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

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)

A small hand grasped his own.

"Is that really Della?"

Webby didn't mean to offend - this was a fascinating reveal, if true - but if it was true, where was Scrooge going? Why wouldn't he want to stay and be with this niece? She looked back at the reunion - The triplets were bombarding Della with questions and she was trying to keep up.

Donald, it appeared, had fallen to his knees in shock and relief.

"Aye. She is," Scrooge told her softly. "It's Della."

After ten years, she had finally made her own way home. He was so proud of her.

He would always be proud of her. Her and Donald. No matter what.

"Ah've...Ah've got ta put the revolver away," he told the duckling. The weapon provided the perfect excuse to get away.

"Can't that wait?" Or, gosh, just ask Beakly or Duckworth to put it away. He was making excuses. He didn't want to be here.

After one more glance to the family - Della was showing off her leg, Donald was close to passing out - she squeezed Scrooge's hand. "Do you... need help putting it away?"

She knew he didn't. He knew she knew. But that wasn't really what was being asked.

Do you want to be alone?

Scrooge's natural impulse was to push her away. He was sure he'd be left alone again, so why not start getting used to it again? He'd...he'd survived when they'd left before. Twice before. A third time shouldn't matter.

"...Ah wouldn't be opposed to someone walkin' with me."

It was out of his mouth before he could stop it, but...well, a few more minutes wouldn't matter either way, would it?

Webby's inquisitive nature was dying at the idea of not interrogating Della, but thankfully her heart was stronger. She offered what she hoped was a comforting smile as she followed Scrooge along.

"I don't think I'll be able to sleep for a while anyway."

"Aye. It's gonna be hard," he admitted softly.

Should he cancel his meetings tomorrow? Or would it be better if he went to the Bin? He should probably contact Gyro at least. The lad would want to get started on the prosthetic right away...

"Ah...Ah'll bet none of 'em are gonna be gettin' any rest tonight."

How long were they going to dance around the topic? Did Webby even have a right to address it?

Finally, after a long, painful moment...

"Are you scared?"

"No. Ah'm not."

Scared would be not knowing how things would play out and worrying over the possibilities.

No, "scared" wasn't the word for it. It was more that he was resigned. Things had played out twice before. It was a simple enough pattern to follow.

He offered Webby a strained smile. "Ah'll be fine."

I've got you, your granny, and Duckworth for however long you'll have me.

"... Okay."

She sincerely doubted it was okay, but she didn't know what to say to comfort him. But... this was just the first night. Maybe she was worrying too much. They all had a lot to catch up on. She squeezed his hand, and leaned on him.

No matter what, she wasn't going anywhere. They could all be a family again. Now she had a cool robot-leg-aunt.

Scrooge swallowed before offering her the best smile he could muster...which looked like it was about to cross the line into a grimace.

"Unless ye wanna go back there or if ye're aimin' ta go ta bed, how 'bout ye stay with me tonight? Ah'm gonna be up for a while, so we could play cards. Ah could teach ye Blackjack; yer granny'll hate it."

Covetous old man that he was, he wanted to cling to something before it all fell apart.

Edited 2019-03-09 18:59 (UTC)

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