Notes:

This takes place before the series, so consider this an interlude.

Wren panicked when she found out she was expecting and fled without thinking it through. Shame led her to stay away after that. My original concept of her was different than what came out here. She isn't really a bad person. She was just a kid who got in over her head.

One more thing: this has to be the most edited of the chapters I've posted for this series so far. I'm also sick, so if anything is weird, blame that.

Interlude

(About twelve years ago)

Wren was nervous. This was her first big spy assignment with SHUSH and they'd pitted her against Steelbeak. All the intel in the world couldn't help her if she couldn't get her stuff together. Moreover, Steelbeak had already killed two dozen agents in the last two weeks. Of course, her mother had insisted that she should receive the assignment instead, due to Wren's inexperience. Wren had shot her down; she wouldn't make it on her own if she kept standing in her mother's shadow her whole life.

The plan was simple; she was to have a rendezvous with Steelbeak, ascertain that he had the device in question, and then get out. Leave someone with more experience handling villains like Steelbeak to retrieve the object. It rankled and Wren had already decided that she was going to retrieve it, regardless of what SHUSH had told her.

The only problem with that was she suspected, as did SHUSH, that Steelbeak was keeping it in his hotel room. Being a female operative would work for her in this instance and she thought she could pull this off. Steelbeak was known for being avaricious and she assumed that extended toward his other appetites as well. All she needed to do was seduce him and steal the device. Easy-peasy.

She hadn't let slip any of this plan to her mother, because she knew Betina Beakley would've demanded she be taken off the case immediately. She was already engaging against her mother's wishes. If her mother found out she wanted to bed Steelbeak so he'd let his guard down enough for her to steal the device, she'd go apoplectic with rage.

Or perhaps she'd just deliver the talking-to of Wren's life. Wren rolled her eyes. She was old enough not to be spoken to like a child. She was twenty-one; it wasn't like she was still an irresponsible teenager. And besides, that part of the mission could be fun.

There was the fact of the matter that she didn't know what she was getting herself into, but Wren was young, arrogant, and brash. That this mission would prove her downfall would never occur to her. That this mission could also produce a child would also never occur to her. Wren was in control of the situation.

Or, at least, she thought she was.

Steelbeak hadn't been hatched yesterday. He knew a SHUSH agent when he saw one. After all, he'd just disposed of about two dozen. This duckling had no idea who she was messing with. But, hell, he had time to kill and maybe this particular agent would pose more of a challenge than the others had. If not, well, that was hardly his problem.

They were schmoozing at a gala that Steelbeak gallantly pretended wasn't a trap for SHUSH agents to pick at him. This particular agent was slim with blonde hair and an alluring figure wrapped up in a skintight dress. She probably thought she could seduce him. The night was still young. She might get lucky in that respect, but...make no mistake. It would be he who directed this dance, not she.

She had to be the youngest SHUSH operative he'd seen in a while. The last one had been dour and old and he'd enjoyed killing him. Not with his bare hands; that'd be barbaric. No, he'd trapped him in a brick-making factory and, well, what could Steelbeak say? The guy provided great support in one of his new buildings.

He spun the agent around-she'd already broken one of the rules SHUSH had tried to hammer into her. He knew her name-Wren. It'd be rude to take out his phone and attempt to search her and he wasn't sure it mattered either way. She would probably be dead in the morning. He had a low tolerance for spies.

He'd find a tasteful way to dispose of the body. Still...his gaze swept up and down her body appreciatively. It'd be a shame to waste such a beautiful figure.

"You know, you're a duckling compared to the agents they normally send after me," Steelbeak commented, spinning her around. Wren choked and he enjoyed the dismay flitting across her face. He smiled cruelly.

"You thought I wouldn't figure it out?" he whispered, pulling her close. "You have SHUSH written all over you, doll."

"That's not-" she stopped, panic suffusing her features.

"Not what?" he teased. "What you came here to hear? You thought you'd trick me into revealing something? You really are new, aren't you?"

He pinched her cheek. "You're adorable."

