She had to figure out a way to see him. However, how she intended to do that, she didn't know. She needed validation from him, even if he wasn't the best source for that. Regardless of how he'd treated her, he was still her father. What was worse was that everything was confused in her head.

Two weeks had gone by since her return to McDuck Manor, her supposed rescue, and in that time, though she'd grown to trust the triplets and Lena a little, she remained wary of the adults. Launchpad was harmless, as far as that went, but her grandmother and Mr. McDuck were suspect. It bothered her so much that she couldn't talk to her father about any of this. Not that she'd confided in him before, but she felt like life was moving too fast and she needed it to slow down. Nothing was normal.

Her grandmother had put the kibosh on any further training, too, which meant she had too much spare time on her hands. Already, she'd mapped out McDuck Manor and located the areas she couldn't access, such as the Other Bin. She'd found the secret tunnel underneath the house leading to the Money Bin and a way to sneak past Miss Quackfaster to get into the archives. More to satisfy her curiosity than because she had a strong attachment, either way, she sought out information on Della. There was precious little, but what there was she shared with Dewey.

It had taken two weeks for her grandmother to relax enough to let Webby out of the house again without a chaperone. Webby had taken the opportunity to visit Lena, seeing as she couldn't get into Duckburg Police Department without them calling her guardian. Lena was at the old theatre, writing letters to no one again. The older girl looked somber, head down, and Webby sensed a pall of misery about her. It drew her in.

She sat near Lena and waited for an acknowledgment. At last, Lena looked up and raised her eyebrows at Webby.

"You could've said something," Lena objected. "Instead of lurking there all creepy."

Webby shrugged. "Lurking's something I learned in FOWL HQ. That way, you catch your enemy unaware and you can study them with impunity-you have the element of surprise."

"Since when am I your enemy?"

She shrugged. "You're not. Everyone is."

"You have some serious trust issues, pink," Lena said and her beak quirked toward a smile. She shifted position and moved closer to her. Webby could see the string holding her amulet underneath her shirt and remembered again that strange shadow woman hissing at her. She'd never brought it up with Lena and Lena hadn't mentioned it. Webby knew better than to pry.

"Did you want to hang out?" Webby blurted and cursed herself for being so obvious about it. She didn't know how to purport herself around children her own age. She was still struggling with the triplets. Socialization was awkward at best and she rocked back on her heels. Already, she anticipated Lena's rejection. No one wanted to be around her unless they were forced to; at least, that was how it had been.

"I thought that was what we were doing?"

"Oh." Webby flushed. "Yeah."

"We could do something fun, more fun than this. Sitting writing ransom notes is fun and all, but we could go see a movie, unearth an underground civilization, antagonize a criminal gang...something like that."

"See a movie?"

"You've never seen one," Lena said, flat, disbelieving. "What kind of rock did you crawl out from under?"

"I've seen movies. Just not in theatres."

Lena was studying her and she reached out to touch her shoulder. Webby flinched, jumping backward to prevent her from making contact. Lena's frown deepened. For an experiment, she moved quickly toward her and Webby didn't know if she was going in for a hug or an attack. In her experience, sudden movements were ill omens and she lunged, knocking the older girl away and causing her to fall over. If she'd had her knives, she might have stabbed her. Probably for the best that Mrs. Beakley had confiscated them.

"Webby," Lena said and there was no teasing tone now. "You really don't do well with touch, do you?"

"I'm fine," Webby said, bristling, feeling like she'd been rebuked for something she couldn't control. No one had told Lena to jump like she was about to attack her. Webby had been well within her rights to expect abuse. Lena was the one who was making a mountain out of a molehill.

"Hmm."

"Hmm what?" she snapped back, on the defensive now.

"You said your dad kidnapped you," Lena said and Webby hissed. She wasn't prying into Lena's life. How dare Lena pry into hers. She jumped to her feet and balled her fists, wishing for her weapons with a desire that was painful. If she'd had her knives, that would put an end to these questions. Never mind that Lena had only asked her a couple of questions.

"So?" she spat.

Lena's eyes widened. "You know what? Never mind. Forget I asked or said anything. Wanna see what's in the movie theatres? I can get us in without paying."

Webby scowled. She didn't know if she wanted to see a movie anymore, but she also didn't want to go home. Home continued to feel like a prison, more so than FOWL had for some odd reason. She was quivering and Lena rose to her feet too. She put a hand on Webby's shoulder and Webby let her. Warmth blossomed through her and she hated the pitying look Lena gave her. She hated it and yet, she was touched by it. She hated herself.

