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Louie couldn't help but grin at his success.
Sure, the day has been pretty awful so far- Defying deathtrap after deathtrap, getting scolded for surviving, and not being able to cash in that good quality time with his mother he had been looking forward to for the entire week- but at least he could say he singlehandedly thwarted F.O.W.L.'s plans and saved the day. That had to count for at least something, right?
To be honest, he was the reason they even got this far.
In terms of wits and strategy, he was the lead player of their group, contributing to their survival the most and leading them urgently through room after horrible room. But despite his glory and worth, he would have failed if he hadn't his mother’s and uncle's strength by his side. Some of the death traps required teamwork, so going in alone would have spelled the end for him.
But that didn't happen. They fought through and came out victorious.
He felt as if all his hard work paid off in the end.
His mother threw him into the air and caught him, letting out cheers and praising him for his quick thinking.
This was more than just victorious.
Before the entire F.O.W.L. ordeal, he and his mother had marked today on their calendars for some mother-son bonding. They'd planned to go to the park and arcade together, ending with a stroll along the docks and then visiting Louie's favorite pizza place for dinner. Funny enough, that old pizza shack had been around for decades, and it just so happened that Della was familiar with it, dubbing it the 'Overlord of all Pizza'. In other words, it was her favorite too. Louie's been dreading and hyping up this day ever since he put the date down and just when all his waiting finally came to an end- Boom, deathtraps. Deathtraps everywhere. A deathtrap here, another one back there. Just- Deathtraps.
To say his mood had hit an all-time low that morning would have been an understatement. But, in a way, he guessed he still got to spend time with his mother. Just not in a really fun or normal way. Maybe he could pretend like the bruises he obtained were souvenirs, though he already used that excuse for each and every adventure he had ever agreed to tag along to.
But that didn't really matter anymore.
It was over now, and gosh, it felt amazing.
The saws, the glyphs, the time-loop-room. They all were nothing to him.
All he cared about was that feeling of pure happiness blooming in his chest every time his mother caught him, rubbed her face against his face, and tossed him up again.
He could feel it.
The warmth.
The affection.
The unadulterated serenity of her love.
He knew it wasn't the first time he felt it, and he was also aware that his family loved him as dearly as he loved them, but there was something about actively being shown that affection that made him feel weightless.
This was his nirvana.
He wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.
They stood by the jumping ledge of the money bin, every time Louie was tossed up, he got granted a perfect view over his achievement, the F.O.W.L. controlled security robot lay in shambles, buried beneath thousands of golden coins with only bits and pieces of metal peeking out.
He looked down and gloated in his victory.
He did that. He did that! And his mother was proud of him!
His work got validated. He felt validated. He felt... just right. He was at peace.
His mother threw him especially high this time.
Louie giggled and laughed in joy.
He was on top of the world.
And it felt great. So great in fact, that he tuned out everything except for the fuzzy feeling in his chest. He wished it would never stop. He hadn't been this happy in a long while.
He was caught once more, his mother ruffling his hair feathers and spinning with him still in her arms, before tossing him up again. Louie closed his eyes and allowed the wind to blow through his feathers, gravity falling away and the sensation of freedom tingling at the back of his head.
He fell, got caught, and up he went again.
His brothers were going to be so jealous when he tells them about the crazy day he had. They probably were getting their butts kicked by Beakley's defense training.
Louie was tossed up again, and he enjoyed that throw just as much as he enjoyed the first one.
To him, this could last forever. He was in his happy space.
However, every time he went up, he learned that the only way to go from there was down.
Down.
Down.
Down.
Louie looked down.
At the robot he destroyed.
At the robot that lifted its arm and aimed it straight at him.
At the robot that wasn't finished off yet.
Louie's heart stopped.
The world slowed around him.
He could hear his breath in his ears.
His mind went blank.
And his chest felt heavy.
Louie felt his breath get stuck in his throat and he tried to scream, "MO-"
Just then, his world turned white.
Never before had he felt this much pain. His whole side was on fire. Hot pain was spreading across his body. It hurt, it hurt so much. Louie didn't even know how to describe the agony he found himself in. He thought his body was tearing apart, his flesh being ripped and his bones shattering like they were made out of glass. He could hear the shards clang on the floor beneath.
He didn't scream, he found that he couldn't get a sound out, and suddenly the weightlessness in his body turned into heavy bricks, having him plunge down the bin.
While he might haven't screamed, there were for sure screams around him. Loud, terrified, Louie thought they called out his name.
As he fell, Louie could feel something wrap around his midsection. His mind was foggy and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't tune out the pain, but something about the warm embrace felt familiar like he should know who had jumped down after him. Louie noticed that he was being pressed close to the chest of a figure larger than him, and whoever that figure was, they placed themselves beneath him, willing to absorb all the damage of the fall to ensure he would make it down there in one piece.
