Imagine Coldplay: Patience my friend :)
Gold swablu: Uh, no, sorry. There is no magic in this story. And nope, I don't know what that is. I just assumed it was your username.
Guest: You know, it would have helped if you had given me one answer XD
rosiesj: Thank you :)
Ninja: No, in the present, she is not with Max. And spoilers ;)
Boss Teal: I heard about him. May he rest in peace.
Lilbree: Right? And spoilers ;)
Guest: He sure does!
Emeraldcity39: Aww, I feel honoured :)))
TheOfficialKai517: Alright, whatever works for you! :)
The Not-So-Ultimate Writer: Yeah, exactly!
IICaetlynII27: LOL, done!
Flenners: What is up with people? First, I get a review from some moron named Peacemaker, and they just crap all over you. I hope you do know that literally nobody cares, Flenner. Part of you being a writer is overcoming issues like this, not just running away when things get tough. And I don't know why you're letting random people, who have no influence over your life, decide whether you, "leave the ducktales community and never return and never make any further contact with jordan." What the hell? If you had a problem, you should have come to me directly, not go public. And I'm sorry if you did contact me, like I said on my Tumblr, I've been experiencing some technical issues. A lot of my old PM's are blocked off, I don't know who's messaged me. Jesus christ, Flenner, you don't get it, do you?! Here you are, coming to me, sulking, and expecting forgiveness over a PROBLEM I ALREADY FORGAVE YOU FOR. IF I SEE A PATHETIC MESSAGE LIKE THIS AGAIN, I promise you, we will never make contact again. I want you to man up, send me a fresh PM, and we'll talk this through, understood?
Chapter 6:
ooo
Donald lounged around the houseboat, cigar in mouth: Daisy never liked it when he smoked, but in his weaker moments, Donald found himself turning to it more and more. It was a bittersweet feeling; he was relieving his stress, but causing harm to himself.
He never risked smoking, but Donald found that it eased his anxiety about his missing nephew: Dewey.
He shut his eyes, and blew out the smoke. It was hard enough losing his sister for 10 years, but Donald knew Della truly couldn't come back from the moon whenever she pleased. But when his nephew that he had raised chose to leave without uttering a single goodbye… that hurt more. It hurt more knowing that Dewey had the power to come back whenever he pleased, yet, he never did.
It had been 3 years since he saw his rambunctious nephew. 3 years since he had hugged him, pulling him close, reassuring him that everything would be alright. It had been 3 years since he had heard one of Dewey's corny jokes, or lame puns. It had been 3 long years since he saw his trademark mischievous smirk.
God, how could he be so careless? He made a promise that he would rip the skin off of anyone who hurt his boys, and now, that same boy was gone. Nonexistent. Absent. Not present.
Lost.
Donald went to light another cigar, but a gentle hand stopped him. He looked up to find Scrooge, Della, and Daisy looking down at him, with sad smiles.
"Thinking about him, Donnie?" Della tried to joke, but Donald could tell that she was visibly shaken up about him. Ever since Dewey left, it was as if Della had aged 10 years—beautiful, but weary.
"All the time," Donald answered, emitting a long, anguished sigh. "When will he return? When will he come back home?"
Scrooge gently set his hands on Donald's shoulders. "I'm sure he just needed to find his way. He'll be back. And when he does come back, he'll have a whole family waiting for him."
Donald closed his eyes, tears threatening to fall. "That's what scares me. He had everything. What made him want to leave, with no goodbye?"
Daisy sighed. "We don't know, honey. But when he comes back, we can ask him."
"You sound so sure." Donald croaked. "How do you know he'll come back?"
"Because he's a Duck. He will never turn his back on this family." Daisy said gently.
"Sounds familiar," Della smiled at her brother, who managed a small grin.
"C'mon lad, you need some sleep," Scrooge said gently, hoisting his nephew up, handing him to his wife.
Daisy looped her arm around Donald's, and he smiled.
"Thank you, guys." he whispered gratefully.
ooo
Dewey stood in the doorway of a darkened building, just staring across the street at the large illuminated window of the Starducks. His dark eyes followed every person that hurried passed it. He didn't know why he was here, again. He didn't know why he'd come here on his way home from the office each and every night for two weeks, playing some weird game of chicken with himself to see just how close to the building he could get each time. How close he could get and how long he could stand being around here until he lost his nerve and bottled it.
Maybe he just enjoyed torturing himself?
