happilyeverbeginning | when you wish upon a star (scrooge and della)

Scrooge had only just been settling in to sleep when there was a loud BOOM from the back garden. He was out of bed instantly, his glasses on his beak and his robe covering his pajamas less than a heartbeat later. He ran past his startled housemates, pausing only to grab a hidden revolver from a false bottom in a side table.

If someone was out to attack the mansion, he wasn't letting them near his family.

He slammed open the door, distantly hearing Beakley screaming at him to come back inside. He ignored her, the promise he'd made on Neverest pounding in his ears:

Nothing bad is going to happen to you. From now on. Nothing bad from now on.

He aimed the revolver towards the strange ship. "Come on out where I can see you!"

All right. She was home.

Now what?

She couldn't just waltz right into the mansion and say "Hey, I'm back, what's up?" Her mind rattled - and that's when she heard a voice she hadn't heard over a decade. Yet it still rang as clear and concise as if it'd only been yesterday when he'd been trying to signal her back home.

Her head slowly turned - and then she ran. "Uncle-"

And that was all she got out before she fell. Readjusting to gravity was already difficult, even moreso with her "new" leg. She fell flat on her face, but as always, her nature refused to let her give up for long. So she was up, and tried again. "Uncle-"

Thud. This might take a few tries.

The first thing that registered to Scrooge was a salvaged wing on this ship that was painted red with a gold dollar sign. His heart skipped a beat.

Then he saw...her. He saw her and heard her voice and...and...

His hand shook, his forefinger automatically sliding outside the trigger guard, making it impossible for him to squeeze the trigger by mistake.

"Della...?" he breathed. Then he angrily shook his head, raising up his other hand to steady his aim. "No. No, Della's dead. Who are you?"

By this time, Della had managed - shakily - to get her feet firmly planted on the ground. Running was a no-go, so she'd have to make due with walking. She then lifted her head, and saw her uncle.

He hadn't aged a day. Somehow, that wasn't surprising. Tears threatened to flood her eyes - and the only reason they hadn't was because of the gun.

Dead? They... they thought she was...?

"You... never... got any of my transmissions?" It had been a thought she knew was true all this time, yet a part of her had always hoped, desperately, that it wasn't. Now it was impossible to deny.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. "Uncle Scrooge, I... I don't even know where to begin, but... I don't suppose there's some quick way I can prove I'm your niece, so we can get to the hugging?" She held out her hands, starved for a loving touch again. "I... y-you insisted on a gold filling for my teeth, we've fought vikings together, I..."

Her voice was starting to break. "I... I missed you so much..."

"What transmissions?!" Scrooge choked out, not lowering his weapon though his aim wavered. "I listened, called for you...for Della...for months! There was nothing! Not once did I--"

And he abruptly stopped, his grip on his weapon loosening.

"Wh-what did you say? About a filling?"

Anyone would've heard about their adventures, but the gold filling...only four people knew that: Scrooge himself, the dentist, Donald (who'd also gotten one), and Della.

"It cannae be..." he whispered to himself. Then he released his grip with one hand, bringing it to the side of his head. "You're dreamin' again, Scrooge. Wake up!"

Desperate, she had to take that chance, opening her mouth and pointing to the side of her head. "It was here! Right here! I-It fell out, and I had to feed it to a moon monster, but..."

Emotions threatened to cut off her tongue, but she had to keep going, had to make him believe, he was so close...!

"I didn't want to let Donald know I was scared, I didn't want him to make fun of me for being so brave about all those adventures and scared of a drill, s-so you came in and held my hand and promised Donald wouldn't know..." Her hands clenched as she remembered, when she was so small, and here she was, feeling small again, just wanting someone to hold her and tell her things were okay.

"A-And you... you haggled with the dentist about the price while he was already in my mouth, but you never let go of my hand..."

Thump! The heavy metal of the revolver struck the ground as it fell from limp fingers. Scrooge didn't notice that he'd dropped the weapon, eyes filled with tears as he took shaky step after shaky step towards her.

Then he broke into a run, wrapping his arms around her and fully expecting her to vanish like smoke. He'd had this dream dozens, hundreds, no, thousands of times, yet he always fell for it.

"Mo nighean...mo nighean bheag..."

She didn't vanish. There was solid, warm flesh in his arms. He choked, tears pouring down his face.

It could be a trick. This could be someone like Magica in disguise, and he'd just rushed into the danger zone.

If this was where he died, then fine. At least he got to hold the illusion of Della one last time.

Della opened her arms, and the moment their bodies touched, the dam burst. She choked again, and then buried her face into his shoulder, sobbing hard. She'd gone through similar dreams, similar fears, and she would die if she woke up now.

She rocked back and forth in his arms, like she used to do as a child whenever she got afraid, rare as the occasion had been. She opened her mouth, wanting to explain, wanting to ask, but speech was momentarily difficult. More sobs escaped, her face wet.

Finally, something came out.

"I'm... so... sorry..." She breathed, eyes shit.

He sobbed as well, unable to find the words he wanted to say in English and defaulting to his native tongue:

"Fàilte dhachaigh, Della...Tha mi air uiread de theip ort...!"

Did she even speak Scots Gaelic? He couldn't remember, but his brain refused to give him proper words in any other of the dozens of languages he knew.

Della's own Galeic was iffy - but her memory was a strong fighter. She could pick out pieces of what was said, and had enough savvy to fill in the gaps.

She swallowed, and then tried to wipe some of her face clean, pulling back just enough to hold his cheeks so he was looking at her.

"Hey... hey. How about... we split the difference, and say neither of us are perfect?" It was a pitiful attempt at humor, but it was all she had, all those years alone on the moon. It was going to take some time to shake it off. "I... I tried every day to get home... and now, I am..."

