(Author's notes: This chapter contains a trigger warning. While I have hinted several times to Charity's attempted suicide, this chapter will go into the event with a little more detail and emotion, and I just want to give anyone with a suicide trigger warning a head's up.)
Twisted Strings of Fate
Chapter 30
Have you ever been to the beach and stood in the surf and let your feet sink down into the sand? And every time a wave washes over you, you sink lower and lower. If you wiggle your toes, you can go deeper and deeper, the sand and water getting colder and colder. And when you try to get back out, it's almost impossible because it feels as if the sand is sucking you back down.
This is what it's like when you are on the path to suicide. You keep getting buried by sand and water, sinking deeper in cold darkness. And in some cases, you want to go deeper, want to shut away the whole world, thinking that things are fine, things will get better and all the while you can't get out. It's easy to sink down that low, but getting back out…sometimes it's impossible. And even if you wiggle out an inch, it feels as if something is pulling you back.
I got tired of the pain. It was just too much for me. I couldn't take it, the aches and pains, the multiple trips to the emergency room, the sicknesses and fatigue from my body constantly healing itself, the isolation and depression because things were going to get worse.
I just wanted it to end. I wanted peace. And instead of looking toward my family and friends for help, I took it from a prescription bottle. I drank down the opioids with tap water directly from the sink then waited for oblivion. I wasn't sure they were working, so I headed downstairs. I don't know why. Maybe to get something to eat or find more pills, but I didn't make it.
My parents, who had gone on a date that night, came home to find me lying on the stairs head first, not breathing and vomit splatter on my beak. My step-father revived me with CPR as my mother called for an ambulance. On the way to the hospital, they pumped my stomach then filled my veins with liquids to expel the poison.
And just like that, my family started walking on eggshells around me. It was like I was a bomb ready to explode if they rattled me too much. The more cautious they were with me, the more I regretted that I hadn't succeeded.
It was Launchpad that tethered me to the ground by making me promise not to do it again. Seeing the grief on his face was enough for me to regret my decision. I never wanted to see that much pain on his face.
But it was done. I cannot change the past. That dark day is part of me forever. It changed me and made me who I am today. I shouldn't be ashamed of it, but I don't want anyone else to know. If I could, I would erase that part of my life, forget about it, and bury it so deep that not even the ocean could unearth it.
Drake raced into the crowd but couldn't keep track of where Charity went. There were so many bodies and so many people who had their hair dyed blue and white, he couldn't find her. Nearby, he heard Fenton calling for her, but that would be useless for a person who didn't want to be found.
Bobbing at least a foot above the crowd was Launchpad's head and shoulders, towering above everyone in the country.
"Launchpad, did you see where she went?" Drake asked.
"She's gone," Launchpad said with a hung head. "We won't be able to find her unless she wants to be found."
"I'm afraid he's right," Fenton said with a sigh. "Even with my Gizmoduck lenses, I couldn't keep track of her. The sidewalks are just too crowded."
"What about the GPS on her phone?" Drake suggested. "We found her once that way."
Fenton tapped on his phone before frowning. "She must have turned it off. I can't find her."
"Well, we can't let her go off on her own," Drake said with more anger than he intended. He was worried and angry at himself for not being able to help Charity. "She doesn't know the area or the language. What if she gets lost?"
"We should go back to the others. Maybe if we split up, we can find her," Fenton suggested.
"In downtown Tokyolk?" Drake wondered, his forehead edged with worry. "If we find her, it'll be through dumb luck."
The three ducks looked at each other then back at the Duck family to the half-goose. Together, they converged upon Gladstone with their demands.
"Whoa, cool it," Gladstone said, taking refuge behind Donald. "I'm not some sort of metal detector you can turn on and off. Now if you love-struck ducks can't turn it way down, I'm going to run away screaming as well."
Launchpad and Fenton backed down, but Drake only crossed his arms. "We need to find her now. The longer she's on her own, the more likely she is to get lost."