With little strength, Louie grasped the jacket of that figure tightly with his hands, desperate for a sanctuary that could make the pain go away. He wanted safety, he needed comfort.
Gosh, it hurt so much.
His mind went blank. Only the pain existed. It was floating through his veins, choking him, burning him, kicking him. There was only pain. Nothing else.
He couldn’t handle it, didn't want to handle it. He wanted the pain gone, locked away somewhere, and never let out again. Louie gasps, feeling warmth fill his body... Just this time it wasn't right. Something deep inside his mind told him that this warmth was bad and he should fear it.
Then they hit the ground.
Louie never felt the coins beneath him, only the figure holding him was subjected to their back hitting the gold and having their round shape imprinted onto their back to the point where it left deep marks behind. Louie heard the figure gasp, and instantaneously to them landing, he was released from the protective hug and he rolled out of the figure's arms.
The money was warm and wet, yet weirdly comfortable.
He kinda wanted to sleep on it. Heck, he was certain if he just closed his eyes-
"Louie-!"
Someone called his name.
"Louie! Louie, look at me!"
Why were they so loud?
"Look at me! Please, baby, look at me, keep your eyes open!“
Louie groaned, it was a weird sound that he didn't quite know how to put, and he pried his eyes open to where they would be slits. It was difficult to open them further or to keep them open at all. He was tired, so so tired, which was weird... Moments before he felt so awake... so alive...?
He essentially got a picture of the person above him. It was his mother and she... She didn't look like her usual self. There was pain on her face and... Were those tears? She looked scared. Not the same kind of scared as when she first met him and his brother, and not even the kind of scared when Lunaris was about to murder them all. This was different. It was fear. Pure, undeniable, horror. Louie didn’t like seeing his mother like this, it wasn't her, the image he had of his mother would never look like that... It was disturbing... Terrifying.
"...Mo...m..."
Did someone stuff his throat with cotton? Because this was how it felt to him. The air couldn't pass through whatever sealed his pipe shut and something rose at the very end of it.
Louie found that he didn't have the strength to double over, but he still spat up a mixture of bile and blood. Since he couldn't get his head up, the two substances trailed down the sides of his face and stained the gold beneath him, most of it dripped back down his throat.
More red bubbled out of his beak when he tried to speak.
He couldn’t breathe.
It hurt. It hurt so much.
He wanted the hurt to stop.
Please make the pain stop.
It overwhelmed him.
The pain he felt before was nothing compared to the agony he found himself in now. Everything burned, Louie thought his body might be exploding. His brain cut off for a moment, Louie simply didn't know where he was or what happened.
Breathing made him cough up blood.
Where... Where were his brothers? He felt like they should be here with him. By his side... For when he... when he... what? What was going on again? He felt drowsy... Who were his brothers again...? He had trouble thinking of their faces... How did they look...? What did their voices sound like...?
"Honey, baby, keep your eyes open, look at me, darling, look at me, you're going to okay, a-alright? You'll be fine, I p-promise!"
Oh right... His mother...
Louie winced at the attempt to move his head. He tried to locate his mother, but the pain clouded his vision and made him blind to the world.
'...Mom...' Even his thoughts were fuzzy, '...Mom, it hurts…'
Louie coughed again, and this time, did howl as his chest flared in agony, blood dripping from his lips.
It hurt so much. His legs were really warm and he had trouble moving them. His side hurt- gosh, it hurt so much. Just make it stop! God, god why. It hurt. Stop it! STOP! PLEASE!
Louie wailed, more blood spilling out his beak and obscuring the sound.
'Mom... Please make it stop...' It got worse with each passing second, '...Please... Please, please, please... make it stop...'
His brain must have muted all noise because when something suddenly grasped his face and shook him, he was taken by surprise. He couldn't help but scream at the pain flaring up anew, though it didn't quite sound like a scream. Maybe a gasp. Or a whine.
He wasn’t sure when he had begun to wail so loudly and intensely, but the sobs were hurting his tired throat and blood spewed out of him even faster now.
"Louie! LOUIE! STAY WITH ME!"
He was shook harder.
Louie screamed, but it got mostly muffled by yet another wave of blood.
"Louie! Keep that inside! Don't let it out! Keep it in! Keep it in, darling, you're going to be fine!“
His blurry vision turned dark, he found it harder and harder to keep his eyes open.
Why... What was happening to him?
Louie groaned, weakly moving his head to the side and keeping his eyes open just enough to peek down.
"No," His mother was quick to move his head back, "Don't look, darling. You're going to be fine, okay? Listen to me Louie, you'll going to get through this, don't look down!"
