"So...how mad do you think they are with us? On a scale of one to ten?" Louie asked casually, waiting as the Sunchaser touched down. Webby wrung her hands and looked ill. Launchpad opened up the cockpit door and, on the other side, stood Scrooge McDuck, Della Duck, Wren Beakley, and Lena de Spell, the lattermost scowling at Webby.

"We did this for Webby," Louie said when he saw his great-uncle. "This isn't our fault. It's not Webby's fault either, so don't be mad at her."

"I'll keep that in mind," Scrooge said, eyes narrowing at Webby. "You commandeered the Sunchaser, as well as Launchpad, and you set off without any adult supervision. I understand your need to talk to your granny, lass, but you cannae run off like this."

"I'm an adult," Launchpad offered.

"No, you're not," Scrooge said, shooting him down. Dismissing him, he turned back to Webby. "Now, lass, we're going to locate the Stone of Remembrance and we're going to do it my way. Do you understand?"

She nodded and he squeezed her shoulder. The others gathered inside the Sunchaser and Launchpad hastily rigged a few more seats, though they looked like they'd blow away in a gust. That was less encouraging. Then again, it wasn't like Launchpad was known for being a paragon of safety.

Scrooge commanded Launchpad to bring on the supplies he'd had from the other ship, since, in their madcap race to leave Duckburg, they hadn't been amply stocked. Webby averted her eyes as the reminder didn't help. She couldn't help but recall another time on the Sunchaser where she'd sequestered herself with the boys inside a crate while they tried to work out Della's mystery. That had nearly gotten Dewey killed and herself almost exiled from the McDuck/Duck family, not to mention being an awkward flight back. But at least Mrs. Beakley had been alive during that. Somehow, that didn't make things any better. Yes, she missed her grandmother dearly, but she didn't miss that moment, where Scrooge had lashed out like a wounded, cornered animal.

Once en route, Webby received another lecture from Scrooge, this one far more detailed. Throughout it all, Webby nodded and murmured acquiescence, figuring Scrooge didn't care for embellishment. She'd had enough lectures to understand when she should keep her mouth shut. Finally, he finished and she glanced at the boys and Lena. Though Lena met her gaze, she didn't say anything.

From what she could gather, Lena wasn't talking to her, which made Webby's stomach turn over from guilt. Clearly, despite what Louie had said, Lena considered this her fault. She was sorry for leaving her girlfriend in the lurch, for whatever it was worth. Somehow, she doubted Lena wanted to hear that.

Hanging her head after Scrooge's lecture, she pulled out a book about the Stone. Poe had snuck along in Lena's bag and he squawked in Lena's ear. It was clear that the raven didn't have an "indoor" voice. Lena sighed, rolling her eyes, and jumped down into the hold, where Webby was sitting up against a large crate.

"I can deal with my father stuck as a raven, if it helps," Lena said, sitting beside her. "I know you need your grandmother more than I need a bird that wasn't even there for most of my life. He didn't stop Magica from possessing me, he didn't stop her from ruining my life, and he showed up out of nowhere after everything that's gone down."

Poe squawked indignantly. "Couldn't! Magica-stopped!"

"Yeah, yeah, I heard you the first time," she scoffed. "I didn't believe you then, either."

"I'm sorry for leaving you back at the manor," Webby mumbled. "I shouldn't have. And I should stop lashing out at you."

Lena shrugged. "Like I've said before, I've always made a convenient target."

"No!"

She was appalled that she might be lumped in with Magica in any way. Her hands shook and she hugged Lena tightly. She was not that monster. She was not the woman who had attempted to ruin Lena's life and had very nearly succeeded. Webby was supposed to be better than that.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

Lena's beak quirked toward a weak smile. "I get it, pink. I get it."

"I never meant to hurt you. I'll never do it again."

"You can't say that. You never know."

Webby was pained, but, more than that, she was indignant. Had she broken Lena's trust? Was that why she was acting like this? It was on the tip of her tongue to apologize again, but, instead, she whipped out a knife she probably had no business carrying. Lena's eyes bulged.

"What the hell are you doing with that?"

Lena yanked her out of the line of sight of any of the adults, just in case they caught wind of the nearly thirteen-year-old brandishing a weapon. They had enough trouble without inviting more.

"I'll swear a blood oath."

"How long have you been carrying that?" Lena asked, nonplussed.

"Since I thought I could use it."