"I am not!" she huffed and he could feel her heart rate pick up through his palms. He grinned.

"How old are you? Twenty? Twenty-one?" he continued. He must've hit the nail on the head, because her eyes darted here and there, searching for the exits. There must've been fewer SHUSH agents here than he thought if she couldn't find help so quickly. Or was she the only one here? Wouldn't that be a nasty twist for her?

Wren looked like she wanted to bolt and he brought her closer, right up against him. He was enjoying the terror he'd inflicted. Plus, she couldn't very well disappear before she'd accomplished her mission, especially if she was the only one here capable of it.

"Old enough to know what I'm doing," Wren said and stiffened her spine. Oh, ho, she had a backbone. He liked that in his women. Plus, the fear made her sensible. Only an idiot wouldn't be afraid of him. (Years later, he'd meet that idiot in person).

"Do you?" he crooned and chuckled. They continued their circle of the room. She was still scared but she maintained eye contact with him. He was holding her too tightly to prevent easy egress, regardless. He didn't want her slipping through his fingers, not until he was done with her.

"Yes, I do," she said and glowered at him. Her black dress with its slit down her right leg whispered about her legs and brushed against his white tuxedo. The dress revealed a surprising amount of cleavage and he enjoyed the view. She huffed and he grinned.

"If you didn't want me to look, you shouldn't have worn that," he parried. "Or are you getting in over your head?"

Wren squared her beak and he snorted.

"I could give you a chance to back out, return to SHUSH, and tell them whatever lies you think will keep them from firing you," he offered. "That's better than I offered the last agent. Then again, the last one screamed for hours and gave me a headache."

She glowered. "I'm here to get what I came for."

"You're the diversion, aren't you?" he said. "There's no way they're letting you run the show."

"I refuse to answer that," she said. She interlaced their fingers to show he wasn't intimidating her, though he knew he was. He moved one of his hands from hers to press lightly against her backside. Her breath hissed out through her clenched beak.

"I have all night to wait for something to happen," he teased. "Do you?"

"I have all the time I need," she countered.

Oh, she was so young. And so very foolish. He would enjoy toying with this one.

Wren awoke in the morning with a headache and a nagging sense she'd done something reprehensible. She'd been sleeping in a bed, which was good, except she didn't recognize the bed or the room surrounding it. Moreover, she was sleeping in a king sized bed, which she didn't have back at McDuck Manor.

Because she wasn't at McDuck Manor.

She bolted upright and cursed loudly. That perfect little dress was lying on the floor, as was Steelbeak's tuxedo. She groaned, burying her head in her hands. True, she shouldn't have let him ply her with drink, but...oh god. This was a disaster.

Fortunately for her, Steelbeak was out of the room, but she didn't delude herself into thinking she had time to look for the device. She could barely stand looking around the room; the sunlight seared into her eyelids and threatened to burn out her eyes. This was the first time she'd drunk to excess and she had to wonder if he'd drugged her. Or maybe she just was that stupid.

She cursed again and grabbed her clothes. Dressing with a hangover was difficult but not impossible. Her shoes had gone missing, those precious stilettos she'd felt so adult wearing. And she was an adult. A very, very stupid one. Wren groaned, burying her face in her hands again. Why her?

This whole night had been a mistake. What would her mother think of her now? She'd tried so hard to prove to her that she was capable of making her own decisions and she could hold her own. Maybe she'd be lucky. Maybe nothing would come of this and she'd never have to tell her mother.

She groaned, performing the walk of shame out of the suite. Steelbeak was in the shower; she could hear him singing the Darkwing Duck theme song and then grumbling about it. It was a catchy tune, she'd give it that. But since he was distracted, she should be able to slip out with him being none the wiser.

And she'd never ascertained that the modulator was in his possession. Wren cursed, staring at the hotel room door. She hadn't stepped out yet; there might be time to search for it.

Or maybe she shouldn't push her luck. Cursing a blue streak, she took her leave, not knowing that Steelbeak had let her leave. That he'd been feeling charitable when he woke up this morning. If he hadn't, she never would've made it back to McDuck Manor in one piece.