Gladstone didn't look quite as concerned about Charity. "Maybe she needs some time alone. She must feel stifled with four men breathing down her neck, always holding her hand and looming over her as if you own her. Either all of you are over-protective or you're ready to jump her."
Drake was only vaguely aware of Launchpad holding him back. His mind had turned completely blank and filled with the color red, and the next thing he knew he was reaching out for Gladstone, most likely to throttle his neck.
"Calm down, Mallard," Jim said, stepping between the two, as serene as could be. "She's going to be fine. Have a little more faith in our girl, okay?"
Drake was a toss of emotions. He was willing to calm down since it was Jim that was placating him, but the second that "our girl" came out of his beak, Drake felt something boiling inside him. Was it because Jim had become so close to Charity in just a short time and become part of the group, or was it because Drake didn't want to share her?
"She's going to be fine. She can take care of herself," Jim continued to placate. "She has her cell phone and will call us when she's ready."
These words were more effective at calming Drake and he stood down.
"As for you," Jim said, his voice turning hard as he rounded on Gladstone. He sounded so much like Negaduck that several members of the Duck family tensed. "You will show Charity respect. She's been through more than a pampered, little brat like you could ever imagine. So keep your crude comments to yourself."
Most people would have been cowed. But if Gladstone had any idea that he was talking to a sociopath—albeit one on medication—he didn't let it show.
"First off," Gladstone said, smoothing out his suit, "I'm probably the same age as you, so no more 'brat' comments. And second, to be fair, it's a little disgusting to watch you four mooning over one girl. Don't any of you have any pride?"
Starling grabbed Gladstone's lapels and yanked him close. "Let's see how much pride you can muster when a woman bleeds for you for fifteen years," he growled at Gander. "The next time you say anything else about Charity that I don't like, I'm going to test the limits of your luck, got it?"
Gladstone saw a tint of icy blue glinting in Starling's eyes, and he finally realized that this wasn't a duck he wanted to push too far. "Noted," he said in a soft voice. When Starling let him go, he straightened his jacket. "And I thought pink-shirt guy was the one dating her."
Drake looked down at his shirt.
"Nobody is dating Charity," Fenton said.
"My shirt isn't pink," Drake muttered, pulling at the fabric.
"I was certainly fooled," Gladestone said. "She's certainly very affectionate with the four of you."
"It's a light purple," Drake protested.
"It's part of the lovebird culture," Jim said, folding his arms. "Most of them are like that."
"Launchpad, is my shirt pink?" Drake asked, looking self-conscious.
"Yes. That is definitely a pink shirt."
"Lovebird culture?" Fenton asked, tilting his head.
Most of the ducks looked clueless.
Jim rolled his eyes. "Typical ducks. People don't understand or don't know that the smaller groups of races, like lovebirds, have their own culture that is unique to them. Much like the stereotype that owls like working at night and ducks like water—"
At this, Drake snorted, still frowning at his shirt.
"—Lovebirds tend to be more physical with their affection and not just with romantic partners. It's not uncommon for them to hold hands and kiss family and friends," Jim said. "All of you should just go on ahead and look for a hotel while Launchpad and I find for Charity. Text us with an address."
Drake protested Jim taking charge. "I'm coming with you."
"No, you're not," Jim turned him down. "Didn't you see Charity's face before she ran off? She was looking at the two of you." He pointed to Drake and Fenton. "She's ashamed of her past, and right now, she doesn't want to face either of you because of it. Launchpad obviously knew, and she'll contact him first."
"And why you?" Drake asked.
"Because I speak the language, and if anyone understands mental illnesses and regretting one's past, it's me," Jim replied bitterly. He put a hand on Drake's shoulder, but it was stiff as if touching the other duck was distasteful. "I want what's best for her, too, Mallard. I know I don't deserve it, but you need to trust me on this one."
Drake didn't look happy about the arrangement, but he nodded.
As the two groups separated, Louie broke off from the others. "I want to go find Charity, too," he said, pulling on Launchpad's shirt.
Della put her arm around her son. "I don't think that's a good idea."