...But... but the pain... the pain came from below-
"No, Louie-! Darling, darling, stop! Don't look! Don't look down! Look at me! I'm right here, honey! I'm here!"
His cheeks were squeezed harder and his head was being held in place.
Fine. That was fine. He closed his eyes lethargically, his breathing uneven and rattling worryingly.
"Don't fall asleep, please, Louie, stay with me!" His mother blurted in a panic when she saw his eyes slipping shut.
The next second, he was being shaken again.
"Ahh-! Ahhh...! ...Gahhh... Ah-!" Louie whimpered in discomfort, tears slipping down his pallid cheeks. The shaking caused the pain in his side to flare up even more. He wanted to throw up... He would have done it if he had the chance... or if his throat wasn't steadily pumping out blood that didn't belong there. Louie was sure that by now, his entire face was stained red. It stuck to his feathers and glued them together, the smell of iron and vomit hit his nostrils and made him even sicker.
He wanted nothing else except relief against the agony blossoming along his hurting side.
His mother stopped shaking him. Louie groaned, low and agonizing, before prying his eyes open, barely able to move his lids.
He had trouble hearing. The world was muffled and... and numb...
The pain started to slowly leave his body, taking the warmth with him. Like a breeze on a summer day, his body cooled down. His brain flooded with gratitude over the reduction of his suffering. It felt good and his body... well, his body relaxed. Louie hummed in response. He was getting so tired. His eyes wouldn't stay open, his breathing slowing down.
"Don't do this to me-" Sobbing came from above him, but Louie had trouble seeing or hearing who it was, "You're going to be okay, baby, you're going to be okay! I-I promise! J-Just breathe, Louie! Please, don't do this to me. Don't do this to me, honey, don't do this to me-!"
Sluggishly, Louie tried to search for his mother, but he couldn't find her. He tried calling her name, but just as the times before, aside from blood, nothing came out of his beak. The pain began to numb down even further, and Louie could feel something pull at his consciousness, lulling him slowly to sleep.
"Louie! Baby, no... Fuck- Shit! Louie, stay with me!"
He didn't know why... but he felt like smiling. He wasn't sure if he did or not, he couldn't feel his face anymore.
But he felt some of his feathers move, mainly his hair feathers. Someone ran a hand through them. It was soothing and banished the last traces of pain from his body. "Darling, it's going to be okay, I promise- You're going to be okay. Please, be okay-"
His finger twitched. A weird kind of tingle ran through his body, similar to when his foot would fall asleep and he would have to slap it to get the feeling back, just this time he couldn't shake his body awake.
His mind went foggy, but somehow he caught and held onto the idea that his mother didn't want him to sleep. She... was really adamant about it too... And he didn't want to disappoint her, so he ignored the pain for a little bit longer, giving his best to breathe through the thick sea of blood in his lungs. For her, he would keep trying to breathe, despite how dull it had gotten.
His vision was tunneling, and he honestly couldn't tell if he was breathing or not. His mother's pleas faded into the background and turned to a song, a song he learned to love with all his heart. He listened to the melody as a darkness like nothing he'd ever known before descended upon him and wrapped him in like a blanket. Louie listened to the song until he heard nothing at all.
"You're doing good," Della praised, cradling her youngest son in her arms, "You're doing good, baby, keep them open! You're doing good!"
Della watched through watery vision, slowly rocking back and forth, and holstering Louie up against her chest, holding her son's head tightly against her and lovingly stroking his feathers. Her chest erupted in pain. She must have broken a few ribs when she jumped down the bin, it was actually quite hard for her to breathe through the pain... But she didn't even notice it really...
Della shivered badly, from shock and maybe from something else too.
"Don't do this to me, baby. You can pull through, you're going to make it out alright." She whispered into his ear. But who was she trying to convince? Of course her son would make it! He was a duck after all! One of her little ones! He would make it through... There was no doubt in her mind.
No doubt at all.
"J-Just stay awake, stay with me-" Her cries worsened, and she began to hiccup over her own words. With one hand, she wiped some of her son's blood off his forehead so that she could place a kiss there. "You can't fall asleep, okay baby? You have to stay awake..."
She shut her eyes tightly against the tears,
"I'm so proud of you," she sobbed, and she wasn't sure why she hadn't said it before, "And I love you. I love you so much. I'll give everything to you, my soul, my heart, my everything... So please, baby... please come back to me…“
A heavy hand set itself down on her shoulder, turning her attention away from the gruesome sight of her son, limp in her arms with blood covering every inch of what was left of his body.
Through the tears and her puffy eyes, Della stared up at her uncle.
Scrooge had his hat tilted and it covered most of his face, although it couldn't hide how... old he was looking.
Della dared to look at him again.
At the mutilated body in her arms.
The plasma beam had hit him while he was in the air, some of his guts were probably still up on the top ledge of the bin. No doubt, if she would look up, she could probably see her son's blood splattered over the walls all the way down to the money.
And Louie-
Della gagged, turning away.
Louie's entire left side was gouged open from the blast, torn apart as if ripped at by a hundred tiny knives, the edges cauterized and black from the extreme heat he was hit with, craving inside and exposing all the squishy and gutty organs that survived the attack.
Everything below his chest was... gone…
No, not everything. Some of his right side and hip remained, and his right leg was connected to his body by two singular strands of muscle. The other leg must be laying somewhere... Along with the few fingers that were blown off when he was hit. Maybe they were on the top ledge, or they were somewhere buried in the money.
Beneath Louie's body, a small river of blood has formed, a lake in which Della sat and swam in, her legs were drenched, as well as her chest and arms. She could smell the metallic tang strongly.
Every single feather on Louie's body was matted with drying blood, but looking at her son's face made the mother of two three feel like she was going to pass out.
His eyes- They were staring lifelessly at the wall, dull and sad.
Louie's beak was slightly ajar, blood dripping from the tip of his beak and running down his face. There wasn't really any more blood to give, he had been drained dry, with the treasures of the once golden money bin now covered in red.
Della let out a soundless scream, seizing the corpse even tighter, and cried over the brutal loss of her son.
"Louie," she sobbed quietly, "Oh my baby- I'm so- so so sorry." Her chest felt tight as she gazed over her son's body lying motionless, pale, with his organs falling out of the jagged hole torn into his side.
"I'm so sorry. If only I hadn't dragged you into this mess- you wouldn't be- wouldn't be..." She broke off as the tears dwelling in her eyes overwhelmed her and there was no more controlling the sobs that escaped her beak. She wailed in misery, her heart falling apart at what can never be brought back. Screaming up the bin, she cursed the world and everyone living in it for taking her baby away from her.
Della went to wipe at her tears, for a single moment forgetting in whose blood her hands were covered in, and only when she felt the warm red smear over her face did she scream even louder.
Quieting down, but never becoming quiet, Della buried her face in the scruff of Louie's neck, getting even more blood on her, but it at least allowed her to feel her son one last time before the last bit of warmth ultimately faded from his body.
The hand on her shoulder- Scrooge had never taken it off- squeezed comfortingly, though for her it was an empty motion with nothing behind it. Her son was dead.
Her baby was dead.
Her child, one whom she never had the chance to truly get to know, was dead.
Della was convinced nothing in the whole wide world could make her stop her endless tears from dripping onto her son's face. She never felt this pain before, not even on the moon. Abandoning her sons had hurt, a lot, the wound in her heart wasn’t healed quite yet, but holding one of their corpses in her arms? Seconds after they had a normal, joyous day? She couldn’t even comprehend the pain flaring up in her body and burning her alive.
Her baby was dead.
And it was her fault.
"Mister McDuck! We have a situation!" Bentina's voice echoed through the entire bin, by the time it reached Della's ears, it had almost gone completely silent, yet, she flinched. "Haven't you checked your phone- M-Mister McDuck?"
Della's broken heart dropped like a stone.
"Mom?"
Oh god-
"Mom? Louie? Are you here?"
Not them.
Everyone but them.
Della held her breath, her grip on Louie tightening and the dead duckling's blood smearing against her. She couldn't let them see him. How could she possibly let them see?
Della leaned far over her son's body, blocking out the view for anyone standing higher up and looking down at them. Her heart was beating so loudly, she feared her eardrums might explode. She couldn't let them see, she just couldn’t. They weren't ready to see a corpse yet, they were so young, so innocent. When she and Donald were their age, Scrooge always made sure they wouldn't see a corpse. Skeletons were alright, they were robbed of their fleshy outsides that could have scarred them for life. But a corpse- Someone that once was a breathing, living being? Someone they knew when they were still alive? No, Della simply couldn't let them see. It was too cruel, so cruel.
She leaned over Louie even further, holding the lifeless body close to her chest. Her boys- her sweet and alive boys- shouldn't have to see this. No one should ever have to see this.
"Mom?" Dewey's confused yells came from above, "Is anyone here?"
Huey joined in, "Is that blood on the wall?" he asked, horrified. Then the commotion grew louder. The voices came closer.
"BENTINA! Whatever ye do, do nea let the kids in ta te bin!"
Della wasn't sure how Scrooge had the strength to speak. She herself was dying and her throat was clocked with sorrow. She couldn't even bring herself to look up at the walls stained with the blood of her youngest son.
