"Almost there, watch your step!"
Fenton Crackshell led the love of his life across a field, and up a grassy hill, her delicate hand clutched in one of his, a wicker basket swinging from his other. The sun felt good, the breeze made it better. The bright green grass and the small but colorful flowers dotting the valley below almost seemed a sign that things were okay now. Better than okay, even!
"Okay, you can peek now!" Fenton chirped, and Gandra Dee removed her blindfold. The woman gasped and smile at the beautiful scenery, and the basket her boyfriend had been carrying.
"Oh Fenton, it's beautiful! I'll be honest; when you told me you were taking me out to dinner, I was afraid you were taking me to an overpriced, fancy restaurant."
Fenton chuckled nervously, and pulled at the collar of his suit. No need to mention this had been a quickly concocted plan B, and that their reservations at the very fancy and very overpriced restaurant had fallen through.
"Heh, what can I say? I just have a knack for these sort of things, ya know." The duck gingerly put down the picnic basket he had been carrying as he bent over to take out the checkered blanket inside. With a quick flourish Fenton spread it out-bowing and making a show of it, caused his girlfriend to giggle at his antics. Fenton smiled wider as he spoke up once more.
"Ladies first."
"Thank you."
The moment Gandra sat down she 'oohed' in slight startlement as a glass of homemade lemonade was already waiting for her. Still, she beamed with gratitude as she took the beverage from Fenton's hands. She noted in amusement that he plopped down next to her and dramatically took in a deep breath before sighing in content.
"Why, Fenton, I don't think I've seen you this happy in ages."
"That's because I haven't FELT this happy in ages, my Gandra dearest." The duck looked at his girlfriend from an upside-down point of view, his head practically in her lap as he took in the hen's beauty. "Duckburg is okay, ol' Scroogey is doing loads better now that he's out of the hospital, I'm spending time with you… It's like I can finally BREATHE again!"
Gandra merely smiled in reply, sipping at her drink. Truth be told, Scrooge's accident had affected more than just Fenton. It had seemed to her that a dark foreboding cloud had hung over their little part of Duckburg while Scrooge laid unconscious in the hospital.
"Well, it's good to have you back, Fenton." she finally replied. She meant this both physically, and emotionally.
"It's good to be back!" Fenton sat up so abruptly, Gandra wondered how the guy didn't suffer from head rush.
"And I'll tell ya another thing; this little disaster has taught me a valuable lesson, too!" Fenton added, turning to Gandra with love and adoration in his eyes. Her smile faltered when he grabbed her hand.
"Oh?" Gandra enquired, regrettably.
"Yeah! I'm never taking you, or anyone else I care about a whole lot for granted, ever again!"
"Fenton, I don't think-"
"Nono, Gandra dearest, let me finish."
The smile on the middle aged mallard's face slipped, as genuine pain etched into his features- making Gandra Dee silence her own disagreements as she listened intently. Fenton continued, sadly looking at his woman's hand as he traced her feathered palm distractedly.
"I don't know much about death and all that stuff, but I DO know a great deal about watching people ya care about hurting n' not being able t'do anything about it. Sometimes all you can do is sit back and watch as things get worse and worse…" Crackshell paused his administrations as a look of determination came over him, locking eyes with the blonde hen." I might not be able to stop every lil' thing from happening, but I can make sure I'm there for 'em! Let them know every second of every day and every year that they're the the beacon of my happiness. The reason I get outta bed every morning- my muse!"
Fenton took a moment to pull a strand of blonde hair aside, his thumb grazing Gandra's cheek in the process.
"That's not so bad a thing to want, is it?"
"Of course not, Fenton, it's just..." Gandra trailed off again, that look he was giving her making her heart ache. She shook her head, and smiled gently, taking his hand in hers.
"Never mind. You're a sweet guy, Fenton Crackshell."
"N'aww, go on! I'm not even one-sixth as sweet as you are, my sunshine! Speaking of sweet, you've just GOT to try my triple berry upside down pie!"
Gandra let her smile dissolve as she watched him dig around in their picnic basket. A heavy lump of dread had taken up residence in her stomach, and had completely stolen away her appetite.
She had a bad feeling about this.