"But this is my fault. I need to apologize to Charity," Louie said. "I screwed up, again. I'm not going to wait around to fix things."
Della had a mixture of disappointment and sorrow on her face. "I don't think Charity would want to see you right now," she said honestly. She wished she didn't have to say such hard things to her son. After the incident with him stealing Uncle Scrooge's fortune, she had hoped that he would give up scheming. In retrospect, this wasn't as bad as before, and nobody was in danger of getting hurt. However, in some ways, this was worse.
"I don't understand why you would do this to Charity," Della said. "What were you thinking?"
"I was thinking that she wouldn't mind if I raise a lot more money for homeless children and pets," Louie admitted. "I didn't tell her I was uploading the videos, and I expected her to get mad but not that mad. I didn't think there was anything wrong in those videos."
"Louie," Della said, her voice growing soft, "do you understand what happened to Charity? Why she took those pills?"
Louie shrugged. "Probably to help her get better. That's what medicine is for, right?"
Della's eyes widened as she realized her son didn't comprehend what Launchpad and Hecate were talking about in the video. She looked over at her family, seeing her other two boys and Webby just as confused. She was hoping for some help to explain, but this might be a time when she had to take the reins with her children.
"Louie, Charity took those pills to commit suicide," Della said, thinking it best to be direct.
Webby gasped, putting her hands to her mouth, and Huey and Dewey looked sick.
Take a step back, Louie shook his head, his brows wrinkled. "Suicide? You mean she tried to die?"
Della put a hand on his arm. "Yes, that's what happened?"
"No. No, she wouldn't," Louie insisted, but his eyes widened. "I didn't know. Mom, I promise I didn't know. I wouldn't have put that video up if I did."
Della was surprised to see tears at the corners of Louie's eyes. She hadn't known him for that long, but she hadn't taken him as a child that cried easily. She pulled him close to her, sensing that he had been reprimanded enough.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Mom," Louie said into her shoulder. "I didn't know. I didn't want to hurt Charity."
"I know. I know," Della said. "But it's been done. The only thing we can do it try to fix things. And I will help you."
Louie nodded, wiping his eyes. "I still want to go look for Charity."
"I know, but let's give her some time to calm down. This was a bit of a shock for her," Della said, looking up. Her family had kept back to allow time with her son.
Launchpad and Starling was still there, waiting. After Della gave a nod, they walked away.
The rest of the group walked down the sidewalk in silence for a few moments before Gladestone directed them down another street. He seemed guided by some unknown force before he stopped in front of a hotel.
"We're staying here," he announced.
Launchpad didn't notice how everyone gawked at him. He didn't even notice how much shorter everyone was compared to him. His attention was concentrated on the duck that walked next to him.
And for some reason, he couldn't see this duck as the Jim Starling he had known before. He wasn't the charismatic actor talking to fans at a convention or during an interview. He wasn't the psychotic, violent villain he had been used to during the week. And he wasn't the shivering, muttering prisoner back at Mr. McD's mansion.
It was almost as if Jim Starling was just a regular guy, walking down the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets and watching the people and shops as they passed by. It was surreal.
"Launchpad?"
"Uh…yeah?"
"Could you stop staring?" Jim asked, turning his head slightly to look at the tall duck out of the corner of his eye.
Launchpad went ramrod straight and kept his eyes locked in front of him. As anxiety shot through his blood, he found himself walking stiffly, swinging his arms like a robot.
Jim sighed. "Look, I know you're a big fan of Darkwing Duck, but I'm not him. I'm just an actor. That Darkwing Duck was just a bunch of words typed in a script, a costume, and some special effects. If you take all those away, I'm just a regular guy." Jim shrugged.
Launchpad frowned. "But you still did a lot of amazing things. I know the show wasn't real, but the stunts you did were. And I really do admire your acting. When you were on the show, it was as if you really were Darkwing Duck."
Jim couldn't help but smile at the compliment, but it soon turned bitter. "Well, that's all in the past. I'm just a has-been."
