at each other. Dewey was left with the distinct impression that Della had just stepped in it, though he wasn’t exactly sure how.

“Don’t. You. Dare.” Kit ground out. “I did not ask for that kind of money, but I’m not in a position to turn it down either, and I will not be high-roaded about it by you of all people. Money may never have been an issue for you in your life, but you can’t be so oblivious as to think that…”

“Kit. Kit!” The older grey bear got up out of his chair then, crossing the room with surprising speed to his son’s side. “Easy there, son. It’s alright. Take a breath.”

Kit remained glaring at Della for another moment, before closing his eyes and nodding. “Yeah, alright. Thanks, Dad.”

“I gotcha, partner.” The grey bear pulled his son into a brief hug, one that suddenly made Dewey desperately homesick for Uncle Donald, before turning to address Uncle Scrooge. “Alright, you folks are stressed and upset, and I do understand, believe me, but Kit’s told you what he knows. Is there anything else we can do to help you folks out?”

“Er, no. I don’t think so. Not at the moment.” Scrooge turned to Kit then, who had collapsed into the chair his father had vacated. “I suppose all we can ask is for you to let us know if he contacts you going forward.”

Kit regarded Scrooge for a moment before responding. “I suppose I kind of have to, now that I know who he is,” he began with a sigh “but here’s the thing: I don’t know that he’d want me to tell you, and I’m on his team more than yours, money or no. So, I guess the best I can promise is that I’ll let you know, but I’ll also let him know I’m letting you know.”

“I suppose that will suffice, as long as, when you do speak to him, you let him know we miss him, and that we want him to come home.”

The bear nodded. “Fair enough.”

Dewey’s uncle nodded in return. “Alright then, family; let’s go.”

As the family all got up and made their way towards the door, Dewey trailed behind, stopping next to Kit’s chair. “Mr. Cloudkicker?”

The bear startled slightly, clearly having not expected to be addressed again. “Yeah, kid?”

Dewey stuck out his hand “Dewey Duck, Louie’s brother.”

Kit reached back out and shook his hand. “Good to meet ya, Dewey.”

“I just wanted to thank you.”

“Thank me?” The bear raised an eyebrow in question.

Dewey nodded. “Yeah. See, we all really wish that Louie was back with us. Ya know, triplet thing. But if he had to be out on his own, well, I’m really glad he had a friend with him. So, thank you.”

Kit’s face softened a bit then, as he gave a lopsided smile in return. “No thanks needed, but you’re welcome anyway. If you talk to him before I do, you tell him he’s always got a friend here.”

Dewey nodded at that, before turning toward the door, where Huey and Webby were waiting for him.

----------------------------------

It was nearing midnight by the time they made it back to the manor. When they’d arrived, Scrooge had taken one look at his demoralized, exhausted family and declared bed for all of them. He’d start activating his international contacts in the morning; Louie was bound to cross one of their paths sooner or later. They’d find him.

For his part, Huey wasn’t sure he had that sort of optimism left in him. Every step they’d taken towards finding his youngest brother had left them two more behind. At this point, it seemed like the only way Louie would come home would be if he came himself.

And he doesn’t WANT to come back. That’s become very clear.

So it was, with these encouraging thoughts rattling around in his head, that Huey found himself climbing up to his top bunk. Dewey, having neglected to brush his teeth, or anything else of the sort, was already sacked out in the bunk below. Huey was just about to lift himself off of the ladder and into his own bunk when he heard it.

Bzzz!

His eyes darted over to his desk where he’d left his phone, now glowing with an incoming call. He quickly (but safely!) made his way back down the ladder and over to the desk.

Bzzz!

“Unknown number?” He hit ‘accept’ on his phone’s screen, hoping this wasn’t just some robocall or telemarketer. “Hello?”

”Hey, Huey. How’s it going?”

“LOUIE?!”

”Shh! Keep it down, will ya? It’s after midnight back there, people are trying to sleep!”

