Scrooge was baffled by Lena's explanation. Yes, it made sense that Magica would heal her given that she'd inflicted the damage in the first place, but by the same token, since when did anything Magica do make sense? Lena was discomfited and he didn't blame her. Owing Magica a favor tended to be a tricky proposition. At least the healing didn't seem conditional; despite a twinge of pain here and there, Lena was healed well enough to depart with them. Scrooge kept an eye on her, regardless.

Webby had lapsed into her uncharacteristic silence, even around Lena, and Scrooge frowned. She'd been withdrawing around the boys too. He'd found a therapist for her, one who was discreet and capable of keeping a secret, and she wouldn't have to leave the mansion for it. He wanted to secure the mansion against magic and mundane before letting anyone out of his sight again. Perhaps he was being paranoid, but multiple intrusions from Magica did not induce relaxation and lowered guards. If he knew where Magica was hiding out, he'd have routed her out; kidnapping and then endangering two children was illegal, regardless of how she'd like to spin it.

Then there was the attempted rape charge, which the Bloodhound Gang had, as well as the rape one. Scrooge put those out of his mind for the time being. He needed to focus on Webby's well-being and not the rage that the Bloodhound Gang induced. After everything that had happened, Mrs. Beakley hadn't had a formal funeral. Yes, she'd been buried, but they'd not had the ceremony. Perhaps the normalcy would help Webby.

"You all right?" he inquired gently. He'd raised the privacy shield between himself and Launchpad and bit back a curse when Launchpad stopped suddenly, nearly rear-ending an unmarked police car. Scrooge supposed he ought to give him points for not hitting it, though that seemed too charitable.

"We're okay," Lena answered. Webby didn't say a thing. She stared out the window and watched the cars drive past. If he was really concerned about safety, perhaps he ought to replace Launchpad. Then again, he was the cheapest driver money could buy and Dewey seemed rather attached to him.

He also knew that if he sent Launchpad out for a driving safety course, he'd probably set the place on fire. It didn't take much for Scrooge to envision people screaming, running for cover, and Launchpad at a loss to explain it all. He suppressed a groan. No, a driving safety course was out of the question.

"Webbigail?" he queried. "You haven't said anything since I picked you two up."

"What? Oh," she said, sounding distracted. "Hi, Uncle Scrooge."

Had she been that mired in her thoughts? He didn't like that either. There were entirely too many things rattling around in there for his comfort. His hand tightened on the cane.

"You're spacing out," Lena commented.

"I'm just tired," Webby lied.

"You bounced around like a maniac in my hospital room about two hours ago," Lena reminded her. "You're usually hyperactive when you get excited. Now you're all quiet."

"I was just thinking," she replied, but didn't elaborate. Instead, she seemed to lapse back into rumination, her head slumping on her shoulders and her expression closeted. Scrooge and Lena exchanged concerned glances.

"About?" Lena pressed.

"Stuff," Webby responded vaguely.

At that moment, the limo came to a screeching halt and Scrooge smelled burnt asphalt. What the hell? He lowered the privacy barrier between them.

"What in the blazes was that?" he demanded.

"Sorry, Mister McDee. Almost hit a parked ambulance. I swear, it came out of nowhere."

"A parked ambulance. Came out of nowhere," Scrooge repeated.

"It wasn't there a second ago," Launchpad protested.

"It was parked! Of course it was there a second ago!" he bellowed.

"Guys? You're impeding traffic," Lena said. Behind them, a chorus of horns sounded and Scrooge grumbled.

"Never mind that," Scrooge snapped. "Just get going!"

He waved his cane threateningly and Launchpad started up as though he'd never stopped. Scrooge despaired, shaking his head. The horns ceased and Scrooge raised the privacy barrier again. He feared, with Launchpad's intercession, that he'd never recapture Webby's attention. Considering how she'd hero-worshipped him up until a month ago, that was especially troubling.

"Webbigail?" Scrooge prompted. "What were you thinking about?"

"Webby?" Lena asked, waving a hand in front of her face. "Earth to Webby."

Webby didn't respond.

"I could tell you about one of my expeditions," he offered. Webby shrugged, not taking her gaze off the window. She appeared to be barely listening. Lena brushed her hand against hers and then stopped, looking at Scrooge guiltily.

"We're, uh…" Lena faltered, blushing.

"It's all right, lass, I'm not going to ask and you don't have to tell me if you don't want to," Scrooge said.

Lena weighed this and decided against telling him. She instead glanced back at Webby and her frown deepened.