On the plus side, it wasn't a butcher knife. It was a pen-knife, one that she could comfortably keep on her person without arousing suspicion. She had the feeling that if Scrooge or the others had seen it, it would've been confiscated. In terms of protection, it offered a little, but Webby knew the value of the right move at the right time. If she had had this with the Bloodhound Gang...well, maybe not. Maybe it wouldn't have had much effect, considering she'd been held at gunpoint, but she liked to imagine it would've made a difference.

"I'll swear a blood pact," Webby said. She was dead serious.

"Don't you think they'll notice if you bleed all over the hold?" Lena pointed out. She'd gotten over her shock relatively fast, but then again, they'd been promising blood oaths to each other forever. They just hadn't done one yet for whatever reason.

"The way Launchpad pilots, it wouldn't be that big a surprise if I nicked myself on a crate," she replied and Lena snorted.

"Good point."

Steeling herself for the pain, she sliced into her palm. The knife was sharper than she'd expected, however, and she hissed in pain. Lena's eyes widened and she cradled Webby's bloody hand in hers.

"I'm fine. Just do yours," Webby said, knowing Lena was fretting now that Webby had cut too deep and that she might bleed everywhere. In retrospect, cutting her palm when she was due for a good, long climb might not have been the brightest of ideas. However, she couldn't back down now. She wasn't going to blame it on Launchpad when the adults discovered it, but she didn't have a good explanation, regardless. After everything that had happened, perhaps they'd write it off as another oddity.

Lena sliced her palm too, much shallower than Webby's, and Webby smiled weakly, chagrined. They pressed their palms together and a magical spark leapt between them. Lena smiled back.

"There. Now we're official," Lena said. "Let me see if I can heal you before the adults find out and freak on us."

Webby waited, watching as Lena worked her often unpredictable magic. The flesh knitted back together, but imperfectly. It looked like it'd healed somewhat, being a few hours old rather than a new gash. Lena sighed, disappointed in herself, and clenched her eyes shut for a second attempt. Webby was about to tell her that it was all right, that she didn't mind, that Lena was doing the best she could and she couldn't fault her for that.

She was when Lena's power amped it up and broke off the knob, so to speak. A surge of magic rushed into Webby, lifted her up off the floor, and then threw her into the crate. Dazed, Webby struggled back to her feet and rubbed the back of her head. On the plus side, her hand was unblemished now, with only a small scar to remind her of their oath. It occurred to Webby belatedly that Lena hadn't healed herself.

"Sorry, sorry. I told you I can't control it," Lena hissed.

"What in blazes is going on down there?" Scrooge demanded, looking into the hold. A figure floated up between the crates and the girls. It was transparent and it wore Mrs. Beakley's face. Startled, Lena fell backward, the amulet glowing in her hands. Mrs. Beakley remained and Webby's heart kicked into overdrive.

"She's not bound to the manor...she's bound to you," Lena breathed. Mrs. Beakley's image flickered in and out again, but this time, it held, albeit slightly grainy like they were looking at her through an antennae reception.

"How is she appearing here, now?" Webby asked. The boys had scrambled over to take a look too and sweat trickled down Lena's face. If last time was anything to go by, this was straining her resources. Webby's palm tingled and she glanced down at it. It was possible that whatever had leapt between them had given her grandmother enough power to manifest.

"Curse me kilts!" Scrooge exclaimed.

"Off to take the kids on another ill-fated adventure, Mr. McDuck?" Mrs. Beakly asked. Her voice was faint as if reaching them from a deep tunnel. Webby squealed, springing at her grandmother and then falling through. Suddenly, her heart felt like it was full to bursting. She had so much she wanted to tell her, so much to say. It hurt that she couldn't hold and be held by her grandmother, but that didn't matter right now. Mrs. Beakley was here and she could communicate with them.

"I'm off to take them to find a stone to enable Webbigail to talk to you," Scrooge said and frowned. "How, er, how are you doing that?"

"As Lena said, I'm bound to Webby, but…" Mrs. Beakley frowned. "I don't think I have enough strength to keep this up for very long. Newly manifesting ghosts don't have the longevity that others, like Duckworth do."

She hissed at Duckworth's name. "Duckworth will never let me live this down."

"Then...we dinnae need the Stone?" Scrooge asked.

"It would amplify her power and enable to remain longer," Huey said, reading from one of the books Webby had brought along. He studied Mrs. Beakley with curiosity and she wished she could tell everyone to leave so she could have time alone with her. Her throat was tight.