He held his breath as the coffee shop door opened, anxiously waiting to see if she emerged but it wasn't her, it never was. Instead some random couple he didn't recognize left; it was always strangers he saw. He never risked stalking the place for long, just 5-10 minutes at the most. It was too dangerous, much too dangerous.
Boyd must have told them by now and if he had then they all knew he was back in the city. What if they were looking for him? Looking to make him pay for his past sins and put his head on a spear? No, he couldn't dare stay for too long. Although, admittedly he stayed in the office later than most sane people, it still wasn't particularly late. He didn't know where they worked anymore, or what their work-patterns were. He didn't know which route they came home or what time.
No, he couldn't be around this area for long.
Yet as much as he knew that, a part of him still desperately needed to come back here each night in the small hope that he'd see her. Even if from a distance. He just needed to see her. After 3 years of being consumed with thoughts of her, after coming back and being so close to her and being surrounded by memories; now every fiber of his being just craved one look at her. Just a glimpse of her perfect face, that raven hair and those beautiful dark eyes, which he could still picture so vividly.
He just wanted to see her so badly that it actually hurt, a deep longing aching in his chest. Maybe in his dreams he imagined seeing her and calling out to her. She would then smile in amazement and run up to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as she pressed her lips to his and kissed him again and again…
Dewey squeezed his eyes closed, pinching the bridge of his nose to try and stop the traitorous thoughts. It wasn't going to happen like that. She was never going to be able to forgive him and he didn't deserve her to. And letting himself imagine she would, imagining she'd be over the moon about his shameful return wasn't going to help anything.
The reality was she'd want nothing to do with him.
And if he had to face that harsh reality, face his former friends' bitter hatred, it would squish that tiny bit of hope he'd foolishly clung onto all this time. The one small ray of light which was the only thing that had kept him going at times in the dark and lonely world that he'd created for himself.
He wasn't ready to completely let go of that yet.
No, it was better not knowing, not seeing them. Any of them.
It was better not putting them through it all again.
They didn't deserve it.
He'd dug his grave and had to lie in it.
With a sad sigh, he buried his hand into his jacket pocket, pulling out the ever-constant cigarette packet. Placing one between his lips and lighting it, he inhaled the first fumes as he stared at the window, allowing his eyes to have their final fill before his shoulders slumped and he walked away.
ooo
"A newspaper ad?" Violet asked clearly unconvinced.
"Well have you got a better idea?" Webby asked annoyed, it had been over 3 weeks now and they were no closer to finding him. "It's not like we can glue his face to every lamppost!"
"Oooh you should so do the lamppost thing!" Lena acclaimed, pointing her finger at her. "That's a great idea."
"No it isn't," Violet protested between gritted teeth, "it's a stupid idea. He's not a lost pet. He's a grown man… one who is choosing to hide away."
"He's scared," Webby said quietly, getting ready to defend him once again, knowing full well where this conversation was heading.
"I know," Violet came around the kitchen table to take her hands, Lena the other side. "But it's been over 3 weeks. 3 weeks! If he wanted to get back in touch he would have. He knows you're still here and hasn't come back. I mean, what if he's left Duckburg already? Maybe he got too close, got spooked and headed back to Cape Suzette or God knows where?"
"I can't think like that," Webby admitted quietly, shaking her head, "I have to believe he's still here somewhere… waiting for us to find him."
"We aren't playing some game of hide and seek," Violet insisted, wishing her roommate would buy a clue. "He's deliberately staying away, Webby, deliberately avoiding you like he has the last 3 years." She sighed sadly studying her friend, "I know you wanna see him, really wanna see him but have you considered that… maybe he doesn't want to see you? That maybe he drew a line under everything all those years ago, like you should have done?"
Webby shook her head frustrated, "You don't understand."
"We know you want to find him," Lena joined in. "We all want to find him and we'll keep looking, I promise, but maybe you shouldn't get your hopes up, Webbs?"
"I don't have a choice," she confessed quietly. "I need to see him, I can't just give up on him."
"He gave up on you," Lena commented, and Webby could feel tears burning the back of her eyes as she shook her head once again.
Why couldn't they get it?
"No, he gave up on himself," she corrected. "Look if I made the same mistake he did, went a little crazy for a moment, I'd like to think you guys would support me. And if you went through a hard time that got too much and you broke down? I wouldn't desert you. You guys are my best friends, and Dewey is too. He needs us, all of us and I know you don't really know him, Violet, but he's a damn good guy, one of the best men I know! I let him down," her voice cracked a little as she continued. "I knew something was bringing him down, that something wasn't right but I was too caught up in my own relationship that I ignored it. I'm as guilty as he is."