M'ma Crackshell had a bad feeling about this.
"Oh, come on Jessica," she said to her television screen one morning, watching as the story unfolded. "Drake says he's a new man, but what about all the stuff he's done in the past? Don't just stand around and let him betray you like that, woman!"
It had been a week since Scrooge McDuck had been released, and the old woman mourned the fact. Oh, don't get her wrong, she wasn't the type to wish horrible things on most people- mostly because Mrs. Crackshell simply didn't care. But, oh, she had grown so fond of cable television and high definition picture that going back home to watch her shows seemed like a culture shock of sorts. How… how had she ever survived on the ancient rabbit-eared piece of junk to begin with?!
M'ma sighed melancholy, looking at her half empty bowl of Quackerjacks before stuffing another handful in her mouth. She muttered to herself as she chewed.
"Maybe soon I'll get lucky and you-know-who will get hurt on the job. Then I'll be back in tv heaven."
Mrs. Crackshell jumped as the channel suddenly flipped to another one, which showed nothing but static. She went to grab for her remote, only to find Fenton sitting on the armrest of her side of the couch where it should have been.
Fenton grinned at her. She glared back.
"Fenton, get off my remote, would ya? I'm missing my show, here!"
A look of mild surprise crossed her son's face before he hopped off as quickly as if his tail had been set aflame.
"Whoops! Sorry, M'ma!" he chirped. She mumbled noncommittally and switched the station back. It took her a few seconds to realize he was now hanging over the back of the chair.
"What?" she asked, tone deadpan, without looking away from her program.
"Oh, well, gee," Fenton began, sliding around the couch and onto the cushion next to his mother, "I just wanted t'spend a little time with you, is all. Show that your interests matter to me, and whatnot. "
Mrs. Crackshell turned her head slightly from the television to give her son a look.
"What interests?"
"Well, I, uh…" The woman watched her son tap his bill in concentration, as his eyes darted around the trailer. She had just decided the conversation was a dud, as she turned back to her soap, when Fenton exclaimed out triumphantly. "Oh! That's it! Your shows. You love your 'Young and the Featherless' as if it was a second child!"
"More like 'favorite child'."
"C'mon, M'ma, don't joke like that- I'm serious. I care because YOU care. Tell me about what's going on. Who's that handsome Romeo trying t'smooch up the redhead?"
The old woman did a double take. Fenton actually gave a hooey about her soaps? Something was up, but for the moment, she decided not to look the gift horse in the mouth.
"Well that's Robert; Drake's much more handsome, more successful brother. The woman he's trying to seduce is Jessica; Drake's faithful wife, who doesn't know a good deal when it hits her in the face! Come on, Jessica, wake up and smell the roses! Just say yes; Robert's got good looks, tons of cash, and he'd never fool around on you with a pair of blond bimbos from the iMOP!"
Fenton had been nodding the whole time, while his brain had slowly been lulling itself into a light slumber. When her barrage of prattle ceased, he awoke abruptly.
"Fascinating!" he replied, perhaps a little too loudly, his forced enthusiasm openly apparent. This caused his mom to flinch and whip around to face him, her eyes wide and startled. She blinked a few times.
"You're still here? Shouldn't you be at work or something?"
Fenton Crackshell threw a quick look at the digital clock on the other side of the trailer, before jumping off the couch in alarm.
"Yikes, you're right! It's Mr. McDuck's first day back at work, and I gotta be there t'open the welcome wagon." The middle aged duck began running towards the door, before stopping and turning around again to address his mother. " Gonna miss ya, M'ma. That said, is there anything else ya need before I go? Glass of water? Pillows fluffed? How 'bout-"
"Would you just go already! How are you supposed to miss anybody if you won't leave!"
Fenton laughed off the woman's negativity- knowing full well she didn't mean any of it… hopefully. He threw his mother a quick air kiss before dashing out the house. Crackshell refused to be late, of all days. And he made it to the money-bin across town just in the knick of time, as the world's richest duck had just pulled up to the front of the structure. Before even Duckworth could get out of the car, Fenton huffed and puffed as he reached Scrooge's door- opening it to help his boss out.
"G-good… Good morning, Mr. McDuck! You're looking well n' spry today!"
Scrooge thought to say something regarding his fully functioning capability of opening car doors for himself, but decided against it. The lad meant well.
"Good mornin', Fenton." he replied, in its place, stepping out of the vehicle, and gazing at his money-bin. He took a deep whiff of the air around him; he could smell his beautiful fortune from out here.
"Ah, what a sight for sore eyes!" the old duck gushed. Beside him, Fenton blushed.
"Aw! I could say the same about you, Mr. McDuck!"
Scrooge rolled his eyes, and frowned. "I was talking about my money-bin, y'dolt."
"Oh! Uh, I knew that." Fenton scrambled to catch up with his boss, who had begun walking toward the entrance of his work place.
"So, what's on the 'ol agenda for today, huh? Nothing too strenuous, I hope!"
"Depends on what you mean by 'strenuous', I suppose." They had reached the door when Fenton quickly opened it, Scrooge merely eyed him as he continued the conversation on the way inside. "It's been a few weeks since I've looked over the figures of me businesses. I figured seeing the ol' gross profits might raise my spirits after getting my medical bill."
McDuck shuddered over the very thought; the other day he had nearly fainted from the sight of it.
"Which reminds me: next time I get hurt… don't even bother with the hospital. Just send me t'bed and let nature take its course."
Fenton chuckled uneasily, and followed Scrooge inside. Boy, everyone was just full of jokes today! He hoped the profit report wasn't TOO gross, though; it might not do wonders for his mood if they were. He knew sometimes you had to get a little dirty when dealing with business, but even he didn't know if a guy just out of the hospital should be messing with stuff TOO foul!
"Where to first, Mr. McDuck?" the accountant asked.
Scrooge gave him another look from the corner of his eye. What was with all the questions? And did he have to stand so close?
"... I'm going to stop by and take a look at my money first, I think. It's been far too long."
He didn't get very far before his feet left the ground, and he found himself cradled in Fenton's arms like an infant.
"The vault it is! And off we go!"
"I-what- FENTON! Put me down, ya bafoon!"
No matter how much the old duck squirmed- kicking, screaming, and hitting the younger lad with his cane- Fenton carried onward. Up the stairs and past the sea of office workers- who all looked shocked to see their boss manhandled in such a ridiculous manner- and finally past the desk of an alarmed Mrs. Quackfaster (his secretary).
"Don't just stand there like a statue, woman," Scrooge cried, "get my muskeet, call the authorities, JUST GET ME DOWN FROM HERE!"
Fenton, however, just chuckled.
"Don't worry, ma'am, he's just a little cranky. Aches and pains and all that, ya know?"
"The only pain here is you, Crackshell!"
Finally they made it into the office, where Fenton gently placed his boss by the door of his vault. The old mallard smacked away the hand that tried to dust him off, causing the youth to flinch away.
"Try that stunt one more time, Fenton, and you'll NEVER have a job in this town again! I'll make SURE of it!"
Fenton looked hurt, but Scrooge didn't let it get to him. Instead, he went to work opening the vault door, smacking his accountant away when he tried to help.
"Well gee, Scroogy, I just didn't want you to strain yourself, is all..." Fenton whined, deflated and defeated.
"Walking and opening up doors never strained me before, and it isn't going to now! I'm FINE." Scrooge retorted, slipped inside the vault, and made haste to slam it shut behind him. He leaned up against it, and heaved a relieved sigh.
"Blast me bagpipes; a man survives an explosion, and suddenly, everyone treats 'im like he's old an' feeble!"
He flinched when the pounding started on the other side of the door.
"Mr. McDuck! Wait! Do y'need water wings? An inner-tube? Earplugs? How long since y'last ate?"
"Go away!" Scrooge bellowed. The pounding stopped.
Fenton stared at the door in silence for a good two minutes, before sighing and shrugging.
"Well... I guess I have a few minutes to give Gandra a call, then!"
The halls of the bean factory offices echoed with constant chatter, as the company was getting ready to hold a big meeting with another food company to talk about the possibility of future mergers. Gandra Dee found herself almost in a sweat as she juggled filing paperwork, taking and transferring phone calls, as well as learning key phrases of greeting for the company's foreign owners. It was certainly exciting, but stressful, and the receptionist was already beginning to mentally shut down after a couple hours of it straight.
Gandra was right in the middle of learning Spanish when the phone rang. Going on instinct alone, she quickly pushed the speaker button as she stapled a pile of papers.
"Como estas, McDuck Bouncing Bean Factory head offices."
"Como Who? Naw, it's me, Fenton!"
Gandra's already frazzled mind flashed red.
"Fenton? Is something wrong, did something happen?" she asked, fearing the worst.
"Well gosh, I hope not! I called to see how you were doing, my sugar pie!"
Fenton's chipper tone only served to agitate the hen even more. The grip she held on the stapler tightened.
"I can't do this right now, Fenton, I'm very busy!"
"Aw, that's okay." Gandra could hear a slight hurt tone in her boyfriend's voice as he continued. "I know how it is, helping run a business and all. Okey dokey then, I'll just call you back later. Tootles, my sweets~."
The receptionist gave a quick goodbye before hanging up. She pulled a strand of blonde hair out of her face- in the moment wishing she sported a bun- as the hen gathered up another handful of papers to staple. The phone ringed before she could do so, and Gandra effortlessly pressed the call button with her elbow.
"Hello, McDuck Bouncing Bean Factory head offices."
Gandra nearly dropped her papers as she recognized the awkward groan from the other end.
"Er, hey, me again… Just wondering how late is 'later' exactly?"
"FENTON!"
"Alright alright, no need t'fuss. I'll just take a guess then. Bye! … AGAIN!"
Fenton had just hung up the phone on McDuck's desk when the owner had made his way out of the vault- looking far more lively and jovial than when he went in. Scrooge shook his shirt, catching a stuck dime that had been in there and throwing it back into his grand pile. The old mallard's beam slipped some as he noted his accountant's hand on the handset.
"I hope y'plan on paying for that call."
"Don't worry 'bout it, sir, you can just take it from my paycheck like ya always do." Crackshell stepped away from the desk to allow his boss to get to his chair. He went on after his boss snuggled in comfortably.
"Speaking of money, enjoy your dip?"
"Aye. A dip in my 'ol money-bin was just what I needed." Scrooge replied. He sounded as relaxed as he looked, much to Fenton's delight.
"Good! Great! That's what I like to hear!" Fenton beamed, peeking around the back of the chair. Scrooge glanced at him, and retrieved a stack of papers from his drawer.
"Now if you'll excuse me... I have some paperwork t'get caught up on before my meeting with the vice presidents of Whiffle Boy Industries t'morrow morning."
Fenton's beam drooped instantly. He came around to stand next to Scrooge's chair.
"Aw, do I have to go? Can't I stay? Please oh please? I promise, you won't even know I'm here!" the accountant pleaded, not thrilled with leaving Scrooge all by his lonesome in any shape or form.
"I suppose." Scrooge said, half distracted, as he adjusted his glasses and began reading over the top paper. "Just don't say a word. I mean it, Fenton! Not a peep!"
"Dontcha worry, Mr. McDuck, no peeps from me! Silence, a shadow- there but not really! At least, metaphorically speaking. " Scrooge glared at the middle aged duck, causing him to smile sheepishly. "Heh, zipping it now, sir."
"Good."
And zip it he did, as Fenton pulled up a metal folding chair that the rich duck kept in his office- the cheapest seat Scrooge could find at the yard sale he bought it from. The chair creaked as the drake tried to unfold it- causing him to stop midway from alarm. Fenton tried to carefully unfold it the rest of the way, going slowly in hopes that it would make the thing silent. However, it did not, and in fact had the opposite effect as it caused the chair to squeak louder. McDuck threw his accountant a dirty look just as Fenton finished- the duck plopping in his seat and feigning innocence as he shrugged his shoulders.
Scrooge sighed, feeling the beginning of a headache coming on. He contemplated asking his secretary to send him in some aspirin, as McDuck's hand went to grab his pen to circle a section of his documents that looked iffy to him. (Nobody cheats McDuck out of anything, after all!) However, his hand hit the desk instead of the writing tool. The old mallard frowned, still refusing to to take his gaze away from the papers as his hand continued to pat around for the pen. Scrooge found his spectacles fumbling from surprise as his pen was suddenly shoved in his face- Crackshell having retrieved it for him.