"H-Hey, what gives?" She could hear Dewey yell. From the sound of it, Beakley must have grabbed him and pulled him away from the bin, his voice was getting quieter.
"What is going on?" Webby sounded confused, almost a bit scared, "Is everything alright?"
Delle couldn't bare hearing their voices.
They didn't know.
They will never know.
"We're-" Scrooge halted for a moment. Della could feel him look at her, he was probably thinking about how to move Louie out of the bin undetected.
"We're coming up ta ye, just stay where ye are. Do nea come down 'ere!"
Going up... He couldn't be serious.
Della eyed her uncle with wide, teary eyes. It's been a while since she last felt this- this lost. She felt like the child she was the day her parents passed away. She didn't know where to go from here, all directions lead to paths of pain and standing at the crossroad left her confused and desperate for guidance.
Scrooge kneeled down in the gold next to her, his hand hesitantly pushing Della's chest off Louie so that she would stop smushing the young dead child. Della couldn’t say if she should resist or support the motion. Zeus strike her down, she was not letting go of her child. But Scrooge didn’t want her to let go, he only wanted her to ease up, give the boy in her arms some space. Lacking the ability to make any clear thought, she obeyed without arguing and leaned back, the trillionaire now cubbing Louie’s cheek and caressing his feathers with his thumb.
Eventually- only a few seconds later but they stretched on as if they were hours- Scrooge's hand moved up. Della moved faster than she ever did in her life, her arm slapping Scrooge's hand away before he could pursue the horrible act he was about to commit.
"Don't-" She said. She tried to sound hostile but all her voice could give was deep, unadulterated, sadness, "He tried so hard to keep them open... For me- He kept them open for me-"
Scrooge placed his hand back over Louie's eyes and graced her with his grieving gaze, "I know, lad," he said, his voice was quiet and soft, yet filled with pain, "But he doesn'ea deserve havin' ta see te world that took his life away from him." And with that, he slid the duckling’s eyelids close. Scrooge kept his hand over Louie's eyes for a moment longer, maybe because he was afraid of removing it, seeing Louie's bloodied face and thinking he was simply asleep. Della too wanted to believe that, she wanted her son to wake up and look at her with those bright, youthful eyes he had.
"Della darling-"
When was the last time Scrooge called her that?
"-We should go."
"Go?" Her voice broke, she could barely speak, "Go where?"
"They have ta see him, darling." Scrooge's voice remained soft, and the trillionaire moved his hands to what remained of Louie's back, lifting the body up slightly. Della jumped to life immediately and ripped the boy away from him, "No. No, I can't let them-"
"They have ta know."
"Not now-" Della shook her head, her tears falling off her face as she threw herself over her son once more, "We can’t let them see."
Scrooge sighed, his breath shook, and Della noticed his hand on her cheek. She squinted her eyes in confusion, her tears blurring her vision so much she had trouble making out anything but the body of her youngest. Scrooge held her head for a while, until her breathing that had gotten way too fast was slowing again, and some of the fog was lifted from her mind.
Her hearing returned to her as well, the worried and impatient calls from her remaining family echoing down the bin and booming in her ears.
By the life of her, she couldn't explain how her legs didn't immediately break under her when she tried to stand. Scrooge helped her steady herself, the lifeless boy resting in her arms. Louie's stomach and what looked like one of his kidneys came loose when they moved the child, and they fell out the massive hole in his body. Della repressed her want to throw up at the sight of her son's messy organs. He was falling apart, even now, and Della was certain that her heart had been lost to the afterlife as well.
Della forced herself not to look at the boy, for her own sake. Louie's tattered body dipped into the bottom of her vision, but she focused on the task ahead of her.
Her legs burned. Her arms burned. Her mind swirled with guilt and blame and pain. Della took another step, felt her knee wobble, and took a deep breath, forcing it to stay in position, keep her upright. Another step, and she was almost there. Another step. Another-
Scrooge went up the ladder first, and Della felt her legs buckle at the thought of following him. Her arms felt heavy, she didn't know if she could carry Louie's body up the ladder. She pulled the boy closer to her chest and whispered, "I'm not going to let you fall, mommy's here for you," and she patted the corpse lovingly on the head before securing him in a hold that only required one arm, and with the other she began the long, heartbreaking assent.
Unsure of how long she was stuck there, climbing a ladder which felt like it was going on for all eternity, never ending no matter how high she reached, her arm grew heavy from carrying the extra weight with her. She didn't dare to look down, but was also afraid of what was up ahead. She had her eyes closed for most of the climb, and the darkness was somewhat comforting. She knew there were shapes and silhouettes hiding in the darks, the shadows of horrifying images lurking just around the corner, awaiting the moment she would open her eyes so that they could jump her and show her all the horrible things she didn't want to see.
Della stopped and caught her breath.
