Thicker Than Water - Chapter 4

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Huey, Dewey, and Louie clung to their uncle Donald happily as they all climbed out of the car outside the McDuck mansion.

"We're just so happy to see you, Unca Donald!" cried Louie of them.

"Yeah! Talk about a surprise visit!" cried out Huey.

Donald just laughed at their antics as he managed to grab his duffle bag and place it over his shoulder.

Fenton was the first one to the door, knocking on it and beaming at Duckworth when he answered it. "Hi, Duckworth!"

"Greetings, Mr. Crackshell. Greetings, Mr. McDuck" replied Duckworth since Scrooge was right behind Fenton.

Once he was through the threshold, Scrooge turned and told the boys firmly, "Alright, now, lads. I know how excited ya are to see yer uncle, but it's time for yun's to wash up. Yer a filthy bunch, covered head ta toe in dirt. Go wash up and-" He was interrupted by the complaints of his three grand-nephews.

"Do we have to?" whined Huey.

Scrooge nodded. "Indeed. Now get movin'!"

When it was clear the triplets were still reluctant to leave their other uncle, who they rarely got to see, Donald spoke up. "Now boys! Listen to your uncle Scrooge!"

Sighing in defeat, the triplets did as they were told and left to head up the stairs.

"Fenton" Scrooge spoke up. "Go and see what Mrs. Beakley is up to. Let her know we have some company over and to prepare for such while I go an' get Donald settled, aye?"

"Okie dokie, Scroogie, my love!" beamed Fenton before giving Scrooge a peck on the cheek and leaving a moment later. Neither of them noticed the glare this earned them from Donald.

"Your bags, sir" came Duckworth's voice, snapping Donald out of his thoughts. The sailor looked up to the tall canine beside him and regarded him with unease.

"Uhh..." he replied uncertainly. He looked down to see Duckworth holding out his hand so that he could take Donald's bag. Donald only held onto it tighter.

"I can take your belongings to your room, sir, whilst you relax and continue to visit with your family, Mr. Duck" continued the butler.

Donald's frown only deepened. "I can carry my bag with me just fine!"

Scrooge walked up between Donald and Duckworth. "Thank yeh, Duckworth, but Donald is fine."

Duckworth straightened and sniffed. "Very good, sir."

Scrooge laid his hands on Donald's shoulders and guided him further into the foyer. "Don't yeh mind, Duckworth, lad. He's good help. Only doin' his job." He grabbed the duffle bag out of Donald's now slackened hands and set it beside a chair. "Now, I just need to go and check on a few things and then we can sit down and have a nice chat. The boys will be able to join us by then too. After they've cleaned themselves up a bit, aye?"

Donald nodded, a small smile on his beak. He watched his uncle leave before peering around at his surroundings. His uncle's mansion would forever intimidate him; he supposed. Used to the smaller, thin walled houses and apartments he's lived in over the course of his life. Not to mention the tiny bunk room he shared with two other men now that he was in the Navy.

Walking over to look at some of the hundreds of books that were on the walls and shelves, he didn't hear the soft footsteps of someone else coming into the room before it was too late.

"Heya, Donald! I brought ya some cookies!" came Fenton's voice as he walked into the room with a tray. "Mrs. Beakley just brought them out of the oven, too! I'm sure you'll- OOOF!" He was cut off as the accountant tripped over Donald's duffle bag, which he had not seen as he walked in.

The duffle bag rolled over several times as it was caught on Fenton's webbed foot. Fenton tumbled and fell to the ground hard, the tray of cookies clattering before him.

Donald watched the spectacle with wide eyes until he saw that the zipper on his duffle bag had opened up in the process; spilling out his belongings.

"Hey! What d'ya think you're doin', ya great palooka?!" he snarled as he marched over to the accountant.

Fenton, now on the carpeted floor, struggled to get himself standing upright again. Sadly, his foot was now tangled in the strap of the bag, causing more of Donald's belongings to fall out. "It's got me! It's got me! Some kind of carpet monster has got me!"

Donald snarled. "That's not a carpet monster! That's my duffle bag!" he shouted.