McDuck side-eyed the lad, taking in Fenton's grin as he snatched the pen out of his hand.
"Thanks."
"No problem-o, Mr. McDuck! Need anything else while I'm up? A light snack, perhaps?"
"No."
"Oh! Okay then, I'll just be over here."
Scrooge cringed as he heard the chair creak again, but he didn't look up. He absentmindedly began rubbing his forehead. A few more moments of relative silence passed.
"Hey Scroogy? Have I ever thanked you for giving me a job when I was down and out?"
"Plenty." Scrooge mumbled. It had become obvious to Scrooge that Fenton had gotten it in his mind again to butter him up for a raise, and he wasn't about to even humor him this time around.
"Oh, good! Because it's true, y'know. Why, I was just telling M'ma the other day- hey, where ya headed?"
The world's richest duck had gotten out of his chair and begun to walk away from the desk when he was stopped by the younger mallard's inquiry. McDuck threw a glance over his shoulder, glaring as he was getting fed up from this game of twenty questions.
"To the loo, if that's alright with you."
"'Loo'? What in the hoo-ha is a- OH! Ooooh, bathroom, gotcha. " Silence passed between the two, as Fenton rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "I, uh, don't suppose y'need help with that, do ya?"
His question was answered by a slam of the door, as Scrooge sprinted to the bathroom. The old mallard panted as he rested his back against the door, using his weight to keep it closed. Oh, this was getting ridiculous. He wasn't going to get anything done with that crazed kook of an accountant around. He needed to get rid of him, and fast.
"Isn't it time fer GIZMODUCK t'go on patrol?" Scrooge yelled, praying that the lad would take the bait. "I know you want to help around here, but I think he'd do me more good right now."
Fenton grinned, as Scrooge's voice carried through the shut door. He leapt off of his chair; finally! Something he could help with!
"You got it, Mr. McDuck! I won't letcha' down! It's time to pass the reigns to, GIIIZMODUUUUCK!"
And so the reigns were passed, Scrooge Mcduck's money-bin's official protector wheeling dutifully back and forth across the land on which it stood.
"Phew!" the metallic wonder said, a hand reaching up to instinctively wipe away the sweat beading on his forehead- which proved pointless through his helmet.
"It sure is a scorcher today! My motors are overheating!"
Gizmoduck shielded his eyes with a gloved hand, and scanned the area, stopping to gaze thoughtfully in the direction that Gandra Dee's house lied.
"Hmm. Gandra's prized petunias are no doubt faring even worse than I am in this heat! A quick watering job might be just what they need. I'll be just a moment!"
Expertly changing the suit's hand into a convenient water hose, Gizmoduck took off toward her house. One very uneventful trip later, and he was humming a cheerful tune as he spread water across the drooping garden.
"There you go, my parched petunia pals! Drink as much as you need; there's plenty more where- oh?" The flow of water ebbed, as Gizmoduck bent over and raised his shades to get a better look at the tiny shrub hiding amongst the flowers.
"A weed? In MY dearest's garden? Huh, she must have just been too busy lately t'notice. I'll just take care of that real quick, and get back to work then…"
And Gizmoduck did just that, effortlessly pulling out the fiendish plant and throwing it over his shoulder triumphantly. He was just about to roll away when his eye caught another intruder, and another… and another. Next thing the hero knew, he was surrounded by nothing but weeds. The middle aged duck gulped.
"Blathering blatherskite! It's… it's an infestation!"
Oh, this was a disaster! Poor poor Gandra, Fenton hadn't realized she had been THAT busy as of late. If he had known she had been, he would of set time aside ages ago to help her out. He knew how much his garden meant to his girlfriend, after all.
"WELL, no time like the present, I suppose." Another bead of sweat dripped down his face, this time lightly splashing on the grass. Gizmoduck looked at it worriedly. "BUT, first, maybe I should consider taking the suit off. For… economic reasons."