"What about a comeback?" Launchpad suggested. "Your agent said it was possible." He smiled as he remembered the female duck.
Jim shrugged again. "Comebacks are rare, and are even rarer if they're successful. And the only reason Darkwing Duck is popular again is because of your friend." He stopped to take a look at a shop window. Or he could just be looking at his reflection. "And if I'm being honest, perhaps he should be getting all the attention with this comeback. After all, he's a real hero, not just one who pretends to save the day."
"Well, Drake is pretty amazing," Launchpad said. "But you're a hero, too. You're here, after all."
Jim looked up at the tall duck, considering. "I suppose I am."
Charity ran until she felt light-headed. She was surprised by how long that took. After all the excitement and the journey to Ithaquack, she felt in better shape than ever before. However, that only resulted in a problem. She didn't know where she was or where her friends were.
But that didn't concern her. Even though she was lost in one of the biggest cities in the world and cut off from everything familiar, she wasn't worried. Scared, maybe, but not worried. In fact, it was kind of fun to be on her own. If she ignored the stares and people taking her photo every now and then, she felt like she was on vacation.
If only she weren't so inconspicuous.
Her phone vibrated from her jeans back pocket. She had expected a text or phone call, but she kind of hoped they would give her more time. But she couldn't blame them for being worried about her.
However, the text was from the unlisted number. She let out a heavy breath. What did Aphrodite want now? After everything else.
The shop to your left.
Blinking in confusion at the message, Charity looked to her left, surprised at finding several signs both in Japanese and English, one saying that they exchanged foreign money. When she went into the shop, she was surprised yet again when the employee inside spoke decent English and exchange her dollars into yen. And the shop also provided something else she wanted, a disguise.
After purchasing a hoodie that looked like a cute panda, Charity put it on and left the store. Nobody looked her way since the hood covered her hair. At least this time, Aphrodite was helpful.
With nobody gaping at her, Charity was able to look at the shops and everything without feeling self-conscious, although after a half hour, she felt a little guilty about not contacting the others. After procrastinating a little while longer, she shot Launchpad a text.
Do you need any more time to yourself?Launchpad replied.
Did she? The answer was both yes and no. Yes, she could always use more time to herself. But she thought that would be selfish. There were people worried about her. And the Orb—and perhaps the solution to her curse—was so close.
Sorry I ran off. I'm good. But I'm kind of lost.
We figured you would be. Can you find an address?
Charity went to the nearest corner and found a street sign, which she couldn't read. Instead, she took a picture of it and sent it to Launchpad.
Jim and I will be there in fifteen minutes.
Charity sighed in relief, not only because someone knew where she was, but that it would only be Launchpad and Jim. The thought of seeing Drake and Fenton at that moment almost gave her a panic attack. What was she going to do when she saw them again? What would they think of her now that they knew how messed up she was? They would never look at her the same.
To pass the time, Charity spotted a store that was selling clothing and other merchandise that were obviously modeled after her and her friends. Ignoring the pillows, plushies and shirts that had her face plastered on them, Charity looked at the "authentic Launchpad" bomber jackets on the rack. It had been odd to see Launchpad without his signature jacket, but after fighting Ares, he had been wearing only T-shirts. The jackets in the store were of good quality and close to the original, so she bought one in the biggest size they had and hoped it would be large enough.
Back on the street, she spotted Jim and Launchpad, searching for her through the crowd, and she waved to them when she realized they didn't recognize her in her hoodie. When he reached her, Launchpad snatched her from the ground in a spine-crushing hug.
"Yes, I know, Launchpad," Charity said when her friend didn't say anything. "I promise never to run away like that again. It's okay." She managed to wretch one arm free so she could pat him on the shoulder.
Many people from the crowd stared at them openly, probably because they've never seen such a giant of a man before, let alone one who could pick up a woman like a child.
Launchpad set her down and pressed her face between his large hands. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine, Launchpad," Charity said through squished cheeks. She laughed and pulled away. "All I did was go through a bit of a shock."
