Disclaimer: Hello! I'm AngelPines, nice to meet you.

See, I'm currently writing a story already, and all of my other ideas after that are quite large. Not short and simple at all. I wanted a nice project to work on as I finish it up. To keep me occupied while I also work on a rewrite. That I could take my time with during my winter term of school.

Ergo, this appeared. I'm relatively new to the fandom of Ducktales, but that never stopped me before.

This is in the 2017 reboot, as I never really grew up with the original. Shame. It looked really cool.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy it!

April is my own character!

"Speaking"

Thinking


Let's start at the beginning, I guess. Well, as much of a beginning as one could have at 25.

I was… silly, I guess. Still am, actually. Silly, and young. Oh, and can't forget about alone.

Alone. Hehe. What a peculiar word. How much meaning behind it, really all depended on who you talked to.

I was fifteen when it happened. All I remember was flames, and screaming, and… darkness. What a thing it was to wake up in the hospital, bandaged from so many burns, a broken arm that was close to being amputated from bone damage, and a severe concussion. I was so confused, and immediately sprang my worry onto the nurse that came in to check up on me. Her explanation: electrical fire.

It took a few minutes, but eventually, it all came flooding back in a sea of emotions. Man, what a sight that was. I had been rocked awake by my mother in a rush, as flames were creeping out from under my bedroom door. The room was already heavy with smoke from the cracks in the frame. Seeing what was happening and knowing how limited timing was, I rushed to grab my emergency bag I kept stored under my bed and sprinted out after her. An emergency bag. It was a weird idea when I first had it, figuring it would be a good idea to have clothes, money, and anything important on-hand in case something ever came up.

And that something came up, all right.

Hacking raggedly like my lungs were being smothered, I spotted my dad at the end of the hallway, ushering us towards him. The house wasn't very new. It was older than most around the neighborhood, and we didn't have a good enough skeleton to keep everything standing with the blaze tearing at the wood. The roof… it had begun to collapse in on us just moments before we reached him. My mom… she never had a chance. It came down in pieces; a large beam striking her in the head, and that was it. The fire began to lick at her clothes and feathers, and I wanted so desperately to go back and save her, but he wouldn't let me.

Dad was… always the one to have other people go before him. He managed to hold up a large piece of rubble that blocked the door, giving me just enough room to slide underneath. I had barely made it out the living room before it all came crashing down around me. My arm was pinned under the rubble, and I passed out not long after that. The only memories I could recall of that day, besides how it started, was my dad screaming on the other side. It still hurts, even now, to think back on it.

By the time I was released almost a month later, I was so lost and confused. Where would I go now? I didn't have any relatives still living, at least around Duckberg. My parents had their wills already made out to me, but that would still take a while for it to all get processed. "Well… guess I should try to clear my head."

Wandering around aimlessly about the city, I found myself drifting out towards the waterfront. Trailing a hand along the back of a bench overlooking the ocean, I gave a long sigh. Moving around, I dropped into the seat after taking my bag off, and buried my head in my arms. I didn't cry. I was already out of tears from the time in the hospital. Tears about a lot of things. Why I was the only one to survive. Why did my dad risk his life for me. So… so many questions. I was emotionally exhausted, and tired, and… I just wanted my family back. Was that… too much to ask?

"Is this seat taken?" Huh? Sniffling, I looked up to see who had spoken. An elderly white duck stood across from me, waiting for a response. Scottish, by the sound of his voice. He seemed… familiar, somehow. Like I should obviously know who he was. But from where? I've never met him in person. At least, I don't think I have.

"N-no." Inching to the side, I allowed enough room for him to sit down.

"Thank you," he said. He wore a red frock coat, black… spats, I think they were called, and a top hat. A set of pince-nez glasses was perched on his beak, and he studied the ocean with a look I couldn't exactly describe. He seemed… conflicted about something. He kept muttering under his breath, and I couldn't pick up what it was. All he did was sit there, staring off over the ocean like I was supposed to be doing. Instead, here I was analyzing a complete stranger. I suppose he needs to clear his mind too? I pondered. After a long silence that might have only been minutes, he turned to me, realizing that I was watching him. "Beggin' your pardon, but what brings a young girl out here at this hour?"

It was getting late. The sun had already begun to set over the water. "Well, I needed to clear my head," I answered truthfully. "Nothing more to say about that." He raised a brow, and glanced me over.

"Your arms say otherwise, my dear." Dang it, he had a point. The fire had burnt away most of my light brown feathers, leaving small patches of skin along my arms that should have been covered. The longer feathers that mimicked hair swept over my left eye were scorched at the tips, turning them black.

"Hehe, yeah. Should have put on a long sleeve shirt before heading out." Rubbing the back of my head, I grinned sheepishly. "It's nothing important, sir. Just need some air before going… going…" where am I going?

He seemed to get stuck on that sentence of me, mumbling it over. "Might I have your name?" He asked, resting his cane against the armrest of the bench.

"My name?" Was there a point in this? Why did he want to know? "April." No point in saying my last name. It wasn't really important anymore.

