Notes:

Why, yes, that is a Doctor Who reference. Couldn't resist.

So, someone on said Mrs. Beakley should kill Steelbeak. Talking to someone *else* on , who said it'd be OOC for her to do so (and I agreed), I wound up writing the opening scene three times.

Steelbeak was headed to prison, where he would invariably get out again. It grated Bentina Beakley's already raw nerves, but killing him would solve nothing. It wouldn't bring Wren back and it wouldn't undo the damage he'd already done to so many families. All she could do was hope, with Webby aware of the problem, that she'd be able to handle things when her father escaped or was released. She'd trained Webby well enough, after all. She ought to be able to handle herself.

She'd remained back at the manor while the others left. Well, everyone except Darkwing Duck, Gosalyn, and Launchpad. The thirty-one-year-old man had made himself positively embarrassing over discovering that his idol was not only real but alive and well. Unfortunately, to make matters worse, Darkwing Duck had an ego the size of Duckburg and was soaking up all of Launchpad's adulation. They were going to have a problem on their hands.

However...she would admit that she wouldn't exactly discourage Launchpad if he decided he'd rather pilot the Thunderquack than nearly kill the children and Mr. McDuck on a regular basis. Darkwing Duck was an adult. He knew what was getting into. The children were innocent.

She gave Gosalyn some cookies; Gosalyn had wanted to talk further with Webby, but Webby had gone with the others to see whether they could find Della Duck on the moon. Bentina had said nothing to the contrary, although Scrooge knew she had her doubts. However, this would be the last expedition, one way or another. She couldn't refuse to let Webby go and she trusted Gyro's skills in getting them off Earth far more than she trusted Launchpad's skills on Earth.

Even if Gyro Gearloose's inventions had an alarming habit of turning evil. The ship shouldn't be sentient, however, which eradicated that problem.

She wished she could speak with Wren once more and give her the closure she wanted, but Steelbeak still being alive and imprisoned wasn't what Wren had wanted. They had both agreed Steelbeak should suffer for what he'd done, though Wren was bloodthirsty on account of how she'd ended up in the pool in the first place. Bentina didn't blame her daughter, per se, but she didn't think that was the answer, either. Wren had always been quick to jump to decisions when it suited her.

Wren was sorry about Webbigail, though, which Bentina supposed mattered more than Steelbeak's current whereabouts. She withheld a sigh and watched Launchpad debase himself in front of Darkwing.

"Yep, yep, yep, I'm incredible," Darkwing agreed and Bentina groaned.

"This could go on for a while," Gosalyn commented, munching on her chocolate chip cookies.

"That's what I'm afraid of," Mrs. Beakley muttered.

"You are!" Launchpad exclaimed.

"Launchpad, if that man's ego is stroked anymore, he won't be able to get back through the door," Bentina snapped.

"Sorry, Mrs. B, but I can't help it," Launchpad protested.

"That's exactly the problem," she scoffed, mentally facepalming. It was times like these she almost missed Duckworth as Scrooge's personal driver. Almost.

They couldn't land on the dark side of the moon, or, rather, they could, but they'd be radio blind with Earth. Therefore, they opted to land near the dark side and then take rovers. Webby dutifully followed to the rovers; she'd barely spoken on the trip over. Steelbeak hadn't denied that he'd killed her mother. Why had she wanted so badly to speak with him? She had known, deep down, that he'd been responsible. However, to hear it from his beak was another story.

The boys were excited, bouncing all over the place. Huey had noticed her mood and she'd politely brushed him off. She didn't want to talk. If this hadn't been so important to the boys and to her interests, she wouldn't have gone. Her mind was ablaze with the revelations.

"Hey," Huey said, nudging her as they drove off. Donald was sitting in the front seat with Scrooge and the four of them were squashed in the back seat. Webby knew she ought to be watching the landscape through her helmet. She kept imagining how her mother must've died. And what had her grandmother and her mother discussed that she wasn't privy to? Did it have to do with her?

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked.

Webby shook her head and Louie and Dewey looked over to her. She felt like she had when she'd discovered that Lena was Magica's shadow. Betrayed. At least with Lena, you could argue that she was technically Magica's daughter and not part of her, not anymore. Lena had autonomy and besides, Webby's feelings were complicated enough about Lena not to introduce further doubt into the mix. But Steelbeak was another story.

