A Day during Christmas 1954:
The Final Step
A "Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck" fanfic
(Inspired in part by Don Rosa's The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck)
Disclaimer: Scrooge Mcduck, etc. are (c) Disney. The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck is (c) by Don Rosa and Gladstone Publications. This story is (c) by me. Please don't copy, link, or use it in any wise without my permission.
Chapter 1.
Scrooge gazes sternly out of the bin's window. Snow is gently falling upon Duckburg. The little, old oven he once used to warm his first employees in 1901 brustle away in the background. He utters some cursed words, feeling the terrible clinical depression coming back, haunting him of the years he spend in the dusty mansion. Years wasted, doing what, may I ask? Dreaming of the bygone adventures of his youth. His nephews had gone on a Woodchucks skiing trip into the Alps and Donald plans to enjoy a wonderful eve alone with Daisy, and their endless catering for gifts and food keep him from even visiting his uncle beforehand. Scrooge couldn't help feeling left out and his expression saddens as he slowly turns to face the glow of the oven. Strange enough, it felt like the same kind of warm, burning glow he had experienced in the Yukon blizzard, when he saw Goldie, smiling down at him... In the heat his eyes began to melt like glass and gradually run down the side of his bill.
Hastily he wipes his face with the sleeve of his arm and heads downstairs to one of the storage rooms. Scrooge, as if in a trance begins searching in old boxes, under papers, in cases, behind frames and crates..., until he spots it, in the very same wooden box he placed it 5 years ago. Kneeling down, he carefully frees it from the newspaper wrapped around it. In his hand he again holds the little snow globe depicting the hut he had built on White Agony Creek. He remembers the many hours, the many days, weeks, years he had held it, as his only comfort, merely holding onto its existence, back in the gloomy mansion; just starring at it, the core of all dearest of memories...where it happened...,whispering to himself as the tiny flakes danced endlessly. He shakes his head in bitter frustration.
"No! Never again will I torture myself and waste time, like some sick, old...",
He stops, his eyes loose all expression, as lifts the Globe up once more and watches jet again how all the tiny snow particles spin to form miniature whirlwinds. A strong feel of weightlessness, freedom takes hold of him as he surrenders to his innermost will, a choice he once again pursues to fulfil... a chance for a different fate...
"Well,...maybe...maybe it is time...".
A few hours of brainstorming and a hot cup of nutmeg tea later, the decision was final and the few essentials packed. He was now perfectly prepared, still trembling with excitement and ecstatic bliss, drowed in utter fear. And ready to go.
Down in the office he writes Miss. Quackfaster a quick note...
"Gone to the Yukon. Don't know when of if I'll be back. Tell the boys not to come after me... PS. You're in charge of everything, - and, yes, you'll get your raise, but if anything goes wrong, the losses will be subtracted from it instantaneously! Scrooge McDuck " Done.
Many hours of flight later and Scrooge, wrapped up in a deep red coat, is in a small 4x4 heading towards Dawson from the Yukon airport. He is chauffeured by one of his own airline workers, who has a knack of racing down icy slopes, giving Scrooge no choice, but to hold onto his top-hat, sit back, and enjoy the ride, as tons snow is forced into the air by the heavily chained tires. Temperatures are about -10 deg. Celsius and everything is covered in metre thick snow.
The first thing Scrooge could make out in the distance was a bundle of brightly coloured lights above plain, dimly glowing ones. As they drove closer he was taken by surprised to see a huge Christmas tree, even bigger than the one in Duckburg and amazed by the many people hustling and brustling around with big shopping bags, pastels and gifts, and kids with skiers and sleighs at every corner. There were shops, Christmas stalls, stands and guest houses he'd never seen the last time he was there. The Dawson he knew was a small tourist attraction of little significance compared to international destinations.
To overcome the unwelcome feeling of discomfort, it was nice for Scrooge to see that that the statue of him was resurrected. And right up front was "Frostbit Arms", Goldie's Hotel, bigger and brighter than ever! It seemed to have taken centre stage in the town and looked newly renovated. Every inch had been tastefully decorated. Smaller Christmas trees stood alongside it and candle light flickered in the windows. Guests were constantly rushing in and out the shiny, golden front doors. All the cosy little shops alongside could not keep up with its brilliance.
Wait! What was that ? Near the entrance was another statue, one he hadn't seen before. It was one of Goldie herself, in her old time ballroom dress. The inscription read in big, winding letters: Glittering Goldie, the Star of the North, Yukon, 1898. After a surprised stare as they drove past it, he smiled knowingly, as it made him so pleased so satisfied, that it had been done at last. She is a legend, having the iciest heart of the Yukon...and being the only one brave enough to file an arrest against the Scrooge McDuck, after having 'survived' a month working for him...