"I bet," Jim said, keeping back as the friends had their moment. "I remember something similar to this happening to me when I started dating Yāzi. It must be worse for you because you didn't expect to get famous."
Charity frowned, pulling her hoodie tighter around her face. "It wasn't something I wanted advertised to the whole world."
"I don't think you care about the opinion of the whole world. Just one part of it," Jim said wisely.
Charity looked down, and the sun caught a droplet of moisture.
"Come on. Let's go someplace you can sit," Jim said, taking her hand.
"What about the others?" Charity asked softly, wiping her face.
"They're looking for a hotel. They'll be fine for a while."
Launchpad took the lovebird's other hand, and the three walked several blocks before Jim led them into a shop.
Immediately, delicious smells filled her nostrils and her stomach growled. It was still morning in Japan, but breakfast had been several hours ago. And even though she didn't know how to read the language, pictures of soupy bowls of ramen were featured all over.
Jim ordered for them and pulled out a chair for Charity to sit as they waited for their food.
"They have free wi-fi here," Jim said. "You might want to take the time to look up all the videos about you so you don't have any more surprises."
Launchpad gave her a pair of earbuds, and she looked for Louie's website. She tried using her name to search for it, but "Charity" didn't take her where she wanted to go. Then she tried a combination of "Darkwing Duck" and "video" before she found what she was looking for.
For half an hour, she watched the movies Louie posted on YouTube, surprised by how much the child had caught on his phone. Some videos she skipped, like the ones of the roller derby, but she concentrated mostly on those from the Underworld. She laughed at Darkwing being afraid of ghosts and how he found one piece of her heart. She cried when Launchpad talk to Hecate about the pills. As she watched Negaduck pretend to be Darkwing and dipped her to give her a passionate kiss, she stole glances at Jim who bowed his head in shame. And she watched with intense concentration as Fenton spoke to Persephone and swallowed the pomegranate seeds.
When the ramen was delivered to their table, Charity ate slowly, the delicious soup and noodles warming her body and bringing comfort as she went through video after video. Even after their bowls were empty, she continued to watch, the restaurant employees not minding them taking up a table since the store was almost empty.
After a while, Charity couldn't take in any more. She was sure there would be no more surprises since she viewed everything from the Underworld, and the rest she had been conscious for. And to be perfectly honest, she was getting a little tired of watching her limp body being hauled everywhere.
"Okay, I think I'm good," Charity said, putting her phone on the table.
"Are you sure?" Jim asked.
Charity raised her hand in surrender. "I'm done. I'm ready to go meet up with the others."
Jim payed for their meal and led them through the streets toward the address Drake had texted him only a few minutes ago. After showing Launchpad his present, the pilot refrained from wearing it so that they could walk without being stared at. As they walked, it was still strange to meet their doppelgängers regularly on the streets.
As it turned out, they didn't need Gladstone's luck to get a hotel. But it helped Scrooge remember that he owned one in downtown Tokyolk. As they walked into the luxurious, glamorous hotel that Gladstone had chosen, the manager recognized Scrooge McDuck immediately and rushed to shake his hand and bow deeply toward the duck.
Speaking in clear and perfect English, the manager explained—when Scrooge said they would like rooms for fourteen—that the penthouse suites were vacant and ready for them to use. The manager took them up himself followed by several bellboys carrying their bags. On the top floor, there were only four doors for four suites. Since the penthouse, for most of the year, was unused because only the rich and famous could afford to stay there, the Duck family had the run of the floor.
As the manager handed the keycards, three small hands snatched one each, leaving a single one behind. The triplets led the charge by bursting into the rooms and exclaiming about the luxuries available to them.
"Now hold on, boys," Scrooge said, shaking his cane. "We may be staying here, but no raiding the minibar. Do you know how much those snacks cost?"
"Do not worry about it, Mr. McDuck," the manager said. "You own the hotel. You will not be charged for any room service."
Scrooge harrumphed, mumbling about how it was his hotel and anything the boys ate came out of his profits.