"But time will do that anyway," Mrs. Beakley said and studied Webby. "I know what happened, you know."

"You said that," Webby replied, frustrated. "But you didn't explain."

"I was there when-"

Launchpad hit turbulence so fierce that it threw everyone sideways. Lena lost her grip on her amulet and Mrs. Beakley poofed out of existence. Despite crashing into the crate again, Webby was more distressed by her grandmother's abrupt absence. She was there when what? She couldn't have been there when the Bloodhound Gang had defiled her. When she'd killed their leader? When Wren had returned?

"Mother…" Wren whispered and tears streaked her cheeks. Webby wouldn't let herself cry. She'd done enough of that lately. It was time to be strong, no matter how much she felt like crumpling to the floor and sobbing.

Lena looked drained, not as bad as she had when she'd passed out in the manor, but wan and pale. Her feathers weren't fluffy, either, and Webby, as soon as she gained her feet again, rushed over to her girlfriend. She wanted to preen her; however, they were in public, so to speak.

"Lena!" Poe squawked, dismayed. "Lena, Lena, Lena!"

"Yeah, yeah, it's me, you stupid crow," Lena muttered and Poe squawked again, this time offended.

"Not crow. Raven," he growled.

"Are you all right, lass? You lot should come up here and buckle in," Scrooge said. "Come on, now."

Casting one last glance at where her grandmother had stood, Webby abandoned her post and resumed her seat up top. As she did, she noted her mother sniffling and hugging herself. Webby ought to comfort her, but she was afraid it'd open up another can of worms she wasn't yet ready to tackle. Her mother would probably want to console her, which was the last thing she wanted right now. The revelations and uncovering of her feelings would happen once she had the Stone, not a minute earlier.

A tingle went down Webby's spine and she glanced over her shoulder; there was nothing there. Perturbed, she buckled herself in and checked on Lena, who was investigating her amulet. Webby saw nothing different about it, but Lena must've because she frowned deeply.

"What?" Webby asked.

"A small, hairline crack…" Lena mused. "Ugh. I feel like I could sleep forever and still be tired."

"We still have a good eleven hours until we reach the Stone's last known location. Might as well make the most of it," Scrooge said.

"Darkwing Duck?" Launchpad suggested innocently.

"No!" Louie cried. "I'd rather jump out of the plane!"

"You don't like Darkwing?" Launchpad replied, sounding hurt.

"There's a time and a place for it," Louie said. "Not here. And not now."

"We might as well get some sleep," Scrooge said, attempting to smooth Launchpad's ruffled feathers. "It's gonna be a while."

In retrospect, perhaps Glomgold's brilliant plan hadn't been all that brilliant. On the plus side, since he hadn't actually kidnapped anyone, just put them in a net, the police had been forced to let him go. He didn't think he'd pursue Della again, anyway. After seeing how she and Webby had fought, he concluded it wasn't worth it.

Besides, while he was fussing over Scrooge McDuck's family ("you think you're so rich and so Scottish!"), Mark Beaks was threatening to take over his position as the second richest duck/person in the world. True, Beaks was a parrot, not a duck, but it still ticked him off. How dare a young upstart threaten his position in the world. He'd better figure out a way to dethrone him or at least put him in his place.

He wished he had Scrooge to help with that, though. As much as he loathed him, it was a familiar, safe kind of hatred. He didn't want him dead. He wouldn't mind him humiliated and a pauper, but death was too far. And besides...Glomgold would miss him. He was, don't tell anyone, a trifle fond of Scrooge in a weird way. The older duck was a mainstay in his life, even when things flew off the handle as they so frequently did.

If he wanted to be generous, as a way of compensating for his misdeeds, he could release those tapes to Scrooge's family and then purge them from his computers. Glomgold debated whether he wanted to be that considerate. On the one hand, it'd be doing Scrooge a favor, but on the other, what did he really need those tapes for? Blackmail? Well...blackmail was tempting if he could get ahold of John D. Rockerduck. That seemed a rather small possibility, however. In the meanwhile, he could put out feelers for him and see where that got him.

But Scrooge hadn't seen or heard the last of Flintheart Glomgold. He'd always be there, lurking and ready to make his next move. One day, Scrooge McDuck would slip up and it'd be up to him to swoop in and cause his fall from grace. He greatly looked forward to it.

As for now, however, he thought he'd release most of the tapes to the McDuck family. Just...not the one where Della confessed who the triplets' father might be. As insurance.

You could never have too much blackmail on a person.