Hey! I'm back, thank you to Steampunk Wilson, MelodySouth65 and KaliAnn for reviewing and everyone who's favourited and followed so far.

Thanks to Steampunk Wilson's review I now realise exactly what I've been MISSING in season 2! OMG! The last episode!

[Takes breath] Okay. So I think I've caught up on what's gone on. So, as we don't know exactly what's going on with…you know what. [I'm trying not to spoil it to badly in case people haven't caught up yet] It's safe to assume that everything from the series 2 finale is NOT canon to the series. That's not to say there won't be some adventure though. After all, what's the fun of fanfiction if you can't make up your own adventures?

One last quick note – so I've realised I'm going to have to move the timeline slightly. The series 2 finale now takes place on the 29th September, the duck family have spent the 30th recovering it's now October.

Warning: Some swearing.

Anyway so after that let's crack on…

01/10/2019

Well! Oh my – I don't even know where to start. The last couple of days have been CRAZY, like proper 'oh my god, we're all gonna die! Oh no wait, I think we're saved!' crazy. Like, proper mad.

On the bright side we found Donald. Oh a freakin' desert island of all places. Only Donald can crash-land on a desert island with no food, no drink no nothing and STILL be alive god knows how long later.

I'm so proud of him.

And we had our first hug! Yay! Our first hug in – what? 11 years? It was lovely. It was…Ama-, Exce-, Bril – okay, you know what I can't even find the right word to describe it, it was THAT GOOD.

And then of course Gladstone and Feathry turned up and everything went to hell.

Gee, I just read that line back. It sounds like I'm blaming them for 'What Was Nearly The End Of The World As We Know It' but I'm not. The pair of them were quite helpful actually. Although afterwards we've all been so exhausted, we've all basically just slept for the last, like, a Day and a half or something.

So I woke up at ridiculous O clock to hear this conversation between Beakley and Duckworth from the corridor outside my room.

Beakley: And just WHAT do you think you're DOING!?

Duckworth: [dryly] I believe the technical term is…vacuuming.

To which I sniggered quietly, conscious of the fact Beakley had ears like a hawk. Wait. That's not the expression. What's the expression – bat. That's it, freakin; bat not hawk, get it together Della!

Anyway…

Beakley: Hoovering is my job. I've always done it-

Duckworth:[Interrupting] -Even when you're asleep, Bentina? That takes considerable talent, I must say.

A beat then:

Bentina: Oh…get stuffed, Duckworth. And give me that hoover before I stick it - !

At which point I opened the door and stepped out.

Me with what I believe is described as 'A shit-eating grin': Hel-loo, Auntie Beakley! Duckworth. How are you both this FINE morning?

Duckworth: [Doing the ghost equivalent of raising an eyebrow] It's 2pm, Miss Della.

Another beat.

Me: Okay, that's bad. Anyway, Is Donald around? Are the boys up? Is everyone alright?

Beakley: In reverse order, everyone's fine, the boys are still in bed and the last time I saw Donald he was downstairs watching the television.

So I went downstairs in order to find my twin, but before I did that I nipped into the kitchen and made both him and me a cup of coffee. The kettle was halfway through boiling when I sensed someone behind me and I whipped round honestly ready to throw the nearest object at whoever it was…

But it was Donald. Who took one look at the spoon I was brandishing in the air and said, "Wow. Good morning to you to, Dells."

I rolled my eyes and put the spoon down. "Coffee?" I asked, like I hadn't had a minor freak-out.

He nodded and I went about making it while he sat at the table in silence.

"So…" I said, as I gave him his drink. "I…have so much to say. But I suppose I should start by thanking you. For looking after the boys all these years. It must have been hard."

He nodded slowly and took a sip of his coffee. "Yeah." He admitted, setting the cup down. "It was. 'specially during the first couple of years. But…I had help, so…yeah. I was lucky."

I gave him a cheeky grin and said. "Sorry – what was that? Did the great Donald Duck, Mr Unlucky, Mr 'I can never catch a break', Mr 'Why is Gladstone always better than me?' just admit…he's LUCKY?"

He looked at me, I looked at him and we both just…laughed. And laughed. And laughed. We laughed so much our sides and beaks hurt.

We laughed so much we actually got the kids out of bed. Honestly the boys just appeared at the door, bleary-eyed and still in their pyjamas, with Dewey mumbling. "What's so funny?"

And myself and Donald looked at each other, again - I don't think I can ever get enough of seeing him now – and we just said, in unison. "It's a twin thing."

Which was a perfect explanation because who would better understand a 'twin thing' than a set of identical triplets? Sure enough they just shrugged and went back to bed.

I remember just looking at my twin and grinning inanely.

Now, I'll be the first to admit, I've had my fair share – more than my fair share actually – of bad luck, frustrating moments and just those times when you want to scream at the sun, but just then, at that moment…

Life felt absolutely perfect.