Mrs. Beakley snagged the last key with more politeness than the boys. She bowed to the manager and said, "Thank you so much. We very much appreciate your hospitality." When the manager and bellboys left, she waved the key. "Let's see. There's fourteen of us. That means three or four to each room. Of course, Della, Charity, Webbigail and I will share one of the suites."
Donald was happy to share a room with his nephews, knowing just what he was getting into with the rambunctious boys. Gladstone and Scrooge made eye-contact, knowing that they would be saddled with each other. Drake and Fenton frowned at each other, both wondering if they would have to share a suite.
"We'll take the nerd," Gladstone said, pointing at Fenton. "You look quiet."
"I am," Fenton admitted.
"Good. The other two can stay with you, pink-shirt," Gladstone said with a smile.
Not that it mattered who was with who. Each suite was as large as an apartment with three separate bedrooms with king-sized beds. As everyone took in their bags and settled down to wait for the others, they all felt as if they had their own hotel room to themselves. And since nobody could come up to the penthouse—either with the elevator or through the stairs—without a keycard, they ended up leaving the doors propped open so everyone could wander in and out as they made plans.
Fenton, once he had stowed away his bag and the briefcase that held Gizmoduck 2.0, plopped down on a gold embroidered couch to start his research into what Jim had said: Lovebird culture. He had seen Drake doing the same thing on his phone, and he longed to compare notes with the other duck. Despite them being rivals, he would still have liked to hear Drake's opinion.
The many different websites he read through explained that lovebirds showed their affection for friends, family and lovers more physically than others through hugs, kisses and handholding. Lovebirds, as their name implied, were thought to be more loyal as lovers, but that was a common stereotype. They were just more passionate and public about showing their affection.
Hugs were as common as handshakes to lovebirds. They welcomed people into their house with a hug and sent them home the same way, even if they were meeting them for the first time. It explained why Charity's step-father had hugged Fenton and Drake when they first met. Lovebirds were very open with their feelings, and one could always tell if they had gotten on the bad side of one, which also aptly explained Charity's mother.
Handholding was very important in lovebird culture. Learning from a young age, lovebirds always held hands while walking or sitting together no matter who was with them. Young or old, male or female, relative or friend or lover, they were always holding hands. One website went on to explain that this was how they strengthened bonds with each other and give one another comfort. It was one of the most important aspects of lovebird culture.
While the most common handholding for lovebirds was the clasped position, intertwining fingers was specifically reserved for lovers. Fenton wondered if he had mistakenly held Charity's hand in that way. He couldn't be sure, especially since the lovebird had grabbed his hand so many times.
While kisses were held back more in reserve than hugs and handholding, lovebirds were also generous with this display. They commonly exchanged kisses on the cheeks when greeting family and close friends. A kiss on the cheek also could be given as a thank you, an apology, or to give comfort, regardless of age or gender. A kiss on the forehead had specific meaning, usually an older lovebird kissing a younger's forehead to show that they had great value to them. Much like the rest of the world, beak kisses were reserved for lovers.
There was a lot more subtle and intricate pieces of lovebird culture that had been said to be almost extinct due to lovebird culture slowly disappearing. Several decades ago, lovebirds mostly lived in large communities where their culture could grow and be passed down to each generation, however, more and more families were spreading out and venturing away from the communities. Because some people have misinterpreted lovebird culture as unwanted, romantic advances or being of a different sexual orientation, some lovebirds have rejected the culture and become more indigenized as what is more socially acceptable.
However, only recently have people outside the culture have taken the time to learn and accept lovebird culture and have been spreading awareness of their traditions. A website that was dedicated to spreading this awareness showed that lovebirds were becoming more and more susceptible to depression and anxiety, which is speculated is because they lack the interaction and physical affection from family and friends that past generations had.
Fenton had figured that Charity acted the way she did had to do with the curse, but he had never seen her around other lovebirds except her parents. According to the websites, lovebirds were reluctant to share their culture with other races due to prejudice and mockery, but Jim appeared to be familiar enough with the culture to know what to do.
