Alright, short story #6!

I'm actually surprised I've gotten this far. But this story is different in the way that I've been trying to put it into short story form for some time, but had problems with the words. But it seems like it came out alright =3 Anyway, another bonding story. This time it's our youngest and oldest members of the Ducks, Nosedive and Duke. You'll see why this'll make an interesting chapter.

Disclaimer: I don't own MD:TAS. If I did, I'd be rich.

SETTING: Rec Room, some time after "A Brother's Job" (again, you don't have to read this previous story.)

Nosedive plopped himself down on the couch, laying his head against the back. He was tired and it was all due to physical therapy. Today, Tanya had him try to lift a few very light weights with his left arm, which she insisted be kept in the sling when they weren't trying to work with it. Therapy for other broken parts of him were dealt in other ways, such as his leg.

But he didn't want to think about that again.

So he sat there, his eyes closed, feeling as exhausted as one could be when he heard the metallic doors open, footsteps soon following.

"What's tha' matt'ah kid?"

Nosedive opened his eyes to see Duke looking down at him, looking somewhat concerned. "Therapy," the teen merely answered, closing his eyes again. "Tanya's a slave driver."

The ex-thief grinned. "I know tha' feelin'," he said, walking over to one of the recliners and sitting back. "Physical therapy sucks."

That got the teen drake's attention. He opened one eye and looked at Duke. "How would you know?" Nosedive asked. "How many bones have you broken?"

"Hmph, too many," Duke answered. "When I was sixteen, durin' a trainin' session my partn'ah and I apparently timed our moves wrong and I ended up with a broken arm and dislocated should'ah. That was my first broken bone."

Dive managed to pick his head up off the back of the couch and look at the older drake, both eyes open and full of curiosity. "Oh yeah? What else?"

"Ah no, I ain't doin' this," the older one said. "I don't think ya wanna he'ah about my scars-"

"Aw c'mon Duke! Let's compare, I'm bored!" Nosedive whined. He moved on the couch so he was closer to the recliner that Duke occupied. "I'll even go first!"

The ex-bandit stared at him for a moment, then laughed. "Alright kid, if you're that bored, sure. But 'cha gotta go first since I just gave ya a freebie."

"Okay!" Nosedive thought for a moment, then snapped his fingers. "When I was seven, I wanted to go outside and play with Wildwing 'cuz I'd been in the house for almost a week while I had duck-pox. I was just getting over it when I begged my parents and they said it was alright as long as Wing was with me and if I was feeling okay."

"Was that a sma'ht move on their part?" Duke asked.

"My mom was a doctor, so she set the rules to anything medical," Nosedive explained. "Anyway, I guess I was a…bit too excited-"

Duke chuckled at the phrasing.

"-and when I went running with my skates, I tripped and fell. One of my skates hit me in the forehead, and this scar-" Nosedive pointed to a faint line that stuck out from his hairline. "-came from that. Actually, my hair covers up most of the scar."

"Somehow, I can see that," Duke said, imagining a seven year old Nosedive doing what he said he had.

"Alright, your turn Duke!"

The older drake thought for a minute. "Well, I've got a deep scar from my left knee to my upp'ah thigh," he admitted. "A heist went bad and that's all I'm sayin'."

"How bad was the damage that you've still got a scar?"

Duke sighed. "My leg was torn open by a blade," he explained. "When I woke up in tha' Brotherhood's Infirmary, they said that bone had been showin' before surgery."

Nosedive gulped. "Bone?"

"Yeah," Duke answered darkly. "I couldn't walk without crutches for at least two months when I was finally released from the Infirmary…the therapy for that wasn't pretty eith'ah."

"…how old were you?" Nosedive asked.

"…your age actually," Duke finally answered. "It was a 'pre-greatest Puckworld jewel thief' moment."

Nosedive just thought about that for a few minutes. Finally, Duke said, "It's in the past kid, it's an old scar. Now, what else ya got for me to he'ah 'bout?"

The teen thought for a moment. "Well, this is the second time I've broken my left arm," he said, indicating the slinged limb. "The first was during a hockey game with Wildwing, Canard, and a bunch of other guys when I was ten. I was on the same team as Wing and Canard and I was going for the winning goal when a bunch of guys from the other team tackled me and one fell on my arm." He laughed for a second. "When Wing came over, he punched the guy out, though he doesn't really remember that."

Duke's eyebrows shot up. "Really?"

Perhaps the exchanging of injuries wouldn't be as boring as Duke originally thought.