Steelbeak was responsible for her existence and also for her not having a mother. Her stomach twisted into knots. How different would her life have been if he'd known about her egg from the start? Would she have grown up in FOWL's custody with her mother as Steelbeak's associate? Or something far worse?

"You need to talk about it," Huey said.

She shook her head again. She wanted to curl into a ball and hug her knees, but there wasn't enough room. They were squashed.

"We'll talk about it when we get home," Huey said. Webby's lips quirked. No, they probably wouldn't. They'd be too preoccupied with Della if they found her and disappointed and depressed if they didn't. She hoped they found their mother. At least she wasn't dead like Wren…

"You know, if you're not okay, that's okay too," Dewey said and she glanced over at him. "We're still here for you, no matter what."

She nodded. They sailed over the moon's landscape the rest of the way in silence. The dark side of the moon encompassed a lot of area and she wasn't sure how many hours had passed before they spotted a rocket's remnants on the surface. Growing excited, Scrooge picked up speed, bringing them close to an outpost. Webby wasn't sure who had built it or why, but once they entered, the air was oxygen-rich and they removed their helmets.

Their footsteps echoed on the tiled floors. It looked like an abandoned office building, with corridors branching off everywhere and countless doors along the walls. Webby's heart was in her throat. How would they know where Della was in this massive place?

"Mom?" Dewey called, cupping his hands around his mouth.

"We don't know who else could be here," Scrooge hissed.

"She has to be here," Dewey replied.

"I know that," Scrooge said. "But that doesn't mean you should go shouting our arrival to everyone here. You don't know if she's being held captive or is with hostile people. Use your head, lad."

Sufficiently cowed, Dewey lowered his head. Webby didn't think there was much point in proceeding silently. By now, between their footsteps and Dewey's declaration, if anyone else was in here, they had to know they were here by now.

The atmosphere was oppressive. Dust overlaid everything and the fluorescent lights flickered overhead. The hallways were wide enough to drive a truck through and the entire space felt cavernous, too large to permit comfortable living. Webby shivered and the boys flanked her on both sides. The adults walked ahead of them, Donald looking around anxiously and Scrooge plodding determinedly forward.

"What if she's not here?" Louie asked.

"That was the Spear of Selene," Scrooge reminded him gently. "Or what was left of it. She has to be here. There's nowhere else on the moon she could have gone with a diminishing oxygen source."

Webby had an unpleasant mental image of Della Duck, injured, limping her way to safety and finding dubious sanctuary. There had to be food stores around here somewhere, as well as bandages and linens, but where they could be, Webby couldn't begin to guess. How would Della have found them in an incapacitated state? She must've done so, though, or else she would've been in the pool. But they didn't know in what state they might find Della now. It was possible she was permanently injured from the crash.

The same thought must've occurred to the triplets, at least Huey, because he looked faintly ill. Dewey grabbed her hand and squeezed, more to comfort himself than her. Louie, who hadn't touched his phone the entire trip, stared at the dusty floor.

That was another thing. This place had gravity equal to or slightly less than Earth's. That argued that someone had built it as a permanent outpost. But who? Why would someone build a random outpost on the dark side of the moon? What had they hoped to gain? Webby was pretty sure it was an alien race because they hadn't reached that point with Earth's capabilities.

They found an open door at the very end of the main hallway. They'd been reticent to split apart, lest they be unable to locate each other. Scrooge edged the door open further and stepped on something soft. He yelped, jumping backward.

"What in the blazes?" he exclaimed.

"Ow…" a female voice complained. "Give me some warning before you walk on my hair, Silene."

"She didn't hear me before," Dewey said accusingly to Scrooge. "So it's not like we needed to be quiet."

"You're not Silene…" the woman said, spinning around. The amount of hair that came along with her was astonishing. It whirled, getting in her face, and blocked out the control panel behind her. Webby gawked; it took up the entire room and she wasn't sure how the woman could walk around with hair that long. She was a living embodiment of Rapunzel.

"Mom?" Dewey exclaimed.

