Chapter Text
Della Duck yawned and sat up, rubbing her eyes. She wasn’t sure what had woken her. Living with Uncle Scrooge for just a week, the sounds of the great old manor were still unfamiliar to her. She frowned and glanced around her dark room.
There was a noise from downstairs.
She stood and rushed to her window just in time to see a car pulling out of the great driveway. Then, a figure opening the front door and stepping in.
She gasped. Intruder!
She had to warn Uncle Scrooge, or Donald, or Duckworth, or -
Or.
Or she could take him herself.
She needed to investigate, protect them from this vicious attacker. By the time she woke them up, the burglars might already be gone! She could handle this herself. After all, nothing could stop Della Duck! She’d save the night, and be a hero forever! Plus, if she did this, Donald would never be able to brag about anything again. At least, not for a while.
Mind made up, the eleven-year-old eased her door open and tiptoed down the vast hallway. It was still hard navigating the manor - more so in the dark - but she made her way slowly down to the foyer. She heard another disturbance from the dining room. Slipping in, she finally noticed a weak light shining from the kitchen.
Huh. She’d imagined thieves would aim more for the priceless artifacts than rooting through the fridge.
Della frowned and glanced around. Surely, she shouldn’t take them unarmed. Her eyes alighted on a poker by the fireplace, and she sighed inwardly as she picked it up. That would have to do.
Slowly, carefully, she poked her head around the doorway.
She paused.
This is not what she was expecting.
Rather than a devious gang of burglars or beagles, a tall, gangly stork wearing a green turtleneck stood in the kitchen. He was leaning over the open fridge, tired eyes scanning the shelves behind his round, thick glasses. A piece of leftover pizza already hung from his beak, as both hands were busy opening a takeout container to inspect the contents. A green duffle bag sat on a chair at the counter, still with the check tag.
Della didn’t realize she’d stepped into full view until he turned to look at her. They both froze.
She stared blankly.
His eyes narrowed in confusion.
She tilted her head.
He raised an eyebrow and removed the pizza from his mouth, face scrunched up with pure befuddlement. “Hello?”
Suddenly remembering herself, Della brandished her weapon and charged with a battle cry. “Leave this house, villain!” she shrieked.
The stork yelped in surprise and dropped the takeout as he stumbled back from her attack. “What the hell?” he shouted, scrambling onto the counter. “Cut it out, you little gremlin!”
Della prepared to attack again, but the overhead light flicked on.
“What in Dismal Downs -?” Scrooge shouted, turning the attention of both figures to the doorway where he stood, brandishing his cane threateningly. Donald hovered just behind him and Duckworth walked in as they looked.
Della and the intruder both pointed to each other and raised their eyebrows incredulously.
Scrooge sighed in relief and lowered his cane. “Della, lass, stand down,” he said, stepping forward and waving his hand. “He lives here.”
Della dropped her poker and stepped back, turning back to the stork. “What?” she cried in dismay. She took a defensive stance as the stork straightened up from where he’d been cowering against the counter, watching her tentatively.
Scrooge nodded and turned to stand next to him. “Della, Donald,” he introduced, “this is Gyro Gearloose. My son.”
Della blanched.
“Your what? ” Donald echoed in dismay. “Mom never said you had a kid!”
“He adopted me when I was eight,” Gyro explained, taking a bite of the pizza that he’d miraculously been able to keep a hold of. “What’s your situation?”
Scrooge turned to face him and gestured to the children. “This is Della and Donald,” he explained. “My niece and nephew. They’re going to be staying here for the foreseeable future.”
Gyro eyed the poker Della still held. “You couldn’t have warned us?” he muttered.
Scrooge scowled. “Gyro, lad, I thought your flight was delayed! You said you wouldn’t be in until tomorrow!”
“Yeah, it got cleared up at, like, midnight,” Gyro muttered, pinching the bridge of his beak. “I didn’t want to wake you - this is not a ‘car ride from the airport’ conversation!”
Scrooge rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, maybe not,” he admitted slowly. “But, it was a bit of a, ah, last minute decision.”
Gyro stared blankly at him for a moment, then shook his head and took another bite of his pizza. “I’m going to bed,” he muttered, stepping around the assembled group to pick up his bag. “I’m too tired for this.”
Scrooge rolled his eyes, but stepped aside to let him leave. “You can tell me about your research trip tomorrow!” he added as the stork trotted out. Gyro gave a vague noise of agreement before his footsteps could be heard on the staircase.
Duckworth, looking vaguely annoyed at the whole disturbance, left. Donald and Della both turned slowly to face Scrooge, who was looking a little guilty.
“You have a kid? ” Donald cried in dismay, bunching his mussed hair in his hands.
“Well, the lad’s hardly a ‘kid’ anymore,” Scrooge muttered, gesturing to the doorway. “Almost in college now, once he can settle on -”
“Why didn’t you ever tell anyone?” Della pressed.
He shrugged. “Nobody ever asked!” He sighed and waved his hands. “Just go back to bed, we’ll talk more at a decent hour.”