An hour passed in the hot sun, and slowly, the army of offending weeds was reduced to a growing pile of trash, safely away from Gardra's poor petunias. Fenton sighed in relief as he spotted the last one. He wiped the sweat from his hands, gripped the weed firmly, and pulled with all his might. It came out more easily than he'd expected, and he stumbled backward, landing on his rump in the grass.
No sooner had he landed, there was a high pitched scream that sent his already exhausted heart jumping in his chest. He whipped around to see his beloved Gandra, home from work. Oh, wouldn't she be pleased!
But she certainly did not look pleased. No, in fact, this was as far away from pleased as Fenton had ever seen her. She looked horrified, on the verge of tears, and Fenton's heart broke. He struggled to his feet and approached her with caution.
"Gandra? My sweet? What's wrong? Surely you're not worried on my account, what with working myself so hard on such a hot day? Well don't be! I'm fine! Look, see? It'll take more than a few pesky weeds to do me in!"
"Oh, oh Fenton," Gandra glared a teary eyed glare as she locked eyes with her dunderhead of a boyfriend. "I really wish you hadn't. Those AREN'T weeds!"
"They… they aren't?" Fenton Crackshell looked back at the large pile, dread starting to form in the pit of his stomach. "Then what in Samwise's name ARE they then?"
"They were the Prinses Irene tulips I had been looking forward to seeing bloom since I planted the bulbs last year."
"... Whoops?"
"Big whoops, Fenton."
"I… no need to worry, my love," the mallard ran to the pile before plopping on his knees, already beginning to dig new holes. "I'll just replant them! All of them. Back where ya had them, and they'll be good as new!"
Gandra looked exhausted.
"No, no need-"
"No need?! It's the least I can do!"
The hen didn't even respond as she walked past Fenton and his pile of destruction. She needed rest, and just didn't have the energy to deal with any of his nonsense.. Her hand reached the door handle when Fenton spoke up again, jovially.
"Good idea, Gandra! Lemonade is just what we need t'get the job done! Thanks a bunch!"
Gandra didn't even respond as she slammed the door. The middle aged duck, however, stared at the door in confusion.
"Gee, was it something I said?"
And so incidents like these occurred over the span of the week: from the middle aged duck's clinginess to his over abundance of helpfulness- it was driving everyone up the wall! Fenton had been used to the temperaments of both his mother and his boss; however, he had begun to suspect maybe something was up when he had greeted his girlfriend one afternoon with a surprise visit and plans to take her out for fresh air and lunch. She didn't act quite the way he thought she would… The accountant actually jumped when his lovely lady slammed the papers she'd been carrying down on a nearby desk and whirled around, glare at the ready.
"Fenton, what are you doing here?" she snapped. Fenton was at a loss for words- for a few moments, at least. He fumbled over words until he found ones that would work.
"I, uh, I just thought that you, and me, and we, might step out for a bite, maybe, perhaps?" he offered his best toothy I'm sorry smile, and hoped he didn't look as bewildered as he felt.
"Fenton, I'm working." she spoke slowly, as if speaking to a child, but her tone hadn't lost its sharp edge. "You've been so needy lately, that it's gotten to the point I look forward to going to work!"
"Well... that's a good thing, isn't it?" another hopeful smile.
"To get away from you."
"...Oh." The duck deflated so badly, one might have assumed he was made of melting rubber. It hurt to look at him, and the hurt only made her angrier.
"There you go again, with your kicked puppy act! Fenton, I... please. Just go. We'll talk about this later, after I've had some time to clear my mind."
"'Act?' But-"
"Go."
Fenton slumped, the back of his hands nearly hitting the floor as he trudged out of the office dejectedly. Gandra momentarily found her anger slip as guilt struck her- that was the thing with Crackshell, he never meant to go over board. Fenton was just a special mix of over zealous and too oblivious for his own good. Not necessarily a bad thing most of the time, and it definitely had its charms; but… the duck had just been too much lately! She was in the right to feel upset… wasn't she?
Gandra was considering following after her boyfriend to apologize and explain where she was coming from, when she was suddenly stopped by a voice coming from behind her.
"That was some show you put on, Ms. Dee."