Oh, Huey can just hear the self-satisfied little smirk on his little brother’s face right now. It makes him want to just reach out through the phone and… well, either hug or throttle him. Maybe both.

“Louie where are you? Are you alright?”

”I’m fine. Listen, are you alone right now?”

“Yeah. Well, sort of. I’m in our room, and Dewey’s asleep. Do you want me to…?”

“Yeah, wake him up, and get Webby if you can without waking anyone else up. Just you three though. Anyone else gets on the line and I’m hanging up. Got that, Hubert?”

“I… yeah. Yeah, one second.”

With that Huey strode over to the bunk, shaking his brother by the shoulder once he got there.

“Dewey!” he hissed “Wake-up! Louie’s on the phone!”

While the middle triplet had never been the heaviest sleeper of the three (that would, of course, be Louie), it was still something to see how quickly he could go from a dead sleep to wide-awake, given the proper stimulus.

“What? Louie?!”

“Yes, Louie! Now go get Webby, but be quiet!”

With that, Dewey was out the door like a shot. It occurred to Huey then that maybe he should’ve gone with him, and they could’ve just done this in Webby’s loft, but no matter. This way he would at least get a moment to wax wrathful at his baby brother solo.

“Louie, where have you been? We’ve been worried sick, and…”

”Oh, please.” Louie cut in, interrupting Huey’s incipient tirade. ”Up until maybe three days ago, you all have known exactly where I’ve been. Or at least you thought you did. I guess there was that day where you thought I was safe in the mansion with the killer robot, when actually the mansion was a smoldering ruin, but other than that.”

Huey winced at that. “Louie, that’s not…”

”Are Dewey and Webby there yet? I don’t wanna have to do this three times.”

A bell of dread formed in the pit of Huey’s stomach at that. It certainly didn’t sound like his brother was calling to tell them he was on his way home.

He was saved from having to answer by the arrival of said siblings. After a brief mental debate, he led the three of them over to Louie’s bed, where they sat in a circle with Huey’s phone on speaker in the middle.

“OK, we’re all here now. I’ve got you on speaker.”

“Ohmigosh, Louie! I’m so glad you’re ok! Where are you?”

”Thanks, Webbs. As to where I am, I will say only that I’m currently walking off a lovely breakfast. And Huey? I can hear you trying to do the math from here. Don’t bother, I’m not staying here.”

Huey (who had, in fact been trying to figure out the time zones in his head) deflated a little at this, so Dewey jumped in next.

“OK, well, before we get to far into this, I’ve just gotta say: absolutely A+ plus scheming. I mean, first managing to outwit Goldie and Uncle Scrooge, but then Mr. Cloudkicker told us how you got 30 million for the idol from Shere Kahn? That was amazing!”

”You guys tracked down Kit? Thought you might. Scrooge didn’t give him too much grief, did he?”

“No, Uncle Scrooge was ok. Mom kinda got into it with Kit though. I got the feeling there might’ve been a bit of history there? Apparently, they knew each other from flight school.”

”Hmm, I’ll have to apologize for getting him mixed up in all that when I see him next.”

“Speaking of seeing people next,” Huey cut in, hoping to steer the conversation towards the more important matter at hand “when are you coming home, Lou?”

”Well, the short answer is I’m not. Not for a while, anyway.”

All at once, a wave of crushing realization hit Huey, one that he saw minored on Dewey and Webby’s faces. They’d known, of course. They’d known Louie had told Goldie O’Gilt that he didn’t plan on coming back, but hearing it third hand from Uncle Scrooge was one thing.

This was something else entirely.

Webby found her voice first. “You’re… you’re leaving us?”

”Well, if you’ll recall, I was the one who got left behind. I’m just not going back.”

“Is this about the videos?” Huey broke in, desperate for something to latch on to. They could fix this, they just needed to go piece by piece, and…

”It’s about a lot of things, Huey.” Louie replied. “But yeah, I won’t say those charming educational films weren’t a factor.”