An egg. There was an egg. Wren considered smashing it to pieces, but she didn't have the heart. Besides, it was rather large and it looked viable. There was no way she could hide it. Despondent, she sank to her knees in her room and stared at the egg in horror.

She'd have to tell her mother. She rocked back and forth and gaped at the egg some more. Of course, she could decide not to brood over the egg and it wouldn't hatch. Then again, that'd be the same as killing it, wouldn't it?

But she didn't want to be a mother. This was a mistake. A horrible mistake. She'd never wanted children. She'd never liked children. All her life, she'd been trying to prove how mature she was. Well, she was certainly mature now, mature enough to create life.

Then there was the problem that it'd been Steelbeak's egg. She didn't want anything tying her to him and to be frank, he still terrified her. This was a disaster, bar none. How could she have slept with him? What was wrong with her?

Her memories of the night were foggy, but enough to tell her that sleeping with him hadn't been her idea. Had he been drunk too? No, probably not. Ugh. She rubbed her temples; a ghost of the hangover she'd had that day returned. What was she supposed to do?

The egg was helpless and so was she. She had a sudden desire to smash it and she even brought her fists up against it, but she ended up cradling it instead. Sobs threatened to overwhelm her.

"I'm so sorry...I didn't mean to...but I can't...I can't..." she whispered to the unborn hatchling. She pushed the egg away and huddled, hugging her knees. She cried until she ran out of tears and compounded her headache. Then she resumed staring.

Her mother found her like that a few hours later, still gawking in dismay. Mrs. Beakley glanced from her to the egg and back.

"Oh, Wren...what have you done?" Mrs. Beakley asked in a gentle voice. The lack of judgment in her voice sent chills down Wren's spine. She didn't want this. She wanted her mother to rage at her and blame her for her indiscretions. That might've been normal. Wren's lower beak quivered and a decision she hadn't known she'd been making flew to the surface.

She bolted to her feet. "I...I'm leaving. If you want the egg, you can keep it. But I'm not. I don't want anything to do with it."

For a moment, Mrs. Beakley seemed at a loss for words. Wren was stunned herself. She hadn't expected to say any of that and once it'd come out, it was irrevocable. Feeling shaky (after all, that huge egg had taken a lot out of her to lay), she heaved herself to her feet and started packing. She wasn't sure where she was going or how she'd get there, but she couldn't stay here. She wasn't ready for children. She'd never be ready for children.

"You can't leave," Mrs. Beakley objected. "This is your child."

"I don't want it!" Wren cried. "I don't need it. I don't need a duckling crying after me! You want it, you take it. But...but if you don't want it...I'll just...I'll find somewhere to dump it."

She said the words, but there wasn't any conviction behind them. She didn't really want the egg abandoned. Her hands trembled as she shoved clothing into bags.

"It's...it's not even mine..." she said, which was preposterous because of course it was. "It's Steelbeak's."

Mrs. Beakley flinched. She didn't say anything for a minute and Wren resumed her hurried packing.

"Listen to me," Mrs. Beakley said, grabbing her daughter by her shoulders. "You brought this egg into the world. It's fertilized. It's viable. You need to take responsibility for it.

"I know that this is problematic because of who the father is, but you can't just abandon it, Wren. It needs you."

"No, it doesn't!" she said and smacked her mother in the face with her luggage. "It doesn't need me-it needs you. You'd be a much better parent than I could ever be to it. I don't care if it's fertilized. I don't care if it's viable. I just want it gone and since you won't let me get rid of it, I'm getting rid of me. That'll solve the problem.".

"Listen to me, child," Mrs. Beakley said and she was shaking.

"You cannot abandon your offspring simply because it proves inconvenient for you to keep it. And if you're worried about Steelbeak, we have options. SHUSH can help you."

She was panicking. She recognized in the back of her mind that she was panicking, that perhaps her mother was right. However, right now, she didn't care about any of that. She needed to escape the situation before the world collapsed upon her. And...if Steelbeak ever found out he sired a child, that would be the end of her life as she knew it.