She couldn’t let them see. They shouldn’t have to see something so horrible. They didn’t deserve this.
She began to step back down, further away from the inevitable confrontation. She couldn’t let them see. She couldn’t let them-
Her family.
They were staring back at her, confusion and concern turning into shock and horror. She immediately pressed Louie closer to her, shielding him from all the gazes. They weren't directed at him, no, not yet, actually, they were all staring directly at her.
Della was aware of her blood-soaked clothes, of the tearstains on her face, of the way her body looked as if it was going to fall over any second now. Her curiousity finally got the better of her and she looked over her shoulder at the walls behidn her. She had expected them to be red, covered with sticky red blood from top to bottom and with pieces of intestines spilled over, but when she looked, she saw nothing but clean, white walls. The only blood was on the ledge they were standing on, a quite big stain from when the beam had hit Louie the first time and blasted him out the air.
She fixiated on that stain.
That happened when her son was still alive.
It felt like centuries have passed since then.
Della felt old. It was a weird way to put it, for sure, but it was also the truth. In those past 10 minutes- has it been 10? It felt like many hours have passed- she aged. The wrinkles in her face caused her cheeks to feel numb and her beak to hang slightly open.
Della's knees hit the floor and her body collapsed in on herself like a sack of potatoes.
Her arms shook and they were heavy, she loosened her grip on Louie just slightly to relief them off the strain, which in turn caused the boy in her arms to be revealed to the others.
This was when the screaming started.
She would never forget the sound of absolute agony that left Huey’s beak.
The duckling came limping- limping?- towards them, dragging his right leg behind him. He eventually stumbled and fell, having to crawl the last distance, all while screaming and wailing in confusion. Della caught her breath in her throat as she stared at her oldest son slowly crawling towards her youngest, his eyes wide and already filling with tears.
"...Lou...ie...?" Huey whispered, reaching out and, as softly as he could, he nudged his brother, then silently waiting for a reaction. Huey tried again, nudging Louie harder, whimpers turning into desperate whines. As the seconds ticked by, Huey got more frantic, only to be met with nothing. When he reached out to cradle his youngest brother, there were words that weren’t said but were strong enough that everyone heard them: Come back.
Della felt empty as she stared at the duckling shaking his motionless brother.
"Louie... wake up... Wake up, Louie... No... No, please no..." Huey choked on his sob, the dam having broken and his tears flowing down his face in tiny waterfalls. Della almost snapped at her son when he removed Louie from her arms to cradle him instead. The duckling held his brother with a gentleness that Della couldn’t dream of recreating.
Huey stared through teary eyes, and with his beak at a constant tremble, at Louie, breathing quickly and irregularly between his sobs. "No, no, no, no, no, no, please no, Louie, please no, no, no," he cried, rubbing his face against Louie's until their feathers blended perfectly together, he almost vanished entirely, his red shirt camouflage against Louie's bloody hoodie.
He sat there and cried, nuzzling his beak further and further against Louie’s neck until the sobbing wasn't enough anymore.
Huey’s screams echoed loudly throughout the bin, coming back from every direction and beating down on Della's already broken heart. He audibly let everyone know how it felt when a part of one’s soul gets ripped out of their body. "Louie!" he cried in a mixture of screams and sobs, "No! Why? Oh why? Louie... Oh Louie...! Please, Louie, open you eyes...!"
After a few minutes of listening to the heartbreaking wailing, Della took notice of the silence on the other side of the bin- Huey was screaming his lungs out, but everyone else had yet to say a word- and she looked up to see her family looking at the corpse almost blankly, tears obviously dripping from their eyes.
Beakley was the hardest to read, the spy held her face hidden, a shadow cast over her eyes.
The kids-
She couldn’t even begin to describe the expression on their faces. Webby had one hand clasped around her beak, her face sickish and slightly green and, and tears running down the sides of her face, gathering at her chin and falling with the accompanying sound of broken sobs. Her other hand was holding on to Dewey's wrist, tightly, tight enough so that Dewey's hand began to turn blue.
Speaking about Dewey-
The duckling's beak was slightly ajar, opened only by a small gap, like he was thinking about screaming but didn't. The rest of his face was devoid of all life, his eyes were filled with the emptiness of a black hole, absorbing all light and leaving nothing but vast nothingness. Della thought she might have heard the sound of his tiny heart shattering. The worst thing about all of this... He was quiet.
Dewey was quiet.
No screams.
No sobs.
Not even whining from the cut off blood circulation in his hand.
The rising and falling of his chest was the only indicator that he was at least breathing.
Dewey was many things, but he was never quiet.
Huey was still wailing, by now he had thrown himself completely over Louie, grasping what was left of his brother’s hoodie and holding on to it as if this would somehow bring his little brother back to him.