"Webs," Lena said and nudged her. "Earth to Webbigail Vanderquack."

"Mmm?" Webby said, not opening her mouth or looking their way.

"I don't know that your head is a good place to be right now, lass," Scrooge said. "Especially without talking to one of us first."

Webby shrugged again and he swallowed frustration. Yelling at her wouldn't solve anything. Lena was studying Webby and her beak pursed.

Lena opened her beak and then shut it again. She wanted to ask something, Scrooge could tell, but didn't want to do so in his proximity.

"Go ahead," he told her. "I've gone mysteriously deaf for the next five minutes and won't be able to hear a word you say."

"Okay…" she said and turned to Webby. Lena frowned deeper and then shook her head. It seemed whatever she'd considered saying had evaporated. Ah, well. Scrooge racked his brains for another way to engage Webby.

"You know, we haven't made it official yet," Lena said, regaining her train of thought.

"Hmm…" Webby said, disappointing both of them, and then glanced over at them. Whatever had held her interest was gone, at least for the moment. "Did you know Louie kissed me?"

"For fu-" Lena started and caught herself. Scrooge raised his eyebrows. "When were you going to tell me about this?"

"I thought you went deaf for the next five minutes," Webby said to Scrooge.

"I didn't think you were paying attention!" he said, defensive. "How was I supposed to know you were listening to every word?"

"I didn't hear all of it," she admitted. "Other than the last thing you said, I kinda drifted in and out of the conversation."

"Like I said, lass, I don't think your head is the best place to be right now," Scrooge cautioned.

"Heh, I guess not," she replied. "I've been thinking about Louie and then about the Bloodhound Gang and Magica and my granny and it all kinda mixed into one."

That seemed like as good an introduction for this as any. "I found you a therapist, Webby."

"I don't need a therapist," Webby said automatically.

"Not to put too fine a point on it, but you do. You went through a lot of traumatizing things in one month and you need to talk to someone about it," he replied. "And heaven knows you haven't been talking to any of the boys or me."

"What am I supposed to tell them?" she asked, hugging her knees to her chest. "They have their mom back and you're busy with Della too and I'm…"

She trailed off.

"Just kinda there?" Lena supplied and Webby nodded. Lena squeezed her hand.

"But you're not," he protested. "We're all there and we all care about you."

"They just got their mom back," Webby said, shaking her head. "They can worry about me later. And you just got your niece back. I'm not family."

"You're gonna make me regret that outburst for the rest of my life, aren't you?" Scrooge said and she shrugged, returning to glance out the window. He grimaced. Damn, he'd walked right into that one. Unfortunately, it looked like Webby had returned to shutting him out. The car swerved around a lamppost (how the devil had Launchpad come that close?) and drove down the street leading to McDuck Manor. The time for conversation was almost over.

"We're not single-minded individuals, lass," Scrooge argued. "We can concentrate on two things at once."

A single shoulder shrug was his only response.

"Tell me you get more out of her than this," he pleaded with Lena.

"Usually," Lena answered. "But sometimes, she drifts off into her own world. You're gonna have to give her some space."

"If I give her any more space, she'll wind up on the moon," he complained and then cringed. "Poor choice of words."

They came within inches of hitting the house and Scrooge groaned. He supposed, for Launchpad, that meant this was a successful drive. Or maybe not, because the lad did like his crashes. And the costly repairs to Scrooge's transportation. He sometimes wondered if hiring a more competent driver and a pilot would've been better. Duckworth had never crashed. Then again, as a ghost, he had a hard time driving the limo.

They climbed out of the limo and Scrooge contemplated their predicament. He had one wayward niece who seemed remarkably resilient, yet wouldn't answer many questions about her time stranded and another who barely answered anything at all. The boys, thankfully, seemed normal, although Louie kissing Webby had surprised him. If any of the boys had kissed her, he would've expected Dewey.

Lena and Webby headed for Webby's room and he frowned deeper. Lena seemed the key to unlocking Webby, but what she was holding inside, even from Lena, was problematic. You couldn't hold that stuff in. While he couldn't relate to the violence she'd endured, he could sympathize with her killing someone. In his case, they'd fallen off a cliff in front of him and he'd been fighting them besides, so it wasn't really his fault (the first death attributed to Scrooge, at any rate, and not the last by far). But the situation was similar.

Frustrated, he headed for his study. Perhaps losing himself in business would be the appropriate cure for this. Or, at least, a stay for the inevitable reckoning.