Sadly, due to his panic, Fenton didn't quite hear him. "What? What did you say, Donald? I can't understand you, I'm too busy fighting off a carpet monster!" He continued to squirm and try to free his webbed foot.

The jab over not understanding him only made the tempered duck more angry. "Give it here!" Donald dodged a kick from Fenton and snatched the strap of his duffle bag that was currently wrapped around the accountant's foot. "Stop moving!" Donald nearly tripped in his haste to free Fenton and the moment the taller duck was free, Fenton scrambled away before finally standing.

Panting slightly, Fenton placed a hand over his chest. "Blathering blatherskite that scared me!" He blinked when he saw that there was no carpet monster after all. "Oh! Heh! Sorry, I didn't see your bag!" Guilt suddenly overcame him as he watched Donald ignore his apologies and collect his belongings that were now strewn around the entryway.

Fenton teetered over the decision of whether to help or not since it was obvious from the tension in Donald's shoulders that he was quite unwelcome. He looked down at his feet and saw that there were several half folded papers there. Thoughtlessly, he picked them up and opened them up to see what they were. "Hmm...What's this?"

Donald, who had just finished stuffing his clothes in the bag, squawked in alarm when he saw what Fenton had in his hands. "Wak! Don't read those! Give them back, ya great palooka!"

Fenton, unaware of Donald's rising rage, glanced over both papers; they were letters. He muttered what he saw at the bottom of them both. "Love Jose and Panchito."

Fenton was unable to read anymore, for the letters were ripped from his hands. "THOSE ARE PRIVATE!"

Fenton just stared at Donald, who was now red and shaking in anger. "What did I do?"

He didn't receive a verbal reply, just lots of growling and fuming from the sailor.

Not realizing he was dealing with a loose cannon about to go off, Fenton inquired, "Who are they? It said 'love Jose and Panchito'? Are you guys together or something- AHHHH!" He screamed as he dodged one of Donald's punches. "Not that I'm judging! AHH!" He dodged another. "I'm one to talk! I'm dating your uncle after all!" He squeaked and dove to hide behind a large long-backed velvet chair. "Guess I shouldn't remind of you of that, huh?"

"You just stay away from me! AND my uncle!" threatened Donald.

Fenton gasped. "But! I CAN'T! That's not fair, Donald! You can't keep me away from the love of my life, the apple of my apple of my eye, the-" He stopped, knowing his words were not helping. "Look, I know you don't like me and I'm sure you have LOTS of reasons not to, but my intentions with your uncle are PURE! I swear!"

Donald's bill down-turned into an even deeper frown and Fenton was fairly certain that the chair between them was not going to protect him in the slightest from the raging duck on the other side. He was positive Donald was about to pick up the chair protecting him and throw it across the room when the love of his life, his paramour, came to his rescue by stepping through the doorway.

"Save me, Scroogie!" exclaimed Fenton. Taking a chance, he dove to hide behind the rich duck, his hands going to the shorter duck's shoulders.

"Fenton! Donald! What is the meanin' of all this yellin'?!" demanded Scrooge.

Donald pointed an accusing finger at Fenton. "He's the one who comes in here and makes a mess of my duffle bag! I told him to stay away from me and to stay away from you! He's trouble, Uncle Scrooge! I don't like him and he needs to keep his beak out of my life and business! And-" His speech began to become indiscernible in his fury as he continued complaining.

Scrooge narrowed his eyes, having heard more than enough. He took his cane and hit Donald over the head with it.

"OW!" whined Donald as his hands instantly went up to rub at the spot. His anger dwindled and fizzled out when he saw his uncle's own equally angry expression. His expression and body language turned sulky as he pouted at the two lovers.

"That's quite enough, nephew!" he began evenly. "I know you may not like Fenton, but to threaten him and to demand him to stay away from me-eh-all of us-Is uncalled for and-!"

"Scrooge?"

Scrooge stopped mid-sentence as light nimble fingers discreetly massaged his shoulders in an attempt to gain his attention. The older duck turned his head to look at Fenton, who was shyly trying to gain both duck's audience. "Eh, what is it, lad?"