Dewey spoke next. “Louie, we talked to Mom about those. She knows she screwed up. She didn’t mean it, and she’s sorry!”

”I might buy that she’s sorry, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t mean it. It just means she doesn’t like how things turned out.” Louie chuckled darkly at this. ”I’d know a little something about that, wouldn’t I?”

“What do you mean?”

”Take the Timephoon. What was I trying to accomplish there? I was trying to find a way for us to find these treasures without almost getting ourselves killed every week. Now, am I sorry I did it because of they way things turned out? Of course. Would I do it again? Absolutely not. But the way things turned out doesn’t change what I meant to do. Same thing here. She may not like the way I took the videos, and she might be sorry things have gone the way they have. But that doesn’t mean she didn’t mean it.”

“Louie…” Huey’s desperation was rising now. He couldn’t do this over the phone. If he could just see his brother, touch him, talk to him face to face… Louie wouldn’t be able to stay mad, he never could…

… which, he now realizes, is probably why Louie is doing this over the phone.

Thankfully, Webby jumped into the gap in conversation, attempting another angle. “OK, so we can take as a given that you and Della have your issues to work through, and you can do that, or not, in your own time. But what about Uncle Scrooge and the rest of us?”

” Hmm, let’s see. That would be the same Uncle Scrooge who went along with every call Della made, even though Uncle Donald left him in charge of us? And you guys? Has it really never occurred to any of you that I might have reasons to be mad at you too?”

It evidently hadn’t occurred to Webby, if the look on her face was anything to go by, but Dewey visibly winced, and Huey remembered his brother’s doubts from that day at the Bin…

Louie didn’t wait for a response. ”You guys bailed on me! We were a team, and the minute Della cut me out, you guys went off without a backwards glance! On my dream adventure even!”

“That wasn’t our call!” Huey protested, though it sounded weak, even to his ears.

”Maybe not, but if any of you had any sort of problem with it, you kept it to yourselves.” Louie made a frustrated noise, before continuing. ”Look, I’m… less mad at you guys than any of the rest of them, but ‘less mad’ isn’t ‘not mad’.”

“So that’s it then.” There was a hollow sound to Dewey’s voice that kind of made Huey want to punch things, except the thing that put it there was Louie. “We screwed up, and for that you’re leaving us forever?”

”What? No! Huey, punch Dewey for me! I’m mad at you, dummy, that doesn’t mean you’re not still my brother!”

At that, a knot of tension that Huey had been carrying in the center of his chest since this whole mess had started finally loosened and, if the looks on their faces were anything to go by, there was a similar release of tension in Dewey and Webby.

“Really?”

”Yeah. I mean, what did you think? If I didn’t come back, was I somehow not going to be your brother anymore?”

Huey shook his head, even though he knew his brother couldn’t see it. “No. Never.”

“So, what happens now?” Webby asked.

Louie gave a tired sounding sigh before answering. ”I’m not ready to talk to Della or Scrooge yet, and I don’t know when I’m going to be. You can tell them I called, tell them I’m ok, but that’s it. I’ll keep in contact with you guys, and I’ll figure out a way for us to meet up somewhere down the road, but I’ve got one condition.”

“What’s that?”

”I don’t plan to just sit on this money. This is just the beginning. I’m going to build something with this. But I can’t do that if I’m constantly on the move, looking over my shoulder. So here’s the deal: I stay in contact, you guys keep Scrooge from trying to track me down. If I have to spend all my time ducking private investigators or whatever, I’ll go dark. Deal?”

The three ducks on the bed shared a look before Dewey gave a decisive nod. “Deal. We’ll make it happen, Louie.”

”Alright, sounds good. I’ve gotta go now. You guys get some sleep, it’s well after midnight back there, right? I’ll check back in soon.”

