"McDuck, where is Gearloose? We have other appointments to attend to today," the head investor sharply spoke up.

His second-in-command began to murmur. "Well, actually we-"

"Shhh," the buzzard cut him off, not wanting his authority questioned.

"He'll be here," Scrooge assured, then muttered under his breath. " He better be with the contract he's under ."

After the whole fiasco in Silverbeak a month earlier, he was invested in making sure that treacherous inventor didn't go behind his back again and pitch to his competitors. If Gyro wanted his job security back, he was really going to have to earn it. For Gyro, that meant extra hours in the lab with a pitch ready each week. And for his sake, those inventions would have to have been thoroughly tested for any errors. No slip-ups this time.

Gyro wanted Scrooge's attention? Well, now he had it like a hawk's.

The door burst open after another minute, with Gyro pulling in a large covered item on a cart, visibly finding the weight cumbersome. Pushing the other side of it was Mrs. Beakley, who had no issue with it.

"Ah," Gyro breathed, wiping sweat off his brow as he acknowledged her. "Thank you, Bentina." The housekeeper gave a cordial nod to Gyro and found a seat, wanting to sit in on the meetings today.

"Gyro, we're waiting," Scrooge addressed him sternly.

"Pardon me. I needed assistance getting this cart moving. It's quite heavy," Gyro explained as he grabbed for the tarp.

"Don't tell me. Tell the investors whose valuable time is being spent on you," the duck challenged with a smirk.

Gyro flushed red a moment, then muttered an apology to the investors, looking more than annoyed at the demand by his boss.

"Never mind it," one of the buzzards dismissed. "What are we expecting to see in this demonstration?"

"Glad you asked!" Gyro immediately snapped right back to standard. "Today I'm presenting the Gearloose Self-Organizing Bookshelf! It can thermally scan the ink on a book to read its ISBN code and organize it by title, author or even publication date!"

"Didn't you show us this two weeks earlier?" an investor asked, crossing his arms.

"And it tried to organize our shoes?" another recalled.

"And kill us?" the third added.

Scrooge gave a displeased look to Gyro who straightened his bowtie and began to answer, "Well, yes, but this is a revised model of it, thoroughly tested for defects and with a deactivation switch just in case. I'm even working on implementing a phonograph to play vinyl records and discs based on what is placed on the shelves-"

"Gyro, our deal is that every week you are to have a new invention to pitch," Scrooge challenged. "Not just a 'revised' one."

"Uh, well, you see, Mr. McDuck, I put effort into really testing the functions on this one, and if I can demonstrate, it-"

"I don't want a demonstration. I want a new invention."

"Actually, McDuck, if you wouldn't be too mindful, we're actually rather interested in seeing the improvements on this one, particularly its deactivation mode," the head investor spoke. His rare moment of support made Gyro brighten up a bit until Scrooge opened his mouth again.

"Oh, you wouldn't." The duck waved off. "We know how these things go: he pitches it, we assume it's brilliant, and then it tries to kill us all and someone else has to come in with an invention that isn't his that will stop it."

Gyro furrowed his brow at the comment and glanced to a visibly surprised Beakley before looking back at Scrooge. "That's not entirely accurate. Last week, the portable washing machine I pitched just-"

"Gyro, I'm giving you one last chance to have something new for next week, or we're really going to have to talk about your priorities here."

"My priorities here are to invent top of the line items that your company can use!" the chicken insisted. "And I told you last week that I'm full to the brim with works in progress in my lab that it's not proactive to keep making unfinished pitches every week."

"And I told you to find a solution for it!" Scrooge countered back. "Now, have you even gotten on that?"

Gyro scoffed and folded his arms. "Kind of hard to when you won't even listen to what I'm trying to tell y-"

"I've been stuck listening to you all month!" Scrooge snapped back.

"Gentlemen, if we could see a demonstration of this machinery, we can-"

Gyro stepped forward, pointing a finger at Scrooge. "I've worked at your company for close to a decade, and you won't even give me the time of day to talk to you about my latest pieces of work because you're 'too busy', so you can't blame me for wanting to take my work to someone who will listen and-"

"What have I not heard from you that you don't think I understand?! Your failed pitches? Your parents fighting over you? You asking me to fund your therapy so you're not a manic-depressive wreck?"

Mrs. Beakley saw the color drain from Gyro's face as he stared at Scrooge who was red in the face from rage as he ranted at him and knew immediately that things went terribly wrong. "Mr. McDuck, I think-"

"You've told me everything I would ever need to know about you, and I remember every single word of it!" Scrooge continued to berate the scientist. "Anything else you think I'm unclear on?"