Della swallowed heavily, unable to turn out the horrible sound of her son grieving, and knowing that those screams won't leave her, not even in her sleep. Especially not in her sleep.
She was too caught up by the display in front of her, but also by her own heart stabbing her chest, that she failed to notice a duck who's presence she wasn't aware of before approached her.
Her heart was already broken, and as awful as it was for her, she looked away from her sons and turned to Donald, who kneeled down next to her and whom she immediately wrapped in a hug. She needed comfort, as selfish as it was. Her own crying began anew, this time muffled by her brother’s uniform and feathers, that also dampened the volume of her screams that were mixing in with Huey's.
Della proceeded to sob into Donald's neck as the older of the two began to rub circles into her back. She pressed herself against his chest tighter, her chin resting on his shoulder, croaking in a low raps, "My baby... my baby is gone...! He's gone...! Oh Donny, what have I done...?"
Her brother didn’t answer her, just continued to rub her back and hold her tightly. She thought she could hear him sob, and she knew for sure that Donald was trembling.
The air she was breathing suddenly left her lungs all at once, she wheezed and it felt as if someone had punched her in the gut. She didn’t know how to breath or how much to breath or if she should even breath in the first place. It sat heavy on her shoulders, squeezed her ribs and lungs, and left an awful foul taste on her tongue.
She didn't just get her own baby killed...
...but Donald’s as well.
Those were her babies, they came from her eggs, but Donald was the one that cared for them, raised them into the most beautiful boys a mother could wish for. It was Donald that spent nights awake, heating bottles of milk, changing dirty dipers, making sure they were healthy and happy. Donald was the one that sang to them when they couldn’t sleep, the one that put a bandaid on their scraps when they ran too fast and stumpled over their own little feet, and the one that gave ever single bit of his heart to those kids so that they could smile.
And he just lost one of the three treasures that gave his life meaning and warmth.
Della balled her hands to even tighter fists, capturing as much of fabric in between her fingers as possible. She held on to Donald just as he held on to her, the sailor having stopped the calming motion on her back and was now crying openly.
Della heard Huey dissolve into another screaming spell, unaware of how his voice has begun to turn raspy and sore. His cries were painful to listen to, and the longer it dragged on the worse it got. Della could tell that Huey was screaming in an effort to vent what could only be colossal amounts of pain. No matter how many times the symphony of agoney repeated itself, it never seized to deliever a cold shutter down her spine and a feelign of utter destruction in her chest.
Mixing her cries in with Huey's and Donald's, Della didn’t fail to notice how it was still too quiet. The other end of the room wasn't silent per say, but the reaction of a certain young duckling had yet to show. Dewey hadn't moved yet, unlike Webby, who had fallen to her knees and cried into Beakley's apron. Beakley reached down to pick her granddaughter up and held her in a way that made the duckling face away from the corpse, and whispered words of, "Don't look," and "It’s going to be alright".
Things weren't going to be alright.
How could they?
Louie was dead!
Her baby- her and Donald's baby- was gone.
She wasn't ready to live without him.
She would never be ready to live without him.
Della pulled her head back and screamed at the ceiling of the bin. She cursed every god she knew, she cursed the world, she cursed F.O.W.L., for taking away her son.
Louie had a future ahead of him, a bright and successful future. Her boy was destined for great things, one day he would sit on top of his own company that he build up himself. He was ment to be a hero, although in his own way- nevermind, he already was a hero. He didn't wore a cape and there were no statues of him, neither did people jump at the chance to get him on an interview, but he was a hero. A hero of earth, a hero of the moon, a hero of their family. Louie had a long life to live, he was suppose to grow old and experience the world and all its strangeness. The only version he was allowed to die in was when he was old and grey, with a smile on his face and surrounded by people that loved him. No other way. Not blasted out the air, choking on his own blood and with no one but his mother at his side. Louie deserved better. Her son deserved so much better.
When Dewey walked over to them, Della didn’t notice it.
He let himself drop next to his brothers, leaning forward to hug the spots that Huey couldn't cover, placing his head on Louie's chest and closing his eyes to listen to what was once a beating heart. He wasn't sobbing, but the tears spoke volumes of what he wanted to say.
Della stared at them and the feeling of devastation grew worse.
Never again would she pay witness to Louie running towards Huey for comfort after a bad day.
Those two always had such a close bond, a bond no one ever could explain to her, and Della's head hurt whenever she thought about it. Not a single time did Huey decline his assistance for whatever Louie needed, something the younger took advantage of from time to time. Louie wasn't showing it a lot, but he respected Huey greatly, she would even go as far and say that Louie admired Huey. Huey was safe, quiet, a place where he could go to and suddenly everything was better. Whenever Louie was around his brother, it was the time she saw him the happiest.