“Louie, wait!” Huey exclaimed as a thought occurred. “What about Uncle Donald?”

”Is he back? I’ll talk to him right now if he’s back.”

“No, not yet. And actually, the last postcard we sent him came back undelivered.”

A sigh from the other end of the line. ”Well, when he’s back, I will talk to him. We’ll see how things go from there.”

“Oh! Oh! One more thing! Don’t hang up, don’t hang up, don’t hang up!”

”What? Dewey, I’m still here. What is it?”

“OK, you ready for this? Drumroooooll… We’re magic!”

”Wait. We’re what?”

Chapter Text

Paying his fare to the driver, Donald Duck stepped out of his taxi and onto the Piazza De Ferrari.

Genoa. He’d always loved Genoa.

He’d come here last on something of a whim. He’d lost another job, and his prospects in Calisota seemed to be dwindling down to nothing, at a time where he could absolutely not afford for that to be the case. He’d been caring for three growing ducklings, after all. His notoriously poor luck was not a sufficient excuse for those boys to lack for anything.

It had been Panchito who’d suggested that a change of scenery might do him good. The rooster had spent some time bumming around Southern Europe a few years prior, and had recommended Genoa as a place where a sailor might find some steady work. A few phone interviews had gone promisingly enough, and the next thing Donald knew he had scraped together what was left of his savings and moved his little family to Italy.

It had been a good time. Donald had enjoyed his work, and the boys had done well here. They’d been happy.

It didn’t last, of course. Nothing did in those days. Still, it was a time of his life he could look back upon fondly. Evidently, he wasn’t the only one, which was why he was back.

“Ehi, Zio Donald.”

In an instant, scarcely aware of his own actions, Donald had dropped his bags, spun around, and gathered his youngest nephew into his arms. He squeezed tightly, finally, finally, after all these months, able to see for himself that Louie was safe.

Predictably, after a few moments of this, Louie got fidgety.

“Uh, Uncle Donald?”

“Shhh. Hugging.”

“Uncle Donald, this is an expensive suit.”

“You’ll buy a new one.”

The fidgeting intensified. “C’mon, you’re gonna have to put me down at some point.”

Donald just hugged tighter. “Nope. Never. In fact, I’m not putting you down until we get home, at which point you will be grounded for the rest of your life.”

“Uncle Donald! You promised!”

“You of all people should know, a promise made under duress is non-binding. Not having seen my nephew for months while he’s running around the world on his own counts as ‘durress’. Your scheming still needs some work, I think.”

The fidgeting stopped. “Uncle Donald…”

Donald put him down then. He had promised, after all, and it wouldn’t do to break that promise. Not now. Not after everything that had taken place in his absence.

He regarded his nephew then. “Well, you look healthy, at least. Been eating well?”

Louie gave a rueful little grin at that. “Probably a little too well, if we’re being honest” he replied, patting his stomach. “Europe’s a great place to be a rich gourmand. C’mon, I’ll show you.”

---------------------------------------

He’d known something was wrong at once.

Of course, the Earth had been under invasion at the time, and he’d been stranded on a desert island. So really, a lot of things had been wrong. Still, when his sister(!) had crash landed on said desert island, there was a notable absence.

They’d explained to him that it was fine. Louie had just been elsewhere when the invasion hit, but that they’d talked to him and he’d gone to ground where he was. He was safe. Donald had accepted that, at least until the immediate crisis had been dealt with.

Afterwards, however…

He’d almost left again. He’d been about five seconds from grabbing Huey and Dewey and writing Scrooge out of his life for good. He couldn’t believe the old man had… and Della! She’d just walked back into the kids’ lives and done that?

In the end, he couldn’t do it. It hadn’t been possible last year, when he and the boys had tried to leave, and it was even less possible now. Their lives were too intertwined with the residents of McDuck Manor to just walk away and, for all her sins, Della was still his sister and the boys’ mother. He had yelled, boy oh boy had he yelled, but the time when he could walk away was long past.