"Wren-" Mrs. Beakley started, a last-ditch effort, perhaps, to convince her otherwise. Wren grabbed whatever she'd shoved into the bags and set off for the door. Mrs. Beakley moved in front of it.

"I'll leave when you're asleep," Wren threatened. "You can't stay up forever, Mother."

"You're serious about this. You're going to leave the egg to me," Mrs. Beakley said and it was like an anvil had crushed her mother's spirit. She sounded weary as she moved aside and Wren stumbled, not expecting the lack of resistance. Well, that was good, right? Her mother had capitulated and understood that Wren was an unfit parent.

"Yes, I am," she said. She could still feel the adrenaline coursing through her. The fight or flight impulse was strong.

Her mother glanced from her to the egg and then back. She stepped toward the egg and rested a hand on its surface.

"You poor child," Mrs. Beakley said and Wren knew she was talking about the egg. "You poor, poor child."

"Wren, you don't have to do this," she pressed. "I can help you raise the child."

"I don't want it! I never wanted a child and besides..." She didn't know what to follow that up with. She cast the egg one last glance and felt almost like her heart was ripping in two. But that was ridiculous. She had no sentimental attachment to the egg. It was just an egg. It wasn't even a duckling.

"I didn't think I'd have a child either," her mother said and reached out to embrace her. Wren sidestepped her and forced herself to stop looking at the egg. It'd be a girl. She knew that. But she had to stop thinking about it or she'd change her mind. And she didn't want to ruin her daughter's life the way she'd ruined her own.

Shrugging it off, trying to act like it didn't bother her, she finished packing and headed out. That was the last time she saw either of them again.

Wren stood outside McDuck Manor. She'd had a sense that her child was hatching and she wanted to go in, but shame held her back. The girl would be better off not knowing her. After all, she'd abandoned her to her grandmother.

She wouldn't want her. She would want someone who would love it. Wren swallowed back a lump in her throat. She could never be the kind of mother the hatchling would need. She wasn't good enough.

She stepped away from the bars and cast one last look at the Manor. She tried to convince herself that resurfacing here was a mistake and that her child wouldn't want to know who she was, much less be raised by her. Mrs. Beakley had always been far better at handling children than she was. Her mother would know what to do.

It was odd that, though she'd never intended to have children, she'd picked out a name anyway. She whispered it as she walked away.

"I'm sorry, Webbigail."

Mrs. Beakley had been up for 48 hours straight with the incubator and waiting for Webbigail to hatch. She'd heard nothing from Wren since her departure and she wouldn't answer her phone. Mrs. Beakley had tried tracking her down but to little avail. Wren simply did not want to be found, especially by the likes of her.

Waiting for Webbigail to hatch was more stressful than Wren's hatching had been. She'd been so frazzled she'd barely paid attention to the security cameras and so, had missed the sole figure walking away from the gates. If she'd seen her, perhaps she could've brought her back. If only, if only...

When Webby did hatch, Mrs. Beakley was both relieved and saddened. Webby went looking immediately for her mother and didn't find her. She started crying, which prompted Mrs. Beakley to sniffle too. She didn't know how Webby knew that her mother wasn't here, but she'd sensed it.

"Sssh..." she said, smoothing over Webby's head feathers. "Sssh. Granny's here. I won't let anything happen to you."

She'd promised the same thing to Wren and her heart wrenched. She added to Webby, "I won't let you out of my sight. You'll be here, in the Manor, where you'll be safe. I promise."

If Steelbeak ever came looking for Webby, on the off-chance he knew she existed, she needed to be prepared. And she'd need Webby to be prepared too. And the only way to do that was to take matters into her own hands.

"Oh, Wren..." she said and felt a sob build up in her chest. "You didn't have to leave..."

Had she thought she was protecting Webby by going? Or did she really think she was an unfit parent? Mrs. Beakley would rectify the mistake, either way. Looking at Webby, she knew she loved her from the start.

Perhaps that was good, in a way, because Webby was all the family Betina had left.