Della and Donald shared a look, but didn’t argue as he herded them back up the stairs.
‘A more decent hour’ turned out to be 10 am the next morning, after Donald and Della had been awake and antsy for hours. They were sat on the floor of the living room, playing some ancient board game they’d found, when Scrooge finally walked in with a weary sigh.
“Alright,” he began, “I’ve spoken to Gyro and explained the situation.” He settled on the couch and rested his hands on his cane. “I suspect you two have questions?”
Donald straightened up, crossing his arms. “How come you’ve never told anyone?” he demanded sharply. “We didn’t even know about him!”
Scrooge waved his hand. “It’s as I said last night - nobody ever asked. Nobody’s come to visit for the time that I’ve had him, so it never seemed relevant to bring it up.”
Della frowned and sat back on her heels. “What happened to his parents?”
“That’s his business,” Scrooge informed her firmly. “If he wants you to know, that’s his decision.”
Donald raised an eyebrow. “How’d you end up with him?” he pressed.
Scrooge sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “His mother used to work for me,” he explained. “When I found out she was. . . indisposed, I heard that she had a child. Met with him to see if there was any way I could help, and. . .” He shrugged. “I cannae say much more than, he didn’t have anyone else.”
Della frowned at the doorway, where she could hear Gyro walking from the dining room to the staircase. She didn’t know what to think. Why wouldn’t Scrooge have told anyone? She knew he was a bit reclusive, but this was a huge deal! That was a whole kid, a member of their family, that nobody else knew about.
She settled back and turned to Scrooge again. “What’s he like?”
Scrooge looked surprised at the question. He frowned thoughtfully. “Smart,” he began. “Very bright. He could’ve graduated high school early, but he chose not to. Quite solitary, never had many friends his age. He. . .” He trailed off and glanced at the doorway. Then, he smiled and turned back to the twins. “Well, I hope you’ll find out for yourself soon enough.”
Della frowned at him suspiciously, then back at the doorway.
She hoped so, too.
“Soooooo,” Della drawled, leaning against the table in the library where Gyro sat. “What’s your deal?”
“That is an extremely vague question,” Gyro retorted as he flipped through his notebook and scratched something out. “Be more specific.”
Della scowled and boosted herself up to sit on the table. “If you’re our cousin, how come we’ve never met you before?”
Gyro spared a glance from his work to raise an eyebrow at her. “Have you met your uncle before?”
She shook her head.
“There you go.” He returned to the paper, flipping through a thick book by his side before scrawling out something else.
“Where’ve you been for the past week?” she continued, kicking her feet.
“Research trip in Australia,” he replied distractedly.
Della brightened up. “What were you researching?” she pressed, leaning forward. “Monsters? Ancient artifacts? Lost cities?”
“Plant cloning,” Gyro corrected with an annoyed look. “A lab in Sydney had synthesized a new type of cytokinin and I wanted to get a closer look, plus I had my own research to help.” He turned back to his books and flipped through a few more pages. “I was out there for a few weeks.”
“What’s cytokinin?” Della pressed. “Some kind of crazy chemical? Does it make plants bend to your will?”
Gyro wordlessly pulled a slim encyclopedia from his bag, flipped it open without looking, and handed it to her, pointing to a box on the page.
She frowned. “‘Cytokinin - a plant hormone that mainly assists with the growth of beneficial shoots, while auxin-’”
“There is no need to read it out loud,” Gyro interrupted sharply.
Della rolled her eyes and snapped the book shut. “It’s boring, is what it is.”
“That all depends on your perspective.”
After a few moments of silence, Della tilted her head. “Whatcha workin’ on now?”
“A robotics project.”
“You a robot-maker?”
“The word is ‘roboticist’, or just engineer if you’re not sure. And no, not yet.”
“Why not yet?”
“I haven’t gotten my degree.”
“Why not?”
“I can’t pick a school, or major.”
“Why not?”
“I want to do too much.”
“Why?”
Gyro flipped the book shut with a loud ‘thunk’ and turned to her with a condescendingly fake smile. “Do you not have anything better to do?” he asked in a politely restrained tone.
Della shrugged. “Not anymore,” she chirped. “You’re the weirdest thing to happen today, so you’ve got my attention!”
He rolled his eyes and turned back to his work, retrieving a different book from the stack in front of him. Della attempted to prod some more, but he ignored all further attempts.
Until, that is, she leaned forward with her chin in her hands and tilted her head. “So, what happened to your real parents?”
It was a thoughtless question. She knew that. It was rude and insensitive to ask. But she hated being ignored. She just wanted a reaction before she left to find something better to do.
And a reaction she got. Gyro stiffened, hand freezing over his paper. He tilted his head just enough to glare at her from under his fluffy hair.
Della tensed. His gaze didn’t waver. She slid off the table. “I’ll, uh. . .” She dropped her gaze. “Sorry.” Then she hurried from the room, leaving her weird cousin alone with his weird robots.