The blonde hen spun on her heels, nearly toppling over when she was greeted by the overweight visage of her boss- the vice president of the company.
"Oh, Mr. Hensletter! I'm… I'm sorry, I must have caused quite the disturbance."
"On the contrary, Ms. Dee! That's exactly the kind of authoritarian attitude this company needs! I'm talking manager material... here, walk with me."
"Manager?" Gandra had little choice in walking with him or not; the hefty arm now slung around her shoulder decided for her. Still, she had to admit, the more the man talked, the better it started to sound... almost too good to be true. And then it was out, the catch, and doubt began to set in.
"Of course..." her boss began, slyly, pausing for just the right amount of dramatic effect. "there's the little matter of relocation."
"Relocation? What do you mean?" Gandra questioned.
"Well, here's the thing. There's only one of our factories I know of that's in need of new management. And it ain't this one. No, the one I have in mind happens to be all the way out in Spain..."
The two of them spent the next hour discussing business propositions, and then Mr. Hensletter sent her home early to think it over.
And think she did, all the way home. It would be so easy; just pack up and leave her old life behind, climb up in life, get out of this rut she was in before she was too old for it to matter anymore. But could she really leave Duckburg behind? Her friends, her family... her Fenton?
Gandra Dee was busy thinking these questions over when she finally made it home- tripping as she made her way inside. The woman was bewildered as she found herself on the floor, blinking slowly a few times to clear her head. A head that was currently hurting from where she fell. Rubbing the sore spot on her forehead- no doubt a lump already forming- she looked down by her feet to see just what had caused her to trip in the first place.
Her confusion only doubled when she saw a pile of gifts and bouquets. Cautiously she went to pick up one of the bouquets, a card sticking out from the lilies. Gandra found herself seeing red as she read the card aloud.
"'Sorry for earlier, with love Fenton'?!"
She gawked, realizing that the whole pile must have been from him. She growled in frustration as she threw the bouquet back into the pile with the others. That's it, she was done. She could not handle a single moment more of this nonsense.
She and Fenton needed to have a talk.
"Oh, hiya, Gandra Dee! I was just- ... oh? Well sure! I'll be over before you can say- hello? Gandra? Huh. Must be a faulty connection."
It was the day following his office rejection, or rather, ejection, and the call had Fenton both anxious and mildly relieved. She wanted to apologize, no doubt... poor Gandra. He hoped she didn't feel too badly about the whole incident. He simply wouldn't hear of it!
"That was my sweet Gandra Dee, Mr. McDuck. She says we need to have a talk; I guess those apology gifts really did the trick! Er... would you mind if I took my break early?"
"Please do. I'm sure I'll manage without ye."
Scrooge McDuck sat chest-deep in bubbly bath water, sporting his striped bathing suit and an expression of pure rage. Fenton sat outside of the tub, the scrub brush he'd been using after he insisted on helping his boss get all cleaned up for his next meeting, held in the hand that hadn't been holding the old mallard yanked the scrubber out of his accountant's hand, as he waved it threateningly at the younger duck.
"Bubble me backside- out! SHOO! Get going and leave me alone for goldurn's sake!"
Fenton flinched back, but laughed all the same.
"Alright, alright. I'm going. Feel free t'call me if y'need me, though!"
"Oh trust me," Scrooge began, crossing his arms over his chest a he watched the lad leave the room, "I won't."
From McDuck Mansion it didn't take long for Fenton Crackshell to arrive at the home of his girlfriend. Fenton knocked eagerly on the door, only afterward silently lamenting the fact he didn't think to pick flowers up on the way over.
"Oh Gandra, love of my life n' pep in my step: It's meeee- Fenton!"
"The door is open," was the feminine reply the duck heard from inside the small home. Grinning with slight nervousness, Fenton opened the door and peeked inside. Spotting his girlfriend sitting on the couch, he opened up the door widely as he made his way inside- snatching the seat right next to the hen, not noticing her scooch closer to the edge away from him.
"So, what's on your mind, Gandra? I'm all ears!"
Gandra just stared at the guy in silence for a while. His chipper attitude in such a situation was almost... unnerving. Did he not know that the code "we need to talk" meant? She found herself hoping that was the case, as she cleared her throat, and cast her eyes to her own lap.