As always, everything comes back to him in flash, just the way it always does,...: the mud, the ballroom, the nugget, the coffee, White Agony Creek, the scums, the pain, the guilt, the panic, the blizzard, the flames, the stage, that look in her eyes...
The Jeep stops abruptly next to the Hotel were the full car parking left little room.
"You can just drop me off right here...".
The man carried out Scrooge's luggage [the usual small bag] and set off back to the air port shouting , "Have a Merry Christmas, Mr. McDuck!".
Scrooge was so mesmerised at the sight of all the Christmas hubbub and commotion he completely overheard it.
"Well, I should have expected it !," he thinks,"... these are modern times...no rock is left unturned."
It's been 4 years since he last visited the Yukon [The Last Sled to Dawson, 1948] and 3 years since he last has seen her [A little Something Special, 1949]. All the people and all the noise made him feel awkward. Today was to be a very special day and he had hoped for a more quiet, serene Dawson. Trying to stop his heart from beating any faster, he picked up his bag and slowly walked around the Hotel to the front door.
A small group of kids ran past him yelling and shouting. A big, middle-aged man walked hastily out of the hotel and pushed him aside, mumbling something like: " 'scusme".
Scrooge slowly picked up his hat and brushed the snow off it. He was surprised than he had stayed so calm. He remembers how easily he got upset, just a couple of years ago.
Once in the completely newly built luxury hotel, he heads briskly to the reception desk, not once looking up, covering his eyes with the front of his hat, in case Goldie's nearby. The receptionist is stuck in the middle of a long, intense conversation with a Guest who is about to change rooms for the fifth time[...]. Scrooge slowly turns his head, searching for any sign of her. Instead he just realises the extent renovations: crystal chandeliers, marble flooring, a huge open fire...the original structure of the Blackjack had been kept, but everything replaced with much more durable, expensive building materials. He couldn't help being proud of her, looking up to her...his respect and shame grew with every minute, knowing that each time they were together, he had been rude, arrogant, mean and selfish...especially the last time, when she gave him something even more valuable than that year's entire profits...
'No, she's not there.' He sights, only partially with relief.
"How may I be at service ?", the receptionist asks him with a "you can't afford a night here" smile. Scrooge had put on his "best" coat, but even that started looking worn.
"I..I would like to speak to Miss Goldie O'Gilt ...alone." He never lifted his head, not to be recognised. Damned media puts his face in almost every newspaper, daily. Readers always want to know what the richest duck in the world is up to, even if it is something as minor as putting a new brand of tea on the market.
"Miss O'Gilt is out right now, but she'll be back soon. You are welcome to wait for her in the lounge...", he replies indifferently as he greets passing guests.
Scrooge jumps up to grip his collar,
"No, I need to see her immediately! You nimble-headed twat!" –
Waiting here is going to drive me insane!, he thinks, realising that the long build up of excitement had got the better of him. Pearls of sweat run down the side of his face.
"Is this matter of great urgency, Sir?", the receptionist asks disturbed.
The man obviously doesn't recognise him. Scroooge blushes and lets go.
"Yes, dang it...where is she?" Just talking about her already seemed to make him extremely uneasy...frustrated, he hadn't the guts to do it when he was young, angry he didn't do it sooner, when he had the chance, upset about his failure to do so last time...
"She's up at White Agony. Arranging some sort of Christmas preparations...I saw her buy a tree earlier on. I think she plans to spend Christmas up there, just like last year..." Pause.
His thoughts raced. Then Scrooge jumps down and wanders slowly towards one of the grand windows of the hotel, lost in the warmest of thoughts, gazing out to the still familiar icy mountain tops.
The hut on White Agony Creek, he realises, the one I built with my own two hands...my hut...she feels the same way...the desire to go back, after all the years she lived there, under those miserable conditions,... she still had to return...'
All of a sudden he feels a stinge of guilt on his conscience. Maybe it was, because she knew also, that all his life since, he yearned to return to that hut, because she hoped he would come back perhaps and settle down and start a...
"I think I'll wait...for a change...", he mumbles.
After ordering a coffee, he sat down in the corner of the lounge, next to the fire place.
'The last coffee I had here, you made for me... It all went so fast...I was so naive back then...because you...you were so...'