"April, eh?" He repeated. I nodded, agreeing with him. "I'm Scrooge McDuck." He held out his hand, and I gaped at him in shock. Sc… Scrooge Mc-you got to be kidding me. The richest duck alive!? What was he doing down here? More importantly, what was he doing talking to some random teen?

"I-it's nice to meet you," I stuttered, and shook his hand.

He chuckled. "No need ta be frettin' so much, child." Yeah, keep telling me that. "You're the girl who was in that house fire earlier this year, aren't ya?"

"I… that obvious?" I let go of his hand, resting my hand on the seat. "Sorry. I shouldn't be down here saying my life story to you. I can leave." I went to get up, only for Scrooge to take my wrist.

"Now, who's to say I didn't want ta hear it?" He… had a point there. Sitting back down, he gaze a long sigh. "Whenever you're ready, lass. I'll be listenin'." He… he wanted to hear my tale? But why? Why would he, Scrooge McDuck, care about my sob story?

"A-alright, I guess. I'll give you the notes version. A faulty plug in the kitchen set my house into an inferno, my mom suffered severe head trauma trying to get out, and she and my dad died inside. H-he managed to get me out, but just as I turned around the roof came crashing in. Killed them instantly." Breathing deeply, I moved my right arm. "Broke this pretty badly. Suffered a good amount of burns, which is why my feathers look even more off than normal when I don't give them a good brushing." My head just goes... everywhere in random spiked clumps. "I am currently waiting for the beneficiary to get through what remained of the wreckage before I receive what my parents left for me in their will, and then… heh, no clue what comes next. Got no family here, and seeing how I'm a minor, I'll probably be sent to a foster home until I turn eighteen." Chuckling bitterly, I glanced at Scrooge out of the corner of my eye. "There you go. The sad, sad tale of April." Boy, do I sound bitter.

Looking down at the cobblestones under my feet, I frowned. Why did I just do that? Why? Huh? Wha-? A cautious but gentle hand rested on my shoulder, and Scrooge gave his own weak smile. "Aye. I, too, know what it's like ta lose someone close ta you." He patted the spot where his hand was, and brought it back down. "An aimless solitude, havin' no one to call family or friend." Gee, way to make me feel better. "But!" His exclamation made me jump, and he hopped off the seat. Taking his cane in his hand, he waved it in the air. "It's people like that who, despite the tragedy that befalls them, rise back to greatness! To become something better!"

I couldn't help it. This guy was really good at motivational speaking, I just started laughing. Hopping off the bench, I could make out the sun finally vanishing over the horizon, and the streetlights flickered on. "Yeah, well, I'm still a kid, Mr. McDuck. It's hard to bounce back at this age." Scrooge smiled, leaning forward on his cane. "What?"

"The first step in bouncin' back is opportunity." Wow, his accent was strong. It made certain letters sound much more pronounced. "And when that comes, you seize it. What would you say about comin' back with me? I could always use an assistant." An assis-an assis-he wants me to work for him? Is-whoa, is he being serious right now? For real? "This is not a hand out, girl. This is a chance to get you back on your feet again."

"You-this is-holy-yes!" I cried, nodding furiously. "Yes! I'll take it, Mr. McDuck!" Scrooge gestured forward, and set off walking along the boardwalk. Quickly, I grabbed the bag I had set on the ground, and jogged after him.

"Lesson one, lass. You don't have to keep callin' me Mr. McDuck," he said, amusement in his voice. "Scrooge will be fine."

"O-okay, Mr-err, Scrooge. Scrooge." I had to say it twice to make sure it was engraved in my head. I mean, WOW! Scrooge McDuck, the richest duck in the world, had just asked me to work with him. Something like that just doesn't happen! I spotted the limo parked in front of us by the road, and Scrooge stepped inside. Holy cow, I'm going to ride in a limo. Somebody might need to pinch me. Moving around to the other side, I closed the door behind me.

"Comfortable?" Scrooge asked. I turned to face him after buckling myself in, and gave a quick nod. He turned to face the window that blocked our view of the driver, and gave a small gesture with his hand. With that, we peeled out of the parking spot, and began driving down the road.

"Um, S-Scrooge? Are you-I don't doubt your decision here, but aren't I little inexperienced and… young, to be your assistant?" I'm not even done high school yet! I have so many questions, I just-oh! Breathe, April. Breathe. Remember to breathe.

Scrooge just laughed at that, shaking his head while I inhaled sharply. "Lass, that's not a problem at all. I'll ensure that my housekeeper can drive you to your classes when needed. As for your age concern, my legal team can help with that." He's thought of everything so quickly, it's amazing. I was impressed… and a little terrified. I'd hate to be enemies with him in business. "She should appreciate havin' you around, seein' how I've been using her as a secretary for the longest time."

I giggled at that, before staring out the window. But… I still had trouble wrapping my head around this. Seriously, an assistant to him!? That was incredible! "Scrooge, I really am serious though. I'm only fifteen. I'm still technically a child. A. Minor. You… are you really sure about this?"