"Fenton... I care a lot about you, I do." She clamped his bill shut with her hand as he tried returning the sentiment tenfold.
"You're a great guy, and I appreciate your... enthusiasm... but in the end, it isn't fair for either of us to keep on pretending. You're not... what I'm looking for in life, Fenton Crackshell, and I think, if you would step away for a moment and look, you'd realize that I'm not exactly what you're looking for, either..."
Fenton's mood did a complete turnaround, he was now on his knees on the cushion beside her, his eyes large and tear-filled. She inched a little farther away. Soon she would be out of couch space.
"Gandra, my love, don't say that! We're perfect for each other, don't you see? I love you with every fiber of my mphh!" her hand returned to put a halt to his love babble.
"Whether you agree to see reason or not... I think it's best if we sep-"
"Gandra, please! Don't say it, just don't! I can change, I've done it before, I-"
"I'm moving to Spain in a week."
Fenton found himself genuinely at a loss for words as he took in what his girlfriend said. He sputtered uncontrollably.
"I-I, uh, SPAIN? But, I, and YOU," Crackshell took a deep breath, hoping his brain would slow down enough for his bill to catch up. "But, Gandra, WHY? I know I've been a little… out of sorts, but d'ya really dislike me THAT much that you want to leave the country?!"
"Oh Fenton," Gandra began sadly, shaking her head at the fact he just didn't get it. "I don't hate you. While I'll admit I factored our relationship into the decision, it was never really about you. Mr. Hensletter at work has been negotiating deals with another company there and they have finally decided to do business. With that in mind, they'll be opening a new factory and he sees managerial potential in me."
"But what's wrong with the job you have here?"
"Nothing, except-"
"Then you don't need t'leave!"
Gandra glared again, as she stood up from her seat to loom over the other. Fenton flinch, moving back while still on his knees. This prompted the hen to take another step forward as she shouted her frustrations.
"Oooh, you're not listening! You NEVER listen! I took the job because I wanted to. It would be good for me, don't you see? You always talk about being a somebody, well, maybe I want to be a somebody too. Do you know how… how hard it is for a working girl in this world? It's nearly impossible for women to get jobs in authoritative positions. I… I don't want this to be all there is. I want more. I need more. "
Gandra was nearly in tears as she pointed out the window, where her garden remained grounded and unmoved.
"I want to be MORE than the pretty perennials out there. Beautiful, grounded and a constant, but easily destroyed just because some.. some MAN was trying to be NICE!"
Fenton slipped off the couch onto legs that weren't quite steady. He wasn't sure the woul'd hold him, so he stayed where he was for the moment.
"I... see." It was very hard fighting the tears that wanted to burst forth. He wanted to cry, bawl, clutch onto this woman and beg her not to go. But it was past the time for that now, wasn't it? His mind was already buzzing with ideas- buzzing in a blind panic.
Now what?
As soon as he was sure he'd make it, the mallard slowly made his way toward the open door.
"I, uh... I'm sorry, Gandra Dee. I never meant to hold ya back. I guess I never realized... oh boy."
Before Fenton could take a step outside, he was whirled around to face Gandra again, her hands on his shoulders. Her eyes regarded his sternly, and still glistened with tears. Their beauty pierced his heart and he whimpered.
"Fenton, I can't let you leave without being absolutely sure you understand the situation this time. I need to know that 'we're through' doesn't mean 'I have a week to fix this' to you. Can you promise me that?"
The duck had to look away, not being able to stand it as he fought back the tears that threatened to fall.
"I… I understand." Fenton sniffed. "All I ever wanted was to make you happy."
Gandra let go of the mallard, and the duck took the opportunity to quickly turn around and head towards the door. He reached the handle when he stopped.
"Goodbye Gandra. I hope the job is exactly what you're lookin' for."
Fenton exited the home and immediately slumped against the closed door. He slid against the frame, where he finally crumbled on the ground- legs no longer stable enough to carry him away. It was then, the sun only beginning to set, that Fenton Crackshell shed all that he had been holding back.
Leaving him feeling empty.