"Don't blame Donald. It's not his fault" replied Fenton quietly.

Both Donald and Scrooge stared at Fenton in surprise as they waited for the accountant to continue.

"I-I was the one who got Donald all riled up." He pointed to the forgotten tray of cookies, most of which were still on the tray, untouched and unruined. "I was just coming in to see if he wanted some cookies and I went and tripped over his bag that was there on the floor. I-I panicked...and made a mess of things. I was just tryin' to be nice, really."

Scrooge frowned. "So, what is it ye tryin' to say, laddie?"

"I'm just saying, don't yell at Donald. You told me to keep my distance from him and I didn't listen. I'm sorry. Donald has every reason to be mad at me. I'm sure it really does seem like I'm taking over his life..." sighed Fenton.

Neither of them knowing how to respond, Donald and Scrooge exchanged a look of confusion before turning back to Fenton. Donald had to admit he was impressed. He had been positive Fenton was going to use this moment to his advantage and try to win his uncle's favor over his own. Try to turn his uncle against his own nephew, perhaps. But instead, Fenton was defending him.

Feeling guilty over Fenton's confession and will to take blame, Donald added, "Well, I guess he didn't MEAN to trip over my bag. It was nice of him to bring me cookies, I guess..."

Scrooge, seeing that neither his boyfriend nor his nephew were angry, breathed out in a light sigh. "Well then, I see an understandin' as come to pass." He turned back to Donald warning. "But Donald...Do not ever threaten Fenton again or you'll see more than the end of me cane. Clear?"

Thoroughly cowed, Donald nodded. "Crystal, Uncle Scrooge."

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Back along the outskirts of St. Canard, the sun had long since set, which meant the plant duck hybrid that lived in the large Greenhouse was already falling into a deep sleep; happily awaiting the return of the live-giving sun.

Bushroot was curled up in the large flower pot that he used as his bed and the little bush that was used as his pillow still happily helping its master to rest.

Liquidator was also sleeping several feet away from the potted mutant, his canine form long gone as he sleep in the shape of a large puddle on the floor.

All that could be heard throughout the Greenhouse was Bushroot's snoring and the occasional gurgling sound from Liquidator. Not to mention the soft snoring from Spike, the mutated Venus-Fly-Trap.

Everything was peaceful as a shadow loomed over top of Bushroot's sleeping form.

Negaduck grinned maliciously as he glared down at his former teammate. Wordlessly, he pulled out a syringe and looked at it carefully in the pale moonight that was shining through the roof. He prepped the syringe before leaning over Bushroot and injecting it into a vine-like arm. Thick, red-tinted sap slowly filled the syringe as Bushroot groaned in his sleep, turning a bit and causing Negaduck to move his hand with him as he waited for the syringe to fill with his plant blood.

"Ugh, stop it, Spike...that hurts..." moaned Bushroot as he turned over just as Negaduck pulled the syringe out of his arm. Bushroot instantly rubbed at the spot that was now sore. Negaduck ignored him however as he pulled out a bag and placed the now filled syringe inside and stowed it away in his pockets.

The evil mallard then pulled out another syringe that was filled with a slightly glowing purple substance. He glanced at the contents inside it warily before injecting it in Bushroot's other arm. Just as the very last of the purple substance in Bushroot's bloodstream, the mutant whined some more. "Spiiiike!"

Negaduck was in the midst of pulling out the syringe when he heard another voice.

"Do you feel like you're being watched? Are you on edge? Perhaps that's because you're sneaking around in a super villains home in the middle of the night!" came Liquidator's sales jargon voice.

Negaduck was about to open his large beak to reply, when a cry of pain came from Bushroot, who shot up from his spot in the soil and began shivering, holding his arms around himself. "OOOHHH! It huuuurts! Spike what did you-" He finally looked up to the menacing face of Negaduck. "N-N-N-Negaduck!"

Negaduck's sneer grew. "What's the matter, Bushy? Not feeling well?" He cackled. He cocked his head to one side in mock sympathy. "You do look a bit GREEN!"