"Boys?" she said softly and then yelped when Donald and the boys flung themselves at her. Webby stood back, a faint smile on her lips, while Scrooge joined the hug. Dewey gestured for Webby to come forward too and she thought about what she'd heard about the mirror dimension and the other Della. She was glad the same hadn't befallen this Della.

"Uncle Scrooge...Donald...Hubert, Dewford, Llewellyn…" she said and then frowned. "I'm sorry, but...who are you?"

"Ugh, don't call me Llewellyn," Louie complained. "Why did you even pick that name?"

"I'm Webby," she said.

"Haven't you cut your hair since you crashed here?" Donald exclaimed, staring at the massive coil that she'd somehow managed to braid. It must have taken her days or possibly months to twine all of that together. There couldn't be that many nerve endings with her hair if it was that long-it was probably more annoying than painful when someone stepped on her hair, particularly if the hair was further from her head.

"I never expected to see you again," Della exclaimed, hugging as many people as she could to her. She couldn't quite reach Webby, which was okay. Webby wasn't family. Scrooge had thrown that in her face once and she still felt it like a blow to the face sometimes.

"We didn't either," Scrooge admitted. "What happened in that storm? How long have you been here? The entire time?"

"Almost the entire time," she said. "Silene comes to visit sometimes. Otherwise, it's pretty lonely. I can't make contact here-I must be on the wrong side of the moon. Why didn't you find me earlier, Uncle?"

"The board kept me from spending any more money," he said, unable to meet her gaze. "I almost emptied my vaults funding expeditions to locate you. They only agreed to this last excursion because they thought it'd be the end of it. They wanted to humor me.

"And we didn't know where you'd crashed. We'd been looking in the wrong direction."

"Oh," Della said. She grimaced. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I took the Spear. It was only supposed to be a test run. I didn't mean to go that far, but I got swept away. I intended to be back for their hatching, I swear."

Her lower beak trembled and she bit back a sob. Tears filled her eyes and she clung to her sons. They clung to her too and Webby felt uncomfortable, like she was intruding. Dewey wasn't letting her step back, though. He was determined to keep her here.

"I'm so sorry…" she said and now she was sobbing openly. "I'm so sorry, boys. I never meant to abandon you."

(Why hadn't Wren felt that way about her? She knew Steelbeak would never have been that emotional over her, even if he'd known she'd existed before today. But she was a little jealous, even if she wouldn't admit it and had no intention of letting anyone else know).

The boys were crying too and when Dewey moved to embrace his mother with both arms, Webby retreated. Her throat was tight and she swiped at her eyes. She'd never have that kind of reunion with her mother. Her mother had left her because she thought she'd be better off with her grandmother and because she'd been terrified of Steelbeak. It made sense, but seeing Della with the boys now stung something fierce.

She hugged herself. No one was paying attention to her. No one was questioning that Silene, the moon goddess, had known that she was here and provided for her without letting her leave the moon. That Silene had held Della hostage, essentially, and lied to Dewey about not knowing her whereabouts. Then again, why spoil the moment? There was plenty of time to ask those questions later.

It seemed to take forever for everyone to calm down enough to talk normally without bursting into tears again. Webby drifted away, staring at the closed doors on either side. Her grandmother had wanted to remain at the manor with Steelbeak, Darkwing Duck, and Gosalyn. At the time, she hadn't questioned it. Now she wondered whether she ought to have. She didn't know what her grandmother had in mind for Steelbeak and it might be safer not to ask. That was what she had thought at the time. Her grandmother had been in a dark mood when they'd left Duckburg.

Rumor had it there were moon creatures that had existed here and then departed. They had probably built this structure if Silene hadn't. Silene could have created it as a way to keep an eye on Della. What was their relationship, anyway? It seemed odd to be holding a friend hostage…

"Webbigail?" Scrooge called and she turned, somewhat guiltily. She smiled weakly.

"Hi, Mr. McDuck," she said.

"You can call me 'Uncle Scrooge' again if you want," he cajoled. He had released Della and was moving toward her. "I know you've had a rough day, lass."

She shook her head. The lump in her throat was difficult to speak around and she scrubbed at her eyes. She wouldn't cry. She was made of sterner stuff than that. Plus, she'd already cried enough in the last few weeks. She wasn't that little girl with the dolly who cried over everything. She wasn't Webby 2.