Once he leaned back, he couldn't help feel exhausted. He stared at the colourful, fast moving figures behind the frosty hotel windows. A dampened mix of singing, shouting, music, hooting and laughing sounded though from outside. His thoughts began to wander again, even though he wanted to focus on what he would say to Goldie. Anxiety clawed itself up his gut. Will she hate him even more now, after what he had said last time? Will she accept his apologies, his return? Or is it too late?...If there was anything he feared, it was rejection.
Now he just felt plain miserable. He nips the coffee. Stares at it. The hot cup warms his icy hands run with cold sweat. Tiny bubbles turn around and around and around...
Thinking of a particular failure in life just makes one miserable...as you just start to wonder whether that other life might have been...better...more rewarding...in a way.
All of a sudden he freezes. He could have sworn...Yes, he heard it again. Her voice! Outside! He hastily puts down the cup, runs to the doors and pushes them open. Surprised by his own reaction, he stops and realises his great urge to see her! His heart seems to beat faster and slower at the same time.
There she is, in the distance, talking to some foresters near a hardware store, opposite is a tractor with an empty trailer. The driver is busy backing it up though the crowd. She shakes their hands, walks, turns and gives them a last joyous wave.
"And have Merry Christmas !" They wave back. Her wavy, silver hair hangs loose and glistens in the sharp noon sun. Her long purple fur trimmed coat gives her a majestic appearance as is dragged behind her, as she slowly walks towards the hotel, accompanied by a small man with a moustache looking sternly down at the ground. He talks to her, making concerned gestures.
A friendly looking round woman steps forward, greets her and gives her basket, probably a personal Christmas gift. Goldie, for her part, smiles gratefully. They laugh, shake hands and eventually embrace. The small man smiles admiringly at Goldie. A chill runs down Scrooges back. The woman he sees is nothing like the cold flame years back. The icy, red hot Queen of the Yukon no one dared to mess with...for that evil glare alone. She seems to be so happy, so pleased, as if there would be nothing else she would possibly need.
The small man puts his arm around her shoulder, probably urging her to go to the hotel, since the temperature steadily kept falling.
A delivery man across the street waves to her "I got de' Turkeys ready fer the hotel, Miss O'Gilt! An' I put an' extra large 'n aside fer you, Miss!", the man winks.
"Thank you, Joe! That's very kind of you!", she smiles with a sigh.
And jet something about that smile gave him the chills. It was the smile he knew just too well...the smile of accomplishment - the smile of independence, pride and strength, revealing just a tinge of sentiment. The same sentiment... And fear crept up his spine as he understood in utter horror for the first time, that he was going to face a mirror image of himself.
Someone who had been illusioned all this time...thinking one had been the only one who felt this way - believing in nothing but the hate she might feel towards him.
He wanted to run back into the hotel; hide,... anywhere, but his legs didn't respond. She was just too close already.
All this time getting here was a mental roller coaster, preparing for the moment he had waited for 54 years, and a fight against the fear of not being able to...
While she's walking with the small man,
...of not being able to tell her...
her eyes swiftly glance up at a shop
...tell her - that...
then wander across towards the hotel doors
...oftellingherthat he...
and then met his.
He goes pale. She breaks her conversation. Her eyes widen...she can't believe it! She mimes his name, but there's no sound...
Snow had gently started to fall again. As all people around them carry on with daily life and holiday fun, the two legendary figures of the golden past of Dawson loose themselves in that very painfully tense, but peaceful moment. Scrooge stares at her, yearning to convey all the words that pour into his mind.
Goldie is the first to take all courage to slowly pace her way towards him. The man lets her go. Watches her.
A few steps before Scrooge she stops. She stares into his eyes with sheer unbelief and the worst he feared was something he could not bear...Scrooge dropped to his knees, his hands clenching the muddy snow and started crying. He couldn't face it. His failure. Himself.
'He knows how it had been wrong to treat her the way he did. So mean, so cruel, so callous - the way he would usually treat his minor employees... He didn't need her then. Those three years ago. He was fit enough to feed his hunger for adventure. He had his nephews company and care - But times had changed. He was no longer able to go on neck-breaking adventures. His nephew Donald was soon going to get married to Daisy and the boys were now old enough to go travel on their own, besides the many weeks they would spend studying for college. Scrooge was left alone for months and the nostalgia burnt inside of him, because none of the millions of coins in his bin were able to replace the little family he was loosing. She was his only hope...
He had for so long locked away his feelings for her to protect the vulnerable inside of his love-sick heart. She had not been quite the friendliest person to fall in love with. She was almost always bitter, only wanting the gold nugget, the thoughts raced through his mind.