Bushroot whimpered and curled up into a ball, unable to respond due to the pain that was beginning to surge through his whole body.

"What did you do to him, Negaduck?!" demanded Liquidator from behind the shorter mallard.

"Nothing TOO permanent" he leered in response. "Just a little gift from me to him. Consider it an honor!"

Bushroot wailed in pain and both of them watched as the scientist's purple foliage slowly lost its pigment and became a sickly brown color before shriveling up. What was once his lush purple petals began to fall off his head like dead leaves in the fall.

Enraged with anger and grief at the sight of his love suffering, Liquidator placed a hand on Negaduck's shoulder and whirled him around so that the villain was facing him. "WHAT DID YOU DO!? WHAT DID YOU INJECT HIM WITH!?"

"Wouldn't YOU like to know?" replied Negaduck smugly. He ripped his shoulder out of the canine's watery grip and backed up a few steps. "Don't mess with me, Drip-Face! You remember the last time you crossed me!"

"Oh, you mean the time I nearly drowned you and washed you away after you tried murdering us both? Yeah, I remember just fine!" said Liquidator heatedly.

Negaduck scowled at the reminder. "That was an error on my part. Let me assure you, Sewer Drainage, that was a fluke chance you had that night! I won't be making that mistake again! Let's not forget how I nearly killed Bushy that night as well!"

Negaduck's throat was wrapped in Liquidator's overly large morphed hand a second later as the liquid canine drew him close. His watery body was beginning to boil in his anger, which caused Negaduck to squirm. "Give me the antidote to whatever you gave Reggie!"

Choking in the process, Negaduck spat out, "Who said there was one?"

Liquidator's grip around Negaduck's throat tightened and just when Negaduck was beginning to see stars, Liquidator found himself with a face full of talons.

"CAW! CAW!" went the creature that was currently ambushing Liquidator's face and head and causing the watery mutant to release Negaduck. Liquidator shouted in alarm and waved his arms about to clear off his attacker.

"About time, Poe!" he groused as Poe landed on his shoulder.

"Caw! All in good time! Not my fault you left without me! CAW!" replied Poe as he fixed his little hat.

Negaduck took his chance and dove back over to Bushroot, who squeaked in alarm and brought his knees to his chest in an attempt to hide his vulnerable and pained form. "Leave me alone!" he told Negaduck in a vain attempt. The evil mallard ignored him and jabbed another syringe into Bushroot's arm after grabbing it roughly. The scientist cried out in alarm.

"Just another dose of your blood, Bush-Brain, and we'll be good to go" muttered Negaduck as he watched blood fill the syringe.

Just as Negaduck finished, Bushroot jerked his arm away from the other's grip. "Why do you want my blood, of all things?!"

"Like I'm gonna tell you" he replied ominously. "AHHH!" He turned around to see that Spike had taken a bite of out his tail feathers. "Why you filthy mongrel!" He tossed Spike a can of weed killer and causing the fly trap dog to whine.

Negaduck turned back to Liquidator and Bushroot. "Later, suckers!" With a puff of red smoke, the yellow-clad villain was gone from sight.

Liquidator growled deeply in his non-existent throat. "Coward."

A pained and weak groan from Bushroot brought Liquidator back to the present. The mutant plant duck had curled himself up in a tight ball, his arms holding on tightly around himself. Liquidator was at Bushroot's side in seconds. "Reggie? What's wrong? What did he do to you?" He looked down in horror to find that most of dried up petals on his lover's head had fallen off and were now pooled at the mutant's sides and feet and falling to the floor and out of the flower pot.

Liquidator grabbed at Bushroot's fingers in an attempt to unwind and comfort his friend. It was then that he paused.

Fingers.

Bushroot didn't have fingers; not really. He had leaves that served as his hands. He then noted that Bushroot's skin was no longer green, but white. Tiny soft downy feathers were growing back on once smooth plant skin.

"Reggie...?" asked Liquidator softly. His companion didn't reply and Liquidator was reminded of the brief time he had glimpsed a photo of Reginald Bushroot before he had been mutated into what he was today. He suddenly understood exactly what Negaduck had done to him.