There was a long, tense silence in the room as Beakley and the investors glanced at each other, then at the other two in the room. Gyro finally spoke, hardly above a fragile, wounded whisper.

" No, sir. "

Gyro then wordlessly sat down in a chair and stared at his hands that were placed on the table. He hardly moved and refused to look up.

After a half minute of no words, Scrooge exhaled through his nostrils and looked to the investors. "Right! Onto other business-"

"Actually," one of the buzzards gulped awkwardly, "it would be best if we headed on our way. We just remembered we have another appointment in five minutes."

"Y-Yes, very urgent!" another spoke up. Then, all three suits were clambering to get to the door and escape the awkward tension.

After they left, Scrooge gave a noise of exasperation and shot an annoyed glare to Gyro. "See what you've done?"

Gyro didn't respond, continuing to stare at his hands. He almost seemed to be in a trance.

Scrooge glowered at the scientist for another second, then huffed. "Right then. Get your invention back downstairs within the hour. I have other business going on in here today."

Without waiting for an answer, Scrooge headed for the door and went for his office, glancing to Mrs. Beakley as he noticed her walking close behind him. Then he noticed that she didn't look pleased at all.

"...What?"

"Was that really necessary?" she asked sharply.

"Gearloose was being a petulant child! What else was I to do?" Scrooge shook his head. "He knows this is for his own good after that whole nonsense in Silverbeak."

"Using his personal life against him in a board meeting hardly sounds like it's for his own good," the woman replied, remaining stern and disapproving in her tone. "He seemed quite hurt by what you said."

"Bah, Gyro's a tough lad. He'll be fine. If he weren't, he'd be crying like a wee baby."

"He never cries," she countered, narrowing her eyes.

"Exactly! He's got nerves of steel, that one." The billionaire shook his head with a bit of a bemused look. "Beakley, this is what we in the business call 'tough love.' Gyro understands. See?" He pointed out the inventor as he exited the room from down the hall, wheeling his invention out to the elevator and stepping inside. "He's back to his routine already!"

Beakley frowned as she saw Gyro's blank stare as he walked into the elevator and shook her head. "That was a handful of notches more than tough love."

Scrooge had waved off her concerns as he went to his private quarters and got back to his important business of stacking his coins in order by month and year in the shape of a hexagonal fortress. He was about to finish stacking the nickels when they were suddenly knocked over by his door swinging open with enough force to shake the room.

"What in the blazes?" Scrooge snapped at whoever entered.

"S-Sorry, Mr. McDuck, but we have a problem in the lab!" Fenton spoke, panicked.

"Oh great. Did Gyro's invention burst a pipe?" The duck rubbed his forehead.

"No! Dr. Gearloose just quit! "

"WHAT?!" Coins spilled everywhere when Scrooge planted his hands on the desk in shock.

"He packed up all his stuff and said he was leaving for good!" Fenton exclaimed worriedly. "I tried to talk him out of it, but he wouldn't listen. He took everything, Mr. McDuck! Even the coffee machine!"

"That's company property!" Scrooge yelped, leaping from his seat to speedwalk to the elevator. "Do you know where he went?"

"He went to the bus stop," Mrs. Beakley informed, stepping in front of the elevator. "And you are not going to follow him."

"What is this, Beakley? Out of the way!" the duck snapped at her irritably.

"Dr. Gearloose is obviously very upset at how he was treated this morning, and he needs space to be able to calm down and sort out his thoughts," Beakley spoke with austere understanding. "If he really has quit, then you-"

"Mr. McDuck?" the secretary called from her office right near the elevator. "Dr. Gearloose just called and put in his two week notice. He then immediately declared use of his two weeks worth of vacation days."

Beakley paused, looking at Scrooge with a cold stare. "I guess that just happened. Well done."

"Oh, come on! He can't be serious." Scrooge threw his hands up. "He's been at this company for over a decade and living in the lab seventy-five percent of the time! How else is he going to make ends meet!?"

"I'm sure he'll manage." Beakley shook her head. "He's a smart man. You on the other hand..."

"Beakley, don't finish that sentence," Scrooge grumbled, then glanced at Fenton. "Congrats. Until further notice, you get a promotion: Gyro's job."

The nervous duck gulped, looking away. "U-Uh, thank you very much, Mr. McDuck, but I don't know if I'm ready to-"

"You're welcome," Scrooge grumbled. He then stormed back to his office without waiting for a response.

"Beakley, this isn't the money bin." Scrooge stared disdainfully at the row of run-down apartments his housekeeper had stopped in front of.

"I know. This is Dr. Gearloose's apartment complex. You are going to go in there, and you are going to make this right."

"Why of all weeks for Launchpad to get the flu did this have to happen?!" the billionaire snapped.

"You need to acknowledge you crossed a very fragile line yesterday, and that he was very hurt by what you said," she reminded him. "He obviously thinks fondly of you, and I'm sure you would hate for that to be tarnished."

Scrooge scoffed under his breath. "He was easier to handle when he was a teenager."

"Unfortunately for you, he's not the same little intern you took under your wing all those years ago." Beakley gave a faint smirk. "He's grown up. And I think it's time you accept that."

"Haven't I already?" Scrooge snapped, not caring for what she was insinuating.

He climbed out of the car and told her to keep it running because he was planning to make this quick. As the duck stormed up the steps of the aged complex, he tried to come up with the quickest, most efficient set of words that would appease Gyro. After all, the inventor was all about efficiency! By the time he knocked on the door, and he heard the quiet footsteps behind it, Scrooge was pretty sure he knew what he was going to say.

The minute the door opened, he spoke very matter-of-factly.

"I'm sorry you were offended."

Gyro's face of tired confusion immediately twisted into a subdued glare, and he began to close the door again. "No."

"W-Wait, Gyro!" Scrooge stopped the door from closing with his foot, realizing maybe it wasn't as sincere as hoped. "I know things got….a tad heated yesterday, and maybe I was a wee bit harsher on you than I should have been. However, it was for your own good. But I'm sorry anyway."

"No." Gyro shook his head, voice unnaturally calm. "You're not."

"I'm pretty sure I am," Scrooge replied, tone starting to get argumentative.

"You're not. If you were, you wouldn't have done it."

"You were making an arse out of yourself in front of the investors, lad! I had to take you down a peg or-"

"Or what? I'd embarrass you? Oh no! What a shock," the chicken snapped. "I'm not a chained circus bear you can parade around and teach to mimic words."

"Alright! Fine! Sorry if I hurt your feelings!" Scrooge threw his hands up. "You can show off whatever inventions you want next week! Is that better?"

"No," Gyro finally snapped, "because you can't make it better ."

"Well, that isn't fair."

The inventor took in a deep, ragged breath, voice shaking as he finally laid out the facts. "I told you things I never tell anyone else about because I trusted you to keep it confidential, and you threw it back in my face in front of people who I don't want to know that much about me at all!"

Scrooge swallowed hard, feeling a rock drop in his stomach as the emotional impact of his actions finally became clear. He opened his bill to try and say something, but Gyro continued, giving a bitter laugh.

"I was just a kid when I told you about half of those things, and now I honestly feel stupid that I ever did. Hell, I feel sick that I ever looked up to you!" He coughed angrily and rubbed furiously at his eyes. "Y'know, my parents were terrible, but they never did what you did to me yesterday!"

"G-Gyro, I'm-"

"No. You don't get closure! You get nothing except the fact you're going to have to live with this forever." The chicken glared, eyes sparkling with furied tears. "Now, leave me alone."

The door slammed sharply, and the hall was left silent. Scrooge stood in the middle of it, staring ahead. Very slowly and stiffly, the duck made his way back outside and into the car, where he sank down in the seat, looking haunted.

"Beakley," he breathed, still dazed from the realization of just exactly what had happened, "I really have made a terrible mistake."

"So now you get it." She rolled her eyes. "I take it he's not in a forgiving mood?"

"Not in the slightest," he sighed. "I've really made a mess of things, and I don't know what it's going to take to make this up to him."

"If anything, time." The housekeeper glanced at him as she drove him to his company. "He's still wounded, and it will definitely not heal within a day. Or even a week….or in our case a year or maybe five. That man holds grudges a long time."

"Why did I ever open my stupid mouth," Scrooge grumbled, rubbing his forehead. "And why didn't I just let the lad pitch his shower robot to me when he first asked? Then he wouldn't have pitched it to Beaks and Glomgold, and I'd still have my head scientist."

"Because you're Scrooge McDuck, and you have to just make life harder for yourself?"

"Thanks for the reminder."

Scrooge was giving it a week. But after three days, this was becoming a problem.

"Uncle Scrooge, the TV is broken again!" Louie complained as he tried adjusting the knobs.

"We'll have to call a repairman on Monday," he sighed, walking in to see the triplets and Webby trying to make sense of the static on the 10-years-overdue television.

"Can't you just get Dr. Gearloose to do it? He does it for free."

"He doesn't work for me anymore, so no. I can't."

"What if we call him and ask him to come over? It's not like we're the ones he's mad at!" Dewey smiled, giving double thumbs up in hope for approval from his siblings.

"No. We're just going to have to leave him alone. If he wants to come back around, he will." Scrooge shook his head tiredly. A repairman would cost him money that he easily could have kept with Gyro.

"So what do we do now without the TV?" Louie crossed his arms.

"I don't know. Entertain yourselves." Scrooge waved them off and went to his study to work, where there were stacks of papers in dire need of his handiwork that he'd been putting off for days.

Most of it was tedious number crunching and reading over documents he really didn't want to read. In the middle of the second stack however, instead of a document, a paperback book on Loch Ness Monster sightings was sandwiched between papers. Curious, Scrooge read the sticky note placed on it.

Mr. McDuck,

I found this while at the bookstore's clearance sale. It reminded me of you, since it's about your homeland, and it was only 50 cents! (Haha get it? Because it was so thrifty! I'm laughing as I write this joke!)

-Your favorite inventor,
Gyro

Scrooge gave a faint ghost of a smile and put the note inside the book, setting it aside for later. That clearance sale had been months ago, and Gyro had been so eager about it for the whole week in wait. He'd come back to the mansion with a whole tower of books in his arms, and it had toppled all over the foyer. But he was so excited to share his finds with everyone. Especially Scrooge.

Suddenly, the duck was painfully reminded that the inventor hadn't only seen him as his boss but as his family.

He really had hurt him, hadn't he?

Scrooge gave it a month. And he couldn't have been any more worried about Gyro.

He only then realized it after waking up in the middle of the night once, that he'd been helping pay for the other's psychological health needs. Now that he wasn't in the picture, what was Gyro doing to pay for his appointments? His medicine?

Somewhere in Gyro's company file, his medical records had been revised time and time again, to accommodate whatever needed to be. Years earlier, Gyro had been pretty nervous about asking Scrooge if psychiatric services were covered under the company healthcare. Technically they weren't, but Gyro didn't have to know that the duck was willing to pay out of pocket if it meant a bright young lad was getting the help he needed.

After he'd quit, Scrooge couldn't help but worry that Gyro couldn't afford his treatments. He was also worried that he wasn't seeing his therapist or taking his medicine. And most importantly, he was especially worried that Gyro might be in a worse mental state because of what had happened.

Fenton became the slightest bit annoyed when Scrooge asked him for the fourth time in two weeks if he had seen Gyro, and if so, if was he okay.

"He's fine," the normally sweet scientist had spoken irritably. "He's doing therapy like normal, and he's managing."

"But where is he even going during the day?"

"I don't know!" Fenton ran a hand through his hair. "I saw him at the store on Tuesday buying cat food and tangerines. He's. Fine."

"Alright," Scrooge replied, raising a brow. "You're crankier than I recall."

"I've been running the lab like Gyro did for the last five weeks. That means twelve hour shifts with one ten-minute break." Fenton gave a low groan. "Now I understand why he was so grouchy when he worked here!"

"I...suppose it would be a bad time to ask how your pitches for the Monday investor meeting are going?"

Fenton drew in a deep breath and chose not to answer.

Scrooge didn't want to give it a year. But after four months with no contact whatsoever from Gyro, he was starting to give up hope.

It had only been on pure chance that he'd caught sight of something familiar on the television one day and paused to get a better look at it. Roxanne Featherly crossed the screen as she walked through the Duckburg bookstore and spoke into the camera.

"These self-organizing shelves were implemented this week following a customer demand for better organizing. The model, invented and patented by local inventor-"

The channel switched, and Scrooge looked over to see Launchpad with the remote.

" Great Birdish Bake Off is on!" The pilot smiled.

"Switch it back to the news!" Scrooge demanded frantically. He focused on the screen as it switched back just in time for him to see Gyro, dressed in different clothes than Scrooge remembered him wearing and talking into the microphone.

"I'm looking forward to seeing them be used beyond the bookstore soon. I put a lot of work into this invention and multiple failures. It's nice to see it finally working," the inventor chirped with a surprising amount of cheer.

"Hey, look! It's Gryo Gearloose!" Launchpad exclaimed. "I know that guy!"

"Gyro, Launchpad. His name is Gyro. You know that."

"According to the words on the TV, it's Gryo. He must've changed it after he quit."

"Ah. Looks like a typo then." Scrooge gave a wistful smirk. "He ought to find that amusing….or annoying. Or both."

"Perhaps he's still at the store," Mrs. Beakley suggested with a smile. "I was about to head over to congratulate him. Maybe you should come with."

"I don't know if that's a good idea," Scrooge answered nervously.

"Well, you can at least see if the book that Glomgold wrote a month ago has sold any copies. Last time I checked, they marked it down to four dollars, and it still wasn't selling."

Scrooge drew in a deep breath and took another glance at the TV, seeing Gyro demonstrate the bookshelves and looking genuinely excited about it. If he didn't at least try to see him now, when would he ever?

The billionaire hardly said a word on the drive over, trying to think through what he'd say if he ran into Gyro. Part of him had a feeling that it would just sour the chicken's mood. Or maybe he just would ignore him. Or maybe Scrooge would be lucky and not see him at all.

When he got there, he found that, just like Beakley had said, Glomgold's " Art of the Steal " book had made no sales whatsoever. It was currently being used as paperweights on the clerks' desks and step-stools for children. Having lost sight of Beakley, Scrooge picked up a copy to skim the content. He was already rolling his eyes at the boastful repetition of statements and abuse of all capital letters on every page.

"Ugh. I can see why nobody bought this thing," the duck muttered aloud.

"Agreed. It's made an excellent doorstop though," a voice suddenly popped up from beside him. Scrooge nearly jumped a step back when he saw who it belonged to.

"Gyro?"

"Hello, Mr. McDuck," Gyro responded cordially but not with much enthusiasm. He was currently placing random books on the shelves to activate and test his inventions, trying actually not to look at Scrooge.

The duck noticed the nametag on his chest. "Do you work here?"

"I consider it paid volunteering," the chicken responded flatly. "It passes the time."

"Where else do you work?"

"Nowhere. Considering the amount of money I made selling the invention to the bookstore, and the amount I'll make selling it to other bookstores, I don't even really need to be here. I just like it. Also, I don't need to wear shoes." He held up one of his legs to show off his bare talons.

"...Huh. So what, are you the richest chicken in Duckburg?"

"I suppose. Statistically, I'll probably spend a massive portion of it on new inventions, but I have no intent of moving into a higher-end home or living too lavishly."

"Heh." Scrooge shifted on his feet, trying to smirk a little. "You know, they spelled your name wrong on the news."

Gyro stopped what he was doing for a moment to make a noise of disappointment. "Ugh. How badly?"

"I don't know, Gryo."

Gyro gave a mirthless snort and grabbed another book, watching the shelves maneuver it via conveyor belts along the plank and two shelves higher before coming to a stop.

"Works like a well oiled machine," Scrooge observed.

"And it is." Gyro folded his arms proudly, watching it work with a self-satisfied look in his eye.

"Congratulations. Mrs. Beakley wanted to come here and tell you that."

"I know. I saw her a minute ago." Gyro nodded, glancing at Scrooge. "Did you come here for that too?"

"Of course." Scrooge smiled weakly. He could sense Gyro was still not happy with him, but he just wanted him to know how sorry he was.

"Fenton's said you've been asking about me constantly."

Scrooge felt his stomach knot, and he gave an awkward chuckle. "Ohhhhh, d-did he now? Well, I don't think 'constantly' is that accurate. I just-"

"I know you feel guilty."

Scrooge suddenly found the floor very interesting to stare at, and the aforementioned guilt swelled up in his chest. "Gyro….what I said to you was uncalled for, and I know it hurt you. I'm sorry. You had every reason to be upset because me using what you told me as fodder for a petty argument was below me on all counts."

"Well, I-"

"You don't have to forgive me or speak to me again or...anything, really. I just want you to know me being a complete arse to you shouldn't have any bearing on who you are. You're the smartest man and currently the richest chicken in Duckburg, and your wits are far beyond what my old brain can even come up with," Scrooge mumbled. "And I don't blame you if you don't want to set foot in my dusty old company or near the McDuck family ever again. I probably deserve the hectics that have been happening since I put Fenton in your position, and I can-"

"Are you going to keep being pitiful or can I speak?" Gyro suddenly cut him off, hand on his hip as he glanced at Scrooge.

"Eh….go ahead?"

"I don't forgive you," the chicken spoke flatly. "And I don't know when I will."

Scrooge sighed and accepted it with a single nod. "That's fair. I guess I should have expected-"

"But I do want my job back. I've been watching your stocks ever since I left, and egads! You sure are screwing yourself over! Did Cabrera's cute little hug-and-kissy machines not get any investors?" he gagged. "Don't get me wrong, this bookstore gig is fun but not half as fun as using interns for guinea pigs."

"Oh!" Scrooge gave a gentle and surprised smile at the other's words. "In that case, when can you start?"

"Hmmm. As soon as I can chuck this tacky thing across the room," Gyro answered as he ripped the nametag off his chest and threw it as far as he could with a grunt. They could hear it ricochet off a window and a customer yelp.

"Curse my kilts, I've missed you, lad."

"I'd be offended if you didn't."