It wasn't hard for Scrooge for his part to act cold...after all those years of deprived warmth and only pure, hard-core business poured over him day after day...but in the end it was all for her. He couldn't allow her so see the soft side...it would make his mistake even more ridiculous. The utter guilt and the shame... he could only hide it this way.
Every memory of every coin made him feel more independent. Every coin - it all served to replace her...although they never managed to. She was the only treasure he felt he believed he could never possess...
In his dreams her eyes glare down at him from the burning stage. A constant reminder of her undying hate. But although she had been mean, back-stabbing and heartless, drugging him and later on charging him, and thus risking for him to loose everything he had worked for all those years...she had loved him at White Agony Creek. She had showed him a side of her that was gentle, caring and the purest of kindness and empathy. The intimate stories they shared of their lives had kept on retelling themselves inside his mind and made him understand her frustration, the bitterness, the hate. That love, this person, her depths and sense of security and belonging was something he wanted to experience for the rest of his life, something that would eliminate his need for greatness and fortune, eliminate the loneliness.
However fate had decided for him...his sledge got stuck in the glacier and he was to become the richest duck on earth. Her memory facilitated this drive to succeed. He needed to fill up his life with something at least as worthwhile as spending time with her. In the end it was his nephews that made the misery of his failure in life bearable...But without them there is nothing left.
He would rot away in seclusion while his empire ran itself. He would probably die in a few years...to end the suffering, he would probably decide to commit suicide...make it look like an accident...perhaps it would be best right here, now, in the Youkon... just wander up into the mountains, never to return. Scrooge had sobbed without pause as he ran through these last thoughts of defeat. He no longer cared about his pride, the people, the money...
"Scrooge", Goldie said in a soft, calm voice, "...is there something I need to know?" Scrooge stopped crying and just sobbed quietly now and then.
The small man had patiently watched the scene, come closer, but not said a word. As Scrooge gave no answer, the man whispered to Goldie she should go inside the hotel or she would catch a death of cold. It had gotten dark and the lights of the shops, restaurants and guest houses shone onto the glistening blue streets.
Since Scrooge had not reacted, she decided to go in...He can't do it, she thought. Her eyes dropped and her body felt limb with despair and hopelessness. A single tear ran down her bill as she slowly turned to go inside, 'He will never change'.
"Wait...", he croaked. "Please, Goldie. I..."
She swung around with sudden hope and fell to her knees before him. "What, Scrooge?" Another tear left her eye.
The dirty ice on the tar has embedded itself into Scrooges knees and his fingers were blue from the cold. Nonetheless, Scrooge felt nothing but the choking, suffocating pain in his chest.
He lifted his head and opened his weary, swollen eyes to stare into hers and that made her look like water-colour painting...The wind that had picked up sweaped her silver hair pass her sorrow filled eyes of empathy. It wasn't hate. New courage ran through his veins...
"I want to tell you that I...that I...I love you."
Her eyes widened with absolute disbelief. He did it!
"I am sorry for...for...'', Scrooge carried on, but Goldie had already thrown her arms around him and pressed his stiff, aching body against her warm chest. Then he clasped onto her.
"I'm sorry too, Sourdough.", she whispered.
A deep sadness overcame Scrooge as not saying the words, but the thought of saying them was what kept him form doing so. Soon enough the small man helped Goldie bring Scrooge inside the Hotel and up to her private quarters. The old billionaire was in need of some rest and they both sat together wrapped up in a blanket on a cosy armchair in front of the prepared the fireplace of her room. She had the porter bring up his bag and the room service brought some hot soup from the buffet. The small man turned out to be her hotel manager and trusty companion over the years, who respectfully allowed the two of them for some privacy.
They both were silent since the incident outside. The warmth of the fire swept through the room, carrying the beautiful pine aroma he knew so well. Scrooge is wary, but gazes into her eyes now and again to reassure her loveliness was still there... she smiles back with a shine in her eye, that described all her affection and gratitude. The glimpse of kindness she had once revealed to him at White Agony Creek had now completely unfolded itself - with most affectionate warmth. As always, Scrooge, although almost too tired to keep his eyes open, blushes just each time.
After finishing the soup Scrooge slowly fell asleep in her arms. Exhaustion overcame him as the lifetime of pressure of reaching this goal slowly disintegrated and was replaced by complete weightlessness...the very bliss he once experienced in a one-off dream. Scrooge has at last found his greatest treasure.