"Buddy...I don't feel so good..." whimpered Bushroot. His face was now hidden and tucked away as his chin rested on his chest; the effects of the glowing fluid now in full effect. A liquid hand gently raised his chin up so that Liquidator could get a better look at him.

Liquidator was no longer in the presence of the mutant plant duck and part time villain Bushroot, but the shy poor postured scientist, Reginald Bushroot.

"You're a pure duck again, Reggie" whispered Liquidator.

Bushroot nodded. "I know. I can't hear them! I can't hear my plants anymore!" he cried in dismay, getting more and more worked up. He clutched the sides of his head. "Buddy, I have no idea how he did it, but he changed me back! He un-mutated me and I don't like it!"

Seeing that Bushroot was only getting more worked up, he looked around, knowing that his lover's new form needed more coverage than his mutated state. To be frank, in his duck form, it was more obvious he was in nothing but his skin. He quickly spotted Bushroot's lab coat and pulled it over Bushroot's hunched over form.

"Why? Why would he do this to me? How could he possibly have done it!? I didn't even know how to reverse the effects of my mutation! So how did HE figure it out?!" rambled Bushroot. "I'm pretty sure he took a sample of my blood twice-Meaning-Meaning he wanted both my mutated blood and my regular clean blood. But why?!"

Pulling him close, Liquidator said soothingly, "I don't know, Reggie. But it's going to be okay. We'll figure this out." He raised a hand out of habit to run through his petals, only to find they were missing. All that was there was a few straggling black hairs. Premature balding, that's what Reggie had once said to him. "It's different."

Bushroot looked up, thick worry lines now more obvious on his face and bags under his eyes. "What?"

"When I touched you before, there was always a faint sensation. It was your plant body accepting my water. But now, nothing. I might as well be touching stone."

Bushroot didn't respond at first, but after several moments of silence he shouted out, "It's so quiet in here! This is like that time we were in that monster's toy box, remember? Paddywhack, or whatever his name was! He had taken my ability to hear plants away and this is ten times worse, cause not only can I not hear them-But now I'm back to being boring, ugly, Reggie the Veggie!"

"You mutated yourself once before, you can do it again if you really wanted to, right?"

Bushroot nodded quickly.

"Mutated or not, I still love you, Reggie, do you understand me?"

Another quick nod. "Love you too, Buddy..."

The two of them sat there in the middle of the night, neither of them knowing what was happening or what they should do next.

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"Morgana?" came the shy nasally voice of Honker Muddlefoot.

"Yes, Honker?" replied Morgana's sultry voice.

"Are you sure Mr. Mallard wanted me to come along as well? I mean, I get why he would want to meet up with you since- Well, if you don't mind me saying, you two have a lot more to work out than he and I do. G-Gosalyn is gone...And maybe he just wants to let me feel included but-"

Morgana cut him off. "I'm sure Dark has his reasons to want you to come along." She stopped in her tracks and Honker did the same thing. They were both in unfamiliar territory as they walked through the city park of Duckberg. Morgana had been surprised when Drake had called her and asked her to bring Honker so that the four of them could meet up and talk in the Duckberg City Park.

It was a bright sunny day outside, causing Morgana, especially, to stick out like a sore thumb in her deep red macabre dress and Gothic hairstyle. "This is the spot, right?" she asked the young duckling.

Honker nodded as he adjusted his glasses. "I'm pretty sure. He said it was near the South End of the park and he wanted us to meet him at a yellow park bench." He turned to the bench they were standing next to. "This is the only yellow park bench I've seen. He also said we'd be able to see a little shack in the distance and Mr. McDuck's Money Bin to the right of us."

Morgana nodded as she wrung her hands nervously. She had a good idea as to why her darling Dark wanted to speak with her, though wanting Honker to come along as well threw her off. If Dark wanted to officially end things and apologize for everything that had happened, like she suspected, why would he want Honker to be there as well? It didn't make any sense.

"Morgana! Honker!" came Drake's voice from a distance.

Both Morgana and Honker looked over to their left to see Drake and Launchpad. "Over here!" The pilot called over.

