Author's Note: A couple of vignettes for you this week.
It was cold and Webby's teeth chattered. She hugged herself; the theatre was unnaturally dark and she yelped when she stepped onto the trapdoor leading to Lena's room. Scoffing at her nervousness, she eased herself down the ladder and curled up in Lena's bed. Surrounded by Lena's scent, she could almost feel better. She could almost forget about her grandmother's death and about her world falling apart around her.
After an indeterminate amount of time, during which Webby thought she might've fallen asleep, she crawled out from underneath the sheets and then returned to the stage. Someone was moving in the shadows and she tensed, assuming a defensive position. Deja vu crashed upon her and she froze, scanning the darkness. She worked on calming her breathing and felt the cold press of a gun muzzle against her temples.
Two Bloodhound Gang members had appeared out of nowhere to stalk their prey and Webby had frozen, dread pooling in her stomach. Stepping out of the shadows too was her grandmother and Webby sagged, relieved to see her grandmother intact and wailing on the leader. The other two glanced from Webby to her grandmother and back as if debating the merits of helping their leader.
"Webby, are you all right?" her grandmother asked and then stared at the two members. "Get your hands off my granddaughter this instant!"
One of the members aimed at her grandmother, but she'd moved, blocking the shot. With only one gun trained on her, Webby might be able to disarm her opponent, assuming that the other dog didn't bring his gun to bear on her in retaliation. She remembered her grandmother's training and reached for the remaining gunman. He aimed and the bullet passed through Webby only to lodge itself in her grandmother's chest, right where Magica's spell had gone.
"No...not again…" she whispered.
The leader, unscathed despite going toe to toe with Betina Beakley, pinned Webby to the floorboards. He wasted no time in taking what he considered his "prize" and Webby choked, pressed against the floor by the floor by his bulk with the cold guns against her temples again. He was moving in and out, aggressive and smiling, damn him.
He was too big for her and it hurt; she could feel him tearing at her and tears streaked her cheeks.
"Webbigail, wake up!" Scrooge commanded and she looked around, not seeing him, only hearing him.
"Webby, come on, please…" Louie pleaded. As with Scrooge, she didn't see him either. Wrenching an arm free, she grabbed the leader's knife at his waist. It was serrated and looked like it'd deliver a nasty cut. As he finished with a groan and his disgusting wet warmth filled her, she plunged the knife into his chest.
This time, it stuck and he grinned at her. His teeth were coated in blood.
"Not getting rid of me that easily," he sneered. The others laughed and took their turns too. Webby screamed and screamed, but no one could hear her.
"Webby!" this voice was unfamiliar and she frowned, unable to place it. Hands were shaking her and she curled into a ball. She was sobbing so hard she could barely breathe. The female voice imploring her to wake bore some similarity to one she'd heard before. That told her nothing.
"Why won't she wake up?" Dewey asked urgently.
"We might have to resort to extreme measures," Scrooge said and then, despite the hot blood soaking Webby's feathers, despite the feeling of the pedophiles inside of her, cold water splashed her in the face. Gasping and sputtering, she blinked and came back to herself in her bed. She shuddered uncontrollably.
"Webby, are you okay?" Dewey asked.
Webby shook her head weakly. Lena had been the one with the water bucket.
"It's been like this for over a month," Scrooge informed Wren. That was who that strange voice had been. How peculiar. Webby blinked, hugging her knees. Her feathers were all damp, as well as her hair.
"You need to talk about it, lass," Scrooge said.
Again, she shook her head. She didn't want to talk about it. She wanted to fall back into a dreamless sleep. The horror of seeing her grandmother die again, of the entire gang joining in this time and the leader continuing despite being stabbed in the heart, all of it crashed on her head. She pressed her face into the pillow to conceal her tears.
"Can I try talking to her?" Wren asked.
"Be my guest," Scrooge said and then added, "I doubt you'll get any more out of her than we have."
The others left, although Lena hesitated and had to be tugged along. Webby lifted her head to watch them go and plopped back onto her stomach with her face buried in the pillow as soon as the door closed.
"I know...I know you barely know me," Wren said, touching Webby's back and rubbing it in circles. "But...you can talk to me. About anything. I'm here for you."
Heh. She barely spoke to the boys and Lena. What on earth made her mother think she'd confide in her? She trembled, hugging her pillow.
"I remember my first kill," Wren said and, despite herself, Webby was curious enough to lift her head. "I threw up and my commander was not happy."
"You killed someone?" she asked.
"A FOWL agent," Wren said and then smiled ruefully. "By mistake, if you can believe it."
"I can believe it," Webby said quietly.
"It's stressful, your first kill," Wren said. "And...as for the rest...I know what you went through.'
The older duck lowered her head. "That's why I said you can talk to me. I'm here for you."
Maybe. Webby rolled over to contemplate her mother.
"That's better," Wren said and smoothed back Webby's hair. "It might take a long while for you to trust me, but I'm not going anywhere. I promise."
Lena woke up to hear Webby sobbing in the night. That had never happened before the Bloodhound Gang had gotten its hands on her, though it had become a depressingly commonplace occurrence since then. She hugged Webby to her; she'd decided earlier that she ought to sleep with her to calm her down. Stroking her girlfriend's hair, she tried not to think about how much she sucked at comforting people. She had zero experience and Webby was the first person she'd ever wanted to comfort.
"Sssh…" she whispered. "Sssh...I'm here."
For whatever good that did.
Webby turned her tear-streaked face toward Lena and Lena wasn't sure whether she was awake or not. She kissed her on the beak and was surprised when Webby applied pressure, reciprocating. She wrapped her arms around her. The tears were still coming and Lena could taste them on her tongue. Webby was shaking with suppressed sobs, but she was kissing Lena anyway.
Lena remembered with horrible clarity her own nightmare and gasped back a sob.
"We're a mess," Lena said, reluctantly pulling apart.
"I love you," Webby murmured, still half asleep. "You'd never leave me, right, Lena? Not again?"
"No," she promised. "I won't leave you."
"I love you so much…" Webby murmured and fell asleep again. Lena smiled weakly, but it faded quickly. She couldn't be mollified so quickly. However, she didn't want to roam the manor at night, especially since Webby was holding onto her so tightly. If she woke and found her gone, she'd be upset.
Lena closed her eyes and tried to sleep again. As soothing as it was to be in Webby's arms, sleep was a long way in coming. Magica's spectre haunted her nightmares. And the Bloodhound Gang haunted Webby's. What a pair they were.
"I love you too," Lena whispered, aware Webby couldn't hear her.
She snuggled closer to her and hoped for sleep that never came.