After reading for so long, Fenton leaned back and analyzed the information, taking it in and storing it in the right place in his brain. But more importantly, he wondered what he should do with this information.
It wasn't his culture, but was he allowed to treat Charity in this way? After all, Jim seemed comfortable doing just that. But did he talk to Charity first about it? Or do lovebirds easily accept people from other races to join into their culture?
When Charity came back, what if he met her with a kiss on the cheek?
Fenton felt flushed at the thought, and he thought about when Charity found out he was Gizmoduck and she kissed him on the cheek. She had done it in one swift, unhesitating move, as if she had done it so often. Afterward, she apologized. Fenton had interpreted this as her acting because of her curse and was embarrassed by her boldness, but perhaps it had more to do with her culture.
The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to act on the information. Lovebirds weren't that common in Duckburg, so she may have only had her family to share her heritage.
"Launchpad texted me. They're here," Dewey shouted, racing to the elevator. "I'll go get them." He had a key card, which was the only way to get up to the penthouse.
Fenton put down his phone and headed to the foyer in front of the elevator, fumbling with his shirt that was wrinkled from sleeping on the plane, the same clothes he wore yesterday. Perhaps he should have changed.
Drake timidly poked his head out of his suite, regarding Fenton with a careful gaze before stepping out beside him. He had at least changed out of his pink shirt into something else, although Charity's return might not have been the only reason he now wore a blue button-up.
From another suite, they heard Donald shouting, "Get off that dratted computer and go apologize to Charity," in his half-understood voice.
"Just a minute, Uncle Donald," Louie protested. "I just need to do one more thing."
"Haven't you done enough with that website? That's what started this in the first place," Donald shouted.
"I'm trying to fix it. Just give me a minute," Louie yelled back. After a minute, the green-clad duckling joined Drake and Fenton in front of the elevator, his laptop in his hands.
Then Mrs. Beakley spotted them. "Oh, for the love of England. Do you three want to frighten the poor girl again?" she asked with hands on her hips. "You two, leave. Wait for her in there." Mrs. Beakley pointed to inside a suite to a couch.
The two men meekly obeyed.
"As for you, Louie, you should talk to her first," Mrs. Beakley said, adjusting his hoodie so it didn't look so messy. "And I hope you have a pretty good apology."
"I think I do," Louie said. He looked at the spy turned housekeeper who he admired on many levels in the eye. "This time I really thought I was doing something good."
"Did you really?" Mrs. Beakley asked.
"Well…I did want to make money, but I was doing something good," Louie said. "That's what Uncle Scrooge does sometimes. He can do good things while making money. How does he do it without hurting someone?"
Mrs. Beakley smiled. "I know you boys hero-worship your uncle, but Scrooge isn't one-hundred percent infallible. There have been many times where he messed up and hurt someone even though he thought he was doing something good. He just learned from his mistakes and kept trying."
Louie nodded, and at that time, the elevator door dinged.
Charity looked small standing between Launchpad and Starling, and she wasn't much shorter than Jim. She had her eyes cast down and was hiding in a panda bear hoodie.
Yet she was the most intimidating person Louie had seen in a long time.
Taking a deep breath, Louie stepped forward as the trio exited the elevator. "Charity," he said, and the lovebird looked up. "I'm really sorry for what I did. I'm sorry that I posted those videos and that I didn't tell you about them. I had my reasons, but they are no excuse for making you sad."
For a second, Louie wondered if Charity wasn't going to accept his apology. She looked uneasy and ready to run away again, but then she stepped closer and dropped to her knees.
"It's okay. I had an idea that something else was going on, and I should have asked you about it," Charity said. "When I found out about your betting pool, I shouldn't have let you continue. It was too much of a responsibility for a kid."
This took Louie completely aback. He wasn't used to anyone sharing the blame whenever he did something wrong. Not to mention, she was giving him the easy way out because of his age. That made him a little mad, and he found that he didn't want Charity to take the blame.