Honker and Morgana glanced at each and shrugged before doing as they were told.

Morgana felt her heart squeeze in her chest as she took in Drake's appearance. He seemed so much like his old self. The last time she had seen him, he had looked so small, fragile, and defeated. But now, he seemed to have regained the spring in his step, the light in his eyes. It had only been two days since she had seen him. How could there be such a drastic change in such a short amount of time? Had he really gotten over Gosalyn's death that quickly, after everything that had happened?

"Hi, Morgana" greeted Drake in the form of a happy sigh.

"Hello, Dark, darling" she cooed back.

It didn't go unnoticed how Launchpad tensed up beside Drake ever so slightly.

"Hello Mr. Mallard, sir' greeted Honker.

Drake turned to him and smiled. "Hi, Honker. Thank you both for coming."

"What was it you wanted to tell us, Dark?" asked Morgana.

Launchpad and Drake shared a look before Drake began wringing his hands together in a nervous manner. "Well, Morg- Heh- A lot has happened in the past week or so...And...Even more has happened since LP and I left St. Canard."

"Oh?"

Rubbing the back of his neck, Drake looked away from both Morgana and Honker's gazes. "You see, eh...Turns out what happened that night at the factory, also known as the night we lost Gosalyn, was actually all one big elaborate plot to get me to drink that Emoti-Gone potion.."

"What!?" exclaimed Morgana angrily. "Who would want something like that?!"

Launchpad was the one who answered. "Her name is Magica de Spell."

Morgana's eyes widened and her body froze in place. "Magica?"

"You know her?" asked Drake.

Gathering her thoughts, Morgana spoke, "Not personally. I've never met her, but I've heard about her. She is one of the last remaining members of the de Spell Clan. They are known to be a clan of powerful witches and wizards. The sorcery that has come from that family has astounded and baffled many for centuries. It is said that her and her brother, Poe, who has not been seen for decades, are known for their devious acts in magic and brewery."

"Yeah, well, she made that potion. That potion wasn't your family's, Morg. She just wanted you to think it was. It was actually hers! And she got me to drink it!" whined Drake, a dramatic air slipping into his voice. "She played with me and my emotions and got the better of the great Darkwing Duck and she's going to pay!"

Launchpad placed a hand on Drake's shoulder to calm the shorter mallard down, who was now panting slightly.

"Um..."

All three adults turned to the young scholar beside them. "Yes, Honker?" asked Morgana.

"Uh...I-"

Drake narrowed his eyes. "Spit it out, Honker!"

Squeaking in alarm, Honker replied in a jumble, "I don't mean to be rude, but what does any of this have to do with me!? I have a science report to finish!"

Instead of receiving the angry, peeved look he had been expecting from his rudeness, he watched as a large grin formed on Drake's beak. "Oh, just wait, Honker! The story isn't over yet! You see, Magica was there at the factory that night too. She knew that by losing Gosalyn, I would be more willing to drink her potion. But you see, Magica only wanted me to THINK Gosalyn was dead-"

Honker's eyes widened and before he could get his brain to put two and two together, a strong warm force slammed into his side in the form of a hug. "HI HONKER!" Gosalyn had run up to him and slammed into him, hugging her best friend tightly after coming out from her hiding spot in the nearby bushes.

Honker nearly lost his footing as he blinked and tried to take everything in. He looked over to see Gosalyn's bright happy face and tears began to well up in his eyes. "G-G-Go-Gosalyn!?"

Gosalyn pushed him back a bit to get a better look at him, her hands still on his shoulders. "Ya got that right, Honker! I'm not dead after all!"

Honker made a little whimpering sound on the back of his throat, tears beginning to spill down his cheeks, before he pulled Gosalyn into a large hug; burying his face her shoulder. "Gosalyn!" he wailed happily. "I-I thought you were -g-gone forever!"

Gosalyn sobered as she felt tears begin to soak through shirt on her shoulder. "Aww, come on, Honker. No need to cry! I'm back and I'm not going anywhere for a while!"

"Oh, Gosalyn, dear!" exclaimed Morgana happily.