"You doubt me?" A little…? "Honestly lass, I don't quite know myself. What I do know, is that squanderin' a chance like this is a fool's choice." He fished into his jacket, and pulled out a gold chain that was hidden under his neck feathers. On the necklace was the number one dime. I've heard stories about it, as it was the motivation the drake needed to sail to America to make his own fortune. "Risks might not always make sense at the beginning, but they're worth it at the end." Then why does he sound so sad about that? Scrooge sighed, almost regrettably, and tucked it away again. "Are ya willin' to take the chance? To risk it all on an offer from a stranger?"

Risk it all…? "Scrooge, I'll admit, I'm really questioning life choices right here. But… but I've already hit rock bottom." Giving a silent chuckle, I brushed my bangs to the side to reveal my eyes. "Unless someone decided to hand me a shovel, I got nowhere else to go but up. I'll take that chance."

"That-a-girl," Scrooge approved. "It'll be hard work, but I think you'll be cut out for it. Prove me right." He held out his hand, and I shook it. Scrooge glanced out the window, and smiled. "It appears we've arrived."

We've arrived? Wait, doesn't that mean-? "Whoa." I pressed myself against the window to get my own view, and wow! This was impressive! McDuck Manor was huge! White brick walls with several chimneys and a large tower in the middle of it, with a massive golden wall surrounding the property. An intricate metal gate led inside, with a speaker on the side to announce your intentions-was that a peacock!? "This is such a change from being stuck in that hospital room for a month," I murmured. A golden dollar statue stood in the center of a roundabout that we were driving into, with many large trees growing about the property. "You're really letting me stay in your home?"

"It's your home too, April." It… it was, wasn't it? This… this was my life now.

But that, that was all just ten years ago.

Ten long and interesting years I'd spent working for the duck, and it was certainly… memorable. Business wasn't as hard as I'd initially thought it'd be. Running errands, filing, and attending meetings alongside him to take notes. Oddly, the stories I've heard about all those adventures he had done before I met him, remained a mystery. Even though I've asked on more than one occasion, he'd never said much to me. Normally, he'd just move to another room, or give a disappointed scowl at the nearest wall. Though, I did get more than enough information from the housekeeper, Mrs. Beakley's, granddaughter. The girl idolized the McDuck family, trying to know everything there was about them. Whenever I had a question ol' Scrooge wouldn't answer, I went straight to her.

Honestly, she reminded me of a more intimidating version of myself when I was her age. I blame this on Mrs. Beakley. Just like Scrooge, I don't let the old age fool me. She can be pretty intense. Her overprotective nature and quick reflexes kind of rubbed off on me. Due to her and Webby, I've more or less become a little bit jumpy, considering Webby jumpscares me at least once a week. I can think of at best ten times I've accidentally flipped Scrooge's private driver, Launchpad, all because he caught me off guard.

Speaking of Launchpad… did I really need to go into detail about him, other than he can crash almost anything? Pretty sure when I had asked him about this, he said something like if it had wings, he could crash it. Yet... he is the personal driver of Scrooge. How the-why did we end up hiring him?

Besides a few behavioral changes, I hadn't really changed much either. Physically, I mean. My light brown feathers did grow again over my burns, but not in the same shade as before. They were lighter, and faint scar marks outlined the patches. I didn't wear anything overly fancy for the job, which I was thankful for. A black jacket with a white fur trim around the collar, a light green and black striped tank top, and a denim skirt. A maroon knitted hat sat on my head, keeping my shoulder length feathers in place. It was simple. Not overly fancy, but nothing too casual. I mean, hard to be too casual when I also went and chose to wear a matching silk maroon scarf to go with the whole getup.

Grinning, I glanced out of my window seat over the garden far below. Ten years of working for Scrooge McDuck did get boring now and then, what with all the money and finances and junk. And so… so many coffee runs. I could still smell the beans on me sometimes after a long day's work. But still, I loved it. Seriously, it's kinda hard not to hate a man who didn't have to go out of his way for you when you were down on your luck.

But just because I lived there, doesn't mean I still didn't think back on it. Sighing, I looked over at my bed. My room itself wasn't anything impressive. Dark blue walls with glow-in-the-dark paint on the ceiling to mimic the stars and constellations that took ages to paint. I still add more to it even now. A bathroom was off to the side, an oak dresser and bedside table, and a queen sized bed.

And on said table was a lightly burnt picture of my parents and me in a frame Scrooge got me. Heh. Not a day goes by that I don't think back on it. I've questioned it, so… so many times. I still have regrets, asking that same question I had back on that bench. Family, and junk. It's… hard to recover completely from something like that. But I'm trying. Th-that's what's important… isn't it?

A loud honking tore me away from my internal wreck, and I looked back out the window and towards the driveway. I could see the limo outside of the gate, and another car just ahead of it. Scrooge had gotten out of his ride, as did the mystery duck who was in the other vehicle, and they walked up to each other. "Who is that?" I squinted, but gave up trying to see more clearly. "Best to go down and check for myself, I guess."

Recovering from personal loss was-is… hard. But maybe… just maybe… whatever is coming my way with this new arrival could fix that.


There we go! Like I said above, I'm new to the fandom, and I'm trying to make sure I fit Scrooge's personality to a T.

Chapters will be posted whenever I can. I just entered my winter term, and classes should be picking up really quickly soon.

Until next time!

Angel