Then, he’d gotten the phone call.

It was Louie, thank all that was good in the world. His Louie, his brilliant, troublemaking, unbelievably beloved nephew. Safe and, to hear him tell it, thriving. Still, Donald needed to see for himself. He begged the boy to come home. They could work everything out. He couldn’t stay away forever. They were a family.

Louie wouldn’t do it. He’d made up his mind, he was going to make his own way in the world. Somewhere where he could be himself, do things his way, and not be made to feel less for it. He did want to see his uncle, however, so they’d made a deal. If Donald would promise not to tell any of the rest of the family where he was going, and that he wouldn’t try and drag Louie back home, he would meet him. He’d even send him the plane tickets.

And so it was that Donald Duck found himself seated across from his nephew in a small restaurant tucked away in the Centro Storico.

-------------------------------------------------------------

“So, what did Shere Kahn say to you, right before you left his office?”

“Huh?” Louie startled a bit at the apparent non-sequitur.

“I heard the story from your brothers. Kit Cloudkicker told them that, right before you left his office, Kahn called you over and said something to you Kit couldn’t hear. What did he say?”

He needed to be careful here, Donald knew. Had it been Huey sitting across from him, he could use reason. If it was Dewey, he would just need to wait until the middle triplet’s anger burned itself out. With Louie though, there was really no other way to put it: he’d need to con his nephew into admitting he wanted to come home. The danger there, however, was that if Louie sensed that he was being conned, it would set his resolve that much firmer. Still, Donald hadn’t raised the boy for nothing. If anyone was up to the challenge, it would be him.

Louie smiled at the memory. “He said it was impressive, what I’d accomplished that day, but not to mistake it as being more than it was. He told me not to be satisfied with thirty million dollars, that true wealth was the ability to spend thirty million dollars at will, and that I should ask my uncle.”

Ugh. Rich people…

“So, he knew who you really were then?”

“Yeah, he pretty much said as much earlier when he said that trying to con me out of the rest of the money would turn into more trouble than it was worth. Worked out for me. I did have a couple of plans in reserve if he’d have tried, but I was fine with not having to use them.”

Donald nodded at that, taking a sip of his drink. It occurred to him that he could point out that being Scrooge McDuck’s nephew had worked out for Louie in that instance, but he decided that was too obvious a gambit. He’d need to wait for a subtler opening.

“How’s the old man taking it anyway? That I got one over on him?”

Donald raised an eyebrow at that. Well, if Louie was going to continue the conversation down this road, he was more that willing to go along with it.

“Worried, mostly,” he replied, honestly “and maybe a little salty, but proud too, on top of it all.”

Louie just snorted at that. “Yeah, I bet. ‘Sharper than the sharpies’, after all. Or precisely one-third of the duck he is. Funny how that worked out.”

Donald frowned. “Well, yeah, Louie, your uncle’s a bit of a megalomaniac, there’s no getting around that. But you have to know he does love you.”

“He doesn’t though, at least not the way you mean.”

There was no heat to his nephew’s words. Just a resigned certainty that broke Donald’s heart into a thousand little pieces.

After a moment, he finally found his voice. “What do you mean, Louie? I thought after last year, and everything that happened…”

“Yeah, I did too. But then the truth came home."

Well, he’d known the conversation would come to this at some point. Might as well just steer into it.

“Your mom? What did her coming back have to do with Scrooge loving you?”

“Because it showed he doesn’t love ‘Louie Duck’, he loves ‘Della Duck’s kid’. That’s not the same thing.”

“What do you mean?”

“If he loved ‘Louie Duck’ he wouldn’t have left him behind. He would’ve made himself count for me, he’d have been my uncle. But he loves ‘Della Duck’s kid’, so he didn’t. He let her play at being my mom, because that was more important.”