Still holding on tightly to Honker, Gosalyn just smiled up at the witch. Morgana could tell that Honker wasn't about to let go of Gosalyn any time soon and was content just to share a warm smile with the young duckling. It was then that Morgana turned back to Drake. Now she understood why Drake looked so much happier; his Gosalyn was returned to him.

Allowing the children to have their own private moment, Morgana walked up next to Drake and Launchpad. "So..." she began. "I see everything had truly fallen into place." There was an awkward silence as none of them knew what to say. "So, how do you like Duckberg?"

Drake shrugged. "Well" he snorted. "It's no St. Canard! But, the place is nice, I guess."

Morgana nodded as she tried to think of another question to ask him. "So, what are you doing with your time, then?"

"Morgana?" said Drake quietly, ignoring her question altogether.

"Hmmm?"

"I don't blame you."

Morgana blinked. "What?"

Drake looked nervous as he stepped closer to her. "I don't blame you for what happened to Gosalyn. When she-When we-I know you had only been trying to help. And after what I learned about Magica-For all we know, SHE could have been the only magicked that candle to existence. We'll never know. But, those things I said to you-I-I didn't..."

"I know, Dark" smiled Morgana. She leaned down and kissed him on the forehead. "I'm glad you don't blame me. Thank you for telling me that."

Drake nodded.

"Are you happy?" she asked him next. It was left unspoken, yet obvious between the three of them, that she didn't mean this to be a general question. It was about him and Launchpad.

Drake didn't reply at first and for the longest time, neither Launchpad nor Morgana thought he was going to reply, when suddenly he said, "I think so."

This caused Launchpad to smile, for it was a better answer than he had been expecting.

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Donald took in a deep breath and let it go slowly. Huey, Dewey, and Louie had just been sent to bed, after several hours of demanding story after story out of him. Donald couldn't help but smile. He couldn't blame them; it was certainly exciting to hear the stories of being in the Navy. It was the reason he had signed up to be a sailor to begin with.

He was just getting ready to head up the grand staircase in the front room when someone knocked on the front door. Donald paused in mid-step on the first stair and blinked at the door. He looked around uncertainly; not knowing where Duckworth was, or if anyone else had heard the knocking sound. He was about to pass it off as his imagination when the knocking sound came again.

Donald soon found himself opening up the front door and found himself face to face with a woman with shoulder length sleek black hair and wearing a frilly black dress.

Magica beamed at Donald, her eyes widening as she looked Donald up and down and clearly liking what she saw. "Oh! Good evening! I was expecting silly butler."

Donald smiled in reply. "Hiya, toots!" he said brazenly. "Uhh, I don't know where Duckworth is. Are you here to see my uncle Scrooge?"

"Oh? What is that you say? You is being Scrooge's nephew then, eh, pretty one?"

Donald blushed and nodded. "Yep!"

"Ahh, yes! I can see family resemblance already. Eh, is something wrong with your throat?"

Donald furrowed his brow, a frown forming. "No..."

"Ahh! That is just your voice then. Was only curious! Now, tell me, pretty one, is your uncle Scroogie around?" She stepped closer to Donald, now through the threshold of the doorway. She fluttered her eyelids at Donald, who was completely unaware that he was being flirted by his uncle's worst enemy.

Donald took a step back, feeling slightly perturbed and completely unused to the bold and willing attention he was getting. "Uhhh, sure-He's-"

"Magica!?" came Scrooge's shout in horror and alarm. "DONALD! GET AWAY FROM HER!"

Before the sailor knew what was happening, his uncle was next to him and holding tightly to his arm before pulling him backwards, where he tumbled into Fenton, who caught him.

"Hey! What's the big idea!?" squawked Donald in indignation.

"Stay away from her Donald! She's trouble! This is Magica de Spell! And evil enchantress!" explained Scrooge, his eyes never leaving Magica. "You stay away from my nephew, Magica. I'm warnin' yeh!"

"Oh, shame! He's so pretty!" admonished Magica before winking at a new worried and uninterested Donald.