And this went both ways.
Huey always beamed with happiness when he was around his brothers, a halo of light almost engulfing him whenever they smiled together. He was a saint, and just as much as Louie loved him, he loved Louie back. He was so proud of his little brother for his accomplishments, his independence, his wits. Louie had many great qualities and Huey always went the extra length to tell his brother just how amazing he was.
Della felt guilt weighing her down even further. She might as well fall back down the bin.
Never again will she see Louie and Dewey pull silly pranks and then run away laughing and hiding in the closet so Beakley wouldn't get them. Their relationship was something beyond the bounds of just brothers, they were the bestes of friends. Closer than anyone could be. Dewey would have silly ideas and Louie made them a reality. Louie had risky schemes and Dewey was the first to jump at the notion. Most days they were up to harmless trickery and shenanigans, other days they would be lazing away on the couch, a blanket pulled over them and an empty bowl of chips to their side, next to the few empty cans of PEP!. They would cuddle and eventually fall asleep, usually before the credits began to roll.
Louie was looking up to Dewey in a large variety of ways. Louie wished he could be as courageous as his brother, as bold as him, and be unafraid of the uncertainty lying ahead of them. He adored Dewey's never ending charisma, his cheerfulness, the ability to make him laugh in even the gloomiest of situations. And again, this relationship was everything but one sided. Dewey was amazed by his little brother, his fast and complex thinking, the way he could find a way out of situations others deemed hopeless, the fact that he never gave up on his brothers no matter the cost. Louie was brave in his own way, and Dewey wished he could have some of that bravery.
Della felt not only her own heart, but also the ones of everyone else present, wither away.
It will never be 'Huey and Louie' or 'Dewey and Louie' again, and never, ever again will it be 'Huey, Dewey, and Louie'.
Three. They were always meant to be three.
Their entire life they had been three.
They were meant to do everything together, from start to finish.
And now they were two.
'I'm sorry,' she cried in her mind, the words unable to leave her beak, 'I'm so, so sorry.'
She continued to cry into Donald's sleeves until she ran out of tears, she sobbed until her throat was too sore to go on any longer, and she held on to reality just enough to be aware that Huey had stopped screaming. It was almost scary how it had become deadly quiet in the tick of a second,
Her legs were numb, strong arms had to pick her up and carry her out the bin. She had little in her to resist the action, it took her half they way until she even realized she was being moved. She let herself be carried, not bordering to see who was doing the deed, and without considering the very real possibility that she might pass out if she closed her eyes and have the gore materialize in her brain. Louie's lifeless eyes bore into her soul, bringing hell with him that tore her up from the inside out.
She was let down on the front porch of the mansion. All her memory of how she got there was whisked away. Beakley let her down, and Della immediately felt her legs give out. She fell on her knees and stayed there, frozen in the entrance and watching through hazy eyes as events unfolded around her.
Beakley was holding a crying Webby, she mumbled soothing words to the duckling and kept Webby’s head deeply buried in her chest, so that she wouldn’t have to see how broken the world was.
Huey was unconscious, resting in Donald’s arms, his tears having left massive stains on his face, the corners around his eyes were reddened, and his hat was missing. He was shaking in his sleep, and the bottom lip of his beak was quivering. Both Donald and Beakley made to the stairs, taking the two ducklings with them, presumably to their beds.
Della watched them leave and in a way, she wished they could carry her like that too. She reached out to them, but her arm didn’t move at all.
Scrooge was behind her.
She didn’t dare to look at him, or the duckling he was holding.
She wondered how he had the strength to carry him all the way from the bin, but that was just her uncle… strong when no one else could be… even in the hardest times. He passed by her, she noticed his legs shaking and his arms were stiff.
Della didn’t know where he was taking Louie, he was walking up the stairs like Donald and Beakley did, but when coming to the midway point he took the opposite, second, staircase up, leaving into the left wing of the mansion instead of the right where everyones’ bedrooms were.
Dewey…
Dewey stood beside her. He was unmoving for a bit, looking between Scrooge and Donald as if he was debating which one he should follow. He approached the central staircase with hesitant steps, still looking between the two directions he had to choose from. He then turned around to her, his gaze was lost and his eyes were empty.
"I'm sorry," Della sobbed, "I'm so sorry."
She got her son murdered.
Louie had wanted a nice day of bonding and she... she forced him into his grave.
If she hadn't broken down already, she would have now. She cried and wailed loudly, pain stabbing her chest but by now it had all gotten numb. She couldn’t get her head to draw any clear thought, not even the duckling walking up to her and hugging her registered in her mind.
There was only one question floating in there.
"...What have I done...?"