"I'm okay," she said, shaking her head. She had to swallow past the lump to speak again without bursting into tears. "Really."

"No, you're not," he said and hugged her. She shuddered with suppressed sobs.

"It's okay, lass. Let it out," he soothed and stroked her hair. The boys had turned toward them; she could feel their regard, as well as Della and Donald.

"She's had a few upsets," Scrooge said gently.

Webby concentrated on her breathing. Her grandmother had told her when she was getting too emotional, to think of things that grounded her and focus on the things she could control. Breathing was one of them. SHUSH agents were taught at the beginning how to control their outward reactions, though the lesson hadn't seemed to take with Wren…

Thinking about Wren made this harder and she forced her mother out of her mind.

First, you breathe out, then you have to breathe in. Lash yourself repeatedly until it sticks. Until it sticks.

Closing her eyes, she inhaled and then exhaled, paying attention to what she could control. After a minute, she was in a better mental space and she opened her eyes to find everyone staring at her.

Cringing, she said to Scrooge, "How is everyone going to fit in the rover?"

"Your hair could take up a seat on its own," Donald complained.

"I haven't had anything to cut it with," Della retorted. "Do you see anything sharp? No?"

"Then how did you cook?" Huey asked and Della shuddered.

"You try an eternity of canned and frozen food and tell me how sick you are of rations," she said. "I haven't seen any fresh food since before I left Earth."

"A Junior Woodchuck always carries a trusty Swiss Army knife," Huey said and proffered his from underneath his hat. Webby didn't know how he had all that space beneath his hat; his JWG was under there too.

"You can't cut her hair with a Swiss Army knife," Scrooge objected.

"We can't fit her with hair that long," Donald argued.

"What do you suggest? Shaving me?" Della asked, sounding a little indignant. "I'm not going bald, Donald."

"It won't be neat, but I can do it," Huey said. "Don't you trust me?"

Considering they'd met about twenty minutes prior, Webby thought Huey was asking an awful lot of his mother, who was a relative stranger. Della hesitated and then nodded. Webby doubted she knew which triplet was which. She'd have to be introduced to her own children.

"Do it," Della said. She shot Donald a glare. "It doesn't have to look good. I don't care what it looks like. I just want to go home."

The longing was clear in her voice and Webby empathized. She wanted to go home too...and possibly hole up with Lena. There hadn't been enough room for Lena anyway, but Webby thought she might've been better off staying home with her best friend. The boys didn't seem to need her, which was disheartening.

Then again, she shouldn't have expected anything else. They were distracted by their mother. She didn't blame them. Really.

Dewey was chatting to their mother and telling her what they'd gone through trying to find her. The station still felt oppressive, but less so now that they had located Della and were leaving. Huey had done a hack job on his mother's hair; it was less a bob and more an atrocity, shorn unevenly with locks of varying length, but no one had said anything about it. Della didn't seem particularly concerned.

"And Webby helped," Dewey added, startling her by speaking her name. Webby turned.

"She's Uncle Scrooge's housekeeper's granddaughter, but she's kinda like the unofficial fourth Duck," Huey added, smiling at her. Surprised, Webby ducked her head and blushed.

"Does that make you my unofficial daughter?" Della asked and warmth blossomed in Webby's chest. She offered Della a shy smile.

"If you want me to be," she said. "Granny won't let me go without a fight, though."

"I'm not going to adopt you," Della said gently. "But...if you're that important to my boys, then you'll be that important to me too. I promise."

It didn't remove the pain that Wren and Steelbeak had inflicted, but it was a start. Webby's smile broadened. She could use a mom too.

"Yeah, she's our Webs," Louie said. "She's strange, but she's Webby strange, which means she's also intimidating and awesome."

Webby beamed at him and he shrugged, offering her a sly smirk in response.

"I'll keep that in mind," Della said. "Now...can we just go home?"

"Gladly," Scrooge said. "Allons-y!"

"Not this again," Della muttered.

Scrooge grinned widely at her. It was the first time in a long time Webby had seen him beaming with happiness. "What would you suggest instead?"

"There's no place like home," Della said softly, grinning at everyone and letting her gaze rest, at the last, on Webby. "There's no place like home."