Disclaimer: I don't own Ducktales!
Title: A Case of Mistaken Webdentity
Summary: Something begins to slot together in Beakley's mind when Della returns and assumes Webby is her child.
...
"Wow," says Della, after much crying and hugging and introductions and cleaning up golden robot parts, staring at Webby like she's just noticed she existed. "I can't believe I had a double egg."
"Um-" starts Webby, a bit confused, but then Della holds a hand out to her, and it's as if a thousand rock-filled socks bashed her alongside the head.
"C'mere, sweetie," she says- no, begs, eyes welling up all over again.
Scrooge's hand touches Della's shoulder, drawing her gaze away for just the slightest second. Webby attempts to compose herself, eyes gushing tears more than cutting an artery might bring blood. "She's, uh, she's not yers, lass."
"Agree to disagree," Dewey interrupts, holding his hand out with a bright grin. And it's a hug! Webby can't refuse a hug. Even when it's for the wrong reasons.
Della pulls her tight and squeezes, and Webby can't help but wish, deep down, that maybe she was part of this little family. Granny was everything she ever needed, of course, but it'd be so nice to tie a solid string across the board to the Duck-McDuck Clan. To have siblings and a parent and an Uncle. Those were so many extra words Webby had in her vocabulary but almost never got to use as a Vanderquack. But maybe she would as a Duck.
(Webby's still not sure she's a McDuck, even if everyone says otherwise. The haunted look as Scrooge told her to get out of family business would never leave her mind for long.)
"You can't seriously expect me to believe that," Della protests over her late dinner. Webby's pretty sure she's just fighting to fight at this point. "I looked just like her when I was her age!"
"Most ducklings look alike," Scrooge rebuffed. "Webby is well-loved, but she's nae yer child."
"Well, not with that attitude she isn't. 22, back me up here."
Beakley is gathering up the boy's plates. They'd eagerly devoured dinner, running on empty from the adrenaline. Webby's hardly touched hers. Hardly done much of anything, really. She sat very still, kept her hands very properly clasped in her lap, and very quietly tried to vanish.
Granny raises a well-kept eyebrow. "She's my granddaughter, Della. Do you mean to imply your Uncle and I-"
"Finish that sentence and I will literally ruin dinner with vomit." Della holds up her hands. "I mean, are you sure? There might have been a mix-up at the hospital, or..."
"She's a year older than the boys," Beakley continues steadily. "And I saw her birth firsthand."
"A late bloomer! Ain't nothing to be ashamed of."
"That's... not what that word means."
Huey cleared his throat pointedly. "I mean, we've already decided she's our sister, sooooooo."
"She's like. Not blood ours but ours ours," Dewey slurs around his spoon. "Basically the same thing."
"I know I sure felt the found family love when she held us prisoner for the first time," Louie chimes in, only half-joking.
Huey elbows his side. "Stop making it sound like Stockholm syndrome," he hisses quietly.
"It's the jokes or the therapy bill, Huebert. You decide."
Webby finds herself smiling regardless of the awkward air. She wiggles her feet and feels the comforting warmth of family from the boys- and from Della now too, apparently. She glances at Scrooge through her eyelashes, waiting for his call.
Scrooge, noticing this, awkwardly clears his throat. "A'course she's family."
"He says that now," Dewey grumbles.
"I apologized fer that," Scrooge shoots back just as quickly. Catching Della's stare, he tapped his fingers nervously on the table. "We, uh, we had a bit of a fight, me'n the boys. Webby tried to intervene. I was right nasty to the poor lass. I've been doin' my best ever since."
Webby nods along but can't meet his eyes. She trusts him with her life- but she's not sure she's ready to trust him again with her heart. Not when he broke it to pieces in a single sentence. Not when Magica de Spell crushed it to smithereens by destroying her best friend in front of her.
Della, catching note of both sides of this, drops a hand below the table. Scrooge opens his beak to ask what she's doing, but before he can get the first syllable out she's unlatched her leg and is quite fervently slapping him with it. "You! Hurt! My! Daughter! You! Rich! Old! Jerk!" she yells between blows.
Things quickly devolve into a leg-cane fight at the table. Beakley, strictly pretending it's not happening, saunters off to do dishes and dust. Webby shifts over slightly to lightly bump Della with her skull. The woman pauses.
"Thank you," she says softly, "but I'm okay now, really, Ms. Duck."
Della grimaces at the title. "Just- just call me Della, okay? And I'm sorry I didn't hug you earlier- I thought you were shy, and I wasn't sure when you didn't call me mom. But then you were beating up the Gilded Man and it just... I just knew."
"Not your daughter," Scrooge mutters into his fist.
"Ruin the moment and I'll stab you with a spork, old man."
Beakley makes sure to be far, far away from the kitchen before she finally plays her cards, stopping mid-dust to watch a shadow flit by.
"Awfully fond of spying, aren't you?" she asks.
Duckworth comes out of the floor with a shrug. "Only when it's needed," he says, and strides on over to her. Beakley expects the usual biting criticism, but for once the ghost has put aside their little squabble. "Why did you lie?"
"You'll have to be more specific," Beakley replies resolutely, ignoring her heart hammering in her ribcage. Duckworth's been dead long enough to have likely forgotten the organ even existed. "I lie quite a lot."
"You might get away with it in the company of others, but I know your tells, Bentina. You were lying. You didn't see Webby's birth. You don't know for sure she's yours." He tilts his head a little, puzzled. "I don't see why you'd fabricate some birth story. No one was questioning your judgement."
Beakley's grip on the handle tightens. "That's hardly your concern."
"It's my concern when it affects Mr. McDuck," he replies steadily. "I may have never been a spy, but I was a damn good butler, and I've had nothing but time to stick my nose in everything."
"If you have all that time, maybe you should spend less of it questioning my motives and more of it finding out how you died."
Duckworth shakes his head, grinning so grimly Beakley knows that it's not a question on his mind.
"You know?"
"I have my suspects. But I'd rather stay mysterious then ruin a party." Duckworth casually adjusts his cufflink. "Now, I do believe it's time we got back on topic. Why did you lie about Webbigail's birth?"
Beakley sighs long and low. Deep down, Della's words had shaken her. Just not in the way she had intended.
Ever since that night at the base, Beakley has never once questioned Webby's genetics. It simply hadn't seemed important. Not when more pressing questions were there- like why F.O.W.L. had crafted an infant in the first place, and what they intended to use a child to do. But Della had a point- Webby had so many of Scrooge's features. The quirk of her bill. The color of her eyes. The tiny little feather tufts alongside her face- tufts Beakley had studiously trimmed down again and again.
And maybe it wasn't much of a question. Maybe, deep down, Beakley had known all along, and had simply placated herself with the old adage of all children looking alike as her granddaughter slotted in so casually amongst the triplets.
"I was ashamed," she says finally- not quite a lie, but not quite the truth, either. "That I couldn't be there when it happened."
Duckworth hums, but his lack of expression tells the world to Beakley. He isn't buying it. But he bows regardless, albeit with a sarcastic air. "I suppose that will have to do for now. I must go prepare Della's study for her four children. Hide the old booze and such. Adieu."
Beakley doesn't watch him go, but she can feel the word liar crawling down after him.
Author's Note: This one took a bit, but I like it! A good mix of silly and a bit of sad. Della's got one helluva hunch, though she doesn't realize it quite yet, and Beakley is starting to develop her own theories.
-Mandaree1