"Duckworth! Sound the alarm! Call the authorities! Me Number One Dime is at risk!"

Magica scoffed. "Do not be fool, Scroogie! Do you think that if I was after Number One Dime, I would be here with you? Ha!"

Scrooge glared at her. "Then why ARE ye here, Magica?"

Magica smirked and cocked her head to one side coyly. "To take something even more precious from you."

Scrooge took several steps back, colliding with Fenton, who grabbed him by the arms to support him. "W-What?!"

Magica's smirk only deepened as her eyes narrowed. "When I am finished with you, Scroogie, you will have nothing left but your own loneliness. Not even your loved ones" The enchantress took a few steps around them, beginning to circle them like a predator does to its prey. She watched Donald closely and tried inching closer to him, but Scrooge stepped between them.

"You stay away from me nephews, Magica! I'm warnin' yeh!" threatened the rich duck.

Magica shook her head. "Is not only nephews you should be worryin' 'bout, ya old has-been!"

Fenton blinked in surprise when he felt Scrooge's shaking hand search out his own and grip on tightly to it. He made sure to hold on tightly in return.

"Is it me Number One Dime yer after, Magica? Do ya really want it that badly that yer willin' to sacrifice all me loved ones fer it?" asked Scrooge, trying his hardest to keep his expression blank and to keep the panic from showing.

"Yer Number One Dime is no longer my priority! Important? Yes! Main priority? No! You had your chance-MANY chances-To give Magica what she wants! Now I do things different way! I have come to learn of different way to get what I want! Not exactly same-But even better! I still get what I want-But rather than me stealing Dime from you, you will be begging me to take Dime from your greedy little paws! Heh heh heh heh heh!" the witch cackled.

She laughed for about a minute before she ran out of breath. She paused, sucking air back in, before flipping her hair back and grinning evilly at the three of them. "Keep your loved ones close, Scroogie. You never know when something bad might happen to them. Theoretically, something bad has already happened to your little boy toy."

Scrooge gasped while Fenton squeaked.

Donald, who was not one to take things lying down, rolled up his sleeves and pushed past Fenton and Scrooge; his temper rising by the second. "Now see here!" He pointed a finger at her. "Just who do you think you are barging in like this and making threats to my family?! I'm gonna teach you a few things about manners-I don't care if you're a lady or not!"

"Donald!" hissed a now frantic Scrooge as he tried without success to pull Donald back.

Magica just watched him in fascination. Her amazement only heightened as she watched Donald actually throw his arm back as he prepared to punch her. She dodged it and took a step back with a cackle. She flicked her wrist and Donald was sent flying back into a heap on the floor.

This only enraged Donald further as he stood up and saw only red. Pushing past Scrooge and Fenton once more, who were both now trying to get him to back off, he yelled in gibberish that was hardly understandable, "How dare you!? Why I outgha-!" A slew of threats and curses spilled out of Donald, but thankfully, with the combined efforts of Scrooge and Fenton, they were able to hold him back; just barely.

"HEH HEH HEH HEH HEH!" laughed Magica as she watched the sight before her. "Oh! That's too rich! You're not just pretty, you're funny too! You are too precious, pretty one! Heh heh heh heh! As much fun as this has been though, I must be off! So much to do, so little time! Heh heh heh heh heh!"

With a quick puff of red smoke, Magica was gone.

Once she vanished, Donald stopped his fit of rage, causing Scrooge and Fenton to fall into him and landing on him in a pile in the process from the momentum. They all groaned.

"What did she mean, Scroogie? There's nothing wrong with me, is there?" wondered Fenton as he sat up.

"Is that a rhetorical question, lad? Cause I could stand 'ere all night listing the things wrong with yeh" quipped Scrooge.

Donald snickered.

"You know what I meant!" sighed the accountant. "She said she's already done something to me!"

Scrooge sobered and looked away. "I don't know, lad. But I'm worried." he confessed. He helped Donald to stand up. "Magica is up to somethin' and something' horrible. She was in a right good mood, which is a bad sign for us. WE best be on our good from 'ere on out, aye?"

Fenton and Donald both nodded.

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