She was home. Ten years later, she was--

The boys.

He seized up as he remembered they were waiting inside the house. And Donald. Where was Donald?

"Yer...yer eggs," he stuttered out. "They're...they're not..."

He swallowed, struggling with the words.

"They hatched...years ago..."

"Y-Yeah, I kind of figured..." A weak laugh to mask her agony. The boys never got the transmissions either - they never heard her say how much she loved them, singing for their birthday, how much she struggled...

Her chest shook, threatening more sobs. "Are they okay?" She touched Scrooge's shoulders, trying to keep herself steady. "My babies, they... how are they?"

"They're well. All three of 'em." He swallowed. "They're right inside."

He didn't want to let go, but she needed to see her boys. They needed to see her.

They'd all waited so long. He couldn't be selfish and keep her to himself, but he hadn't the strength to let go.

She could feel his iron grip on her arms, and couldn't blame him. She pressed her forehead to his, sniffling.

"Thank you... thank you for taking care of my boys." Not that she had any doubt he'd do anything less than a stellar job with them. "I always knew they'd be in safe hands down here."

Scrooge barely kept himself from releasing her as her words stabbed directly at the still-festering wound in his heart.

She...she thought that he had...

"...It was all Donald," he whispered.

He swallowed and released her aside from a hand he kept on the small of her back to guide her.

"You should see the boys. They've been waiting to meet you for a long, long time."

Something... about that didn't sound right. It wasn't as if Scrooge was complimenting Donald on his share of the work. The tone didn't fit.

"W-wait, what do you mean?" She suddenly grabbed Scrooge's arm. "What happened to Donald? And you? ... Everything's okay, isn't it...?"

It had to be. It just had to be.

"We'll talk about that later," Scrooge assured her, tears dripping down his face despite the smile he forced there. The strain to hold it in place along with the tears caused his accent to thicken. "Ye should see the boys first. And yer brother. It's not fair Ah should keep ye to meself."

He glanced down towards the ground as he gave her a little nudge forward. His heart turned to water at her foot.

"...Ah...Ah suppose we match now, eh, lass?" he forced out.

"Huh?" She'd spent so many years with the foot, it took a moment for her to realize it would be new to everyone else. "Oh! Oh, yeah, hah." She lifted it up and wiggled it. "Didn't really nail a perfect landing, so... But it's fine! Works great! Even Gyro would be jealous of this little baby."

She then did a little stretch to show that the rest of her limbs were still attached. "But... Scrooge, what do you mean Donald did all the work? ... What were you doing? Adventuring without us?" That was understandable, to a degree, just so long as it wasn't the only thing he was doing.

"I'm sure he will be."

Actually, Scrooge was sure that Gyro would fuss and complain that she'd given him a terrible starting point for a prosthetic, but that was beside the point.

"It's not important right now," he told her, wanting her not to look at him with disgust for a little longer. "Your boys are waiting." He swallowed. "Donald picked their names from your list: Hubert, Dewford, and Llewellyn. Though they go by 'Huey', 'Dewey', and 'Louie'."

That did the trick... for a moment.

"Huey... Dewey... Louie?" She repeated softly, eyes shining. The names felt warm and soft in her month, and she wound up repeating it over and over as she tried to imagine three little babies with those names. "Huey... Dewey... Louie..." Donald had chosen great names -

Wait. That made it sound like Scrooge didn't have any input at all when it came to the names.

"Uncle Scrooge, stop." She grabbed his arm again, harder this time. "Tell me what happened! I deserve to know what happened! What are you hiding from me?"

"Della...please..." He swallowed. "Just...just let me have a few more minutes to enjoy this. Ye'll find out soon enough. Ah won't hide it, but...Ah don't want the first thing yer babies see about ye is yer anger. Ye can be angry at me all ye like later, but let them see ye smilin'."

"I'm angry at you now!" Even if she had no right to be, she couldn't help it. He was making her choose between seeing her boys and getting answers, and that decision hurt. It could only mean that whatever he was hiding was huge.

She let him go, fists clenched and trembling. She looked back and forth between him and the mansion, before her maternal instincts made the choice for her. With a sigh, she headed to the door - slowly, trying to keep up with gravity and her leg.

Scrooge watched her, suppressing the urge to hover over her and support her. He could see the shadows of Donald and the boys through the window.

"No, you're not," he murmured to himself. "Not yet at least."

He bent down to pick up the revolver, sticking the hunk of metal into his pocket. Then he moved to follow her, his limp getting worse as the dread of what was to come pulled him down.

It all came to a head at the entrance. At first, nobody recognized anybody. The boys were about to ask Scrooge who the weird robo-girl was, could they get a few more minutes of sleep before going on another adventure, dibs on whatever fell from the sky, etc.

Della didn't hear a word of it.

Her babies. Her beautiful babies.

Donald got one word out - her name - and the boys nearly got whiplash from looking from him to her. In seconds, Della forgot about Scrooge and his secrets.

She dove for the children, scooping them up in her arms, smothering them in kisses, sobbing their names. The other residents of the mansion - Beakly, Webby, Duckworth - were staring to wonder what was going on, heading for the noise, and saw a hysterical woman trying to hold all three triplets at once.

Scrooge watched the happy scene from the doorway, a smile on his face despite all his tears. He swiped at his eyes, a useless endeavor all things considered.

He couldn't breathe. His heart was so full and so empty at the same time.

He slipped past them, pausing as he reached Beakley and Duckworth.

"Make sure Della's room is ready for her," he told them softly. "Just...just in case."

With that, he resumed walking.

Edited 2019-03-09 18:14 (UTC)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject