A/N: This is a definite AU.

Hide and seek. Their decision was made on a whim after their school lessons were concluded. Webby grasped the game's simple rules five seconds after Huey's explanation, and she squealed in poorly controlled enthusiasm, unable to wait for the boys to choose a seeker.

She ran down the corridors, wondering what hiding area would name her champion hider. Each room held potential. A dimensional hopping corner, a hidden wall, a secret compartment under the floorboards leading to unimaginable horrors, and she knew her best friends were capable of discovering each of these with little to great effort, depending on the seeker.

Webby stopped, clasping her hands in prayer position. "It needs to be good. It needs to be best," she mumbled aloud, able to hear the distant counts to thirty or maybe fifty.

She nearly slipped on a small tuff of hair on the floor, and she grunted, testing its fluffy texture. "Oh Bolivar," she groaned, dropping the abandoned strands, "Granny is going to have to give you a haircut."

There was no time to falter. In her impatience, she didn't know the designated number count. He may have stopped at twenty, forty-five, or even one hundred. Jumping on her toes, she flickered to each of the doors, weighing their potential until she made it to the last door on the left.

An arbitrary decision, the chosen door wasn't spectacular in anyway. Its faded paint was somewhat chipped, but Webby knew, for one reason or another, this was the door for her. Hearing the voice grow stronger, she hurried inside without a second thought, and gasped a little at the sight.

"Scrooge's private study." Closing the door, she stifled an amazed giggle-cackle. This room was one of Scrooge's many private studies. His mansion had countless studies currently abandoned or forgotten, and she had visited the majority of them, except for this one. She pranced to the bookcases and fingered the worn, dusty leather spines, childish glee squirting out of her mouth every second.

Webby swirled in the new room's knowledge. She was transfixed, and didn't hear the door quietly open. She didn't hear the intruder's quiet footsteps. Curled on the floor with a botany book on her lap, she pretended the quiet footsteps approaching her was the passing wind, although every window in the vicinity were closed shut. She murmured in rich hisses, closer to a pinched squeal than a serpent. The intruder reached towards her shoulder, ready to grip her and do untold things to her momentarily defenseless position.

"Hi, Louie." She propelled the book in his face, unintentionally pushing him backwards. Her finger pointed to page 185, "Though hemlock is one of the most poisonous plants in existence, someone utilized oleander's fatality's into an unmerciful curse!" Louie's silent horror remained so as she pressed the book to her chest, a dreamy expression swallowing her exuberant enthusiasm. He'd never understand her affection for most deadly, odd things.

"Okay." Louie said, "Shouldn't you be hiding?"

Webby tilted her head to the side, "Shouldn't you?"

"Hide and seek is for children."

"But we are -,"

"And it was more for Huey than us anyways." Walking to the far end of the room, a disinterested glance passed over the numerous books, maps, and paintings the room offered, "He's searching for Dewey."

"Dewey is the easiest find."

Louie shrugged, "Huey's going to check the kitchen first. He always does." Stopping in front of a portrait, his scrupulous stare studied its contents before shrugging back o Webby, "And he's probably hiding in the snack pantry, typical Dewey."

"It means we don't have a lot of time left." Webby returned the book to its shelving area, "And we're in the same room. We've narrowed the game down to a few seconds."

Louie scoffed, "Hubert's good, but he isn't that good," spreading his arms open, "there are like a million rooms down this hall alone. He's going to get lost."

"Or Dewey's going to get lost, and Huey has to find him." Smiling back, she headed towards the door when she noticed an old Grandfather's clock near the wall, "Oh, this is new."

"What?"

"This clock?" Its smooth glass sent tingles up her spine while the gold pendulum swung slowly within. Infatuated, Webby tipped on her toes, peering to see its contents, "It's an unusual Grandfather clock, that's all.

"He has a million of these," which was true. Every other room contained a minimum of one Grandfather clock, some short, some tall, all made of an unidentifiable wood Huey had yet to discover in the JWG. He tipped toed to the large hand, pushing it up a little, and then he did the same to its shorter twin.

"What are you doing," Webby gasped.

"Eh. Wanted to see what happens." He looked out the window, "They're near the pond," he chuckled softly, "okay, Dewey may have tried hiding in the pond, the dork." Walking away, he failed to notice Webby's breathless expression, or the fact she had stepped several inches backwards, eyes growing wider with every step.

"Louie!" She whispered - hissed, "Louie, what are you doing!?"

He didn't look back, dragging a yawn he didn't bother to cover up, "Going to the kitchen for a can of Pep. Haven't had my peak Pep limit today."

"You can't leave." She hissed, "Not now."

"Eh, it's not a big deal. I'll get there before they get back. We'll have another turn to hide." Opening the door, he turned to grin, but felt his grin slip off his beak, replaced with wordless shock.

"Now, you want to look!" Whitish blue light engulfed the room. The Grandfather Glock levitated off the floor, filling the room with a great, whoosh sound. Louie pressed his back against the door, shutting it tight.

"What's going on?"

"You tell me!"

Shielding his gaze with his arm, "This feels strangely familiar," one foot in front of the other, he was at Webby's side, "why does this feel familiar?"

"I don't know!" Webby pushed him out of the way the moment the Grandfather clock fell to the floor, landing in a perfect position with steam rolling off its wood.

Silence. The light, its sounds, everything was emptied, leaving the private study in absolute silence. Louie crashed onto the floor with Webby on top of him, shielding him from whatever anticipated explosion, but they were left empty handed.

"What was that?" Louie sat up, a little fringed but otherwise unharmed, "What was that," he gestured to the now quiet Grandfather clock - even its pendulum no longer swung, "Are Grandfather clocks supposed to do that?"

"Normally, no." Webby dusted her skirt off, studying the clock a bit harder than earlier, "You see," she tapped the glass, "look at the pendulum."

"No."

Webby frowned, "Are you going to do this now?"

"What'd ya' mean?"

"I mean," she drawled, "if you hadn't touched the hands, then none of this would've happened." Glaring back at the glass, there's something in the pendulum, I thought it was just crystal," she scrutinized the gem cut rising in pendulum's center, "but it seems to be something else."

"Oh, is it shiny?"

"Well, yes, it's a gem, naturally." Webby answered, "But it seems to be cracked."

A thin, miniscule crack seeped into the gem's blue-green-indigo mixed body. "It isn't diamond," Louie observed, "or gold."

"It's a mineral of some kind? Chrysoberyl, perhaps?"

"Oh, you mean Alexandrite."

"Right!" Webby snapped her fingers, "Alexandrite! This must be the legendary Clock of Chronos," she paused, staring at Louie, "wait, who said that?"

Louie's and Webby's shoulder stiffened. Their necks leaned backwards while their stares rolled to the ceiling where the third voice's person came into view.

Teal stared wide-eyed at them, "Oopsie."

Webby dodged. Louie didn't.

Louie wasn't dead. He wasn't harmed. He wasn't sure what happened, but knew, without a shadow of a doubt, he was far from safe.

"Um...Webby," an arm securely wrapped itself around his neck. He tried to move, to create some distance, but slender, short arm was firm, "Webby, I'm not safe. I'm so very, very, very not safe."

"You're not Donald."

He was thrown to the floor. Glaring ahead, he snapped back, "What's your damage?"

White blond curls fell over a shoulder, "Damage?" Kneeling down, inquisitive worry showed on her face, "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"You could've!"

A thick gasp pounded on her bouncy curls, "I'm sorry!" Grabbing the front of his hoodie, he was suddenly pulled on his feet, and she clasped his hands, bright eyes shining with unshed tears, "A young lady does not put strangers in chokeholds, Duckworth tells me, and what do I do, put a stranger in a chokehold!"

"Especially in their house!" Louie jerked away, "Chokeholds in our house, what's your damage?"

She frowned, "I-I don't understand." Confusion graced over the bookcase, walls, paintings, and windows, "This is my house. I live here."

"This is the manor of Scrooge McDuck," Louie said. He scrutinized her, "Unless you're some kind of ghost - are you a ghost?"

"No."

"Well, unless you're a ghost -,"

"Didn't you say Duckworth," Webby interjected.

"I did."

They exchanged uneasy glances, "Oh." Adjusting their positions, reflected on the painting positioned near the Grandfather clock, "Oh."

Louie smacked his lips, "You're the creepy girl in the painting."

"Creepy-cute is less rude."

"Wait, so…," the clogs in Webby's brain worked faster than Louie's. A shrill squeal freed itself as enveloped her arms around the girl, hugging her in a tight, unforgiving embrace, "Hi! I'm Webby!"

"Hi!" The girl's stare widened in shock, resuming its normalcy as she settled in Webby's embrace. Returning the hug with identical intensity, she giggled, "I'm Opal!"

"What?" Shaking his head, pulling them apart, "You need to tell me," glaring at Webby, "what's going on here?"

Webby bounced on her feet, fists clenched in poorly contained excitement, "Don't tell me you don't know," gesturing madly to the girl, "it's her! It's her!"

"Who!?"

"Opal McDuck!" She sighed, "Scrooge's daughter!"

A pause. "Wait." Another pause, "Hold on." Louie let the information sink into the depths of his knowledge, but even as it sat at the very bottom, it didn't settle.

No. The information rocked unsteadily in his brain like a ship battling through a raging storm.

He repeated in dumb shock.

"Scrooge's daughter," he shook his head, "he has a kid!"

Louie's lips puckered in, absorbing the girl's - no, Opal's very existence. His right eye twitched, and all the cogs in his usually fast working brain came to a screeching halt.

"Hi." The girl waved sheepishly, "I'm Opal."

A/N: Webby and Louie interaction is really fun to write.