"I'm not your enemy," she repeated. "And I know what it's like to be held captive."

Though she wanted to, she didn't pry. Instead, she let the older girl lead the way back into town. Lena was quiet, letting Webby sink into her own thoughts. Perhaps in another life, she might've filled the silence with effervescence, chatting about everything and nothing. Now, she surveyed her surroundings, wishing again she was armed. It didn't seem fair to walk around unarmed and vulnerable. You never knew if someone was going to attack.

The movie theatre was in a decent part of town, so they didn't see any Beagle Boys skulking about. Lena found an old fire exit that was left partially open with cigarette butts lining the pavement nearby. She slipped inside and beckoned Webby with her. This was probably breaking the law, but Webby didn't care. Her morals weren't exactly stellar after her upbringing.

Their hands brushed and Webby jumped, feeling the sparks shoot through her again. It was weird to touch someone else in a neutral or positive way. She still couldn't figure Lena out, never mind her feelings toward the other girl. It wasn't like anyone had explained relationships to her.

They crept into the back of an empty theatre and waited for the show to start.

"So, where did you live before you got to Duckburg?" Lena asked in a would-be casual voice.

"Somewhere," Webby said vaguely, not sure why she was back to prying.

"I lived in Paris for a while," Lena said and plucked at her shirt. "It's where I got this. But they kept trying to get me to reform and go to school, so I left. That and I wasn't that good a pickpocket."

Somehow, it didn't surprise her that she had criminal tendencies. Perhaps that was part of her allure to Webby. Webby felt a little guilty to be holding things back from Lena when Lena seemed more forthcoming than her at this point. She got the sense Lena didn't exactly gush personal stuff.

"How old are you?" Lena asked.

"I'll be twelve in a couple of days," she said and then exhaled sharply. Twelve. This would be her first birthday outside of the HQ. She didn't know what to expect. When she'd had her birthday before, Steelbeak had presented her with her choice of weapons and Black Heron had been ordered to leave her alone for the entire day. Moreover, she was given treats from the kitchen. Sometimes, Steelbeak even let her watch him plan a heist or sit back during a crime spree. Those were rarities.

"What?"

"I've never had a birthday here before. I don't know what to expect."

"I don't even know when my birthday is," she scoffed. "Birthdays are overrated."

"How do you not know when your birthday is?"

"No one ever told me." Lena shrugged. "It's not that big a deal, pink. Chill."

It seemed wrong somehow that Lena had never celebrated a birthday. True, Webby's birthdays hadn't always been that great. Once, Black Heron had broken her word to Steelbeak and beaten her bloody. Another time, she'd awoken to find herself locked in the freezer courtesy of Black Heron. For a few seconds, she was glad she was dead and that she'd been the one to do it. Then she felt ashamed and looked down.

"Is your grandmother that different from your father?" Lena asked.

"Kinda," Webby said and hugged herself. "She has all of these expectations of me."

"Tell me about it. Family is the worst, right?"

"You couldn't figure out a way to sneak me into the local jail, could you?" Webby blurted. "Or a way to get me past the police and into the jail?"

"Wait, what? Why would you want to do that?" Lena looked at her like she had six heads.

"My dad's in lockup," Webby admitted. She felt odd saying that as if she were drawing more attention to herself. By now, Lena's attention was fixed on her. Perhaps she should have kept her comment to herself.

"What'd he do? Oh, right. Kidnap you."

"I need to talk to him, but Agent 22-I mean, Granny, won't let me anywhere near him."

"Is your grandmother a spy?" Lena scoffed and then paused. "Wait. She totally is a spy, isn't she? Holy crap, Webby. Is your dad, like, an arch villain?"

"My dad's Steelbeak," Webby muttered.

"Doesn't ring a bell," Lena said, shaking her head. She frowned, surveying Webby anew. "If you were raised by a villain, that explains a lot."

"It doesn't explain anything," Webby retorted, irritated that Lena was jumping to conclusions. "I'm normal."

"As normal as I am, pink. Man, we're both screwed up."

The coming attractions had started, for which Webby was grateful because it meant an end to the conversation. What was Lena's last comment supposed to mean, anyway? She side-eyed the older girl, who had, coincidentally, avoided the question of her age rather well. Webby had let herself be distracted.

How had her being raised by Steelbeak explained anything? Webby didn't understand. And how did that make her and Lena kindred spirits? Lena was stretched out, feet up on the chair in front of her, and, cautious, Webby leaned against her. Touch was okay if she initiated it.