"I'd like to fix things. I could take the videos down, but once something is on the Internet, it's hard to take it off. There are tons of copies of the videos on other sites, and there's nothing I can do about them," Louie explained, holding his laptop with one hand while typing with the other.
"I know. It's okay. Don't worry about it," Charity said with a small smile.
"But I did change something on my website," Louie said, then turned the laptop so that it faced Charity. "Seventy-five percent of the profits are going to the homeless children and pets charity I chose, but I decided to give the other twenty-five percent to a different one. This one is dedicated to suicide prevention and helping those who…were like you." His eyes widened as he looked Charity in the face.
Fat tears were falling from Charity's eyes. After wiping her face with the sleeves of her hoodie, she pulled Louie into a tight hug—to the absolute surprise of the duckling.
"Thank you," Charity said. "That is a wonderful gift. Thank you so much."
Louie accepted the hug, feeling strangely comfortable with the display—and he didn't even like hugs. "You're welcome," he said in a hushed voice. However, that was as much emotion as he could muster for the day and the second that Charity let him go, he scrambled back to his room, putting away his laptop.
"Hey, Louie," Dewey said from his spot on the couch, flipping through all the channels that were sometimes in English and sometimes in Japanese. "Why is your face red?"
Louie hopped on the couch next to his brother and snatched the remote. "Shut up," he muttered, leaving it on a channel with a fast-paced anime battle.
Charity smiled as the duckling disappeared. She had been moved by his apology. He seemed the greedy type with how he started the betting pool, and the fact that he gave up all his earnings for the other non-profit organization showed just how sorry he was for his actions.
She cleared away all her tears and took a deep breath, relaxing her throat and lungs from all her crying.
"I'm afraid you're not finished, dear," Mrs. Beakley said, pointing into one of the suites where Fenton and Drake sat on the couch, fidgeting. "Although if you like, I could tell them you need more time."
Charity shook her head and walked into the suite. Jim and Launchpad followed her.
Immediately Drake and Fenton's backs straightened, but they didn't move from their seats.
Charity appreciated that. She gestured for the two other ducks to sit on the couch. It was a tight fit with Launchpad next to Drake and Jim on the other side of Fenton. It almost made Charity laugh seeing them squished together. And she had their complete attention.
"It happened not long after I met Gizmoduck," she started with a soft voice, putting her hands inside the hoodie pocket. "It was a bad day, and I hurt from all four of you, I was certain. And when I imagined feeling like that every day for the rest of my life…I couldn't take it. I wanted it all to end." Her vision blurred.
Through her tears, she saw Drake and Launchpad move to stand, but she held out her hand and took a step back. She still had things to say. "I'm making this clear now. None of you are going to apologize because you're not at fault. I'm the one who made the decision, and I'm the one who took those pills because…because I was…I was weak." She had hoped to keep her composition during her whole speech, but the sobs broke through and she couldn't continue.
Arms wrapped around her from behind, encasing her completely. "You're not weak," Launchpad whispered into her ear. "You had to be strong for too long."
"But you're not alone anymore," Drake said, coming forward and taking her hand. He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.
Fenton stood up but was slow to approach. He felt self-conscious of the idea of being more affectionate with Charity and had wanted to kiss her cheek. It was just that Drake had done it first. Not to mention, he wasn't sure if he could cross that line, even if friendship was only intended by the gesture. Instead, he could only take her hand. "Please let us share your burden. We can't take your physical pain, but we can feel your emotional pain with you."
Charity's arms wrapped around Drake and Fenton's necks, and she pulled them close until their foreheads were against hers.
Fenton closed his eyes, feeling her feathers against his and her breath against his bill. While he had been in the same proximity as Charity before, he felt closer to her than ever.
As the four held each other close, Jim Starling remained the on couch, watching. He smiled, thinking how nice it would be to be young and in love again. But love was for the young, which is why he kept back. While he was part of the curse, he didn't feel as if that was enough to join in the camaraderie that the four shared.