Violet squeezed her hand before pulling her into a one-armed hug, "I hope we find him Webby, I do, and I'm sorry if we don't sound supportive. We are, we're all behind you… we just don't want to see you get hurt again."
"Especially after last time," Lena added.
"I hardly survived the last time he left," Webby admitted, remembering the dark place she'd gone to. "And I can't let him leave for a second time because I don't think I will get through it, not again. I just need to see him, to talk to him. I really just wish I knew where he was."
That's one of the things that killed her the most. The not knowing.
"What if you see him and talk to him and he still leaves or hurts you or…?" Lena tried.
"It's a risk I have to take," Webby said firmly, "I don't know what's gonna happen when we find him, but I can't focus on that right now. I have to focus on finding him and the rest we'll sort out when he's here, when he's back with us."
She couldn't tell them that she'd thought of all kinds of scenarios, couldn't tell them how she longed for him to fall into her arms and just kiss away the pain of the last 3 years. To kiss away the scars and just start a new future together.
As each day went by though, it was that little bit harder to hold onto the faith.
ooo
Dewey sighed heavily, scrubbing a hand over his tired face as he stared at the numbers in front of him to the point where they started to blur. They just weren't making any sense. Annoyed, he threw the documents back onto the desk and squeezed his eyes shut, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He just had to focus here. Get his mind off thoughts of Webby and focus on his damn job.
"I was going to ask if you've found the problem, but I'll save my breath."
Wearily he opened his eyes, and took in his secretary with a glare. "Did you want something?"
"Are you in a better mood?" he mumbled as Dewey narrowed his eyes. He'd hate to work for him right now too. He'd already gone through 2 secretaries since his return to Duckburg. He hadn't even bothered learning this one's name.
"Um, well it's 6:30PM," he pointed out. "And I meant to finish an hour and a half ago, but as this is important I'll stay until you're done."
"Thanks," he offered him a small glimpse of a smile in surprise, "I, uh appreciate that. It may be a long one though." Dewey finally looked at him—he had thinning light hair, and deep wrinkles on his forehead. He wore dorky glasses, with thick red lenses. He looked familiar, but Dewey couldn't quite place his finger on it.
"Great," his secretary muttered, before speaking a little louder. "It's alright, sir, I know the big deadline is coming up. Can I actually help with anything? Besides getting you another cup of coffee?"
"Maybe," he eyed him thoughtfully. "You know much about this stuff?" He had no idea of his background.
"Enough," he shrugged. "Send across the ones you've looked at, and I'll cross-check them to see if I can spot any typos or anything that doesn't fit the expected 87DT configuration profile."
"Okay," he nodded, somewhat impressed. "Thanks."
"Not a problem."
He emailed across the files to him and continued scowling at his documents, still not sure what wasn't balancing. The answer had to be here somewhere—spreadsheets didn't lie, it was one of the reasons he liked them. He continued staring at the figures trying to get them to change and add up. Dewey heard the elevator ping faintly in the background, and he briefly wondered if it was cleaners, or if some other poor sod was stuck here as well. Hearing voices close by, he frowned, debating if he should stick his head out to see what was going on or not. However, before he got the chance a small child came barrelling into his office.
Dewey blinked in surprise.
"Hi!" a light haired, green eyed child grinned cheekily, running up to his desk.
"Uhm… hi?" Dewey frowned. He wasn't particularly good with kids. He avoided them like the plague usually. The kid stared at him a moment before standing on tiptoe to see what he could get a hold of from Dewey's desk, his little chubby fingers reaching for the stapler, "Um…."
"Bert!" his secretary snapped. "Put that down."
"Herbert Mallard-Muddlefoot Sr!" another voice thundered, one the child obviously recognized.
Dewey froze recognizing the face and voice within seconds and knowing he was trapped. He glanced at the child—he knew those mischievous green eyes anywhere. He was busted. There was no escape.
This was how it ended.
She hadn't looked up at him yet, her attention still fully on 'Bert' but Dewey held his breath waiting.
Any second now and it would all be over...
"I'm sorry," the woman started, after checking the child hadn't come to any harm in his office. "He's over-tired and…" she looked up and stopped short, jolting in surprise before her eyebrows knitted together in utter shock. "D-Dewey?"
He swallowed heavily as he slowly stood, his hand out of habit coming to nervously flatten down his tie, as he met her shocked green eyes.
"Hey Gosalyn."
ooo
Yeah, I'm evil.
—Jordan ;)