Lena looked startled but didn't jerk away as Webby had earlier. Instead, she draped an arm about Webby's shoulders and Webby shifted closer to her. Warmth rushed to her cheeks and the butterflies came back. Lena's grip tightened as if she intended to protect Webby from something or someone. Webby's beak quirked.

"You and me, pink. We are both royally screwed up," Lena muttered.

Steelbeak was being obstinate, but he was no match for Mrs. Beakley, who had been waiting years for this to happen. She sat across from him, he behind bars and she outside of them, and her fists balled. Steelbeak wasn't quite as cocky without his entourage, though he still refused to yield vital information about Webby's rearing. She needed to understand her granddaughter better and Webby was not forthcoming. Therefore, as much as it pained her, she needed to go to the source.

"Why did you allow Black Heron access to my granddaughter when you knew what would happen?" she demanded.

"You were gonna keep her in a protective bubble," Steelbeak retorted. "The only way for Webby to learn how to deal with murderers is to throw her into the ocean with the sharks and see if she swims."

Mrs. Beakley bristled. "She could have killed her. Even if you don't care about Webby as an individual or love her as you should, in the very least you should have realized that she was irreplaceable."

"I stopped her before she got the point of killing her," Steelbeak scoffed.

"Yet you allowed Webby to kill Heron."

"Black Heron had it coming. And hey, better her than me, right? Nothing toughens you up faster than your first kill."

There were so many things wrong with that statement Mrs. Beakley didn't know where to begin. For a minute, she was aghast, too stunned to speak. She found herself quivering in rage and only Scrooge's hand on her shoulder prevented her from lashing out. Mrs. Beakley had told Webbigail that they were going to Cape Suzette to throw off suspicion and prevent her from sneaking along. Right now, Bentina wished she'd gone there instead. It would've been far less vexing.

"Webby should never have needed to kill anyone. And yes, I would rather it would have been you than her. How could you take away her innocence like that?"

Her chest was tight.

"Beakley...we're not getting what we came here for. He's just going to rile you up," Scrooge warned. "You're working yourself up."

"Yeah, listen to old moneybags. Innocence is overrated. The sooner you shed it, the better. It's not like I let anything else happen to her," he said and scoffed. "A few beatings here and there, sure. But I never let anyone touch her otherwise."

The words fell heavily upon her and, for a half a minute, she was frozen. Then an inchoate fury seized her and she roared, pushing Scrooge aside and lunging for Steelbeak behind the bars. He was beyond her reach before she could grab him. She knew what he was intimating and she wanted to kill him for it.

"Webby. Is. Eleven.," she spat. "Would you really have let happen to her what you did to my Wren?"

"Wren was a willing participant," Steelbeak said, smug since she couldn't reach him.

"Willing participant-that's such a crock of bull-" Before she had a chance to curse him out, Scrooge yanked her back.

"We're leaving now, Beakley. You shouldnae have let him get under your skin."

"I just told you I wouldn't have let her get hurt that way," Steelbeak scoffed. "I don't get what you're so angry about."

"She's a child and you act as though having any line to draw makes you superior when you've abused her every other way!" she snapped. Pain tightened her chest and she hated him so fiercely that if she could have, she would have killed him in that instant. She would have scattered his body parts so far apart no one could have put him back together again.

"C'mon, Beakley," Scrooge growled and yanked her along. Though she wanted to fight him too, she permitted him to drag her along. This wasn't over, not by far. Should she have been grateful that Steelbeak had confirmed what she had suspected? Should she have thanked him for subjecting Webby to mental, emotional, and physical abuse? Her granddaughter barely trusted the triplets. She refused to trust her at all. It was like a knife in her gut.

The wrongness of it, after the bright memories she had of Webby at age five before her kidnapping, made her want to scream and cry. Scrooge brought her back to the limo and she ignored Launchpad's questions. She didn't trust herself to speak; she didn't know what would come out, either a yell or a sob. Still quivering, she stared out the window. She knew she couldn't have trusted Webby to stay alone in the manor with only Duckworth for company. It was a cinch she was around town somewhere, probably with Lena.

Mrs. Beakley let out a ragged sigh. She didn't like this situation one bit. As the jail faded behind them, her chest tightened further until it was a struggle to breathe normally.

"He'll pay for what he's done, Bentina," Scrooge promised in an undertone. He'd rolled up the divider between themselves and Launchpad.

"Not enough," Mrs. Beakley said and hated the bitterness in her voice. "The damage is already done."