Donald had been furious. He was still furious, to be quite honest, but it turned out he hadn’t even known the worst of what they’d done. Della and Scrooge, they hadn’t just lost Louie physically. They’d made him genuinely believe he wasn’t valued for who he was, only what he was. It didn’t even matter that it wasn’t true, because Louie now just took it as fact, so much so that he could discuss it as dispassionately as one might a few days of bad weather.

He wasn’t mad or sad. Mad or sad Donald could work with. He was resigned, and that was so much worse.

This had been a utter disaster, but he had to try to salvage something from it. This couldn’t be the end for their family, not after everything…

“Listen, Louie. To say your mom’s made mistakes would be the understatement of the century, but all she wants is to be your mom, and your Uncle Scrooge was just trying to help. Yes, they were both huge idiots about it, and if I’d have been there I’d never let things get so out of hand, but…”

“But what?” Louie cut in. “I should just come back because they want a second chance? Or a third? Do I owe that to them?”

“You don’t owe them anything, Louie. It’s just something to consider for people who love you.”

Something hard flashed behind Louie’s eyes then, and when he spoke next his voice had gained a noticeable edge to it.

“OK, Scrooge we’ve been over, but Della? How does she love me? She doesn’t even know me. How do you love someone you don’t even know? That’s gotta be the most performative… Maybe she loves some idea of me, this ‘Rebel’ she’s had in her head for ten years, but I’m not that! She’s made that perfectly clear by telling me I need to change who I am. So the bits of me she does know, she doesn’t even like! That’s who I owe another chance to?”

As Louie spoke, Donald felt his hopes for reconciliation fail. It would take years of therapy to work through all the damage done between his sister and his nephew, and that was assuming Louie had any interest in trying. Still, Donald had to keep trying, for all their sakes.

“Come home,” he plead “and we can work on this. You’re not wrong to feel the way you do, and I won’t try to convince you otherwise. But it’s never going to get better if we don’t try to fix it. So please, Louie, come home with me.”

His nephew regarded him for a moment, before looking away with a sigh. “It’s not ‘home’, not right now. Right now, it’s a house full of people who all want more from me than I can give them.”

“Please, Louie. For me.”

It wasn’t fair, Donald knew, but he was a parent. He wasn’t above playing dirty when the situation called for it.

“Come with me.” Louie shot back, before winching at his own words. “No, I’m sorry. That’s not fair. I could never ask you to choose… Listen, Uncle Donald. I’m sorry you got caught up in the middle of all of this. None of it was your fault. Just please understand, this is what I have to do right now. I don’t plan for it to be forever, just…”

He trailed off then, a Donald felt a small surge of hope. Louie wasn’t shutting the door on reconciling with his family completely, he just wasn’t ready to do so yet. As long as they could keep that door open there was a chance, but if he pushed, it might slam shut. At that, Donald came to a decision.

“You’ll tell me where you are, keep me updated. I don’t care what kind of deal you made with your brothers and Webby, you’ll tell me. I can’t do this if I don’t know where you are and how to get a hold of you, my heart couldn’t take it. I’ll keep it to myself unless there’s an emergency, but that’s my deal.”

Louie looked back across the table at his uncle, before coming to a decision of his own. Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulled out a small piece of paper and slid it across the table to Donald.

An address, and a phone number.

Evidently, Donald’s brilliant, troublemaking, unbelievably beloved nephew had planned for this eventuality. Of course he had.

“Edinburgh?”

“Shut up.”

“You ran away from Scrooge McDuck, and you went to Scotland?”

“I said shut up!”

They both laughed. Donald folded the piece of paper and carefully placed it in his jacket. The waiter came by with two cups of coffee for them, and they sat for a few moments in companionable silence.

Things hadn’t turned out the way Donald had wanted, but there was still hope. As long as they had that, there was a chance the family would be whole again one day. He could be satisfied with that, for now.

A few moments later, Louie broke the silence.

“So, Dewey says we’re magic. What’s up with that?”

“Wait, what?”